Not So Small Arrival
Summary: An old friend comes to help Tristan pull himself together. Rating: PG-13 for some swearing. Author's Notes: I would like to remind you of the whole girl writing from a boy's perspective thing. Just don't die from laughing at my lacking interpretations of a guy's head. I hope you enjoy the story, and please don't flame. The rest of the story will be from Tristan's perspective. Spoilers: There really aren't any for Smallville. This is supposed to take place early in the first season, I suppose. Disclaimer: I own nothing.still. Not Gilmore Girls, not Smallville. Rather depressing.
Currently, I am sitting in the windowless room that my happy family commonly refers to as being "The DuGrey Theater." More or less, the name gives away what it is. Except, usually, we don't include the "DuGrey" part of the title. It's unnecessary as the room is already a part of the DuGrey mansion. The room is, as usual, dark with a huge screen, projector, and of course, surround sound all at work. However, this room has taken on a new meaning for me. Let's just say, sometimes I feel like screaming "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" when I enter this room, before I slam the door to my family and life shut.
The random action movie I had entered the dark room to watch this afternoon was long since over. I'll admit I haven't realized that fact yet. I'm too busy thinking deep important thoughts. Even if I did realize I was blankly staring at an empty projector screen, I wouldn't have left my dark, little, soundproof theater. This room was really the only place I could think. Due to recent events, (None of which I wish to disclose at this time) I wasn't allowed to leave the family grounds. And anywhere outside of this room my father would take all available opportunities to address how I was in some way unsatisfactory as a son, my mom would repeatedly ask me "What's wrong, Honey?" then do nothing more than stare at me with concern no matter what answer I give, (And trust me, She'd asked me enough times that I've been able to try every possible answer, sarcastic or not) and the mansion staff would ask me if I needed anything every 15 minutes. (They were providing me with a new method of telling time: 4 questions about my well being equals I'd been imprisoned in my own home for yet another hour) They were not so discreetly, checking up on me, on what I could safely assume to be my mother's secret orders. Because after all, she was worried about me. My eyes were off the screen long enough to roll in my head at the thought. Stretch those neck muscles.because I'm not moving anything else.
Ever since the first suspension this cold dark room, which my parents seemed to have forgotten existed, has become my only sanctuary from inquiring and judging eyes. Alas, my sanctuary only protects me for so long. If I remained here for more than 2 hours straight, the staff check ups would resume. God forbid I watch a movie that was 2 and half hours long. I might be interrupted at a crucial plot turning moment, on the off chance that I might need something that I could probably have gotten on my own if I really wanted it. Rather irritating really.
This was all my mother's doing. I know she's worried about me. (Be proud, I didn't roll my eyes this time) But, I don't know what makes me angrier; the fact that she uses paid help to do her motherly duty of checking up on me, or the fact that it took a suspension from Chilton for her to notice something was wrong. Of course my father was no better. In fact, I'd say that he was even worse. At least my mom doesn't work her hardest to give me low self-esteem.
I'd have to say the suspensions are really a blessing; this now being my last day of my second forced not-so-fun time off of school. But tomorrow, I'll be back at Chilton, back with the idiots Duncan and Bowman, (It was so their fault that we got caught for the car prank) and I'd be back to seeing her in the halls. It is in this way that the suspensions were blessed vacations. I had hoped they would help me to forget about her. That thought was now laughable. At least I don't have to see Rory while I think about her arguing with Paris, reading during lunch, being practically the only student to pay attention in classes. Obviously, my evil plan to get her out of my head had proven to be totally ineffective. Even with the lack of being at school, I still thought about her doing all those things from the safety of my tiny cave-like sanctuary.
I knew I had it bad when I started looking at the clock, or just counting the maids asking about my well being, and would wonder what Rory would be doing right then, and I would in no way care about the time in terms of my own sad pathetic existence. Man, this makes me angry. How on Earth did I end up being the one to pine and suffer; while Rory walks around with her head in a stupid snowy white cloud of ignorance? *But, it is a very pretty head.* Ah yes, there came one of my many unbidden Rory- appreciating thoughts. They tended to express themselves about every ten minutes. (No, I hadn't actually sat down to time them) but they couldn't allow me to forget about her for too long because that would be just plain wrong.
