Okay so this was reeaallly fast! I just got on a roll and wanted to get another chapter out! So I hope you love it! I'm pretty happy with this one!
Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls (obviously).
Chapter Two: I Fell Into Pieces. And She Fell Into Me.
Monday morning. God he hated Mondays. Tristan groaned audibly, rolling himself lazily out of bed and stumbling into the bathroom. "Too fucking early," he mumbled to himself as he turned the water on to splash his face with cold water in an attempt to wake himself up. He let out a deep sigh and leaned against the bathroom sink, reaching one hand up to run it through the mess of hair on top of his head. He smirked at himself lightly in the mirror and shook his head. He would do nothing to his hair. He'd run his fingers through it and leave it the way it was. And it would still drive her insane.
Tristan sighed again. First thing Monday and already he was thinking about her. God he had a problem. He cleared his throat as if dismissing the thoughts from his head and reached for his toothbrush. He hadn't spoken to her since Friday night. This was definitely going to be a long day.
He replaced his toothbrush in the cabinet above the sink and made his way back into his bedroom, rummaging around for a clean uniform. Upon it's discovery, he pulled the shirt over his shoulders, straightening the collar and ducking his head into his tie. He let it hang loose around his neck and left the top button of his shirt undone. He tucked his shirt into his pants and pulled on his shoes, grabbing his blazer and throwing it casually over his shoulder before making his way to the door.
He took the stairs two at a time and grabbed his keys off of the table in the foyer and shoved them into his pockets, reaching for the front door.
"Tristan."
So damn close. He groaned to himself and let his eyes shut tight. He could really do without this today. He turned slowly, letting his eyes cloud over with nothingness and face the voice he wished he could erase. "I figured you'd have left by now," he commented and the older man just looked at him. He hated the way his father looked at him. Like everything that he said or did was a challenge.
"How have your grades been, son?"
He stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "Exceptional," he bit out through clenched teeth. "Would you expect anything less." It came out as more of a statement than a question and he forced a light smile.
"Your presence is expected tonight you understand?"
Tristan cleared his throat and let his hands clench into fists at his sides. "Yes, sir." His father nodded once at him and then waved his hand in a dismissal.
"You should go. Don't want to be late."
Tristan said nothing but simply turned around and let the heavy door slam closed behind him as he made his way quickly to his car. He wished that just one day he could get out of the house without having to talk with either of his parents. He started the car and pulled almost violently out of the drive, speeding in the direction of Chilton. Who would ever have thought that school would be a place he would want to go. He groaned and turned the music up, trying to drown out all his thoughts.
He pulled into the parking lot, stopping the car and shutting off the engine quickly. He grabbed his bag and his blazer from the passenger seat. He let out an exasperated sigh as he set his bag on the hood of the car and pulled his blazer on, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes. He had time for just one, he thought, lighting it up. He leaned back against the hood of his car. He let the tobacco fill his lungs and breathed the smoke out slowly, enjoying the way it seemed to hit his chest with a stab of pressure. He let his eyes fall closed, enjoying the sensation.
"Contemplating suicide?"
He opened one eye to meet her gaze and he smirked. He held out the cigarette in question and she nodded once. He chuckled. "Everyday," he mumbled.
She frowned up at him. "It's a disgusting habit you know," she offered and he shrugged. "How was your weekend?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Typical."
She nodded her head slowly. He looked over at her curiously, taking another long drag. "People can see," he said.
She glared up at him and he knew with just one glance that he'd made her mad. He just shrugged his shoulders again and she shook her head at him angrily.
"You're incorrigible," she mumbled and he smirked again lightly. "That wasn't a compliment," she continued and he shrugged yet again. "Is that all you can do?"
He let his eyes burn into hers as he raised his shoulders slowly before lowering them again. She locked her jaw and folded her arms over her chest. "Whatever," she mumbled, taking a few steps away from him before looking over her shoulder, studying him for a moment. "Nice car," she commented and he looked up at her dangerously. "Daddy pick it out for you?"
