He opened the door hearing the old fashioned bell announcing his arrival.
His whole body hummed with anticipation, the anxiety burdening him for days turning into an almost palpable force of drive within his limbs.
He looked around the trendy setting, hoping, with his heart beating in his throat, that this would go fast and smooth.
"Can I help you?" a guy approached him with an odd expression and Tristan realized he looked a bit out of place with his Versace suit.
He had the foresight to discard the tie, back on the plane, but the rest of his costume, designed to not leave Rory with any questions regarding his trip, were apparent and screaming 'not an artist type!'.
"Uhm... yeah... I am looking for Jess Mariano" he replied, talking in a serious tone as he looked around the publishing house.
He noted the pieces of art, the stacks of books, the many desks and he hoped to god that they were all the signs of a successful company. The place was lively, buzzing with energy even this late in the evening and it made him feel old, much like anything artistic did.
"Alright, why don't you wait here, I'll see if he's available" the guy replied, still slightly suspicious.
Tristan watched as he departed toward a door which lead to Jess' office, he assumed. It was an office in a row of several ones on the far back wall of the place, most of which were open. He knew that Jess and a couple of guys started the publishing house a couple of years back and he also knew that they had several small successes with a couple of novels, one of which included Jess' sophomore attempt. They continued to be based in Philadelphia, but they moved to a larger office, and were branching out towards various projects with books, arts and music as well. It was still an indie company, but they had been becoming a force to be reckoned with.
The guy returned within seconds and pointed towards the room that he just exited, letting him know he was free to go in.
He sighed, suddenly feeling the reluctance.
He'd met Jess before.
Back in Star's Hollow at Luke and Lorelai's wedding, and then at the book signing they went to two years ago in New York.
Both of those encounters were... tense to say the least.
He could tell, just by one look in his intensely dark eyes that he had not, nor will he ever get over Rory Gilmore.
He couldn't blame him of course, but that still didn't stop him from hating his guts from the getgo.
Jess, even after becoming fairly successful in most fields of his life, remained a rebel deep within. And that included a complete lack of want to communicate adequately. As if there were an adequate way to communicate with the current lover of the love of your life.
Their brief interactions reflected this and even though Tristan had the sense to know that no sign of male competitiveness was going to be excused by Rory, he couldn't help but feel an itch in his palms on the rare occasions he was forced to coexist with this person.
He would watch as the dark eyes scanned Rory, speaking volumes of love denied again and again, of heartbreak tossed back and forth, of disappointment, regret and other disasters. He watched patiently, restraining himself although every part of his body wanted to revolt. He disliked Jess with an intense passion, not just the way he disliked Dean, or Logan, but truly and deeply, the way you could only dislike your true competition.
He felt several pair of eyes on him and a shiver ran down his spine, realizing most workers of Truncheon were now staring at his apparent reluctance to enter Jess' office.
He took another breath and walked towards the door coming to stand in the doorway.
The office was messy, lined with bookshelves and cabinets, stacks of books, magazines and paper spilling over the desk. The light was scarce and there was a soft hum of music coming from a stereo from the corner. Jess was sitting behind the desk, staring at a computer screen intently, his eyes scanning over lines and lines before he finally looked up to meet his gaze.
When he did, his face spoke of true surprise.
Tristan watched his intensely dark eyes dilate to an ever more profound color, his lips parting slightly in surprise. His long dark hair fell into his eyes and it took him seconds, before his hesitant hand moved to restrain the stray lock.
There was no words of greeting or welcome and he wasn't much surprised at that. He made himself at home, shutting the door behind him as he walked up to his desk, seating himself in the chair from across Jess.
He listened to the silence of the room for a minute, prepping himself for the conversation ahead, not looking up to gauge the other man's reaction.
"What can I help you with... Tristan?" Jess finally spoke, his words careful, untrusting, his name spoken with a hidden displeasure that only a lawyer could have picked up on.
He looked up at Jess, finding the brown eyes studying him curiously and with slight distaste.
He took a deep breath, reaching into his bag and pulling out the manuscript carefully.
