July 26, 2008
They stay clear of each other the following days, he takes his work elsewhere, makes up excuses to stay away, but by midweek he gives it up, starts looking for her, and it becomes evident that she's much better at keeping her distance. Her door is closed or her room is empty. He's jittery and it's first when he sees her, on Saturday afternoon, that he gets that it's from being away from her. She's stepping out of her room, and stops when she sees him sitting on the couch in the common room. He's relieved at having her in his line of sight, it exhilarates and depresses him simultaneously, however that's possible.
She's in a black pencil skirt, white shirt and a jacket over, her hair is rolled up in a bun. Her appearance pulls at him and makes him uneasy all at once. They stare at each other for a second and she smiles while looking away, it looks like she's blushing but he can't be sure. She locks her door and looks back at him opening her mouth as if to say something but is interrupted by Nicks appearing in the corridor. She leans on the doorway, gives Rory a once over and smiles.
"You look great." She says. "Have a good time."
"Thanks." Rory smiles. "You too." She throws a furtive glance at Jess and heads for the door.
Nicks walks into the room and crouches next to the LP player, she's in yoga pants and a loose tank top, her tattoo visible when she lifts her arms to place the record, something by Fleetwood Mac, on the player. She is beautiful, and seems miles away despite being right there. The door in the hallway opens and shuts as Rory presumably exits the apartment. Nicks gets up and sits down next to him, opening a magazine.
"Where is she going?" He asks, tone level.
"Adam asked her out." She frowns at him. "I thought she'd have told you."
He shakes his head, mumbling something about them not having time to talk lately. There's a pause and he sees Nicks looking at him.
"You don't have to worry." She says. "He's a good guy."
It's too close, telling her that her track record isn't exactly reassuring, so he's quiet, and nods. Nicks browses the pages of her magazine, hums along with the music. She seems far away, because his heart is full of something- someone else. He hasn't had room for her for weeks. He misses her in her presence and decides to spend more time with her. That's the way it is with relationships, you just have to lean into them a bit. And stop being so goddamn idiotic.
August 1, 2008
A week passes. He asks to take over whatever work isn't nailed to the Philadelphia desks. He and Nicks go out with friends. He tells himself it's like it used to be. It's late Thursday or it might already be Friday. He's in the kitchen either way, drinking some ill-advised coffee and re-reading the same page for the third time. Nicks has gone to bed, Mark is working, Paula and Izzy have their doors closed.
The door to the apartment opens and he hears a mumble travel the hallway, carrying the echoes from the stairwell. Rory, and Adam. They've been out, second date if you count the times she's gotten dressed up, he's been trying not to notice, and it's been impossible.
A few minutes pass before the door closes and Rory's steps approach the kitchen. It goes quiet and he glances in her direction. She's standing by her door but eyes on him, clearly weighing her options. A second passes, then she smiles and heads to the kitchen. She reaches it and leans on the door frame, watching him. He looks up, trying to keep his expression as passive as possible.
"Hi." She starts.
"Hey."
"Don't you ever sleep?" Her voice is like a whisper.
He swallows, looks away, she clears her throat.
"What are you reading?"
He lifts his copy of Great Expectations making the cover visible to her. She smiles, so openly, but it only hurts to see. Nothing is like it used to be, or everything, depending on how you count. He clears his throat, articulates the words to all their edges.
"How was your date?"
Her smile tightens.
"It was fine. We went to the movies. That Batman one, he's into comics."
"Kiss him goodnight?" The words are out of his mouth so quickly it's clear they were never going to have this conversation without him asking.
She frowns.
"Why do you ask?"
He gets up.
"Obviously to avoid asking the real question."
He brings his cup to the sink and starts rinsing it off.
"And what is that?" She asks.
He puts the cup in the dishrack, turns to her and keeps his voice low.
"Do you like him?"
She shrugs, even smiles.
"I don't know." She tilts her head. "Why, what do you think of him?"
He doesn't tell her he thought he was an okay guy until he started dating her.
"My opinion doesn't matter, you should come up with one yourself."
She sighs, clearly annoyed. Good.
"Well, I've only dated him for a week, I'm in no rush to figure it out."
Taking her time, more time, of this. Unbearable. This has to stop, in any possible way.
"Maybe you should try. It's no good stringing someone along."
Ouch. Even as the words fall from his mouth he's thinking how they're untrue, how the true ones would involve some sort of apology, for ages ago, for giving her such a hard time about Dean, because now he knows how she felt. She's cracked his world open, and maybe that's exactly what he did to her back then.
Her expression darkens considerably.
"You're one to talk, you're the one who hasn't decided if you're in love with your girlfriend yet."
"It's not the same." He tries.
