A/N: I'm very very sorry for the delay. I worked on my HP fics and I was
very involved in fictionpress.com lately so yeah, I know, they're no real
excuses. I also had some writer's block at some point, only on this story,
though. Don't ask, lol.
And THIS HASN'T BEEN BETA-READ! My beta has some organisation issues
lately, lol.
Lostfallenangel: everybody wants to hug Tristan and bash his father's head. If it wasn't the case, I'd wonder if you're normal, he he he. Thanks for the review, hope you enjoy the following chapter, it was really difficult to write for some reason.
Miss Teinge: Yep, that's what I always say... angst's the basis, lol. hope you continue to review, I don't think angst will leave this story ever, so yeah, enjoy.
Janice: God, I never thought it looked like 8 Mile. I've got the movie at home but it's been a while since I last watched it. You're right though, the sibling interaction is similar and the context is as shitty. Life sucks. I hope you're gonna enjoy this story, hope to have your review again.
Dru838: so much praise in your review! Thanks! This doesn't come from personal experience, thank God. I'm very interested in abuse and a lot of my characters suffer from it. No, I'm no pervert, it makes me want to throw up, but before somehow landing in History in college, I wanted to work on that issue. Glad you'll continue reading! Of course I'll continue the story of Liam and Alex! I love them, they're my characters, he he he.
Tori: I know I know, I'm trory obsessed too so I perfectly understand your craving for more trory interaction. It will come, definitively. But not now... I know, I'm a horrible person, muahahahaha. *innocent smirk*
Siaram: I can't believe you missed an update either, lol. As long as you come back, I don't mind. And if I was more regular, you'd know when I post. Blessed were the times when I started my first fic and was able to update every Sunday... thanks for your praise, ,I hope I manage to keep the characters interesting.
Jalna: I'm glad you like my insufferable rambling when replying to reviews, I can't help it. Rory still doesn't know everything, but I like how she's not gonna give up, even if things are rather screwed.
Moi: glad to see you're back, yeah, sorry again for the cookie business... Next time I'll try to find cookies that can reach their destination alone. Right, I forgot to take my lil pills today, lol. We all need trory interaction, trust me... but I'm afraid you're gonna have to work on your patience skills *innocent smirk*
Smile1: as long as you review, I'm certainly not gonna complain! Glad you liked it all, he he he. This chapter is not gonna be your fav, but well, it was horrible to write, words didn't seem to flow, plot seemed stupid. Annoying block.
Coffeechick83: yeah, I shall never forgive you for your lack of reviews, lol. welcome back! Yeah yeah, Tristan will confide in Rory... once. Of course Paris' parents are insensitive bastards. If I remember well, we have a glimpse of her dear mom in some first season ep and when she talks about them, she's never really enthusiastic, is she?
Christie: I continue, I continue. Though not soon, but I hope next update comes faster. *sigh* I really do.
Girldevil: thanks! My writing is not good, but I hope it gets better. Have to kick my beta in the ass...
Aquataine1136: Thanks, I hope you're gonna come back again! *wink*
DitzyChick: nowhere near talented, but I'm very happy you like this story. Yeah, I wondered a long time about including these street kids, especially in a GG story, and then I decided to do the hell I wanted and I don't regret it, he he he. And thanks for the compliments!
Ally: Very happy you went back and now understand everything, I wondered if my chapters were making sense. Lol, Tristan can be very very stubborn you know...
Cara: if you're annoyed with my mistakes, I can let you know when this story'll be posted in French so you can fully enjoy it without the mistakes.*innocent smirk*. No hard feelings, you have to be a lot bitchier to even annoy me a single bit.
Miarae: your review is funny... Ahem, yeah, moving on... sorry for the delay, but very happy that I have you conflicted about my "killerstory" that's the point. *evil grin*
Kellene: totally right, the Nowhere Kids is a song by amazing Smile Empty Soul... I came up with the idea of Liam and Alex when listening to it. *grin* thanks, continue to enjoy and review!
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SOAA 8
Tristan woke up with the sound of the rain pounding against his window. The thick fog and dirty water crashing against the glass and the roof made him want to dig a hole in his mattress and lie there, warm and relatively safe. It was Monday morning, time to face his lies again, time to definitely throw Rory Gilmore away. He rolled on his side and winced at the stabbing pain rushing through his body. Of course, Charles Dugrey hadn't been very happy to see that his kids hadn't come home on Thursday night and had made them understand that pretty easily.