"Man, I need a life." I informed in an almost conversational tone to no one at all; while running my hand through my hair that my father not so lovingly referred to as "the mess that was on top of my cocky little head." Yeah, he actually used the adjectives "cocky" and "little" in reference to my head. Nobody should accuse just a person's head of being cocky. Cockiness should be reserved for the whole person as it took my whole body and all of my soul to work to achieve my current cocky perfection. And if it is necessary to insult a person's head, the term "Doody head" is far more effective than "little head." Doody-head should be used for its many humorous connotations. Come on, thinking about the phrase now makes me want to laugh. But I won't. Hmmm. Although, such an insult is most commonly reserved for those under the age of 7; and possibly for some very intelligent 3-year-olds. It's still a classic. God forbid my father should ever scream the same insult as a 7 year old. That would just be out right embarrassing. I think it's worth a mention that in all actuality my head is on the rather large side.
"Why don't you start by getting out of this dark room?"
Eek. I almost jumped off of the couch; my doody-head train of thought completely lost. I realized I knew that voice. I turned around and sure enough there was a bald, nicely dressed man that I occasionally call my friend leaning against the doorframe. He looked as angelic as was possible for him, surrounded by light from the hall behind him. I managed to contain my excitement caused by the sight of him.
"It's just a suggestion, Tristan. No need to make faces."
I must have over-compensated in my excitement. Oops. "Well, that would involve moving and I've decided to quit that." I allowed some good humor to enter my voice as I answered his original question. Never say I'm a complete jerk. "Lex Luther. Long time no see, what brings you to Hartford?" I turned away from the figure that remained unmoving in the small theater's doorway. I refocused my gaze on the blank blue theater screen. Hey, when did my random action movie end? Stupid. You see what Rory has unknowingly done to me?
"I'm on vacation from my exile to the middle of nowhere that my father saw fit to impose on me."
"So, on vacation and you decided to come to Connecticut? Frankly, I thought you had better taste than that, Lex." I tried to include a joking tone in my comment, but I'll admit I did not really care if Lex managed to pick up on my subtle, rather clumsy, attempt at humor.
Lex scoffed at me. I think he got my lacking attempt at a joke. "Tristan, you know as well as I do that eventually all the tropic paradises in the world end up as one huge blur of indiscernible blue waters, drinks, and beautiful women. I have a big enough blur in my memory. Besides, I wanted to see my old friend." I listened, not commenting. Lex would say something if there was more to be said. "Your mother managed to track me down in Kansas and called."
"Ah." I responded knowingly. And there it was, my mother had found yet another person she hoped would voice her concern for me. I just can't believe she'd chosen Lex. It's kinda embarrassing to think Lex had to come all the way to Hartford to talk to me. I wonder if he'll be mad when he finds out my entire depression pretty much boils down to girl problems. I allowed myself to look away from the empty screen and back at Lex who remained framed by light in the theater doorway. "Really? And what did she have to say? All good things I hope." It's fun to play dumb.
Judging by his face, Lex obviously remembered my playing dumb bit from the old days. "Actually, she's worried about you. Said you're suspended for the second time in a single semester."
I decided not to respond to the basic stating of the facts. Lex took a casual step or two into the small room, so I could now see him in my peripheral vision without even having to look away from the vast blueness of the screen. Score!
"You know you're smarter than this."
I smiled, but I think it probably looked more like a sneer. "Aww, thanks good buddy. Do me a favor; don't start sounding like my father or anything. The one I have is more than irritating enough."
"Tristan-"
"I'm establishing rules for this, what is certain to be a manly, heart-to-heart." Sarcasm. Got to love it. I held up my right index finger. "One. No using the word "future"." A second finger came up. "Two. No saying something like "If you need to talk I'm here for you." I don't think I could stand you using such a trite line on me." A third finger was now up. "And three. There will be no asking "What's wrong, Tristan?"" The last part of this was said in a higher-pitched voice that was clearly meant to be an impersonation of my mother. Okay, I'll admit it. I was feeling a bit defensive right then. I mean, my mom had called Lex Luther (THE Lex Luther!) to come half way across the country to talk to me about how I was feeling. Pathetic. Freaking pathetic. If this conversation actually turned to how I was feeling at that moment (God forbid) that would be my answer. No long thought processes required. Pathetic.
