No Moral Turnabouts or Preachy Endings
"Fine," he spat at his uncle, hoping the stress to the word would somehow travel all the way across the room and prick him in the eye. He had been standing here for quite a while now, close to freezing, but the numb feeling in his extremities was nothing to the frustration that was boiling inside of him.
"I can't keep doing this, Jess, you know that," Luke sighed and touched the top of his baseball cap. "This is, what, the third time you've stepped into this Goddamn diner with that Goddamn bag?"
"Third time's supposed to be a charm," he said softly, when he realized that his uncle's wall of authority was quickly crumbling like sand. Luke's last retort was simple, but Jess knew the underlying impression in his uncle's words. He ventured a step closer, his toe tapping once on the hard linoleum surface. The sound echoed within his head, and for the first time in a very long time, Jess realized that he was afraid.
And as soon as Luke's eyes fell downcast, the feeling overwhelmed him. He gripped the straps of his bag tightly, fighting the feeling of Defeat. His lips were taut, his eyes clamped shut. And before a gasp of a hiccup could escape his lips, he nodded with cold civility, turned and walked calmly out the door.
The tinkle of the little bell played an interlude to the rattle of the diner door as it closed behind his hand and a gust of cold wind slapped him in the face. He quickly turned away from the obnoxious weather and stuffed his hat onto his head without ceremony. He felt like he was in the Christmas Freaking Carol, only this story had no moral turnabouts or preachy endings. Just a cold send-off into the bitter night's air.
He slung the bag over his shoulder and started for his car. "Now what?" he mumbled to himself softly, asking his car the question more than himself.
Suddenly he felt a weight throw itself at his back, and he fell onto the side of his car, his hands splayed over the frigid glass window of the driver's seat. Two arms snaked around from behind him, squeezing him tight as they clasped and settled in front of his chest.
Jess looked at the pair of hands below him, but quickly looked up into the sky alarmed when he heard her speak.
"I hate you," she said into the back of his leather jacket, burying her face within it.
"I know," he replied hoarsely, unwilling to turn around and face her.
They stood in the middle of the Diner and his car, the unwelcoming past and the unknown future, molded into one being for that one moment, and when she finally moved, it was something he had never dared to expect ever since she got off the bus less than a year ago.
Her hands unclasped from each other and clung to each side of his shoulders, making him inhale all of a sudden. He felt her weight shift as she balanced herself and pressed her lips to the back of his neck, kissing him tenderly. Jess closed his eyes.
Rory pressed her forehead onto the very same place she kissed and started to cry. He hadn't known at first, but that was until her tears dropped onto his skin like hot embers, scarring his back as they rolled down and down onto him. Her hands were once again clasped in front of his chest. Still he didn't turn.
Instead, he took his hands away from the car window and held onto both of Rory's. He pulled them apart slowly, painfully, and brought them to his lips, kissing them with the same tenderness as she had shown a while ago.
"I gotta go," he said softly, still rubbing her hands with his thumbs.
As soon as he said this, the weight lifted, and her grasp disappeared. He heard a small sniff, and she was gone.
Jess leaned onto his car for a moment, regaining his composure, his insides aching with pent-up emotion. Finally, he opened the door, crawled inside and put the key in the ignition.
With a small stutter, his car roared to life and he was soon passing the familiar departure sign.
"Now leaving Stars Hollow. Come back soon!"
END.