Ria had been slapped a few times but Tristan had protected her from more serious abuse by calling his father names and shouting to divert the man's attention. He had struggled like a tiger to give her time to escape and this time, Charles Dugrey had been taken aback when seeing his son radiating with such strength.
He smirked at the memory of the fight. Oh, he had lost it again; he had a fabulous bruised and cut cheek, his body was sore and the scab covering his back was itching, but he didn't care. Physically, he perfectly knew that he was becoming weaker after each beating. His body had no time to heal correctly and the fact that his sleep was restless didn't help. But mentally, he was becoming stronger.
He had to admit that this week hadn't really been a glorious example of his mental strength but he knew that hitting the bottom had made him bounce again to the surface. He smiled at the thought of the two black-haired kids that had given him this new strength. He knew nothing about Liam or Alex, but he found them easier to trust than anybody composing the higher society of Hartford. They were no angels and life had left its muddy stain on them, but they were soldiers, survivors and Tristan was one too. He didn't want to lose his battle. Not now.
Getting up, he immediately changed in his Chilton uniform. He intended to arrive late, just enough to earn a scold and not a detention, just enough for everybody to see him. He spent a long time in front of the mirror. They all had to know that their king was back and nothing in his appearance should betray his pain, his latent weakness. Of course, he would have to think up an excuse for the bruise, but generally, the others were offering him a way out without even realizing it, by asking too precise questions.
Tristan smirked at his reflection and was happy to see that this particular skill was rather efficient again. Chilton wouldn't even realize that he'd been out of it this past week and everything would go back to normal. The only scary part in this process was Rory. He perfectly knew he would hurt her and even if he had done it in the past, this was different. She had dug up part of his past, she had somehow gotten interested in him, in his secrets and part of him wanted her to find out everything, to tell him things would work out and soothe his anguish. But he also knew it couldn't happen; it was his battle and nobody could help him.
*Tristan's pov*
And here I am, facing my kingdom, facing my lie again. I stroll down the halls with my I'm-just-too-cool attitude back on and my inner walls steady and strong. I joke with the guys, flirt with Louise and then with another girl whose name I don't remember. Who cares after all? As I wanted, I arrived late for my first class and I entered proud and arrogant, my best smirk plastered on my features. They all think I've skipped school on purpose, just to take a holiday; they worship me for being such a jerk, such a model of the rich spoiled bastard.
I'm the centre of conversations. Tristan's back. I feed the rumours by answering their questions with winks and careless shrugs; they crawl and lick my shoes. Power feels good again, I taste it cheerfully. I annoy a few teachers, but receive another A+ in English. I can see envy in my schoolmates' eyes. They again start their little wars to be on my side, to gain the oh-so-wanted little spotlight that will propel them to the top of the pyramid. Of course, I crush their hopes. That's where the game becomes interesting. Seeing them squirm under my gaze, keeping them at a distance. I dominate them, I'm not the one sprawled on the floor for once. And the distance is vital. Never let them come too close, it can hurt, they can hurt. They're just looking for glory and what would be more glorious than shooting me down? I watch my back and savour my power while I have it.
And power doesn't taste sour till I meet Rory's and Paris' path. They're talking civilly to each other, even joking a bit. I don't really know what I will do. I can ignore them, or I can attack them right now. A look at my former best friend answers my question. I'll just ignore them. I just want them to know that I'm perfectly ok and that they'd better leave me alone.
Rory looks at me with a questioning stare. I smirk at her and my eyes discreetly mock her. She sees it and frowns, biting her lip. I know I've just hit her but victory and pleasure doesn't ring in my ears. One could say I'm nearly disgusted with myself. I'm sorry for what I'm doing, I always was when it comes to her. The fact that she isn't a real Chiltonite always tugged at my heart. She is different and it's refreshing. I think I could trust her if I really needed to, she doesn't belong to that world of vultures.
I shake my soft thoughts and continue my walk to Chemistry, leaving the two girls behind. Someone punches a locker and I spin around to see the protagonist. All I spot is Paris stalking in the other direction, rubbing her hand. Rory throws me a sorry look and goes after her. Guilt squeezes my heart a bit. It would be so easy to run after them both and unfold everything. It would be so easy to beg for their help and for their comfort. Too easy. Things that are too simple can have freaking hard consequences and more trouble is not exactly what I need now. I need a good nap while the teacher rambles about his bloody frogs.