He placed it on the desk, on the miraculously clear spot in front of Jess, then leaned back into his chair, not taking his eyes of the novel, as if he were still unsure this was the right choice, the only choice.
"You taking up writing instead of law?" came the brunette's sarcastic question and he glanced up with a poker face.
"Rory wrote this" he said, his words quiet, simple, but somehow still earth shatteringly powerful in this office. He studied Jess' face, hungrily taking in the emotions passing through there.
There was a slight shock at first, his mouth falling agape. Then something flashed in his eyes before they focused on the stack of paper that he placed on the desk. He couldn't identify it exactly.
Was it hurt? Or anger? Or something else entirely?
He didn't realize he was holding his breath as he studied the other man's reaction, up until Jess finally spoke.
"She wrote a novel?" came his question, his voice cracking, raspy and he watched as he swallowed hard.
He tried to identify whether this was the true question weighing on Jess' mind. He wasn't really sure about that.
"Yes" he answered, his body perfectly still.
Jess was motionless, his eyes the only part of him that stirred, while he focused on the manuscript in front of him. Tristan saw hesitation, and great struggle, as the man resisted the apparent urge to take the novel into his hands.
"She quit the Times and wrote this in a couple of months time" he shared, slightly annoyed by watching Jess' internal battle.
Jess was staring at the manuscript as if it held some great secret, some great answers and that thought left Tristan feeling uneasy.
"And you stole it from her?" Jess glanced up as he arched an eyebrow.
Tristan was slightly taken aback by the question, but he had to admit it was a valid one.
"Sort of" he mumbled.
Jess' eyes shot up to his again, his expression judging.
"She gave up on it" he said, and his voice sounded too much like a defence to his own ears.
He took a deep breath trying to think clearly and not just obey urges.
"She's been... rejected by a bunch of publishers" he explained "I doubt they even read it, lest they'd know..."
"She wrote a novel?" Jess' quiet question broke him off and he realized, looking back up at his face that he was still just deciphering the meaning of that sentence, his hands slowly creeping out to finger the edge of the stack of paper in front of him.
"Yes" Tristan whispered in affirmation.
There it was, that look of hurt, or betrayal, or anger again and he wondered for a second why he didn't think of this possibility when he planed on coming here. Of Jess feeling like he was left out of something that was so his field of expertise.
Tristan suddenly felt the cold, uncomfortable position of the winners and he felt ashamed for rubbing it in.
As if he were reading his mind, Jess looked up, a wry smile playing on his lips.
"You two back together?" he asked and the question took Tristan by surprise.
He knew Rory and Jess didn't talk, not at all. It was something he never questioned and took as a given. He could tell by that handful of times that he saw them meet, that they had unresolved issues plaguing their bond, something that couldn't allow them even after all this time to be careless around each other. He always thought that it was Jess' undying admiration, and the uncomfortable affect on Rory explaining this, but he couldn't quite be sure. He never did have the strength to ask her about it. It was reassuring and unnerving at the same time. Rory and Jess, they didn't talk. But perhaps it would have been more reassuring for Tristan if they did. It would have been better if they had no problem talking to each other. It would have meant there was nothing left to feel uneasy about.
So then that meant Jess knew about the breakup from another source. Possibly Luke. The fact that he knew about the breakup, but didn't know about them being back together could have been a result of Jess and Luke's lousy track record at communicating.
Right. Right?
"Yeah" he replied and watched as the dark man's lips curled unevenly.
"Does she know you're here?" came the next, obvious question and he realized the smirk was foreshadowing this question.
Tristan raised a condescending eyebrow, not bothering to answer.
"Right" Jess sighed, leaning ahead, resting his weight on his elbows on the desk. His fingers had retreated from fingering the text and now he was just staring at it again, apparently under a trance.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice suddenly exhausted as he looked up, seemingly shaking off the intense feelings that weighed him in the last minutes.
"I want you to read it and publish it" he replied with conviction and watched Jess scoff.
"I think if she wanted me to read it, she would have brought it herself." he pointed out and Tristan felt unabashed bitterness in his voice.
"You know how insecure she is..." Tristan fought his point "and you know how highly she thinks of you and what you've accomplished."
