He tied his laces silently as he sat on the bed, the dusk outside creeping into the unlit bedroom. He rose slowly, his limbs already aching for the rush, aching for the mindless extortion that running around the Reservoir would bring him.
He had ran in the morning already, but somehow, the tension seemed to return to him by now and he sure as hell wasn't going to stay in the apartment listening to the metalically distorted voice of Jess as he went over another revision of the chapter that Rory and he had been discussing over the computer.
He wasn't jealous, he told himself as he squeezed his hands into fists, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.
His face looked tired, even though it was Sunday, his hair was a mess, and his old track pants hung to his frame, holes and all, making him look like an average exercise crazed New Yorker. His eyes were burning though, and as he met his own gaze in the mirror, he felt pathetic.
No, of course he wasn't jealous.
Why would he be?
Just because his girlfriend was in the next room cyber-discussing a chapter with her ex. A chapter probably inspired by her ex. For the past two hours.
Absolutely no need for jealousy.
Let's just call it a very intense need to run about 7 miles.
He released a long breath, walking out of the room, deliberately making his steps as quiet as possible.
He walked by the open door of the study, hearing snippets of their conversation and froze as he heard her say his name.
He sighed.
"Almost" he gritted out the word into the silent foyer, composing himself as he turned around to stand in the doorway of her study.
She was looking at him, twisting around in her chair, away from her computer.
He glanced at it, secretly calculating where to stand to not be in the range of the web camera. He frowned as he figured there was nowhere to hide.
"You going running?" she asked, a sweet, surprised smile playing on her lips.
Feelings of being pathetic returned with a vengeance as he lost himself in her smile, in the ray of her eyes. That smile seemed to scold him for ever feeling like he... had to run 7 miles just because she was talking to some other boy.
"Yeah" he murmured, leaning against the door frame as he watched her.
He noticed a flash of guilt in her eyes as she rose from her chair.
"I'm sorry, I've been holed up here all afternoon" she apologized, stepping up to face him.
He watched her with a smile, thankful that she blocked the laptop from his view.
"Don't worry about it. I'm glad you are getting some work done" he replied.
He knew it'd been hard for her. Revisiting the chapters she'd finished, rewriting the story that she thought was done. But he guessed it was the way the editing process worked. And he loved the fact that he saw her regain her dedication, her drive. She would immerse herself in her work, and she was back to being Rory again, his Rory.
Her trip down to Philadelphia a couple of weeks ago had finally convinced her that Truncheon would be a good idea for her. Jess wasn't there to meet her, making Tristan wonder if that was significant, a statement from the brooding rebel. She had been surprised, but hadn't lingered much on the problem as she was quickly swept up in the process of signing the contract and meeting her editor, Emma. The young, eccentric appointed editor was clearly as enthusiastic about Rory's book as Jess, and Tristan came home many a night to find Rory talking to her over the computer, immersed in some detail of the book.
Those were the good days.
Then there were days, albeit far and few, when he would hear Jess' voice from the study and he figured that Jess' absence during her trip to Philadelphia was more a statement to Tristan than to Rory.
'I ain't causing trouble'
He frowned again, but was pulled back from his musings as he felt Rory's hand glide over his cheek.
"Hey" she nudged him, moving closer.
"You okay?" she asked as his arms snaked around her.
"Yeah" he smiled "I just need to clear my head, running will be good" he shrugged.
"Okay" she nodded "don't stay all night though."
He agreed with a smirk, pulling her close to kiss her slowly. His hands pulled her closer and he felt her tremble slightly as he deepened the kiss unconsciously.
He pulled away, steadying her on her feet as he leaned back against the door frame.
She blushed slightly and he was reminded of the computer behind her. He somehow felt content, proud even, like a man claiming his stake and he hoped, with an unabashed urge, that the little web camera recorded every flutter, every last detail.
He scolded himself, thankful for Rory's inability to read minds. He pushed himself off the door frame and waved a silent farewell as he turned to walk towards the front door of the apartment.