Lex gave a smirk, the closest he usually came to a smile. "Actually, speaking about your future-"
"I'm surprised. Usually you wait a little longer before you start breaking the rules or at least before you make your rule breaking obvious. But if you were about to say I ruined my future, you came a long way for nothing. I already have my dad to say that to me each morning. Of course, you two could organize a schedule. He could keep saying "I'm screwing myself over" each morning and you could say it at night. Give each other breaks. You know, so you two won't end up as sick of saying it as I am sick of hearing it." I fingered the TV remote. I don't suppose I have to say that I've been feeling pretty angry as of late. I can't believe I let a girl get to me this much. "That way the anti-pep talks will be able to go on for twice as long." A fake smile was most definitely present on my face.
"Tristan-"
What can I say; I really didn't feel like hearing anything Lex had to say. "I warn you though, after hearing how I've ruined my future so often, I have quite a few good responses. For example, "Future? What future? You mean the job you would have forced me to take in your firm after I graduate from the college of your choice. Sounds like some future. Makes me glad I screwed it all up." Naturally, that comment would have been directed to my father. But give me a few moments; I'm sure I can think of an adaptation that will be suitable for you." I pressed on the remote so the news came up on the large screen. Yeah sure, I was meaninglessly striking out at one of my best friends. But I'm an angry depressed young man. And what else are friends for? Ha, so there!
Lex seemed to watch the news for a few moments. I'm sure he was in all actuality doing the same thing as me; namely, collecting his thoughts, preparing to strike, whatnot.
"Turn off the TV and get up." My anger flared at the command; and the fact that Lex was a much faster thought collector than I was didn't help. I still had a lot of clutter banging around in my head.
"What?" Great response, huh?
"I need to get you out of this house, DuGrey." Lex started to leave my sanctuary. I'm not sure I was willing to follow just yet.
"I'm not allowed to leave." I informed with a mix of depression and ha-I-just-knew-something-the-great-mighty-Lex-Luther-didn't feeling.
"I spoke with you mom. It's alright." Lex called over his shoulder. He didn't even look back. He knew I'd follow. How irritating. And I would too. I was even getting sick of my only sanctuary. phooey.
"Okay then." I turned off the TV plummeting the room into darkness. I followed where Lex had gone through the doorway of light; thinking, hoping, the famous Lex Luther would be able to help me out of my recent depression, and maybe even, if I'm lucky, into the heart of Rory Gilmore.
Next Chapter: A Hung Over Return
Summary: An old friend comes to help Tristan pull himself together. Rating: PG-13 for some swearing. Author's Notes: I would like to remind you of the whole girl writing from a boy's perspective thing. Just don't die from laughing at my lacking interpretations of a guy's head. I hope you enjoy the story, and please don't flame. The rest of the story will be from Tristan's perspective. Spoilers: There really aren't any for Smallville. This is supposed to take place early in the first season, I suppose. Disclaimer: I own nothing.still. Not Gilmore Girls, not Smallville. Rather depressing.
Currently, I am sitting in the windowless room that my happy family commonly refers to as being "The DuGrey Theater." More or less, the name gives away what it is. Except, usually, we don't include the "DuGrey" part of the title. It's unnecessary as the room is already a part of the DuGrey mansion. The room is, as usual, dark with a huge screen, projector, and of course, surround sound all at work. However, this room has taken on a new meaning for me. Let's just say, sometimes I feel like screaming "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" when I enter this room, before I slam the door to my family and life shut.
The random action movie I had entered the dark room to watch this afternoon was long since over. I'll admit I haven't realized that fact yet. I'm too busy thinking deep important thoughts. Even if I did realize I was blankly staring at an empty projector screen, I wouldn't have left my dark, little, soundproof theater. This room was really the only place I could think. Due to recent events, (None of which I wish to disclose at this time) I wasn't allowed to leave the family grounds. And anywhere outside of this room my father would take all available opportunities to address how I was in some way unsatisfactory as a son, my mom would repeatedly ask me "What's wrong, Honey?" then do nothing more than stare at me with concern no matter what answer I give, (And trust me, She'd asked me enough times that I've been able to try every possible answer, sarcastic or not) and the mansion staff would ask me if I needed anything every 15 minutes. (They were providing me with a new method of telling time: 4 questions about my well being equals I'd been imprisoned in my own home for yet another hour) They were not so discreetly, checking up on me, on what I could safely assume to be my mother's secret orders. Because after all, she was worried about me. My eyes were off the screen long enough to roll in my head at the thought. Stretch those neck muscles.because I'm not moving anything else.