He cringed slightly speaking the words, hoping he didn't sound like a lawyer to Jess. He sounded like a lawyer to himself. Fighting a case he was desperate about.
"Look, I don't know why you're doing this..." Jess' impatient voice cut through his trail of thought "what you are trying to achieve or amend for..."
"I am not trying to amend for anything" it was his turn to cut him off, his voice shaking slightly from emotion.
"Whatever" Jess dismissed him "The point is, this is not right. If she didn't think of showing it to me herself, chances are she didn't want to. That she wanted to do this on her own. How do you think she is going to react when she finds out you came here? What do you think she's going to..."
"She had a rough year" he stopped him again and the declaration silenced Jess.
His eyes shot up to his and he once again saw the unidentifiable look of hurt echo through the brownness of them.
"She had a rough year and I think she is starting to find herself again. Starting to find what makes her herself again" he pleaded his case and he realized his voice was just that. Pleading.
"I had to watch her this year, throw away everything and anything she had. I had to watch her fall apart and I had to watch her try to build herself up again brick by brick. This novel... this is the first time I felt like I saw her whole again. When she was writing this. It was incredible to see. And I am not going to let that all disappear just because no one bothered to pay attention to her writing."
He finished his monologue, his eyes darting up to study Jess again.
He was gripping the sides of his desk, as if hearing the words were causing him actual physical pain.
"This is incredible" he went on, his hand tapping the manuscript for emphasis, "Help me get her to believe that again."
He stared at Jess' reluctant face, a million emotions flashing through it.
"Just read it. Read it and if you don't beg me to let you publish it, I'll leave and never come back" he said with fierce determination.
Jess sighed, closing his eyes.
Tristan got up from his chair not waiting for Jess to make up his mind.
"I'll come back tomorrow and you can tell me what you think" he said, his voice determined.
He walked toward the door, without turning back to look at him.
"She isn't going to like this. And she's sure as hell going to to be pissed at you" came Jess' voice from behind him.
"Just read it, Jess" he said before opening the door and shutting it behind himself, without turning back.
xxxxxxxx
The afternoon was sunny, but chilly. The sun shone bright, the reflection off the fresh snow augmenting the strength of the rays into a splitting daze, so intense that he had to squeeze his eyes even after sitting there for hours. He felt the duality, the extreme coldness of the air around him, but the rays of the sun bathing his face and his whole body in warmness. He felt comfortable, without having moved an inch in the past couple of hours, and he realized he forgot to register the constant hum of the anxiety inside him as well, the sun seemingly having a calming effect on anything it touched.
The bench he was sitting on stood on the edge of the park facing Truncheon and he thought it was appropriate to wait there. When he went in this morning, an assistant told him that they hadn't seen Jess come into work yet. He refused to wait in the office, the whole atmosphere of the place giving him an uneasy feeling and he opted to find somewhere outside, keeping the front of Truncheon in sight in case Jess showed up.
"How long have you been sitting on that fucking bench?" he heard the familiar hostility of Jess' voice and he forced his eyes open, the pressure in his chest steering awake.
He was surprised that he had missed him, but then again, he might have kept his eyes shut for longer than he'd thought.
"10 AM" he replied calmly.
"Are you insane?" the dark haired man murmured as he shoved his hands in his pockets. His word came out in little puffs of condensation, visible in the coldness of the air.
"I figured once you start reading, you would finish in one sitting and then I'd see at once when you show up" Tristan shrugged, feeling a long forgotten hint of rivalry in his words "You must be a slow reader" he added, giving into the urge.
"I read it three times" Jess offered as an explanation and Tristan only now noticed that his expression seemed tired, his hair a mess, and his clothes familiar from last night. He must have been in his office unable to put the manuscript down, which is why the assistant didn't see him come in. He was already there. Still there, to be more precise.
He felt a pang of jealousy, of protective possessiveness that threatened to burst through his chest in the form of a warning growl, but he took a deep breath instead, telling himself that it was after all, what he expected and hoped for.
He stared at Jess, seemingly still in disarray.
There was a moment of silence before the man moved to sit next to him on the park bench.