Tristan glared at her in warning and she let a grin spread across her face. She knew it would piss him off. She knew his car was the only thing he owned that he'd actually paid for himself. A comment like that was meant to do nothing except offend him. She could see the anger in his eyes and he smirked widely.
"Nice skirt," he retorted. "Mommy hem that for you?" His eyes shone with a hatred that she knew was directed more at the rest of the world than at her. It always was.
She shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah. I hear Collin likes 'em short." She knew that would drive him insane with jealousy. And with that she turned and made her way into the school building, swaying her hips a little more than normal just to frustrate him.
He thew his cigarette on the ground and turned to hit the side of the car with his palm. Why did he let her do that to him? It was so different than the other night. But then again, the other night was different than usual. This was normal. This was the way it usually was. He had to pretend he didn't give a shit about her. Because it was all he knew how to do. He didn't know how to be anything else.
This is what he did. When his father was a jackass, when he got tired of dealing with all the fake faces and the debutantes and the bullshit. He took his anger out on whatever was closest, whatever he could sink his frustration into. And she was always right there. And she always played back. It was the only way they really knew how to be. It was the only way that didn't scare the fucking hell out of him. With her it was always the same. She was his release, his escape, when he was having a shitty day, when his father pissed him off, when he felt lost or broken or alone he went to her. And she let him take out all of his frustration. And she did the exact same thing to him. It's the way they were. The way they'd always been. And he'd be damned if he knew how to fix it.
Rory slammed her locker shut, leaning against it and closing her eyes. "Rough morning?" Louise's voice floated into her ears and she opened her eyes to look at the other girl. She nodded. "What happened?"
Rory rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'll give you three guesses."
Louise nodded. "So apparently everything's back to normal," she said and Rory laughed.
"Yeah," she said. "Normal." Louise met her eyes and gave her a sympathetic sort of smile and Rory shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing's changed," she said, more to herself than Louise. But Louise didn't miss the hint of disappointment in her tone.
"Come on," she said, linking her arm with Rory's. "I'll walk to you to History."
Rory smiled letting the other girl pull her along and into the classroom. They took their usual seats and all eyes went to the door as Tristan sauntered in a mere two seconds before the bell rang.
"How nice of you to join us, Mr. Dugrey." Mr. Allen raised his eyebrows at Tristan and he smiled innocently.
"Great to be here, sir," he said, his voice laced with too much enthusiasm and Rory scoffed under her breath. He didn't miss it and glanced at her from the seat behind her. He leaned up and brought his mouth inches from her ear. "What's the matter, Mary?" He bit out the name like it burned him.
She shook her head lightly and glanced back at him quickly. "Don't start, Tristan," she said, using his tone as she spoke his name. That seemed to shut him up for the time being and he leaned back into his seat. He took the class time to study her.
Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her bangs, new as of this weekend, were swept over to the side of her forehead. He licked his lips as he watched her. She tapped her pencil against the side of the desk and he glanced at it for a second before leaning forward again. "You cut your hair?" he asked, his tone emotionless and she nodded once, pulling at her bangs, as if she wasn't quite used to them yet. "I like it," he mumbled. His voice was low and she looked back at him for a second, as if to see what made him switch gears so fast.
He leaned back against his seat again and resumed watching her. She played with her hair a little self consciously now, he noted and he smiled in spite of himself. He moved his hand to rake it through his own hair as he heard the bell sound.
He looked up and around in surprise. He must have been watching her longer than he thought. He stood, taking his books and moving forward to grab the books off of her desk as well. He heard her let out a sigh but she stood to follow him. She knew exactly where he was going. Exactly what he wanted.
He made his way to a classroom, always empty on Mondays and Wednesdays. He opened the door and pulled it shut behind him with a click. He moved to the desk at the front of the room and pulled himself up to sit on it, waiting.
A few seconds later the door opened and followed him in, reaching behind her to twist the lock. "Give me my books back," she said, approaching him and he let a smirk slide across his lips. He shook his head. "Tristan just stop. I don't have the patience for this today."