"No, it's worse. We've been on two dates, you've known your girl for two years, dated her for months- you're living with her-" Her voice is uneven. "What are you even doing?"
This is getting out of hand, but he can't stop.
"We can't all be like you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He takes a step towards her, gesturing.
"You like everyone, Ror. It's no big deal for you. I couldn't care less for most people, the ones I like I can count on one hand."
"So?"
"So, emotions don't come easy to me, I can't just strew them around like confetti."
"And I do?" She's upset.
"You care about everyone's feelings, their opinions. Seems you're in relationships with almost everyone in your life regardless of who they are to you." He takes a step towards her. "You've been into several guys at the same time. You have to have some way of sorting through them, otherwise, what does anyone mean to you?" He takes another step, placing them inches apart. "So, how hard is it to tell what you feel for this guy?"
She shakes her head, bites her lip.
"You don't know a thing about what I feel, for him or anyone."
"Apparently, neither do you."
She takes a sharp breath, looks away and back to him, eyes shiny.
"Damn you, Jess."
Her voice is surprisingly soft but he still jerks at her words.
She stands her ground, doesn't move, just stands there looking at him, clearly wounded. He wants to say he's sorry then and there, but if he starts being soft with her again he won't be able to stop.
He can't look at her, just turns and heads to the bedroom. It's dark in there. He doesn't turn on the light, just undresses and goes to bed. His heart is racing and he knows he won't get to sleep for a while.
The only sound is Nicks sleeping, but the inside of his head makes noises. He's spent as much time as he's been able to with her, but it hasn't been enough. When it's been enough it's always because he's given her something and gotten something in return. An admission, an entrustment, something real. Why can't he feel it? He knows why. He wants to be real with her but can't, because the things he's dying to get off his chest, everything that's real to him is wrong. Did Rory kiss Adam goodnight?
He bites back a profanity and imagines it playing out differently, he hasn't done that for over a year. He replays their argument in the kitchen never really turning into an argument, he thinks how he doesn't badger her like an idiot, but just kisses her instead. He remembers exactly how. He thinks how she doesn't pull away this time but the opposite. It used to be enough to just kiss anyone before he met her. Then he had to learn how to handle wanting someone completely, an entire person. And everything after that always leaves him kind of wanting more. He thinks about kissing her and that it'll mean he doesn't feel so hungry, empty all the time but maybe finally satisfied. He thinks about it and his head gets quiet.
August 8, 2008
It's been another week. He's studied in preparation for the test, the whole thing is starting to lose its sense of urgency. He has trouble concentrating anyway and the thought that he doesn't really need a GED is making an eerily strong comeback. To add insult to injury, he can't look in the mirror, all he sees is her, somehow, behind his own closed face, he understands why no one can tell what's going on, but he himself, can't not see it.
He looks at Nicks through the mirror instead. She's blow drying her hair, eyes half closed, head tilted towards the airstream. So many guys are into her, she had to fight them off, tooth and nail, before they got together. He's never been jealous, and he knows why now obviously, can't ignore it. He remembers Dean and that excruciating sting of just knowing he existed, took up place, had her, and he remembers Logan, can't think about him without clenching his fists.
The weeks following her visit at Truncheon two years ago is mostly a blur, but he remembers one afternoon, being too hung-over to move, staring at the wall, Chris sending off his latest conquest and then sitting down to talk his ear off about how he could never fully commit to one person, to anyone, and how he was happy about that considering the state of Jess. But even as he said the words, he had a strange look, almost a kind of envy.
"Seriously, what is it about her?" He said.
"I think it might be something about me. I've been looking really hard but, I can't find any part of me that hasn't got her all over it. I wouldn't know where to start carving." There was a shaky pause as the words sunk into the both of them. "I probably need therapy."
"You think?"
It was true, he'd tried everything. Isolating her in himself, imagining if he'd made different decisions all together. He'd even allowed himself to imagine never coming to Stars Hollow, but it made him feel sick. The pain was inevitable, it had to be there. And by the time he and Nicks became a thing, he had accepted it.
As long as Rory is just another part of him he can drag her along. But actually living with her, having her in his proximity... It doesn't work, because then he has to admit that she's her own entire person, and that he wants to be with her. That's why he's ache personified.
"What's going on Jess?"
He jerks at Nicks's words, and meets her eyes through the mirror. She cocks her head to the side.
"What do you like about me?" He asks without meaning to.
She's apparently dumbstruck, her face is unusually open. Then she smiles, puts down the hair dryer. She shrugs, steps closer.
"I like that you're steady, safe, silent, that I can just…" She puts her arms around his waist from behind. "-stand inside you."
Wearing him, like he's a piece of clothing.
