Title: It used to be (much better than this)
Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, and if you thought I did, I would question your sanity. Also Damien Jurado wrote the song Tornado. So I didn't come up with that either. Damn my unimaginative self.
Rating: PG-13
AN: Damien Jurado is totally and completely awesome and this fic has some lyrics from the song Tornado, (the lyrics are in Italics and bracketed). Title also came from said song. Again, Damien is awesome, and you wouldn't regret buying any of his cds.
Summary: "He thought he would love the same girl, woman, forever. It's been forever. He doesn't remember what love feels like anymore." Rory and Dean. The death of a perfect couple.
Second AN: Dean pov. It jumps around and becomes an au future fic. Dean is harsh: time, circumstance, and whatnot. Purposely ambiguous, draw your own conclusions.
// She spends her time with other boys
He spends his time fixing cars//
He looks into her transparent blue eyes and knows she is lying. Her innocent smile and blushing cheeks are a facade behind which she hides her cunning duplicity. Intelligence fought with innocence, and in the end, Intelligence won. He knows she didn't want to change. He knows she changed anyway, and clung to him, pretending it didn't.
She whispers saccharine sweet nothings in his ear, and he pretends to understand the meaning. He wishes he were back in time, when she told him everything in her silence. That time has long passed. He sees them behind him, in front of him, inside of him, whispering, and telling him her secrets. She doesn't love him anymore. He doesn't know what to do. He wonders if she loved him in the first place.
If you love something, let it go, the cliche goes. If she loves you, she'll be back.
He let go.
She left.
She never looked back.
//I'll see you around
I'll see you around sometime//
So he moves on, tries to forget. She is nice and beautiful. He wants to love her, so he believes he does. She never tries to stop him. He is lost in an ocean of confusion. She looks just as lost as he. They float together. First comes make believe love, then make believe marriage, there will be no make believe babies in the Forrester carriage.
Time passes, his marriage disintegrates into nothing. She comes home, and she knows he wishes he were somewhere else. She finds someone else to love, and he doesn't care. Her stomach swells and he hopes it not what he thinks. She leaves one night, and the swell disappears. He doesn't comment on the change. Instead, his head burrows into the sand. He picks up the phone and calls someone else. He calls her.
Their conversation is soft and poignant. He leaves his beautiful wife on false pretenses and comes to see her. Telling her lies, he shoulders his way back in her life. She remembers their youth. She yearns for the innocence they both have lost. Clinging to each other they cement an old and decaying childhood love. Then he leaves, and hopes he exorcised her from his mind.
He is home, and he is outrageous in his happiness. She calls and the spell is broken. He mourns the loss of their short-lived happiness, as she tells him of their imminent child. She didn't know about his wife. Tears and pain, what he had experienced years before at her hand, come from translucent cerulean eyes. More innocence stripped away, but he doesn't think he would change it if he could.
If you love something, let it go.
His wife leaves.
She never looks back
//He hangs his head on her hopes
She sleeps alone with her thoughts
He dreams of good times//
She slowly replaces his missing wife. He didn't mean for this to happen. Everything is wrong, and he doesn't know how to fix it. She cries at night as he sleeps in another room. She is frightened of the future, and he doesn't remember how to survive alone.
Without love, they struggle to become one. Bonds of the flesh pull them closer, as the coldness of their emotions stretches them farther apart. He is dependent upon her light, and slowly oozes his way back into her bed. She is round with child, but he is not sweet.
He is not frightened of the strange automatons they have become. He almost welcomes it. The routine makes his life bearable. She wakes in the morning and fixes him coffee and pop tarts. She cries in the shower. He eats his pop tarts while reading the newspaper, and pretends he is deaf to the sobs. They go to work, come home, and pretend they are happy to see each other. Slowly, and then with blinding speed, time passes. Clinging together, they drift through.
He does not hate what they have become. He hates that he can't change anything. He hates that he can't find enough strength to hate her. He hates that every word he says to her leaves an acrid taste in his mouth. He knows something is wrong with him, and he knows things are changing. He is almost ready for it. He wonders if she is. She probably isn't, but things will change without her consent. He can't find enough emotion to care.
If you love something, let it go.
The children leave.
They never look back
//Coming to bed with no words said
Just makes it tougher on both of us//
He doesn't remember the last time they loved each other. Moving with her body, he tries to recapture what they once had. He can't, nothing is what it once was. Time shed him of his light, and the one thing he could always count on. She is lightly panting, and he plays his part in their weekly performance. It's done, and she sleeps.
He stares at the ceiling, and wishes things were different. This isn't how he pictured his ending. He wonders where he went wrong. Cloying regret pulls him down. He glances at her, and is almost surprised at the lack of feeling her sight evokes. He can't even find enough emotion for dislike.
Closing his eyes he tries to remember how it used to be. That's how he thought it would end, with him loving her and him knowing she loved him. He was wrong about many things. He hates that he was most wrong about himself.
He thought he would love the same girl, woman, forever. It's been forever. He doesn't remember what love feels like anymore. She starts weeping in her sleep. He turns over, and ignores it. He's immune to her grief. They are strangers to themselves, their children, and each other. It really doesn't matter to him anymore. He wonders if it's wrong to wish he never met her.
She wakes up, and he pretends to still be asleep. She goes into the kitchen and makes him coffee and pop tarts. He gets up and sits at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. She cries in the shower. He pretends not to notice.
She sits at the table, and watches him ignore her. He listens to her sigh into her coffee cup. He gets up from the table. He grabs a pop tart, portable cup of coffee, and blindly hands her the paper. It's his turn.
If you love something, let it go.
He leaves.
He doesn't look back.
Then again, no one ever does.
//It used to be
Much better than this
It used to be
Much better than this
It used to be
Much better than this
It used to be
So much better than this
It used to be . . . //
The End