He moved off the desk and took a step forward to pull her closer to him. "Good for you then," he mumbled. "I don't plan on keeping you long." She let out an exasperated sigh. Back to that. What was she thinking of course they were back to that.
He pulled her completely against him and let his lips fall to her neck and as always, she lost all conscious thought. His tongue darting out to trace the skin there. He moved up to her jaw line and kissed all the way up to her earlobe before taking it in his mouth. He picked her up, turning them around and sitting her on the desk. He lifted his hands to press against her breasts and she let out a low moan, reaching around to pull him closer. He pressed himself against her, hard.
He reached back to his pocket for his wallet, tossing it on the desk beside her and she reached for it, pulling out a condom as he pulled her panties down to her knees and then reached for his own pants, pulling them down just low enough and she rolled the condom onto him.
He let out a low growl at her touch and wasted no time burying himself inside of her. She let her hands move around his neck and up into his hair, pulling him closer to her. "Tristan." His name came out as a breathy moan and he let his forehead drop against her shoulder, quickening his pace. He lifted her slightly and that seemed to send them both completely over the edge. He held her there for a few seconds as they both came down. He let her slide down to her feet and she moved out from underneath of his arms. He let himself fall against the desk, catching his breath.
"I need my books."
He heard her voice but didn't register what she was saying as he pulled his pants back up and straightened his shirt.
"Tristan," she tried again and he looked over at her. His face was cold, emotionless. So different from the way he'd looked at her a few nights ago. She took a breath of surprise and he sighed, pushing her books across the desk towards her. She reached out to pick them up, her eyes never leaving him.
"Your dad?" She asked, knowing that this need for a release of frustration had to have come from somewhere.
He let out a dark chuckle and shook his head. "Everything," he muttered and she looked at him, unmoving. "I thought you didn't have time for this," he said, averting his eyes as if her gaze made him uncomfortable.
She opened her mouth to say something before deciding against it and closing her mouth again. She just stood there, watching him. He turned to meet her eyes reluctantly after a few seconds and raised an eyebrow. "Tristan."
"What do you want me to say, Rory?" He gestured out with his hands. When she said nothing he groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Let's not do this, yeah?"
She bit her bottom lip. "You'll be okay," she offered and he gave her a condescending shake of his head before plastering on his society smile.
"Always am," he said. His voice held no emotion and she looked at him for a few seconds as she watched the emotion in his eyes turn from nothingness to hurt. She nodded slowly at him, letting out a breathy, disbelieving chuckle before turning quickly and leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.
The click of the door filled the silent room as Tristan put his face in his hands. He hated this. He hated the way that this was. That he couldn't make himself really open up. Why couldn't he just have stopped her. Why couldn't he just reach out and make her listen. Tell her that he needed her, that she was the only one that really killed the pain for him.
He let his tongue run over his lips. He needed a cigarette. He needed her to be back here pressed against him. He needed to forget everything. And she did that for him. Only her. And the second she walked away, every damn time, he felt everything come rushing back. She was the only thing he could find that made it better. If only just for a while. She made him forget everything, made him feel like he was in control of things, of his life. She made him feel wanted and alive. He needed her. And he wished more than anything that he didn't.
--
Rory made her way into the cafeteria and moved to sit with Madeline and Louise. She looked around curiously before turning to the other girls. "Paris?"
Madeline rolled her eyes. "Arguing about a test grade."
"Again," Louise added and Rory smiled.
"Typical Paris."
Louise nodded her agreement and reached her hand out to take a piece of the cookie in front of Rory, who merely rolled her eyes at Louise's smile. "You weren't going to eat it anyway," she said. "I have a feeling it's one of your 'I'm hungry but I'm going to say I'm not because I'm upset' kind of days."
Rory smiled despite herself. Louise was right. It was one of those days where she really just wanted to go home and curl up on the couch with her mom and a couple good movies. But she reached down and took a bite of her food, giving Louise an exaggerated look.