"Why? What do you like about me?" She asks.
He briefly considers it, can't help it. She doesn't get under his skin, she stays out, he gets to choose when he wears her. She thinks of him the same way he thinks of her, they're each other's disguises, armor.
"Jess?"
He wants to ignore the question, wants to object to her way of liking him, wants to tell her he's only steady, only plays it safe because he has to. He's only silent because he doesn't know what he'll say.
He's a bad writer. All his words, all their pretty sequence, they don't tell the truth. He can't think clearly so he can't speak clearly so he can't act clearly, or maybe it's the other way around. He feels clearly though, unfortunately. He wrote the Subsect because he needed to but it wasn't what he needed. Laura is not a fictional character.
And he's gonna have to leave Nicks over it.
Their eyes meet in the mirror and for a second it's all there. He can't hide it, and it's clear that she can see, she has to. But then the funniest thing happens; She looks away.
"We should get going."
He takes a breath.
"Yeah."
He finishes getting dressed, like everything isn't falling apart, and heads out with Nicks, and no one notices a thing.
August 15, 2008
Another few days pass and he keeps busy. It's been years since he actively self-sabotaged. He's out of practice. Why didn't he tell her he was leaving? He didn't assume it would mean nothing to her. He assumed it would mean nothing to him. Everything hurt back then, why would passing that hurt to her make a difference? That's how he discovered what he defined as pain was really just numbness. Her voice on the phone, her face when he returned, that was pain. That level of dramatic irony, that pain would be the thing teaching him all about love. And now, he'll do it again. He'll leave Nicks, is that how he'll know what she means to him? So he procrastinates, knows what he has to do, but pretends he doesn't.
Then they go out, and he can tell she's going to do her best to get them drunk, get them back to the good old days, the ones he has problems placing on a timeline right about now. Still, they're at The Deep, a place just a block away, drinking copious amounts of beer, drowning in the music. Who knows? It wouldn't be the first time an evening like that shook something loose in him that needed to get lost.
They're at a table in the corner, in the good chairs, silently in accord, swallowed by the noisy band that's an hour into the set. He's on his third beer and comfortably numb. She's leaning on him and he lets her. They're close even when they're distant. The lights from the stage flashes and his mind is blissfully blank.
A silhouette blacks out the lights, and he squints, annoyed. Adam slips into the chair opposing them and leans in.
"Mind if I join you?"
Jess really does, but he doesn't have the energy to tell him no nicely. And Nicks never says no to company.
"Who are you here with?" She asks, looking for more merry-makers.
Adam leans closer, smiles, a bit smudged around the edges.
"Just m'self." He grabs a few peanuts from their bowl tossing them into his mouth.
Jess stares at Adam chewing, brushing the salt from his fingers, the idea of him kissing and touching Rory flooding his brain. Everything is uncomfortable. His seat, his inebriation, the noise, his clothes, him being stuck between two people at a table. Adam keeps talking.
"Rory and I made casual plans but that was days ago and she hasn't returned my phone calls, I think we might be done."
"Oh no." Nicks sounds sympathetic, leans in.
Adam gestures vaguely.
"Look, it doesn't even matter, I wasn't even that into her, but, y'know, we could've had some fun. Now it just seems like a wasted week."
"Adam!" Nicks's tone is somewhat sharp even with outraged laughter in it.
"What?"
Nicks nods her head in Jess's direction, Adam looks at him and lets out a short laugh theatrically slapping his palm against his forehead..
"You used to date Rory."
Finally.
"Yeah, that's right."
Jess tries to make the words as ominous as possible, to end it right here, but subtlety is not working on Adam, who holds up his hands and shrugs.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Was she a tease back then too?"
He's well-acquainted with rage like this and closes his fist around it instead of acting on it. It's part of his new and bettered persona, the kind that doesn't beat the shit out of people anymore, the kind that doesn't get beat up. Violence is not part of their world, but he's dying to introduce Adam to some. He won't though. It would hurt Nicks. He leans in, tries to let out his aggression in his words instead, hisses:
"You're a piece of shit."
His heartbeat rings in his ears, even through the loud music. Adam laughs, like it's a game.
"I know, right?" He says.
Swallowing this shit makes Jess feel sick, and he gets up, rather swiftly, and heads for the bathrooms. Nicks says his name but he keeps moving. There's a crowd and it slows him down enough for Adam to catch up. The light is better here and he's clearly drunk, more so than usual. He places a hand on Jess's shoulder and Jess gathers all his willpower to not slap it away.
"Listen, no offence, man." Adam says.
He's smiling, but can't hide that it's from hassling Jess rather than anything else. He has no idea what he's messing with. Jess takes a slow breath. In. Out.
