Author's Note: This is just a little drabble-ish one-shot type thing. I've been watching a lot the show lately, and I just wrote this. I kind of like it, even though it's really short. This is my first Gilmore Girls story ever, so let me know what you think!
Background: This takes place after, well, I'll say after the season three finale, when Jess is in California with his dad.
Ballad of Big Nothing
It's at night that he thinks of her.
She's easier to avoid during the day because he can keep himself occupied. He can try and get to know his father better, offer to help at the stand, perhaps try and get Lily to read books of substance, or even read himself, falling inside of a book somehow not as tragic as his own life.
But at night, when he lies on the futon and looks out at the dark blue of the sky, hearing the ocean's waves crash cacophonously against the shore, she never fails to pop into his mind.
He tried to stop it at first. He tried to think of the lyrics to songs, and when that became too easy, he tried to sing songs backwards in his head. Sometimes he'd stay up all night reading because it was the only way he would not think of her, and even then, sometimes she managed to filter through the system, her smile just as innocent as he'd remembered, her eyes just as blue.
But he's come to realize night is safe, and he can be who he wants to be in the dark. He can cry if he damn well wants to, and sometimes he does, silent tears falling down his face, the ghost of her name on his lips.
Besides, trying not to think of Rory Gilmore is harder than it seems. Everything in the world reminds him of her. The ocean, obviously the color of her eyes. Not really though. On its best day, not even the ocean can compare; the sound of a car driving by, and he's not really sure why, but there was always something about their relationship that reminded him of cars. Especially the old ones; Lily, because she is so odd and marvelous in her own way with an eclectic mother of her own, he thinks she'll be her own version of Rory someday; and the sound of the wind, because if he closes his eyes sometimes, he can imagine he's back in Stars Hollow with that damn wind tapping at Luke's windowsill, and Rory is so close he could walk to see her if he wanted to. He thinks this must be love.
He'd never told her he loved her before, and he can't remember why. Because he does. She's all he's ever loved (though he has a soft spot for Luke, and even his mom is sometimes okay), and she's the only girl he's ever wanted. He's had plenty, more than his fair share, but the only girl he had ever needed so badly it physically hurt him was her.
They would have worked. He knows they would have worked. She would have commuted back and forth from Yale, and he could have repeated his senior year -- it wasn't like he cared what the other students thought. They would have worked. Of this he is so fiercely sure.
He misses her hair and that little dimple underneath her lips, and her lips, always so pouty and pink, and her playful voice, and her reading habits, and her funky coats, and the fact that she can't sing or run or dance, but she tries to do all of the above sometimes, and her innocence, there offered to him for protection.
But she's so far away now, and he can hardly remember exactly what fruit her shampoo smelled like, and sometimes he forgets her strange jokes and sayings. Sometimes he'll remember something that happened between them that hadn't entered his mind in weeks or even months, and it sends a jolt through his heart.
Perhaps he'll never see her again, but for now, at least he still has the night.
Because it's at night that he thinks of her.