Ever since the first suspension this cold dark room, which my parents seemed to have forgotten existed, has become my only sanctuary from inquiring and judging eyes. Alas, my sanctuary only protects me for so long. If I remained here for more than 2 hours straight, the staff check ups would resume. God forbid I watch a movie that was 2 and half hours long. I might be interrupted at a crucial plot turning moment, on the off chance that I might need something that I could probably have gotten on my own if I really wanted it. Rather irritating really.
This was all my mother's doing. I know she's worried about me. (Be proud, I didn't roll my eyes this time) But, I don't know what makes me angrier; the fact that she uses paid help to do her motherly duty of checking up on me, or the fact that it took a suspension from Chilton for her to notice something was wrong. Of course my father was no better. In fact, I'd say that he was even worse. At least my mom doesn't work her hardest to give me low self-esteem.
I'd have to say the suspensions are really a blessing; this now being my last day of my second forced not-so-fun time off of school. But tomorrow, I'll be back at Chilton, back with the idiots Duncan and Bowman, (It was so their fault that we got caught for the car prank) and I'd be back to seeing her in the halls. It is in this way that the suspensions were blessed vacations. I had hoped they would help me to forget about her. That thought was now laughable. At least I don't have to see Rory while I think about her arguing with Paris, reading during lunch, being practically the only student to pay attention in classes. Obviously, my evil plan to get her out of my head had proven to be totally ineffective. Even with the lack of being at school, I still thought about her doing all those things from the safety of my tiny cave-like sanctuary.
I knew I had it bad when I started looking at the clock, or just counting the maids asking about my well being, and would wonder what Rory would be doing right then, and I would in no way care about the time in terms of my own sad pathetic existence. Man, this makes me angry. How on Earth did I end up being the one to pine and suffer; while Rory walks around with her head in a stupid snowy white cloud of ignorance? *But, it is a very pretty head.* Ah yes, there came one of my many unbidden Rory- appreciating thoughts. They tended to express themselves about every ten minutes. (No, I hadn't actually sat down to time them) but they couldn't allow me to forget about her for too long because that would be just plain wrong.
"Man, I need a life." I informed in an almost conversational tone to no one at all; while running my hand through my hair that my father not so lovingly referred to as "the mess that was on top of my cocky little head." Yeah, he actually used the adjectives "cocky" and "little" in reference to my head. Nobody should accuse just a person's head of being cocky. Cockiness should be reserved for the whole person as it took my whole body and all of my soul to work to achieve my current cocky perfection. And if it is necessary to insult a person's head, the term "Doody head" is far more effective than "little head." Doody-head should be used for its many humorous connotations. Come on, thinking about the phrase now makes me want to laugh. But I won't. Hmmm. Although, such an insult is most commonly reserved for those under the age of 7; and possibly for some very intelligent 3-year-olds. It's still a classic. God forbid my father should ever scream the same insult as a 7 year old. That would just be out right embarrassing. I think it's worth a mention that in all actuality my head is on the rather large side.
"Why don't you start by getting out of this dark room?"
Eek. I almost jumped off of the couch; my doody-head train of thought completely lost. I realized I knew that voice. I turned around and sure enough there was a bald, nicely dressed man that I occasionally call my friend leaning against the doorframe. He looked as angelic as was possible for him, surrounded by light from the hall behind him. I managed to contain my excitement caused by the sight of him.
"It's just a suggestion, Tristan. No need to make faces."
I must have over-compensated in my excitement. Oops. "Well, that would involve moving and I've decided to quit that." I allowed some good humor to enter my voice as I answered his original question. Never say I'm a complete jerk. "Lex Luther. Long time no see, what brings you to Hartford?" I turned away from the figure that remained unmoving in the small theater's doorway. I refocused my gaze on the blank blue theater screen. Hey, when did my random action movie end? Stupid. You see what Rory has unknowingly done to me?
"I'm on vacation from my exile to the middle of nowhere that my father saw fit to impose on me."
"So, on vacation and you decided to come to Connecticut? Frankly, I thought you had better taste than that, Lex." I tried to include a joking tone in my comment, but I'll admit I did not really care if Lex managed to pick up on my subtle, rather clumsy, attempt at humor.
Lex scoffed at me. I think he got my lacking attempt at a joke. "Tristan, you know as well as I do that eventually all the tropic paradises in the world end up as one huge blur of indiscernible blue waters, drinks, and beautiful women. I have a big enough blur in my memory. Besides, I wanted to see my old friend." I listened, not commenting. Lex would say something if there was more to be said. "Your mother managed to track me down in Kansas and called."