"You should get some coffee." He finally says.
Adam places his other hand on the other shoulder and leans closer.
"No, but I gotta ask you something."
Jess forces himself to stand still, feels like he'll lose it if he moves too erratically.
"You're a sullen fucker, how do you get these girls?" Adam splutters. "Rory, this small town-, ivy league-princess, and Nicks, fucking queen of everything- And you- you just slide in and land her. Like it's nothing."
So, this is really about her.
"How do you do it?"
Jess bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood. Smiles, mostly just by showing teeth. Nicks arrives, reaches for him. He moves away from it, can't handle more hands on him right now. He sticks his face closer to Adam's instead and speaks slowly.
"I never needed some strategy, man, but I figure not talking shit about them, or openly comparing them like cattle in or outside their presence is probably a start."
Nicks's hand closes around his t-shirt and there's a light pull.
"Jess-"
"Oh get off your high horse!" Adam steps backwards and gestures vividly, brushes Jess's cheeks with his nails. "Everybody compares."
Jess slaps his hand away.
"I don't need to. There is no comparison."
"To whom exactly?"
He stiffens. Shit. He looks at Nicks, and before anything else has a chance to happen he grabs her hand.
"Let's go."
He heads outside with her in tow. As soon as the door closes behind them she tears her hand from his and starts walking down the sidewalk.
"Nicks."
She keeps walking.
"Dominique!"
She spins around.
"Don't use my name!" She growls.
Jess swallows, tries for common ground.
"Adam was a jerk."
"No argument here." She frowns at him. "This isn't about him though, not even close."
"I was angry for her!" He insists. "If he'd talked that way about Paula you'd have his nuts!"
"That's beside the point!" She paces the sidewalk in front of him, before stopping and staring at him. "Do you know about your face?"
"What?" He throws the word out, angry and confused.
"It's statuesque." She spits. "I've learned to like it, because it means I can hear you better, take you on your words but-" She shakes her head. "You should have seen yourself in there, it was stone come to life. It was beyond implications." She pushes her fingers into her already tussled hair and pulls at it. "I don't know what you've been up to."
"Nothing." His response is automatic, but he regrets it as soon as it's out, nothing being such a big word.
She laughs, it's cold and hard, like a war-cry. He steps towards her.
"Nothing's happened." It's not untrue.
"Maybe not at skin level." She paces another round and when she speaks again it's as if she's alone. "I can't believe I'm someone's back-up-"
"You're not a back-up-"
"-a stabilizing influence! I'm in no position to be that!"
"You're not a back-up!"
She looks back at him and he sees it in her eyes, what he's taken from her.
"Oh, really? Say I forgive you, would you stay with me?"
He can't. He can't answer either.
"That's what I thought." She turns away, and her shoulders rise quickly in a sharp breath.
He wants to reach for her but shouldn't. With her he's apparently capable of controlling himself. Instead he stands, looking at her back while she's staring at the passing traffic. A minute passes.
She turns back towards him but doesn't face him completely. Her voice is low.
"Am i like her you think?"
The question is an admission, an entrustment and he only has realness left to answer with. Too bad reality is nothing but a wrecking ball.
"No, not at all." He forcibly holds his voice even. "You made me think of someone other than her."
It's a relief telling her something true even if it must hurt her. She smiles absently, crookedly.
"There's a thing like that I read about, it's an optic illusion, when you look at one spot hard enough and then away, the spot follows, so you see a different spot, but really, it's nothing there."
He's about to say her name to soften- he doesn't even know what, maybe him being a horrible person, but she lifts her head, and his voice gets tangled in his throat at her expression.
"Did you consider my feelings?"
That is pain, but he has no right to it. He can't not answer.
"Yes, I just couldn't help my own."
She blinks, looks away, pins her gaze to a spot on the ground. Cars pass them on the street. She speaks without looking at him.
"Here's what's happened: We're through. And here's what's gonna happen: I'm gonna go back in there and finish my beer, watch the rest of the gig." She looks up, her eyes shiny. "When I get back I want you gone. Got it?"
He nods. Nicks passes him and heads for the door. He has to limit the damage.
"She didn't do anything wrong. I need you to know that."
Nicks stops, turns back to him. His words keep coming.
"She just- whenever she's around I can't help-"
"I don't wanna know about that, Jess. But if you think I'll take this out on her I don't think you know me at all." She walks back inside.
He remains on the sidewalk, tries to feel it. Why can't he feel it? Two years. It's just empty. No, not quite, he's still pissed at Adam, not to mention himself. What's wrong with him? He takes a step back, thinks about his work, about Truncheon, about Chris and Izzy. He has to go back to Philadelphia, tonight. He turns and starts walking.