*Rory's pov*
"You're driving yourself over something stupid, Ror."
I sigh as I turn from the fridge to look at Dean and Lane. They don't understand, they don't see how important this has become to me. How I made it personal. I slam the fridge shut.
"Why does he act that way? You should have seen him today, he was so-"
"Tristan-like?" chirps Lane while popping candy in her mouth.
I scold at her but I know that she's right. Old evil Tristan was back today. Paris was right when she said every year he was closing up a bit more. There was no flaw in his walls this morning. I didn't see him pick up the pieces and build them again. There was no internal struggle to keep going, he went smoothly and perfectly through the day. Emptily too. I sit in at the table and dig in the popcorn bowl.
"I just wish he would stop lying to everybody, I just wish he would talk and say that he hurts."
Dean shakes his head. "It's not because he lost his mother that he's a martyr. Plenty of people are in this situation and they live with it. Tristan is obviously not very affected by anything and you should leave him alone before you get hurt, because you know he's capable of doing it. Whatever you see in him, he's still a bastard and damn heartless one."
I feel his contempt for Tristan behind his words. And I understand and can't really blame him for that, but all I see is Tristan's eyes on the day I spotted him on that frozen step, all I see is his uneasiness and worry when he saw me in front of the graveyard. His sister's silence when she had been such a smiling little girl only a few days before. There's more to him than a heartless bastard and I can't leave things that way. Even if a little voice whispers at the back of my head 'you're gonna be hurt'. Even if I always claimed that I couldn't bear him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
*Paris' pov*
I slip my hands in my pockets and turn my fingers in hard balls. I squeeze a pebble in my left hand. It's a plain, elliptic pebble. The average sand coloured pebble that you find everywhere. But this one is not an average one to me. It's for luck. And it's unique because of the painted drawing on it. When we were little, we would go with Tristan's mom on the river's banks and collect all sorts of stones and then we would draw on them. She loved them and we would always give them to her and she would put them everywhere, in the garden, on tables etc. After her death, I came a few times over. I looked for the pebbles and never could find them. Someone had taken them all. All but one that had rolled under a piece of furniture.
I stroke it softly inside my pocket, tracing the patterns with my fingers. A green smiley. With a potato-shaped head and few hair. Tristan painted it and joked around saying it was my portrait. It ended in a paint battle, of course.
The door finally opens and I meet the maid's face. I don't know her, the last one I met was Rose and it was four years ago. Last time I put a foot in this house. She gestures me to follow her; I don't know when I spoke to her but I obviously did. She leaves me in the living room and goes up the stairs.
I look around, nothing has changed. No, it's not right. Something changed, the atmosphere. There is nothing in this room that reminds of life. No plants, no flowers. No family pictures, no half read books. I shiver a bit, my fear increases as I hear footsteps coming toward the room.
"Paris Gellar. Got lost?"
I spin around and find Tristan looking back at me, leaning against the doorframe. He's smirking but the look in his eyes freezes me, he doesn't want me here.
"Why do you do that Tristan?"
He takes a few steps forward and slips his hands in his pockets while tilting his head. "Why do I do what?"
"You perfectly know what I'm talking about. Why do you have to close up and act like a sodding bastard? Why do you have to hurt me like you do? What changed in you that we can't even talk to each other?" I'm shaking a bit and stammer, I'm losing control of my feelings when I face him.
"That's called growing up, Miss Gellar. I changed, you changed, we have different ways of seeing things now. Why do you have to cling to the past? It's no more, face it. Find other friends, I've nothing to offer you, we've got nothing left to share."
"It's not growing up! You changed the day she died, you pushed everybody away and locked yourself in your pain and it killed you!" I'm yelling now, I'm so angry with him.
"Wake up, Paris! Do I look like I'm dead? Do you think I need help? But what for? She's gone and there's no way to go back, why move up memories? I go on with my life, go on with yours and forget about me!" he yells back.
I feel tears coming up so I brush past him and walk quickly to the door. I turn around and take the pebble out of my pocket.
"Are you happy Tristan? Are you? I don't think so. You're a liar. You play the empty and shallow git, like nothing matters to you. But do you really think I saw nothing of your breakdown of last week? I know you too well Tristan, you can't fool me about that. Goodbye, Mr Dugrey, I leave you alone with your secrets and your loneliness."
