Wow, I can't believe how addicting songfics can become. Technically, this isn't a songfic. I'm listening to the song "Are You Happy Now" by Michelle Branch, searching for inspiration. Not gonna actually put the lyrics in, I think. lol.

888888888888888888888888888888

She thought and remained quiet. She thought and remained quiet, for what seemed like an hour. Why? Because of him. The one that broke her heart. The one that ripped her heart out, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it repeatedly. Over and Over and Over again. Smothering and crushing and ruining her heart, her body, her mind, her spirit, her soul. And he pretended he didn't give a damn. Pretended being the oprative word. But, he SAID he cared. He said that when he told her he loved her. He came up, dropped the "L Bomb". And got in his car and drove away. From her, that town, but mostly, his fear. The fear of being rejected.

The fear rang in his ears. He could her her screaming "NO!" in his face. he risked that fear, and the fear was confirmed. he knew he had gotten what he asked for. He had gone to her, and got shot down.

Now that we have that cleared up, let's focus on what's important. Why was he afraid? Why should you be afraid of love? They always say Don't be sad because it's over, be happy because it happened. But for some reason, he wasn't upset because it was "over". He was upset because he didn't believe it was over. He refused to believe. So basically, he refused to believe what was sitting in front of him, which was reality. They BOTH held onto that little glimmer of hope. To what might be.

They were both ripped from deep thought, when someone called their names.

8888888888888888888888888888888

"GILMORE!"

"Yes sir?"

"There's an investigation for a burglary in an apartment building on Seventh and Eigth, I want you to cover it"

"Yes sir..."

"Get moving!"

"I'm on my way..."

Rory stood from her rather small cubicle at her office for the New York Times. She was one of the youngest women to have an actual job at The Times. Not an intern, but an actual journalist. In Stars Hollow, it would be a huge honor to be assigned a burglary case. But in New York, that's no big deal. It's almost a step away from a slap in the face. But she didn't care, she always had faith that there was a story under a simple case.

When she arrived at her destination, she was suprised to find about half a dozen squad cars parked outside of the building. Not one, which was typical, but six. She also saw one Mercedes, which appeared to belong to a criminal investigator.

8888888888888888888888888888888

"Mariano!"

"Geez, what!"

"You feel asleep again."

"Oh, sorry"

"If we're gonna get this new novel published we better get a move on, this one's gonna be a hit."

"You say that everytime."

"And everytime you tell me We send out only 500 copies, how in th hell do you expect one to do well?"

"And everytime I'm reminded of this."

"Good to know you have something to count on."

"Well, I can strike that off my list."

88888888888888888888888888888888

Love? Hate? A mix of the two? I meant for this to be a oneshot, but it sorta just evolved. You decide. review and I'll update. Don't review and I won't update.