"Ah." I responded knowingly. And there it was, my mother had found yet another person she hoped would voice her concern for me. I just can't believe she'd chosen Lex. It's kinda embarrassing to think Lex had to come all the way to Hartford to talk to me. I wonder if he'll be mad when he finds out my entire depression pretty much boils down to girl problems. I allowed myself to look away from the empty screen and back at Lex who remained framed by light in the theater doorway. "Really? And what did she have to say? All good things I hope." It's fun to play dumb.
Judging by his face, Lex obviously remembered my playing dumb bit from the old days. "Actually, she's worried about you. Said you're suspended for the second time in a single semester."
I decided not to respond to the basic stating of the facts. Lex took a casual step or two into the small room, so I could now see him in my peripheral vision without even having to look away from the vast blueness of the screen. Score!
"You know you're smarter than this."
I smiled, but I think it probably looked more like a sneer. "Aww, thanks good buddy. Do me a favor; don't start sounding like my father or anything. The one I have is more than irritating enough."
"Tristan-"
"I'm establishing rules for this, what is certain to be a manly, heart-to-heart." Sarcasm. Got to love it. I held up my right index finger. "One. No using the word "future"." A second finger came up. "Two. No saying something like "If you need to talk I'm here for you." I don't think I could stand you using such a trite line on me." A third finger was now up. "And three. There will be no asking "What's wrong, Tristan?"" The last part of this was said in a higher-pitched voice that was clearly meant to be an impersonation of my mother. Okay, I'll admit it. I was feeling a bit defensive right then. I mean, my mom had called Lex Luther (THE Lex Luther!) to come half way across the country to talk to me about how I was feeling. Pathetic. Freaking pathetic. If this conversation actually turned to how I was feeling at that moment (God forbid) that would be my answer. No long thought processes required. Pathetic.
Lex gave a smirk, the closest he usually came to a smile. "Actually, speaking about your future-"
"I'm surprised. Usually you wait a little longer before you start breaking the rules or at least before you make your rule breaking obvious. But if you were about to say I ruined my future, you came a long way for nothing. I already have my dad to say that to me each morning. Of course, you two could organize a schedule. He could keep saying "I'm screwing myself over" each morning and you could say it at night. Give each other breaks. You know, so you two won't end up as sick of saying it as I am sick of hearing it." I fingered the TV remote. I don't suppose I have to say that I've been feeling pretty angry as of late. I can't believe I let a girl get to me this much. "That way the anti-pep talks will be able to go on for twice as long." A fake smile was most definitely present on my face.
"Tristan-"
What can I say; I really didn't feel like hearing anything Lex had to say. "I warn you though, after hearing how I've ruined my future so often, I have quite a few good responses. For example, "Future? What future? You mean the job you would have forced me to take in your firm after I graduate from the college of your choice. Sounds like some future. Makes me glad I screwed it all up." Naturally, that comment would have been directed to my father. But give me a few moments; I'm sure I can think of an adaptation that will be suitable for you." I pressed on the remote so the news came up on the large screen. Yeah sure, I was meaninglessly striking out at one of my best friends. But I'm an angry depressed young man. And what else are friends for? Ha, so there!
Lex seemed to watch the news for a few moments. I'm sure he was in all actuality doing the same thing as me; namely, collecting his thoughts, preparing to strike, whatnot.
"Turn off the TV and get up." My anger flared at the command; and the fact that Lex was a much faster thought collector than I was didn't help. I still had a lot of clutter banging around in my head.
"What?" Great response, huh?
"I need to get you out of this house, DuGrey." Lex started to leave my sanctuary. I'm not sure I was willing to follow just yet.
"I'm not allowed to leave." I informed with a mix of depression and ha-I-just-knew-something-the-great-mighty-Lex-Luther-didn't feeling.
"I spoke with you mom. It's alright." Lex called over his shoulder. He didn't even look back. He knew I'd follow. How irritating. And I would too. I was even getting sick of my only sanctuary. phooey.
"Okay then." I turned off the TV plummeting the room into darkness. I followed where Lex had gone through the doorway of light; thinking, hoping, the famous Lex Luther would be able to help me out of my recent depression, and maybe even, if I'm lucky, into the heart of Rory Gilmore.
Next Chapter: A Hung Over Return