Madeline laughed from beside her and slid a piece of paper across the table to Rory, who looked up questioningly. "The biology notes you missed out on second period."
Rory nodded silently. "Thanks," she said. "I was in the library," she explained and Louise rolled her eyes.
"You're such a horrible liar, Gilmore." Rory simply shrugged her shoulders. No point in denying it. "You were with Tristan?" Louise asked, although it was more like a statement than a question, considering. "You were," she answered herself and Rory shrugged again. "Fight with his parents?"
Rory sighed and shook her head. "I don't know," she mumbled honestly and Louise nodded, dropping it. They sat in silence for a few seconds before Madeline spoke up.
"Can I borrow your history notes from this morning?" She asked, looking to Louise who raised an eyebrow but nodded.
"What were you doing?" Paris's voice came from behind Rory and they turned to look at her as she slid in next to them.
Madeline smiled. "Collin Taylor."
Rory laughed and put her fork down on her plate, glancing over at Paris. "Where were you?"
Paris rolled her eyes. "Mrs. Landers thought that she could get away with not giving me the extra credit I deserved on the last calculus exam."
The other three girls laughed. Rory's attention went to the cafeteria doors as Tristan walked in slowly. He had his patented smirk on his face, his eyes glittering with mischief. If she was anyone else she would've assumed he was having a pretty good day. But she knew better than anyone how good he was at hiding it.
He sauntered over to a table full of guys and Rory let her eyes follow his movements. Groaning in frustration she realized that even the way he walked was sexy. She let her head fall onto her arms on the table as the other girls looked over at Tristan.
"God, he's gorgeous," Louise mumbled and Rory looked up at her. "Well he is."
She sighed her agreement. There was no way around it. He was gorgeous. He was dead sexy. He could talk better than anyone she'd ever met. And the things he could say to her to make her completely fall apart. She let out an involuntary shiver as Paris nudged her in the ribs.
"Rory."
She looked up in question. "What?"
"I've been saying your name for like the past twenty seconds. What are you so spacey about today?"
Louise laughed. "Yeah, I wonder," she mumbled, winking at Rory who threw her a threatening glare.
"I'm just," she paused. "Distracted." She finished with an almost amused tone and Paris shook her head in confusion.
"Whatever. I'm going to class," she said standing and leaving the others at the table.
–
Rory walked out of the front doors of Chilton. Her Franklin meeting had run way later than she'd expected and she knew she'd be stuck waiting for the bus for a good forty minutes. She made her way begrudgingly to the bus stop bench and sat down dramatically, leaning her head back and covering her face with her hands.
"You want a ride?"
She let her hands drop and she looked in the direction of the all too familiar voice. "Why?"
He let out an impatient sigh. "So you don't have to wait for the bus," he stated obviously. She watched him and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Well do you want a ride or not?"
"I'm out of your way," she muttered and he rolled his eyes, not saying anything back to her. She just watched him for a while as he looked up at her again, waiting. "You really want to drive me all the way back to Stars Hollow?" she asked, confused.
He let his shoulders rise and fall slowly. "I," he paused, changing his mind.
"You?" She asked, waiting for him to continue and he ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. "What?"
He reached over and opened the passenger door, pushing it open wide enough for her to get it. "I don't want to go home just yet."
She met his eyes, startled with his honesty and stood slowly, lowering herself into his car. He nodded slowly and put the car in gear as she pulled the door shut. He took off, driving the speed limit, which surprised her.
"Can I ask you something?"
He raised an eyebrow and lit a cigarette, rolling his window down a bit so the smoke could filter out of it. He shrugged. "You just did."
She shook her head and sighed, turning away from him to look out the window. He licked his lips slowly before bringing the cigarette back up and taking a drag. "Go ahead," he said, blowing the smoke out when he'd finished.
She looked over at him for a few seconds. "Why do we do this?"
He glanced over at her quickly, surprised that she'd bring it up. "Do what?" he asked, feigning innocence.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about."
