Fic: Stardust, RoryJess (GG)
Jan. 30th, 2003 02:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rubykatewritingTITLE: Stardust
AUTHOR: rubykate
PAIRING: Rory/Jess
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: It’s a horrible realization; to understand what he needs can’t be found in her anymore. He can’t exist solely for her anymore.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own any of the characters nor have any affiliation with the show.
PAIRING: RoryJess
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic was inspired by one of my favorite songs of all time, Stardust, specifically the version sung by Nat King Cole.
DEDICATIONS: To Betsy, for beta-reading this and always, always being my biggest cheerleader. And most definitely to my mom, for always, always telling me I can do anything I want to do.
-
She walks slowly across the Town Square; hands stuffed in her jeans pockets. Morning is on its way; streaks of daylight stretch across the starlit sky, as the sun carefully peeks its head over the horizon.
Maybe it’s just her but it feels different today. She feels different. Even the weather seems strange, damp and cool even for late May, and she feels as if she is sitting on a ledge, staring down at the chasm of what she was before and who she is becoming. With each day, it looms closer, not quite so far out of reach anymore.
As she crosses the street in front of Luke’s, she spies Jess standing by the door, smoking a cigarette. Its tip glows red in the dark, illuminating his face for several seconds as he takes a long drag. He comes towards her, meeting her halfway, then stops and watches her warily. Shoulders hunched to the early morning chill, his eyes look strained around the edges and his mouth is set in a straight line.
"Hey." His voice is rough from too little sleep and too much arguing.
They stand separate, face to face, and she looks at him for a few seconds before finally whispering, "Hey," back. She glances around and gives him a questioning look. "All packed?"
He shrugs. "Only have the one duffel. Luke’s sending the rest of my stuff when I get out there."
"Oh."
They lapse into an uneasy silence, and she is happy for this. For once, she doesn’t want this to be easy. She hopes he is as unhappy as she is. As childish as it is, she doesn’t want to be alone in her in misery.
Only half-joking, she says to him, "You could stay. Wait for graduation. Come watch me walk." She may have managed to sound flippant, only her voice wavers at the end, and she feels the hot rush of tears in the back of her throat. Don’t cry, she begs herself, do not cry.
Jess shakes his head. "I need to get out of this town, Rory. Today, or I’ll end up staying here." He hesitates for several minutes, breathing deeply. He licks his lips, hand (with cigarette) waving around in frustration because he can’t find the right words for her. His eyes drop to the ground, as if quite suddenly, he expects to see fairy tale answers to all of their problems pop out of the pavement. "I need to at least give him a chance. Find out for myself if he is worth it."
Rory relents because she knows that feeling, only she’s come out the other side to find he was never worth it. "Yeah, I know. I just don’t want you to go," she admits, biting her lip. It’s a horrible realization; to understand what he needs can’t be found in her anymore. He can’t exist solely for her anymore. The tears sweep down her face and she launches herself into him. He immediately grabs hold of her and tugs her closer, his hands clutching at her hips. How could he possibly let her go? How could he walk away from her? She wants to ask him, but she knows why. She understands it all too well.
She steps back a little; her arms still loosely twined about his shoulders, sniffling. Her fingers play with the hair at the back of his neck, twirling it around and around as she studies his face, memorizing everything she will miss about him. His quirky mouth, his lively eyes, the thick slash of eyebrows. How it feels to kiss him, to make love with him, to hold his hand, or discuss (argue) a book’s virtues. That she knows without looking that the book in his back pocket is something Hemingway. The easy moments they had with each other. There is no going back. This is it for them. It aches in her heart, a dull, throbbing finality. There is no clever banter to ease away this heartache.
"You’re beautiful," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss on her mouth. "You’re going to be okay, you know."
She sighs, looking down at his throat. "I know." Her blue eyes meet his. "You are too. This is going to be good for you, Jess. You may even like him."
"Maybe," he says, sounding skeptical. "I don’t know. Sharing the same gene pool may open the door, but I don’t know if I’ll ever see him as my father."
Nodding, she rests her head against his shoulder. "I love you."
"Love you, too." He kisses her again, then breaks away from her. "I better hit the road. Miss the early morning commuters."
She steps back onto the curb, watching him as he moves around to the driver’s side. As he opens the door, she runs to him and grabs the front of his jacket, holding him. Words spill out of her, rushed and breathless. "Be safe. Call Luke when you stop tonight. He’ll be worried about you. Please, just," she sighs, then leans closer, forehead against his, "don’t call me, okay?" she whispers against his mouth, kissing him goodbye. "Not for awhile, at least."
He looks at her. "Okay," he promises, smiling sadly.
Rory turns away as soon as his taillights disappear around a corner and finds Luke standing at the door. He gestures with a full pot of coffee and she follows him inside. She takes a seat at the bar and sits in silence, sipping her coffee, while Luke moves around the diner, readying for the coming day.