I put the pebble on the shelf next to the door and leave. I nearly run back to my car and drive aimlessly for hours. First confrontation with Tristan, and even if I knew I would suffer, I pray it was worth it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
*Ria's pov*
I slowly walk down the stairs. I heard the whole conversation and saw the girl leave in a hurry. Paris. Tristan never talks about her but when I wait for him after school, hidden in her closet or under his desk, I go through his things. This girl is on a lot of pictures. My brother is messy and never put them in albums, but he's got a box full of them. I didn't know her name and never dared ask. Paris, his best friend. Why don't they get along anymore?
Tristan is in the doorway and is clutching a stone in his hand. He's pale and looks sad and angry. He doesn't even acknowledge my presence so I step forward and put my hand in his.
"Are you alright?"
He laughs and looks at me. "I always am, Ria."
I shake my head. "Sure, and our dog's called Theodore Roosevelt."
"We don't have a dog, but well, if one day we have, I promise you can call him Theodore Roosevelt."
I scowl. "It's not funny Tristan. She was right, you know. You talk to nobody. You don't even tell me things. I don't need to be sheltered like that and I feel like I'm a burden to you and that I can't even help you."
He sighs and kneels in front of me. "You're not a burden, never say that again. And I know that Paris is right, but it doesn't change the fact that I don't need her help, or her friendship. It would only bring us trouble."
"I know, but-" I want to tell him how worried I am, how I hate how Dad hurts him, how I wish he would have a friend but his gaze interrupts me. I can see in his eyes that he already knows what I was about to say so I throw my arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. He picks me up and tickles me, I can't hold back my laughter. I struggle to get free and start to run up the stairs. He catches me and carries me to his room. We fight a bit more and then collapse on the carpet, out of breath. I crawl in his lap and close my eyes.
"What do you want to know?"
I startle at his question. "What?"
He sighs. "You say I never tell you anything, so what do you want to know?"
I think for a while. I wasn't expecting him to ask me that and questions fill my mind. Where do I start? My eyes land on the pictures box.
"What happened today so Paris came to have that outburst?"
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And this was chapter 8 of SOAA, a melodramatic, angsty, full of grammar mistakes (thanks for the review Cara) Gilmore Girls fic, written by a girl downing tea and cookies (no, I'm not gonna offer you some) in front of her laptop. I'm obviously not pathetic today... *rolls eyes*
Lostfallenangel: everybody wants to hug Tristan and bash his father's head. If it wasn't the case, I'd wonder if you're normal, he he he. Thanks for the review, hope you enjoy the following chapter, it was really difficult to write for some reason.
Miss Teinge: Yep, that's what I always say... angst's the basis, lol. hope you continue to review, I don't think angst will leave this story ever, so yeah, enjoy.
Janice: God, I never thought it looked like 8 Mile. I've got the movie at home but it's been a while since I last watched it. You're right though, the sibling interaction is similar and the context is as shitty. Life sucks. I hope you're gonna enjoy this story, hope to have your review again.
Dru838: so much praise in your review! Thanks! This doesn't come from personal experience, thank God. I'm very interested in abuse and a lot of my characters suffer from it. No, I'm no pervert, it makes me want to throw up, but before somehow landing in History in college, I wanted to work on that issue. Glad you'll continue reading! Of course I'll continue the story of Liam and Alex! I love them, they're my characters, he he he.
Tori: I know I know, I'm trory obsessed too so I perfectly understand your craving for more trory interaction. It will come, definitively. But not now... I know, I'm a horrible person, muahahahaha. *innocent smirk*
Siaram: I can't believe you missed an update either, lol. As long as you come back, I don't mind. And if I was more regular, you'd know when I post. Blessed were the times when I started my first fic and was able to update every Sunday... thanks for your praise, ,I hope I manage to keep the characters interesting.
Jalna: I'm glad you like my insufferable rambling when replying to reviews, I can't help it. Rory still doesn't know everything, but I like how she's not gonna give up, even if things are rather screwed.
Moi: glad to see you're back, yeah, sorry again for the cookie business... Next time I'll try to find cookies that can reach their destination alone. Right, I forgot to take my lil pills today, lol. We all need trory interaction, trust me... but I'm afraid you're gonna have to work on your patience skills *innocent smirk*
Smile1: as long as you review, I'm certainly not gonna complain! Glad you liked it all, he he he. This chapter is not gonna be your fav, but well, it was horrible to write, words didn't seem to flow, plot seemed stupid. Annoying block.
