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Rory turned away from her computer for a moment, having suddenly lost her train of thought. She glanced at her watch; 1:47. Oh geez, Rory thought to herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She had been writing for hours and, glancing at the screen, realized it had all been for nothing. The article was crap, Rory realized, sending the seventeen page piece into the virtual dumpster. With a desolate sounding bing! the screen went blank, crackling noisily as if sighing in relief at finally being given a break. Rory sighed along with the laptop, falling quickly from her caffeine-induced high and coming to terms with her exhaustion. She couldn't even remember the last time she had eaten something that hadn't come as a complimentary side to her drinks. When was the last time I talked to my mother? Rory asked herself, forcing her body to rise from the chair. She felt heavy as if her veins had been infused with lead and a quick glance to the mirror made it clear that she didn't look any better. Her eyes had heavy dark circles underneath and her mouth sagged at the corners in a perpetual frown. Her hair had gotten so dirty that it was clinging to her neck and scalp as if she had taken an impromptu dunk in a swimming pool. The reflection disgusted Rory. She had never let herself get this bad. It wasn't as if she had had the smoothest dating history either. Dean. Jess. Dean again. Logan. It was enough to make anyone's head spin. Still, Rory had never gotten this out of whack. She had never let herself be undone by a guy. Not until now. Ugh. What have you done to yourself Gilmore? Rory asked in loathing, turning slowly from the mirror and shuffling away from her bedroom.
It had been hard, moving back in with Paris. She had swallowed a lot of pride, watching her stuff being carried back into the shabby apartment from Logan's high class residence. It wasn't even so much about the material benefits that Logan's apartment had offered, it was the mental part that got to Rory the most. Admitting it was over, really and truly over, that had been the most painful. I go to one of the best schools in the country, Rory had thought over and over. I'm supposed to be one of the smartest kids in the country and I can't even keep this stupid relationship together! Why can't I make this work? What's wrong with me? It had been a fruitless blame game that only left Rory feeling more miserable than she already had been.
Rory stumbled through the darkness, shuffling across the cold wooden floor. She barely noticed the cold though, her body having been numbed through her sporadic drinking binges. Rory contented herself by puttering around; throwing together a medley of various take out dishes that didn't smell too risky. She was about to take a seat on the sofa when she accidentally sent several saucepans crashing to the ground. Cursing loudly, Rory set down her plate and sent a wary glance towards Paris' room praying that she hadn't woken her up. Why do we even have saucepans anyway? Rory wondered bitterly, stacking the copper pans on the countertop once more. It's not like either of us cook. I don't even think we own a cookbook. We don't have much room anyway, it's not like they would be missed. I wonder why we even keep them around.
"Damnit Gilmore what are you trying to do to me?" Paris demanded, throwing her door open so fast that it slammed against the wall with a nerve-rattling crash. Rory jumped and looked guiltily at her roommate, feeling like a naughty child caught with her hand in a cookie jar. Paris shuffled towards the kitchen, her feet sliding over the smooth flooring. She towered over Rory for a minute, soaking in the scene with undisguised exhaustion looming in her eyes. Then, following Rory's example, she grabbed a plate and loaded it up with the same medley of take out that had appealed to Rory's taste buds.
"It's two in the morning, what the hell are you doing?" Paris snapped but the venom that usually accompanied her tone was gone. Rory stood, leaving the pans forgotten, and grabbed her plate, following Paris to the couch. She sat down, sinking heavily into the cushions and pulling an afghan over her now trembling body. For a while both girls ate in silence, taking comfort in all of the words left unsaid.
"You're thinking about him aren't you?" Paris asked in a tone that could only be described as accusing. Rory's cheeks burst into flames at having been so easily read. Paris watched her carefully and, noting the sudden color change, just shrugged. "Don't worry, I was thinking about Doyle. And you know why?" Paris asked, the bite having returned to her tone. She took a large bite of her food and pointed an accusing fork at Rory. "It's because it's a vicious cycle Gilmore, and they know it."
"They?" Rory asked, having gotten lost on Paris' early morning rant. Paris just sighed as if it were the most obvious question in the world.
"Logan and Doyle know it Rory, god you're slow."
"What do they know?" Rory pressed in between forkfuls of day old lo mein.
"They know we'll keep going back to them—that's why they do it."
"You're crazy," Rory murmured but somewhere inside it was sparking something in her head. I returned to Dean. Lord knows I wanted to return to Jess. And Logan—god, I've returned to Logan my fair share of times. Still, it didn't feel right to her. If Paris' theory is true wouldn't I have stayed with Dean? Wouldn't I have stuck with him over time?
"It isn't crazy Gilmore, its true. Once you find the one—the right one—you can't leave them. Ever. Not for real anyway." The one. The words echoed in Rory's sleep-muddled mind. Is Logan the one? It wasn't the first time that the thought had crossed her mind. It was the first time that Rory was seriously considering it though. They had had their bad times—and there were plenty of bad times—but what about all the good times? They had to mean something. When things were good there was no doubt about it, they were some of the best times Rory had ever had. Logan made her a new person. There just seemed to be so many bad times. Wake up, Rory told herself, maybe this is what a relationship really is. Maybe this is the real world, not some Stars Hollow picturesque world where I'm coddled and shielded from real live issues. Maybe this is what it's all about. With that thought resounding in her head Rory allowed herself to drift away to sleep.
When Rory woke up it took her a few minutes to realize that the continual pounding wasn't just in her head. She blinked awake, realizing that she was all alone on the couch. Paris had left long ago, probably for her first class. Rory pushed away the blanket, which was now stifling her beyond belief, and stood, walking slowly towards the door. Without bothering to ask who it was she threw it open and was only half startled to see Logan standing in the doorframe. He extended a cup of coffee to her, which she took gratefully. He smiled at her and began talking. Rory didn't have to listen to know what he was saying; she knew it was all regrets and apologies. The soundtrack to our relationship, Rory thought sadly. Rory knew in the end, regardless of what he said, that she would go back to him. Maybe that's why, later on, when she found herself wrapped in Logan's arms, it was Paris' voice that she heard, over and over in her head, It's a vicious cycle Gilmore. Yeah, Rory couldn't help adding. And it keeps coming to bite me in the ass.