"Rory wrote this" came Jess' voice. It was more a statement, than a question. Quiet, contemplative, a true sign of his amazement and wonder.
"Yeah", he answered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He stared at the fresh snow in front of his feet, unable to melt despite the warming beams of light.
"She's..." came Jess' attempt to voice his feelings.
"Yeah, I know" he cut him off, the thought of Jess' praising her making him feel nauseous.
"It's..." Jess tried again, once again failing to find words to express himself.
"Yeah" he smiled, irony apparent in his voice.
"What the hell are we going to do?" Jess asked, his voice exasperated.
"You're going to come with me to New York and tell her that" he replied, as if there were no other options to consider at all.
"I don't think that's such a good idea" Jess scoffed.
"Why?" he asked, not agreeing.
"Because... she is going to be pissed... she didn't tell me about this for a reason..." Jess struggled, and Tristan could make out a trace of hurt in his voice.
"She hasn't shown it to anyone" Tristan offered, and he felt the inadequacy of his attempt to be comforting to Jess.
"Except for you" came the obvious reply, and Jess' disappointment rang unabashed.
Tristan listened in silence, not wanting to insult him further by trying to explain her actions. He wasn't sorry that he was the only person in her life. He wasn't sorry that he was the only one that managed to stick by her even if she was hurtful and cruel. He deserved this. He sure as hell fought through thick and thin to be here.
He couldn't tell what Jess' story was. Whether their current lack of communication was a result of their initial beak up, or the time he knew Jess called her out on, when she quit Yale. And he also recalled some vague memory of Rory confessing to use Jess when things with Logan weren't going so well, but he had refused to even listen to the story with full alertness, so he couldn't quite use it now to piece the puzzles together. Truth was he didn't want to. If it had been up to him, he would have forgotten Jess Mariano even existed. But he wasn't quite so lucky.
He took another breath, his mind being puled back to the present, as the brooding man still sat quietly beside him.
"I'm in there" Jess finally spoke and his voice was small, amazed again.
"I know" he replied, his jaw flexing despite his will.
"I am the voice of reason" Jess mused.
"You are an alcoholic who freezes to death on a New York street" Tristan replied, unable to withhold the venom in his voice.
"I'm still in there" he chuckled.
Tristan took another breath, trying to calm himself back into his role. He was here with a purpose, after all.
"Yeah, well, I'm sure you are" he said and sensed Jess turn to him, his face questioning.
"What?" he asked.
"The voice of reason in her life..." he said, feeling actual pain at having to vocalize the thought "So then act like it." he added.
"You don't know how this is going to turn out. You are willing to risk loosing her over this" Jess said, standing up suddenly, to walk a few steps in frustration.
"I am not going to lose her again" Tristan replied, happy to hear the conviction in his own voice.
"How do you know?" Jess turned back to face him.
"Look, Jess" he stood up, taking a step to face the shorter guy "You do realize how hard this is for me, right? You do realize I'd rather be anywhere else on the fucking planet right now, than here, but I believe in this, I believe in her, and I saw her finding a way that I think is good for her. Now I could fucking support her her whole life, while she writes, even if no one ever reads what she writes except for me. Trust me, if I knew that would make her happy, I wouldn't mind. But I know it isn't. She needs to feel appreciated, she needs to feel like she has accomplished something, and fuck, if that means going to every single bookstore and convincing them to put her on their shelves, then that's what I'll do. I'll do anything to see her the way she was when she was writing this" he finished his monologue, realizing his voice was shaking with all the emotions that were swirling inside his chest.
"You're in love with her" Jess said, his words slow, amazed with the revelation.
Tristan looked away with annoyance, seeing the shocked expression.
"You aren't selfish, like the last one. Or idiotic like the one before. Or fucking crazy like the one before" Jess went on, his musings making Tristan even more annoyed.
"Yeah, well I'm not Logan and I'm not Dean and I am not you" he shot back, cutting him off.
There was a tense silence between them and he once again looked away, this time feeling ashamed, more than annoyed.
"And she loves you" came Jess' voice.
Tristan sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.
"I am hoping" he said quietly.