Coffeechick83: yeah, I shall never forgive you for your lack of reviews, lol. welcome back! Yeah yeah, Tristan will confide in Rory... once. Of course Paris' parents are insensitive bastards. If I remember well, we have a glimpse of her dear mom in some first season ep and when she talks about them, she's never really enthusiastic, is she?
Christie: I continue, I continue. Though not soon, but I hope next update comes faster. *sigh* I really do.
Girldevil: thanks! My writing is not good, but I hope it gets better. Have to kick my beta in the ass...
Aquataine1136: Thanks, I hope you're gonna come back again! *wink*
DitzyChick: nowhere near talented, but I'm very happy you like this story. Yeah, I wondered a long time about including these street kids, especially in a GG story, and then I decided to do the hell I wanted and I don't regret it, he he he. And thanks for the compliments!
Ally: Very happy you went back and now understand everything, I wondered if my chapters were making sense. Lol, Tristan can be very very stubborn you know...
Cara: if you're annoyed with my mistakes, I can let you know when this story'll be posted in French so you can fully enjoy it without the mistakes.*innocent smirk*. No hard feelings, you have to be a lot bitchier to even annoy me a single bit.
Miarae: your review is funny... Ahem, yeah, moving on... sorry for the delay, but very happy that I have you conflicted about my "killerstory" that's the point. *evil grin*
Kellene: totally right, the Nowhere Kids is a song by amazing Smile Empty Soul... I came up with the idea of Liam and Alex when listening to it. *grin* thanks, continue to enjoy and review!
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SOAA 8
Tristan woke up with the sound of the rain pounding against his window. The thick fog and dirty water crashing against the glass and the roof made him want to dig a hole in his mattress and lie there, warm and relatively safe. It was Monday morning, time to face his lies again, time to definitely throw Rory Gilmore away. He rolled on his side and winced at the stabbing pain rushing through his body. Of course, Charles Dugrey hadn't been very happy to see that his kids hadn't come home on Thursday night and had made them understand that pretty easily.
Ria had been slapped a few times but Tristan had protected her from more serious abuse by calling his father names and shouting to divert the man's attention. He had struggled like a tiger to give her time to escape and this time, Charles Dugrey had been taken aback when seeing his son radiating with such strength.
He smirked at the memory of the fight. Oh, he had lost it again; he had a fabulous bruised and cut cheek, his body was sore and the scab covering his back was itching, but he didn't care. Physically, he perfectly knew that he was becoming weaker after each beating. His body had no time to heal correctly and the fact that his sleep was restless didn't help. But mentally, he was becoming stronger.
He had to admit that this week hadn't really been a glorious example of his mental strength but he knew that hitting the bottom had made him bounce again to the surface. He smiled at the thought of the two black-haired kids that had given him this new strength. He knew nothing about Liam or Alex, but he found them easier to trust than anybody composing the higher society of Hartford. They were no angels and life had left its muddy stain on them, but they were soldiers, survivors and Tristan was one too. He didn't want to lose his battle. Not now.
Getting up, he immediately changed in his Chilton uniform. He intended to arrive late, just enough to earn a scold and not a detention, just enough for everybody to see him. He spent a long time in front of the mirror. They all had to know that their king was back and nothing in his appearance should betray his pain, his latent weakness. Of course, he would have to think up an excuse for the bruise, but generally, the others were offering him a way out without even realizing it, by asking too precise questions.
Tristan smirked at his reflection and was happy to see that this particular skill was rather efficient again. Chilton wouldn't even realize that he'd been out of it this past week and everything would go back to normal. The only scary part in this process was Rory. He perfectly knew he would hurt her and even if he had done it in the past, this was different. She had dug up part of his past, she had somehow gotten interested in him, in his secrets and part of him wanted her to find out everything, to tell him things would work out and soothe his anguish. But he also knew it couldn't happen; it was his battle and nobody could help him.
*Tristan's pov*
And here I am, facing my kingdom, facing my lie again. I stroll down the halls with my I'm-just-too-cool attitude back on and my inner walls steady and strong. I joke with the guys, flirt with Louise and then with another girl whose name I don't remember. Who cares after all? As I wanted, I arrived late for my first class and I entered proud and arrogant, my best smirk plastered on my features. They all think I've skipped school on purpose, just to take a holiday; they worship me for being such a jerk, such a model of the rich spoiled bastard.
