An Introduction to Awkward Silence (1/1)
This is it. Lit. Good Night, Gracie and beyond.
I do not own the characters or universe depicted.

They sit, the awkward silence looming between them.

She knows he's leaving. He knows nothing.

After seeming millennia, she turns to look at him. "I don't hate you."

He returns her gaze, taken aback by the words. "For what?"

"Kyle's party, leaving…" she shakes her head, trailing off. "Anything."

He nods. "Oh." They both turn forward, sitting in yet more awkward silence.

She sighs, slipping her hand into his and sliding closer, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Don't disappear."

"Rory…" it's his turn to trail off uncomfortably, squeezing her hand lightly.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. "I just… I… Don't disappear. C-call or, uh, write. Postcard, smoke signal." She takes a deep breath. "You should probably skip the fruit basket."

He nods, twining their fingers together. "Okay."

This is goodbye.

She smiles into the phone with her 'hello', waiting for his reply.

He gives it, "Hey."

"What's up?" It's his third phone call since leaving six months prior. It's supplementary to the daily letters.

"Eh, not much." She can hear his smirk, see him slouched in a chair in a too-small cubicle. "How's the Ivy League?"

She grins. "I love it. I am truly in my element." Her smile falls a notch, still reaching her eyes. "How's the life of cubicle-dom?"

He groans audibly, likely earning glares from whatever person just passed him. "They don't pay me enough." There's awkward silence and he sighs. "What?"

"It's nothing," she replies, shaking her head.

"If you don't say it now, we'll both wonder what happened. What?"

She shakes her head, highlighting a passage in her text. "It's nothing." She sighs, resting her elbow on the desk, her forehead falling into her hand. "You don't want to hear it anyway."

There's more awkward silence; it's what their best at.

He sighs, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his drastically-longer hair. "God, I miss you."

She openly cries, silent tears spattering her text book. When she does speak, she chokes on the tears, "I miss you, too."

This is trying.

He calls again, a week before Christmas. "Please tell me you're at your mother's house." It's the first thing out of his mouth.

"Yeah," she replies, folding a shirt. "Why?"

"'Cause it's ten degrees out. Are you deaf or are you just not answering the door?"

She drops the phone, barely hearing it smack against the kitchen floor as she runs to the foyer, throwing open the front door.

They both simply stand, staring at one another with bated breath.

He's the first to move, taking a step forward, reaching out, wrapping a lock of hair around his fingers. "You cut it."

After another moment he takes another step, running his fingers through her hair. His other hand toys with the hem of her shirt as he presses a chaste kiss to her lips. He reluctantly pulls back, resting his forehead against hers.

She presses her lips together, her tongue flicking out to lick them briefly. "You're back."

"Just for Christmas and New Years," he counters honestly

She looks down, biting her lip briefly, before looking him back in the eye. "Okay."

This is settling.

True to his word, he takes off to the airport January third.

She doesn't want to see him off, not fond of public breakdowns.

Instead, Lorelai takes him. She watches him prepare, she sits with him for the seven hours his flight's delayed.

When his flight is finally called, he stands. Lorelai stands beside him, holding an envelope to him. "You aren't supposed to open it until the plane's off the ground."

He nods. "Okay."

"But I don't think you should wait." She sips out of a Styrofoam cup full of piping-hot coffee. "It might be important."

He simply folds the envelope, shoving it in his pocket. "She has her reasons."

"Okay," she responds. After a few minutes she gives him an awkward one-armed hug. "Have a good flight, Scruffy Jess." He glares at her. "What? You're scruffy, Kid. And you need to shave. You look old."

He nods before turning around and leaving.

As soon as he's out of sight, he grabs the envelope out of his pocket, ripping it open and unfolding the piece of paper.

'This hurts too much. I can't do it any more.'

He throws the paper down, running back the way he came, hoping to catch Lorelai.

She's in the food court, eyebrow cocked. There's a fresh cup of coffee in her hand, halfway to her knowing smirk. She stands, walking toward him. "One day you will learn: I know all."

In that instant, he decides to stay.

This is sacrifice.

Within two months he's leaving again, Rory doing nothing to stop him.

He's leaning against to door of his car, Rory standing in front of him.

He sighs, moving his hands to her hair, running his fingers through the soft locks. He pulls her into a kiss, forcing himself to remain calm. "You don't know how badly I'm going to miss you."

"I think I have an idea," she replies. Letting out a shaky breath, she leans into him. Her head buries itself in his neck as his arms wrap around her waist. She places a light kiss on his neck. "I'd give anything for you to stay."

He presses his lips to her hair. "I love you." He feels the warmth of her tears against his neck. "I'll call. I'll write. Postcards, smoke signals, fruit baskets. The works."

She pulls back, putting space between them and eyeing him confusedly. "I love you," she begins. "God, do I love you." She takes in a shaky breath. "But I meant it then…and I still do."

"Ror—"

"Don't," she sighs, her tears subsiding as she struggles for words. "I love you but this hurts, so badly. Every time you leave, it hurts. Pictures, your voice, your handwriting. It all hurts." She opens her mouth to speak, snapping it closed quickly as the tears begin to fall down her cheeks, staining their path pink. "I can't do this. I can't hurt this much all the time."

He steps forward, his thumbs gently wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I don't want this to be over, but I can't stay here, Ror. This place kills me."

"This," she begins, gesturing between them. "This kills me."

This is it.

Reformatted & Edited: 21 January, 2008