End
AUTHOR: rubykate
PAIRING: Rory/Jess
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: It’s a horrible realization; to understand what he needs can’t be found in her anymore. He can’t exist solely for her anymore.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own any of the characters nor have any affiliation with the show.
PAIRING: RoryJess
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic was inspired by one of my favorite songs of all time, Stardust, specifically the version sung by Nat King Cole.
DEDICATIONS: To Betsy, for beta-reading this and always, always being my biggest cheerleader. And most definitely to my mom, for always, always telling me I can do anything I want to do.
-
She walks slowly across the Town Square; hands stuffed in her jeans pockets. Morning is on its way; streaks of daylight stretch across the starlit sky, as the sun carefully peeks its head over the horizon.
Maybe it’s just her but it feels different today. She feels different. Even the weather seems strange, damp and cool even for late May, and she feels as if she is sitting on a ledge, staring down at the chasm of what she was before and who she is becoming. With each day, it looms closer, not quite so far out of reach anymore.
As she crosses the street in front of Luke’s, she spies Jess standing by the door, smoking a cigarette. Its tip glows red in the dark, illuminating his face for several seconds as he takes a long drag. He comes towards her, meeting her halfway, then stops and watches her warily. Shoulders hunched to the early morning chill, his eyes look strained around the edges and his mouth is set in a straight line.
"Hey." His voice is rough from too little sleep and too much arguing.
They stand separate, face to face, and she looks at him for a few seconds before finally whispering, "Hey," back. She glances around and gives him a questioning look. "All packed?"
He shrugs. "Only have the one duffel. Luke’s sending the rest of my stuff when I get out there."
"Oh."
They lapse into an uneasy silence, and she is happy for this. For once, she doesn’t want this to be easy. She hopes he is as unhappy as she is. As childish as it is, she doesn’t want to be alone in her in misery.
Only half-joking, she says to him, "You could stay. Wait for graduation. Come watch me walk." She may have managed to sound flippant, only her voice wavers at the end, and she feels the hot rush of tears in the back of her throat. Don’t cry, she begs herself, do not cry.
Jess shakes his head. "I need to get out of this town, Rory. Today, or I’ll end up staying here." He hesitates for several minutes, breathing deeply. He licks his lips, hand (with cigarette) waving around in frustration because he can’t find the right words for her. His eyes drop to the ground, as if quite suddenly, he expects to see fairy tale answers to all of their problems pop out of the pavement. "I need to at least give him a chance. Find out for myself if he is worth it."
Rory relents because she knows that feeling, only she’s come out the other side to find he was never worth it. "Yeah, I know. I just don’t want you to go," she admits, biting her lip. It’s a horrible realization; to understand what he needs can’t be found in her anymore. He can’t exist solely for her anymore. The tears sweep down her face and she launches herself into him. He immediately grabs hold of her and tugs her closer, his hands clutching at her hips. How could he possibly let her go? How could he walk away from her? She wants to ask him, but she knows why. She understands it all too well.
She steps back a little; her arms still loosely twined about his shoulders, sniffling. Her fingers play with the hair at the back of his neck, twirling it around and around as she studies his face, memorizing everything she will miss about him. His quirky mouth, his lively eyes, the thick slash of eyebrows. How it feels to kiss him, to make love with him, to hold his hand, or discuss (argue) a book’s virtues. That she knows without looking that the book in his back pocket is something Hemingway. The easy moments they had with each other. There is no going back. This is it for them. It aches in her heart, a dull, throbbing finality. There is no clever banter to ease away this heartache.
"You’re beautiful," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss on her mouth. "You’re going to be okay, you know."
She sighs, looking down at his throat. "I know." Her blue eyes meet his. "You are too. This is going to be good for you, Jess. You may even like him."
"Maybe," he says, sounding skeptical. "I don’t know. Sharing the same gene pool may open the door, but I don’t know if I’ll ever see him as my father."
Nodding, she rests her head against his shoulder. "I love you."
"Love you, too." He kisses her again, then breaks away from her. "I better hit the road. Miss the early morning commuters."
She steps back onto the curb, watching him as he moves around to the driver’s side. As he opens the door, she runs to him and grabs the front of his jacket, holding him. Words spill out of her, rushed and breathless. "Be safe. Call Luke when you stop tonight. He’ll be worried about you. Please, just," she sighs, then leans closer, forehead against his, "don’t call me, okay?" she whispers against his mouth, kissing him goodbye. "Not for awhile, at least."
He looks at her. "Okay," he promises, smiling sadly.
Rory turns away as soon as his taillights disappear around a corner and finds Luke standing at the door. He gestures with a full pot of coffee and she follows him inside. She takes a seat at the bar and sits in silence, sipping her coffee, while Luke moves around the diner, readying for the coming day.