The elevator was empty and silent, flawlessly riding towards the ground, and as he descended, the feelings of unease returned to his body, slowly, but surely.
Sure he could kiss her wordless in front of a web camera, but he was still fleeing his own apartment, immersing himself in mindless physical activities.
He felt stupid and pathetic again, and he waited impatiently for the doors to open, itching to get moving.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
His body pulsed. The good kind of pulse. The kind that includes your whole body, your every cell, molding them into a united, unbreakable front. When you feel invincible and hard as steel, the cold only scraping at the surface of your skin. When the air from your lungs leaves in protected little guffs of heat and humidity, hiding you in an invisible shield of moving air. When you seem to not feel the tension of your feet hitting the ground, your body morphing to sooth the vibrations, making it feel like you were flying. When you already feel distanced from the fatigue, from the ache. When you feel numb, your bloodstream filled with endorphins or whatever those molecules were that made even the shittiest situation feel bearable.
His eyes were focused on the path before him, his sight clear and precise, every color and every movement recorded.
Even through the falling dusk, he could make out each and every detail.
It was that time of year, that insanely intense time of year, when winter finally gave way, when the first attacks of spring finally broke through in little bouts.
He could smell it. He could smell it the moment he stepped outside. It smelt like the promise of warmth, like the promise of light exploding and of colors spreading. It invigorated him and awoke his body to even more energy.
Spring was coming.
He could already make out the fibers of the dark green grass, breaking through the lifeless ground that had been frozen through a long winter, even as the trees of the park still stood stripped bare and dark. There was something breathtaking in life finally breaking through, finally rising from nothing, again.
He knew a couple of things about that.
He closed his eyes momentarily, reveling in what it was like to live in spring, what it was like to feel the warm winds and see everything turn to green, turn to life.
The intensity shook him from his quiet trance. Spring was what he felt like inside too. Erratic and windy and full of unexpected battles.
He groaned.
7 miles aren't quite enough to clear your mind of Rory Gilmore.
In fact he started to realize that she was just as permanently a part of him as his blood rushing through his veins, as his muscle fibers working in unison to produce the rhythmic movement of his feet, as the thoughts clouding his brain despite his wish to clear his head completely.
He had accepted this fact. Long ago. That there was no living without her, no way to go on. That he was to be with her, even if he never managed to believe in soul mates or star crossed lovers. It wasn't quite so simple as fate. It was something more difficult. Something requiring his body, his mind and soul to work hard and to sacrifice, but something unconditional and irrevocable nevertheless.
He realized that he had made a mistake before. A mistake of assuming that everything was simple for Rory. That being pure and innocent and successful was as second nature as the blue of her eyes and the fairness of her skin. It wasn't. Rory was simply not perfect, like he believed.
That Rory had disappeared when she broke his heart. But he also learned that no person deserved the presumptions that had burdened her. That no person could survive the expectations unchanged and constant.
Giving her space to make her mistakes, to find herself was difficult. More difficult than he had expected. But he was determined that that was the only way to have her rediscover her innocence, her untainted enthusiasm.
And if it meant that he would have to stand by as she discussed character development with a guy that was obviously as madly in love with Rory as Tristan himself, then be it.
He growled as he intensified his efforts, racing by the couple of joggers that trailed ahead of him.
Jess still irritated him. He hated the fact that Jess had what he didn't. What he could never have. Words. Words to live and die by. Words to sooth.
It made him sick to his stomach, that Jess shared something with Rory that he would forever feel foreign to.
It's not that he didn't recognize Rory's talent. It's not that he wasn't swept away by her words and her stories. It's just that he couldn't quite reflect the way he thought she would like him to. Couldn't quite explain just what those words did to him.
Jess was able to take on all those roles. That he himself wasn't. Be a mentor, a critic, an appraiser.
And it was non other that Tristan handing him these opportunities.
His running sped up even more as the steady rage unleashed the hidden energies inside him.
Tristan wasn't the one for self doubt. Or for inferiority complex. But he was aware of his own abilities. And of the ones he lacked. He wished the lack wouldn't build the rage. But it did.