He nodded, more to himself than to her she guessed and he took another drag. "I don't know," he said and the honesty in his voice shocked her.
She sat there for a few seconds without speaking or even looking at him. He looked over at her after a few uncomfortable moments and she knew he was unnerved by her silence. "Why me?"
He didn't look at her this time. He sat with one hand gripping the steering wheel tighter and his other putting the tip of his cigarette out the window to let the wind blow the ash off of the top. "It's," he paused as if searching for the words. "Complicated, I guess," he finally settled on and she nodded slowly.
"Why are you doing this, Tristan?"
He took another drag of his cigarette and said nothing. She looked over at him, realizing he had no intention of answering her question. "Hey," she said and he looked to her quickly but then averted his gaze and focused back on the road again.
They sat in silence again and she assumed his answer wasn't going to come. She looked back out the window after a few minutes, giving up on him.
"Because I don't know how else to be," he said.
She looked over surprised, studying his face as if she wasn't quite sure that she'd even hear him. He didn't look at her, obviously still uncomfortable with the whole situation. "I don't understand," she started and he scoffed.
"Yes you do," he said, not giving her time to respond before he continued. "You do understand. You understand perfectly because you do exactly the same thing to me, Rory." He let out a dark, almost dangerous laugh. "We do this over and over again. I come to you when I feel like shit and you do the same thing to me." He shook his head. "Don't tell me you don't understand."
She took a breath and bit her bottom lip, reaching up to pull at her bangs. "Okay," she said finally. "You're right. I get it. But why? Why me?"
He shrugged his shoulders and looked over at her, desperation evident in his eyes. "Because," he said. "Because you make it disappear."
She looked up quickly and he looked away again, never comfortable with the admittance of anything of too much emotion. "What?"
He let out a low, frustrated groan. "All of it!" He practically yelled it at her. "When I'm with you I forget for a little while that my life is shit. I can let everything just slip away and I can focus on you. I feel like everything really can be okay for just a little while."
She looked over at him. She knew it was the truth. That's what he did for her too. Not that her life was anything to complain about. But when she had a bad day, when she was stressed about finals or when her mom dated Max, when she thought her grandparents would drive her completely and totally mad, she called him. And he made everything feel like it wasn't so horrible. Her problems couldn't possibly be so bad if he could make her feel the way that he did. So perfect, so unattainable. But that didn't make it right. That didn't justify anything that they were doing and they both knew that.
He pulled into her driveway and she turned slightly to face him. "Okay," she said. "Great. That's really great Tristan."
He looked over at her, her reaction getting on his nerves. He told her the truth. He was more honest with her in the few seconds that he'd just spoken than he'd probably ever been. "What? What the hell is your problem now?" He asked, hitting his hands against the steering wheel.
"Nothing!" She yelled back at him. "Nothing! I'm not allowed to have problems remember? That's your job. You're the one with all the problems and the horror and the terrible life with your rich parents that buy you whatever you want and let you do whatever the hell you want!"
"Shut up," he said. His voice was a low warning that she completely ignored.
"Why? It's the truth isn't it?"
He laughed darkly. "You're right. You're so right, Rory. My life is fucking perfect! I have no reason to complain. I live in a fucking story book town and have a mother that loves me more than life itself." She glared at him, shaking her head. "I have perfect grades and the perfect innocent face and the perfect angelic, innocent reputation." He stopped and looked at her for a few long seconds. "Oh wait," he said. "That's not me at all."
"I hate you," she said and he nodded.
"That's great, Rory. That's really fucking great. You hate me." He shook his head and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. She got out after him, slamming her own door.
"What the hell is your problem?" She hollered at him and he whipped around to face her.
"My problem?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. "You want to know what my problem is? You. You're my problem."
"Me," she repeated and he stared at her. "So I'm your problem. I'm what's wrong with your life?"
He ran his hand through his hair in frustration and looked over at her desperately. "I'm my problem," he said. His voice was calmer now. "My father is my problem. My life is my fucking problem."
