Losing My Mind

A/N: To those of you who were wondering, (or were, perhaps, insulted) Dean isn't going to be continually abused in this story. In fact, I'm planning a fair ending for him too. And for those of you who hate Dean, content yourselves with my abuse of him in Chapter One. And this chapter is from Dean's POV by the way.

-&-

That girl wasn't Rory. It couldn't have been Rory. Because if it had been Rory, then…that hadn't been Rory. But it was, undeniably, Rory. She had even been wearing her silly, prissy Chilton outfit, but Rory, my Rory, never yelled or insulted like that. Therefore, it couldn't have been Rory. But it was Rory…

And I was back to the beginning. Sighing heavily, I shifted my position on the bed and fidgeted a bit before deciding there was no way I was ever going to get comfortable today and stood up, stretching out my stiff muscles. I had been lying on the bed for the past three hours reflecting on the girl who may or may not be my Rory, and I knew I should have gone to school, but how could I have after yesterday? After my Rory, beautiful Rory, yelled at me like that and acted so strangely. What had I done? What had been going through her mind?

I thumped back onto the bed and put my head in my hands, groaning aloud. It was all such a conundrum. Rory yelling at me, getting mad and embarrassed when I kissed her, which she used to love, and then telling me we had never been boyfriend and girlfriend. It was all just some big mistake, I tried to assure myself. But if it was, it sure was a big one.

So what would I do now? Sit around the house all day moping, sulking? Try to sift through the impossibility of yesterday's disastrous encounter with the love of my life? Sleep some more and have the weirdest dreams ever known to man? I decided to try option D; all of the above.

I collapsed back onto the bed, leaning against the soft-as-melting-butter pillows that seemed more like hard-as-stale-marshmallow pillows now. Was it just me or had they all of a sudden become less comfortable? More unwelcoming? But that was pure nonsense. It was just because I was feeling so uncomfortable, uneasy, miserable inside that I felt that way.

I began to go through the try-to-sift-through-the-impossibility-of-yesterday's-encounter-with-the-love-of-my-life stage as I stared up at my blank, unforgiving white ceiling in desperation. Nothing was solved because I couldn't think, so I started to mope. But I wasn't in the mood for moping or sulking so, sighing, I turned to face one of my equally blank white walls and tried to sink into sleep.

I thought I was actually getting somewhere when the doorbell rang, causing my heart to jump into my mouth, which is a pretty gross saying if you think about it. Could it be Rory? Could she have come to her senses or some such impossible thing and was she coming to apologize? I knew they were hopeless assumptions, but they drove me out of my bed and I got up to answer the door eagerly.

Tramping down the stairs, I finally realized the impossibility of the visitor being Rory. I wanted to go back up the stairs, crawl into the bed and maybe even have a good cry at the thought. But curiosity pushed me forward. Who could be at my door if it wasn't Rory? And besides, there was a chance that it was Rory, and if I didn't answer the door and seize that puny chance…

I reached the door and began to turn the knob as the ding of the doorbell echoed through the house and I gritted my teeth at the impatience of my visitor as the door swung open and I finally saw who it was.

A young girl, a little younger than Rory with light blond hair and pleasant, eager green eyes faced me. Her long hair was loose, falling down to her perfectly curved hips in ripples and reminded me of a water-fall. She had a red headband on her forehead keeping it out of her eyes. She was skinny and petite, reaching up to my shoulder, maybe, and her face was sweet, pretty, smiling. Her red lips were full, her nose small and her bright green eyes eternally eager. Her clothing – a green turtleneck sweater that made her eyes stand out all the more because of how incomparable it was and that matched her green shoes as well as a simple, long, loose red skirt – was modest and complimented her as well as making her look like she was getting ready for Christmas. In her arms she clutched a notebook and a pencil. I had no idea who she was/

"Hello! My name is Emma and I'm doing a survey for my school, Stars Hollow High, on how many young kids from the ages of 16-20 drive cars, and what those that don't do to get around. Would you mind answering a few questions for me?" Her voice is slightly chirpy, I observe, but pleasant and somehow lilting as well, going up and then coming down and then veering up again…Emma. A nice name. And she goes to my school.