Even if he knew perfection was not required, he wished he could run for days to burn the rage away.
xxxxxxxxx
He walked through the door, knowing his movements were still too energetic, too wild and uncontrolled, knowing he had to slow down, calm himself to a humanly pace, force his body back into the calmness he obeyed to whenever he wasn't lost in the mindless physical extortion. His ears were still tuned to the intensity of his body moving, of the city outside and he had to still himself to recognize the silence of the home he returned to. The sounds here were at a lower scale and he had to control his own noises to be able to accommodate. He tried to still his breathing, the sound of his rushing pulse waves in his ear intensifying as a result, as he listened, trying to decipher the silence of the apartment. He moved through the living room, realizing the foyer was dark, and Rory's study abandoned, the light not on anymore. In fact, the whole apartment seemed to be dark, lifeless. Maybe she ran out for something.
He was thankful and relieved, suddenly happy to be alone, of not needing to force his body so intensely back into pretense. He relaxed, letting the air pass freely from his lungs, letting his muscles revel in the burn still strong in his body.
He moved through the silents rooms, not bothering to turn on lights, his eyes still strangely focused and akin.
He stripped the soaked sweats and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him as he flicked on the switch.
He squinted as the flood of light bathed the large bathroom.
He glanced at the reflection of himself, and he noted the changes from only a couple of hours before. He no longer looked weary or tired, although his eyes still shone feverishly and his hair was still a mess. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat and his skin burned with a soft hue of red.
He climbed into the large shower, turning on the water to no particular temperature. His body tensed only for a second as the water hit his face, and the rest of his overheated body.
He relaxed, slowly beginning the transition into himself. That's what it felt like, every time he returned from his run, as though the man he escaped from slowly reclaimed his own body, with unwavering precision. He observed the change, as his body slowly calmed into the controlled tool that it was, his muscles morphing back into the restrained dormant parts.
His ear filled with the noises of the water hitting his own body and he closed his eyes, letting the droplets cascade down his face as he stood still as a statue.
His senses numbed slowly, as the world around him disappeared, and he felt weightless, his heart rate slowing and his whole body relaxing in a gentle hum.
He gasped as he felt the cold hands snake around his waist.
He spun around, his heartbeat speeding up and his breathing uneven as his eyes locked onto hers.
"Hey" she smiled sheepishly, stepping closer, her arms once again reaching out to touch him.
He looked around confused.
"Boy, you're really out of it when you come back from a run" she giggled and he stared at her perplexed as her body molded into his hold, her hand reaching out behind him, to turn the water warmer.
"Too cold" she murmured as she concentrated on the task.
He realized she was shivering and he pulled her closer into his embrace, trying to warm her. Her skin felt so much colder against his overheated exterior.
She smiled and looked up at him.
"Did you have a nice run?" she asked.
He realized he hadn't said anything up untill now, his shock rendering him speechless as he adjusted to the fact that she had sneaked in to the shower after him.
"Yeah" he replied, his voice sounding throaty.
"Good" she said, her gaze dropping to his chest as her hand moved up to trace absentminded patterns on his skin.
Her touch made him shiver and he felt himself react to her nakedness.
She chuckled barely noticeable and he leaned down, itching to taste her mouth.
He still felt the metallic sting of adrenaline in his mouth as he moved to kiss her, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Her tongue felt cold too, and soft and sweet and he groaned, feeling his erection straining against her stomach.
She moaned a small moan and he felt his own body spring back to life, back to burning.
The transition reversed and he felt more energized, more intense than minutes before, as he was still running towards the apartment. The silent vibrating of his pulse intensified beneath his skin and his body returned to the solid hum of energy that possessed him until minutes ago, when he started to coax it back to calmness.
He leaned back to study her face again and he saw her eyes flutter open to reveal her hazed blue depths.
She let out a shaky breath, her eyes traveling down his body and her fingers tracing the muscles of his chest again.
He watched, a slow smile spreading on his lips, as she obviously admired his features, his chiseled muscles.
