Shades of Hope – Chapter 3
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Disclaimer: These characters belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino. I'm merely frolicking around in her brain. Wow – she's got some dirty thoughts in here! Kidding. ;)
Spoilers: Through episode 5.14, 'Say Something.'
Author's Notes: My apologies in advance for the shortness of this chapter. The final chapter is quite a bit longer, I promise. Thanks again for the great reviews!
Luke tears his eyes from the pile of clothes that Lorelai has thrown on his bed just in time to watch her storm out of his apartment. He considers following her, but quickly thinks better of it. She's angry, he's angry, and speaking will only lead to more confrontation. He's had enough of that for now. Instead, he stands by the window, pushing the curtains back just a sliver, so that he can watch her jog away from his apartment. She stops and looks up, so Luke quickly closes the curtain. He waits for a few moments, and then looks out again. She's gone.
He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and drops the curtain. He isn't sure what to do with himself. All he knows is that sleeping definitely isn't a possibility; he wants to do something with his hands. He glances around the apartment. "There has to be something to fix around here…" he mutters. However, he finds nothing, and, instead, sinks into the chair that Lorelai left across from his bed. He has already fixed everything that needed fixing and could, in the near future, need fixing. Without Lorelai, he hasn't had much to do. Well, aside from think about her. And he doesn't want to do that.
Instead, he stands up, pulls the chair back toward the kitchen table, and then sits down again. There are bills strewn about the table. He had been working on them before Lorelai came over, but he had kept making stupid mistakes as his mind wandered. Now, as he picks up his pencil and calculator, he is sure that it's going to happen again, but trying is his only option. He vaguely wonders if getting a computer would be such a bad idea after all, but immediately scolds himself for thinking such thoughts. "Like I need another way to waste my life," he says under his breath, as he scratches down a sloppy set of numbers.
He cocks his head to the side, staring at the numbers for a moment. They're wrong. He curses under his breath as he erases the numbers, and stares at the paper again. He throws down his pencil in defeat. This isn't working. He takes his baseball cap off of his head and throws it onto his bed, beside the sweater and the flannel shirt. He doesn't know what to do now and he's angry with Lorelai for coming over because his brain won't shut off. Why did she have to do that? Why did she have to blame him? Of course, he mostly blames himself, too, but it's different when she says it. It becomes more real - more painful. He knows he isn't strong enough to fight against the feelings of shamefulness that the elder Gilmores and Christopher brought upon him. He isn't worthy of Lorelai and soon she'll realize that, too. Yes, soon she'll realize that all the time she's been spending moping around was useless and end up with Christopher or someone of equal snobbish, yet refined upbringing.
Before they had started dating, he never thought about these types of things – about how he wasn't good enough for her. There was no need to do so. He never really, truly acknowledged how he felt about Lorelai. Sure, he had been happy when he had found out she had broken off her engagement to Max (perhaps elated was a better term; after all, he had given free meals to everyone in the diner after he'd found out), but he had never quite faced the truth until he listened to those love tapes. And then, all of the sudden, he began to worry that he wasn't good enough for her, but decided that he would ask her out and see what happened. He had not expected her to feel what he felt, and then he had been confused because she had… So when they started dating, there was always that nagging thought, which he kept shoved in the back of his head that kept repeating, 'she deserves better…' He's angry, but it's true. He wishes she had realized it sooner and just dumped him. Then he wouldn't have to feel so god damn guilty.
"SHIT!" he yells, pushing back on his chair so hard that it leaves a mark on his floor. He stands up and paces the room, hitting his hands repeatedly against his head. He needs to distract himself from these thoughts; they're going to drive him mad soon! Luke abruptly stops pacing when a glimmering light catches his eye. He turns and faces the television, sitting proudly across from his bed, as the streetlights reflect against the glass. That damn television! He had gotten it for Lorelai, but she's never going to be sleeping in his bed again, which means he doesn't need the television there. He doesn't watch TV at night - she does.
Suddenly, Luke runs over to his closet and rummages through it for a minute, throwing clothes behind him. He finds what he's looking for and straightens, before jogging toward the television. Gripping the baseball bat in his hands, Luke swings the wooden bat and hits the television right in the center. A huge network of cracks forms on the surface and he swings again, this time causing the screen to shatter, showering him with shards of glass. He ignores the stinging pain as the glass cuts through his skin and continues to smash the screen, cursing and clenching his eyes shut in a blind rage.
Luke continues doing this until there is no longer any glass left on the television to break. His arms are full of cuts and bruises, and the blood has dripped all over his gray tee shirt and worn jeans. He can feel the skin on his face tighten as he purses his lips, surveying the damage he has done to his television and the floor. He walks toward the broom, but thinks better of it. Instead, he glances at the ruined television and then at his bed. Before he realizes what he's doing, he grabs Lorelai's green sweater and holds it close to his body, ignoring the fact that his blood has already begun to seep into the material. Then, he breaks into a run through his apartment door and out into the cold night.