She watched him hesitantly, wondering if she said the wrong thing if he would snap again. But she wasn't finished being mad at him. She wasn't finished telling him exactly what she thought. "So what does that make me?" She asked, throwing her arms up. He said nothing, simply watched her, waiting for her to say something else. She shook her head at him. "You have all these problems and anger and frustration and you just fuck me to make yourself feel better right? That's what I'm here for? That's what I am for you?"
He let out a cry of frustration and hit his open hand hard against the side of his car. "What do you want me to say, Rory?" He asked desperately. "What am I?" When she didn't say anything he nodded. "I'm the exact same thing for you. That's why you call me. You fuck me to make yourself feel better," he said, spitting her words back at her and she let out a deep breath.
She took a breath and leaned back against his car. "You're right," she muttered. "I'm not any better at this than you are."
He nodded, pacing around her lawn. She was surprised that the neighbors hadn't heard their yelling yet. Or if they had that they hadn't come out to see what was happening. "Mary," he tried, moving a little closer to her.
She looked up at him and shook her head. "Don't, Tristan. Don't make this something that it's not."
He shook his head, anger welling up inside of him again. "You unbelievable you know that?" He ran his fingers through his hair and let his palm rest against the back of his head. "What do you want from me?"
She pushed herself off his car and shook her head violently. "I don't know!" She hollered. "I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't know what the hell I want, Tristan."
He shook his head and moved to pace again. "I hate this, Rory." He said. His voice was miserable and sad. He sounded so defeated and as much as she hated the things he was saying and the fight they were having, her heart broke for him.
"I don't know what to do anymore," she said, putting her face into her hands. "What happened? What changed? What made this go from something that had unspoken rules and no strings to this?" She gestured around them. "What happened to us?"
He shrugged. "I wish I knew," he mumbled in honesty. "I don't know what happened. I don't what the hell changed. I wish I knew. I wish I could stop it and just leave it simple and uncomplicated."
She shook her head. "That's what you want?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. "Because if you want simple and uncomplicated then fine. Let me uncomplicate things for you."
He groaned again. "That's not what I mean and you know it. Stop doing that. Stop twisting my words around to make me the fucking bad guy here."
She threw her hands up in defeat. "We're getting nowhere, Tristan. We're fighting about nothing anymore and I don't want to do this right now."
He laughed. "That's right because you just don't have time to deal with this right now, right?" He asked, repeating her words from earlier.
"Stop it," she said. "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know how to fix this any more than you do! I don't know what I'm doing. I barely even know why the hell we're fighting anymore."
He shook his head at her and checked his watch. "Damnit." He let out a deep sigh and looked up at her. "I have to go," he said, raising his hands in defeat.
She nodded. "You always do," she said. And it was true. He was always the one that had to go. He had to get away, he had to get home, he had to get out, get in, get through. He was always moving and she felt like she was always left to chase after him, to follow the ends of a fraying rope, not ever being able to fully grasp onto him.
He watched her for a moment before moving over to her. He reached an arm out to her and despite herself she let him pull her closer to him and press his mouth against hers. His kiss was needy and desperate. No matter how mad she was at him and how much she wanted him to just disappear, she knew that she could never survive that. She needed him here and she hated it. He kissed her deeper and harder and she melted into his touch. "Tristan," she said when she could finally catch her breath and he sighed loudly.
"Right," he said. He looked back at her as he opened his car door and she shrugged at him in desperation and confusion.
He shook his head and pulled himself back into his car, shutting his door and starting the engine. They'd fixed nothing. They'd sorted through nothing. They had a screaming match that could be given some kind of a prize, but they'd fixed absolutely nothing. And if he was honest, he wasn't even really sure what their problem was.
He pulled out of the driveway and Rory watched him go, wishing that he would pull back up the driveway and come right back up to her and kiss her like he had all over again. She didn't know why they'd fought or what to do about it. Nothing made sense anymore. The way she felt about him, the way she needed him. God, she didn't even know how she felt about him. He was one thing to her for so long and now something was changing all of the rules and she hated it.