"OK, sure," I find myself agreeing, though in my present, miserly state I would expect myself to say, "Sorry, no," and shut the door on her cute little nose. Why am I agreeing? I don't want human company right now. I want to sulk in peace, maybe fall asleep. I don't want to be with other people.

But maybe I want to be with Emma.

"Ooh, goody. You're the second person to agree," Emma informs me, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear distractedly and turning to her notebook, pencil in hand, tongue briefly swiping her lips as she thinks. I nearly chuckle at the motion, sure that it's probably a habit of hers when she's thinking to lick her lips first, as though her thoughts are so delicious she wants to eat them. Now her lower lip is pulled slightly inward, held by her teeth.

And then my mouth reacts before my brain and I find myself asking, surprising even myself, "Hey, Emma, do you want to go to Luke's or something to do this? Besides, there are some people there that you could ask and we could have coffee while I do the survey…I'll help you with it, asking people for you, that is, if you want. I go to Stars Hollow High too." I stand there shocked while Emma's green eyes dance and she nods her head vigorously.

"Oh, that would be so great! Would you really?" She tilts her head to one side as she looks at me, grinning, and her lovely hair falls with it. I swallow, released from my stupor, and nod that I really mean it, because I realize that I do.

We head for Luke's, not far from where I live, with Emma skipping in front of me while I walk, a little stiffly, behind her. We get to the Diner and plop ourselves down in a seat, sitting across from each other. I stare at her blankly for two seconds before my brain starts working again. "I'll go get us something. Anything particular you want?"

She looks thoughtful and licks her lips again, making me smile. I realize she probably doesn't even know she does that. "Well, I really don't like coffee. It's so bitter and so bad for you and so…yuck." She grimaces and my heart lurches. Emma doesn't like coffee. What a simple thing for your heart to lurch for. But then, if you add, Rory and her mother adore coffee, it makes more sense.

I'm so wrapped up in that stupid little thought that I don't hear what Emma's saying. The only thing I do hear is, "You know what I mean?" as she tilts her head to one side again, waiting for my answer. Oh no. What am I supposed to say to that, what can I say that won't make me look the fool?

I'm saved by Luke, who comes up to us with a menu in his hand. He looks solemn, but then again, he always does. "Welcome to Luke's Diner. Is there anything you'd like to eat or drink? We have coffee, water-"

"I'd like some mint tea, please," Emma tells him, almost bouncing in her seat, a grin on her face. "And do you have any lemon-cake? I'd like just a thin slice, please. And a few pieces of fresh, organic apples if you don't mind." Luke nods his assent and turns to me. I'm relieved that I don't have to puzzle out what she was saying before and present myself as an idiot before her.

"And you?" Luke asks dryly, consulting his little notepad to take my order. And then suddenly he looks up from the notepad and looks me over one more time, this time with interest. "Hey…aren't you Rory's boyfriend?" he asks me suspiciously, casting Emily a glance. I gulp, then, glancing at Emma myself and seeing her look of surprise, make my decision.

"Er, no, I'm not," I tell Luke, almost honest. He raises an eyebrow and clearly doesn't believe me.

"Er, yes you are," he informs me with his eyebrow still raised and a knowing look in his eyes. "You're the bag boy at Doose's, the one Lorelai pointed out to me, and you're going out with Rory."

My mind actually kicks in at this point. "You mean I was Rory's boyfriend and I was going out with her. Was. Am not anymore," I clarify, feeling proud of myself. And then I turn back to Emma. "So, you like fruits and tea? I do too! Coffee is just too thick for my taste…" And as I say that I feel that I'm really, truly, in earnest, discarding Rory, something I never thought I would do. I had gotten over her. And how easy, how satisfying, it was!