"You look so hot" she murmured and he groaned in return.
He moved her back against the wall of the shower, lifting her effortlessly against it. His hands went under her backside, supporting her weight as his muscles tensed. She gasped, the blue of her eyes turning a deeper shade and she wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively.
"I want you" she whispered and he had to groan again, the incredible need inside him threatening to cloud his brain.
He wanted to thrust into her with all his might, all his force, wanted to let her know just what she did to him, but he willed himself motionless, his whole body raging against his own control.
He stared at her, his lips inches away from hers and she arched against his hold, straining for him to reach her.
"Please" she whimpered and he felt his knees buck momentarily.
"God, Mary" he sighed, moving closer to her, gently sliding inside her.
Her eyes fluttered shut as her body welcomed him into herself.
"Jesus" she hissed silently and he could practically feel her throb around himself, her warm wetness enveloping him as he slowly slid further.
He filled her up completely, her tightness around him making his mind ache with raw urge.
He wanted to pull back and slam forward again, to pound into her until she begged for release.
But he stilled himself, forcing his eyes open as he watched her face, overcome with raw emotions.
Her eyes squeezed together as he pulled out of her slowly, to slide back into her again, her mouth parting to release a small moan.
It made his skin shiver and he braced her against the cold tiles of the wall, to be able to start a steady rhythm.
He stilled his raged breathing, focusing every ounce of his control on her reactions.
She moaned his name again and he released a flustered breath as he felt her legs squeeze around his waist more tightly.
His one hand reached against the wall above her shoulder, while his other supported her ass, lifting her slightly without any effort, to hold her in perfect line for his thrusts.
The new angle made her moans louder, her face contorting into the most exquisite mix of pleasure and pain and he felt his self control snap, his whole body breaking into a furious need.
Suddenly every conscious thought was gone, with every need to control or hold back, to banish his rage or feelings of inadequacy or jealousy. He was as uncontrolled and raw as ever, claiming every inch of her body for himself, his groans of pleasure filling the shower over the sound of the water falling against them.
He could feel her pants growing more urgent, her small hand grasping his back as she pleaded with him for him to go faster, harder and he felt his uninhibited cries breaking from his chest in return as he worshiped her every movement, her very being.
She clenched around him, her body going rigid in his arms, her face overcome with pure pleasure as she came undone.
He pushed into her, finding his own release as his whole body trembled with the intense burst of energy.
He braced himself against the wall, gathering all his energy to slowly ease both their weights down to the floor. She clung to him as he sat onto the floor, her legs still wrapped securely around his waist.
He panted hard, his arms going around her back to feel the warm pulsing smoothness of her skin, caressing her as the water fell over them.
"Wow" she whispered into his ear and he smirked slowly, slowing his breathing with deep intakes of air.
She pulled away slowly, studying his face with quiet wonder.
"That was... raw" she smiled and he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry...you took me by surprise" he replied, noticing his still hoarse voice.
"It wasn't a complaint" she arched an eyebrow and he snickered.
"Good" he said, nodding his head.
She exhaled slowly, seemingly in no rush to remove herself from straddling him. She studied his face, her own becoming more serious, the playful smile disappearing.
"Did I ever thank you?" she asked and he could tell by her face they weren't on light banter anymore.
His mouth dried up, despite the rising mist around them.
"Thank me for what?" he asked, but the words were barely audible.
He dropped her gaze, her fingers once again tracing the lines of his chest.
"For believing in me" she said quietly "for making me do this" she went on "For letting me do this."
His breathing stilled for a moment as her words echoed in the shower.
She looked up at him a moment later, her eyes deep and searching.
"I don't think I did" she said and he shook his head just barely.
"Well, thank you" she said, her voice once again serious, her eyes determined and he inhaled sharply, his chest stinging with her words as his fingers tingled with the feel of her skin beneath them. She lent forward, her soft lips brushing against his and he closed his eyes trying to feel everything at once and forever.
There was no rage. No need to run. And for a moment, he did believe in perfection.