She took a breath and picked her bag up off the ground, making her way inside the house. She moved into her bedroom and changed her clothes, hearing the door open and close as she moved out into the kitchen.
"Rory?"
"Kitchen," she responded as Lorelai came around the corner, setting her things down in a scattered manner.
"Hey you," she said, kicking her heels off. "How was your day?"
"Crap," she said, sitting herself down at the kitchen table.
Lorelai followed suit, sitting down across from her. "What happened?"
She shrugged. "Nothing," she said. "I don't know."
"Tristan," Lorelai said and Rory looked up and away guiltily. "Rory," she said and Rory sighed.
"We had a huge fight," she said. And Lorelai raised an eyebrow.
"Isn't that kind of normal, babe? I mean you're either fighting or you're..." she trailed off shaking her head at the thought and sighing.
Rory bit her bottom lip. "It was a different kind of a fight."
"About what?" Lorelai asked and Rory let her head drop onto the table. "Rory, come on," she said. "What's going on with you guys?"
Rory shrugged. "I don't know anymore. In the beginning it was all so easy. He would tease me and I would give it back to him and then that night freshman year," she paused and looked up at Lorelai who nodded. Rory sighed. "He called me and he just sounded so sad and I didn't even know what I was doing and I just asked him if he needed me."
Lorelai watched her tell the story. She'd heard it on multiple occasions and wasn't exactly fond of where it led, but she would listen to her daughter tell it. Because she knew it made her feel better.
"And then when I went to him he just looked so broken."
"And you wanted to fix him," Lorelai offered and Rory nodded.
"And for a while I seemed to," she said. "And then it just got so out of control and now I," she paused and looked up at her mother. "I don't know what I'd do without him. Is that crazy?"
Lorelai shook her head lightly. "It isn't crazy, sweetie. It's normal, to want to fix someone that's broken. You want to make him alright again. You want him to be the smiling, joking boy you used to crush out on."
Rory nodded slowly. "He hasn't been that boy in such a long time."
Lorelai nodded. "Yeah," she agreed. "But you haven't been the same girl either. You both changed. I'm not saying that the way you changed was for the worse, in your case anyway. But you changed and you started needing someone to be able to rely on that could just make you feel like you used to."
"What changed?" Rory asked. Her voice was sad and soft. Lorelai reached out and covered her daughter's hand with her own.
"Life just happened, babe. You just had to grow up a little bit. You got more responsibility and in Tristan's case more pressure." She shrugged. "He just had to grow up too fast, Ror. And you needed him around. So you just," she paused. "I hate to say it, honey but you just became what you thought you needed to be for each other."
Rory sighed. "And now?"
Lorelai smiled at her sympathetically. "Now," she leaned over to kiss Rory's forehead. "Now you just have to find your way again."
"Do you ever stop having to find your way?"
Lorelai shook her head. "Sorry, babe. You'll always have to adjust. Life's cruel like that. It loves change. And we, as human beings, just want everything to stay the same."
Rory buried her face in her hands and Lorelai stroked her hair. "It'll be okay. You'll work it out."
Rory groaned. "I don't know, mom. It's been this way for so long."
Lorelai smiled. "Rory he may tease you relentlessly," she said and Rory smiled a little. "And he might have lost his way, and pushed everyone back a little in the process, including you," she said. "But that boy really loves you. And sooner or later he'll figure it out. And he'll make it all up to you," She smiled and patted her daughter's hand. "And you'll do the same thing. I promise."
She stood up, moving away from Rory and kissing the top of her head. "Luke's or pizza?" she asked and Rory looked up at smiled gratefully, glad to be finished talking for the time being.
"Pizza and a movie?" She asked and Lorelai nodded.
"Okay."
They made their way into the living room and Rory curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket over her. She was ready to leave the day behind her. She just wanted to be six years old for a while and let her mom fix her problems again. She sighed and curled herself deeper into the couch. She'd deal with reality tomorrow.