I'm the centre of conversations. Tristan's back. I feed the rumours by answering their questions with winks and careless shrugs; they crawl and lick my shoes. Power feels good again, I taste it cheerfully. I annoy a few teachers, but receive another A+ in English. I can see envy in my schoolmates' eyes. They again start their little wars to be on my side, to gain the oh-so-wanted little spotlight that will propel them to the top of the pyramid. Of course, I crush their hopes. That's where the game becomes interesting. Seeing them squirm under my gaze, keeping them at a distance. I dominate them, I'm not the one sprawled on the floor for once. And the distance is vital. Never let them come too close, it can hurt, they can hurt. They're just looking for glory and what would be more glorious than shooting me down? I watch my back and savour my power while I have it.
And power doesn't taste sour till I meet Rory's and Paris' path. They're talking civilly to each other, even joking a bit. I don't really know what I will do. I can ignore them, or I can attack them right now. A look at my former best friend answers my question. I'll just ignore them. I just want them to know that I'm perfectly ok and that they'd better leave me alone.
Rory looks at me with a questioning stare. I smirk at her and my eyes discreetly mock her. She sees it and frowns, biting her lip. I know I've just hit her but victory and pleasure doesn't ring in my ears. One could say I'm nearly disgusted with myself. I'm sorry for what I'm doing, I always was when it comes to her. The fact that she isn't a real Chiltonite always tugged at my heart. She is different and it's refreshing. I think I could trust her if I really needed to, she doesn't belong to that world of vultures.
I shake my soft thoughts and continue my walk to Chemistry, leaving the two girls behind. Someone punches a locker and I spin around to see the protagonist. All I spot is Paris stalking in the other direction, rubbing her hand. Rory throws me a sorry look and goes after her. Guilt squeezes my heart a bit. It would be so easy to run after them both and unfold everything. It would be so easy to beg for their help and for their comfort. Too easy. Things that are too simple can have freaking hard consequences and more trouble is not exactly what I need now. I need a good nap while the teacher rambles about his bloody frogs.
*Rory's pov*
"You're driving yourself over something stupid, Ror."
I sigh as I turn from the fridge to look at Dean and Lane. They don't understand, they don't see how important this has become to me. How I made it personal. I slam the fridge shut.
"Why does he act that way? You should have seen him today, he was so-"
"Tristan-like?" chirps Lane while popping candy in her mouth.
I scold at her but I know that she's right. Old evil Tristan was back today. Paris was right when she said every year he was closing up a bit more. There was no flaw in his walls this morning. I didn't see him pick up the pieces and build them again. There was no internal struggle to keep going, he went smoothly and perfectly through the day. Emptily too. I sit in at the table and dig in the popcorn bowl.
"I just wish he would stop lying to everybody, I just wish he would talk and say that he hurts."
Dean shakes his head. "It's not because he lost his mother that he's a martyr. Plenty of people are in this situation and they live with it. Tristan is obviously not very affected by anything and you should leave him alone before you get hurt, because you know he's capable of doing it. Whatever you see in him, he's still a bastard and damn heartless one."
I feel his contempt for Tristan behind his words. And I understand and can't really blame him for that, but all I see is Tristan's eyes on the day I spotted him on that frozen step, all I see is his uneasiness and worry when he saw me in front of the graveyard. His sister's silence when she had been such a smiling little girl only a few days before. There's more to him than a heartless bastard and I can't leave things that way. Even if a little voice whispers at the back of my head 'you're gonna be hurt'. Even if I always claimed that I couldn't bear him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
*Paris' pov*
I slip my hands in my pockets and turn my fingers in hard balls. I squeeze a pebble in my left hand. It's a plain, elliptic pebble. The average sand coloured pebble that you find everywhere. But this one is not an average one to me. It's for luck. And it's unique because of the painted drawing on it. When we were little, we would go with Tristan's mom on the river's banks and collect all sorts of stones and then we would draw on them. She loved them and we would always give them to her and she would put them everywhere, in the garden, on tables etc. After her death, I came a few times over. I looked for the pebbles and never could find them. Someone had taken them all. All but one that had rolled under a piece of furniture.
I stroke it softly inside my pocket, tracing the patterns with my fingers. A green smiley. With a potato-shaped head and few hair. Tristan painted it and joked around saying it was my portrait. It ended in a paint battle, of course.