"She is going to be pissed" Jess said, his voice warning.
"Yeah" he agreed.
"She is going to be so fucking..." Jess went on, his voice worried.
"I know" he replied, stressing the words.
There was a beat of silence, the two of them looking at each other in the blinding winter sunshine.
"When do we leave?" Jess asked with a slight frown.
"We can be on a plane in an hour" he replied without missing a beat.
xxxxxxxxx
He let himself into the apartment hearing the sounds that made the place into a home. That made it worth coming home to.
The hall was a mess, with Rory's boots leaving a little puddle of melted snow around them and her umbrella left opened to dry.
He maneuvered around it, putting his own briefcase on the ground and shaking off his coat.
He stepped inside, hearing the noise of laughter and applause coming from the TV set. He heard the sounds of popcorn popping in the microwave and in a second he could smell it too, the buttery smell filling all of the apartment.
"Rory?" he called out and he heard the TV turn off immediately.
"Tristan?" came her surprised voice and the next moment he saw her bounce towards him with a brilliant smile.
She leaped into his arms, kissing him with force and then pulling away to greet him with an incredible smile.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were only getting back tomorrow" her enthusiastic voice made him smile in return, his arms moving around her to pull her closer.
He leaned in for one more kiss before taking a deep breath to step away slightly. He needed the distance to clear his head.
"I... I finished all I went to do in a day... so I'm back early" he struggled with the words and he tried desperately to recall the speech he had been preparing for the last three hours during his trip back.
"How was L.A.? Did you see anyone famous?" she asked, her face genuinely interested as she turned towards the living room, her hand intertwining with his.
He didn't move, their joint hands stopping her mid movement as well.
She looked back at him with a curious expression, feeling his reluctance.
"Rory. There is something I need to tell you" he said slowly, carefully.
He saw a flash of concern in her eyes, not nearly as much that he thought she would produce had she known what he was about to say.
"I wasn't in L.A." he said and her eyebrows raised in confusion "and it wasn't work" he added.
He saw her body tense, and her brows furrow. He saw a flash of hurt and of jealousy and he suddenly felt guilty, rushing to explain himself, even as he knew the truth might be far worse than infidelity.
"I was in Philadelphia" the words spilled from his mind and he watched her face still confused "I went there to..." his words failed him and he took another deep breath.
"I took your novel with me" he tried another way to approach the subject.
Rory froze, her whole body becoming tense at the words.
"What?" she choked out, her hand letting go of Tristan.
"Rory, I think that you shouldn't give up on it so soon and I think that we have more options..." he heard himself explain.
"I didn't give up" she broke him off, her words guarded, hostile almost.
"We do have options" he explained.
"I have options Tristan, I do! It's my choice to make" she shot back.
"I know and I'm sorry, but hear me out..." he pleaded.
He watched as her face contorted, her breathing becoming fast and shallow.
"God, what did you do?" she whispered, her hands clutching each other as she tried hard not to hyperventilate.
He took a deep breath, turning around to walk back to the door.
He opened it, his eyes meeting Jess'.
He knew there was no way Jess could have heard the conversation transpiring between them but his face looked as though he had.
There was a silent look exchanged between the two, before Tristan turned back, walking inside again with Jess following him.
Tristan's eyes landed back on Rory just as her face changed with reckognition.
"Oh my god" she murmured, a slight flush appearing on her cheeks as her hands moved to hide her face.
"Hey Rory" Jess greeted her and Tristan watched as she took a deep breath, composing herself.
When she let her hands fall, revealing her face to the two men, she once again looked calm, composed.
"Hello Jess" she said, her eyes darting to Tristan, with a look of hurt, disappointment.
"I think you two should talk" Tristan said, turning away before he could realize Rory's scolding expression that he expected at his choice of words. He walked back down the hall, once again avoiding the drying umbrella. His legs revolted against him as he battled the incredible urge to turn back, to take Rory into his arms, to apologize or explain, to make sure she knew she was the only reason, his only reason. Instead he opened the door and stepped out of the apartment leaving behind the two of them, an incredible feeling of insecurity settling in on every part of his tired body.