The door finally opens and I meet the maid's face. I don't know her, the last one I met was Rose and it was four years ago. Last time I put a foot in this house. She gestures me to follow her; I don't know when I spoke to her but I obviously did. She leaves me in the living room and goes up the stairs.
I look around, nothing has changed. No, it's not right. Something changed, the atmosphere. There is nothing in this room that reminds of life. No plants, no flowers. No family pictures, no half read books. I shiver a bit, my fear increases as I hear footsteps coming toward the room.
"Paris Gellar. Got lost?"
I spin around and find Tristan looking back at me, leaning against the doorframe. He's smirking but the look in his eyes freezes me, he doesn't want me here.
"Why do you do that Tristan?"
He takes a few steps forward and slips his hands in his pockets while tilting his head. "Why do I do what?"
"You perfectly know what I'm talking about. Why do you have to close up and act like a sodding bastard? Why do you have to hurt me like you do? What changed in you that we can't even talk to each other?" I'm shaking a bit and stammer, I'm losing control of my feelings when I face him.
"That's called growing up, Miss Gellar. I changed, you changed, we have different ways of seeing things now. Why do you have to cling to the past? It's no more, face it. Find other friends, I've nothing to offer you, we've got nothing left to share."
"It's not growing up! You changed the day she died, you pushed everybody away and locked yourself in your pain and it killed you!" I'm yelling now, I'm so angry with him.
"Wake up, Paris! Do I look like I'm dead? Do you think I need help? But what for? She's gone and there's no way to go back, why move up memories? I go on with my life, go on with yours and forget about me!" he yells back.
I feel tears coming up so I brush past him and walk quickly to the door. I turn around and take the pebble out of my pocket.
"Are you happy Tristan? Are you? I don't think so. You're a liar. You play the empty and shallow git, like nothing matters to you. But do you really think I saw nothing of your breakdown of last week? I know you too well Tristan, you can't fool me about that. Goodbye, Mr Dugrey, I leave you alone with your secrets and your loneliness."
I put the pebble on the shelf next to the door and leave. I nearly run back to my car and drive aimlessly for hours. First confrontation with Tristan, and even if I knew I would suffer, I pray it was worth it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
*Ria's pov*
I slowly walk down the stairs. I heard the whole conversation and saw the girl leave in a hurry. Paris. Tristan never talks about her but when I wait for him after school, hidden in her closet or under his desk, I go through his things. This girl is on a lot of pictures. My brother is messy and never put them in albums, but he's got a box full of them. I didn't know her name and never dared ask. Paris, his best friend. Why don't they get along anymore?
Tristan is in the doorway and is clutching a stone in his hand. He's pale and looks sad and angry. He doesn't even acknowledge my presence so I step forward and put my hand in his.
"Are you alright?"
He laughs and looks at me. "I always am, Ria."
I shake my head. "Sure, and our dog's called Theodore Roosevelt."
"We don't have a dog, but well, if one day we have, I promise you can call him Theodore Roosevelt."
I scowl. "It's not funny Tristan. She was right, you know. You talk to nobody. You don't even tell me things. I don't need to be sheltered like that and I feel like I'm a burden to you and that I can't even help you."
He sighs and kneels in front of me. "You're not a burden, never say that again. And I know that Paris is right, but it doesn't change the fact that I don't need her help, or her friendship. It would only bring us trouble."
"I know, but-" I want to tell him how worried I am, how I hate how Dad hurts him, how I wish he would have a friend but his gaze interrupts me. I can see in his eyes that he already knows what I was about to say so I throw my arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. He picks me up and tickles me, I can't hold back my laughter. I struggle to get free and start to run up the stairs. He catches me and carries me to his room. We fight a bit more and then collapse on the carpet, out of breath. I crawl in his lap and close my eyes.
"What do you want to know?"
I startle at his question. "What?"
He sighs. "You say I never tell you anything, so what do you want to know?"
I think for a while. I wasn't expecting him to ask me that and questions fill my mind. Where do I start? My eyes land on the pictures box.
"What happened today so Paris came to have that outburst?"
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And this was chapter 8 of SOAA, a melodramatic, angsty, full of grammar mistakes (thanks for the review Cara) Gilmore Girls fic, written by a girl downing tea and cookies (no, I'm not gonna offer you some) in front of her laptop. I'm obviously not pathetic today... *rolls eyes*