-Okay guys, I know that you're probably going to be thinking "Another story!? Is she crazy? She hasn't finished any of the ones that she already has started. But..I have warned you before and I will warn you again..as much as I tell you I'll try to update soon..it probably won't be as soon as you or I would like. So I apologize for doing this to you all, but this is indeed ANOTHER story. lol. So don't think about how mad at me you are for not updating my others. Just read, enjoy, and savor it because since it's only the prologue, it's very short. My apologies! Read and REVIEW!! I love everyone that thinks my stories are something worth talking about. So put your reviews out there. It'll up your chances at an update. :)
And without further adieu...
Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls..obviously
Prologue: Anywhere But Here
He watched her as she sipped on her drink, noticing, she looked up at him from underneath her eyelashes. He mumbled something into her ear softly that made her smile and touch the side of his face. She mouthed the words "I love you."
"Fuck," he cursed, turning away from the scene. He could rarely stomach anything like that anymore. It wasn't that it really made him sick. The scene itself was...well, it was love. Or at least, it looked like love. And these days, anything that looked even close to love, seeing a couple holding hands, or kissing at a stop light, laughing in the park, playing with their kids. He couldn't watch that, not anymore. Not since her.
He threw his head back bringing the bottle with it and taking a long, full swig of his beer. He wasn't sure anymore what number he was on, and he wasn't sure if he was drunk, tipsy, or still sober. Everything felt the same these days. His emotions didn't change much. He went from depressed, to lonely, to angry, to heartbroken and right back into the circle again. His days now were slow, painful and he hated every single one of them. He hated every single day since he'd last seen her face. Which is why tonight he was in this place, in this bar, trying for the millionth time to forget about her. He didn't want to close his eyes and see hers, he didn't want to ache for her to be beside him again.
"Tristan." And he sure as hell, didn't want that. He turned slowly, not even attempting to put a smile on his face. He should have known he'd be getting a visit from this particular acquaintance. No, he shook his head. Friend. A visit from this particular friend. Just because he was her best friend didn't make him less than he had been before.
He wasn't sure how to respond. This sure as hell wasn't the way he wanted to be seen. Sitting in a dimly lighted bar drowning in his beer bottle wasn't exactly moving on now was it? But, it was probably expected. "Hey, Jess."
"Didn't really expect to see you here, man."
Tristan arched an eyebrow and let a knowing smirk spread across his face. "Jess, that's a lie and we both know it."
Jess chuckled, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck. "I guess I was just worried about you. Your sister said she hadn't heard from you and, I don't know I just,"
"Figured I'd be here?"
He shook his head. "Actually I went a couple other places first. This is place number four. So don't worry, you aren't as predictable as you look."
Tristan chuckled and nodded slightly, finishing off his beer and setting it on the counter. "Well you checked up on me and I'm shitty, so you can take off if you want."
Jess sighed. "Come on man I'm not checking up on you the way you think I am. I just don't want you to be so miserable."
Tristan gave a deep, dark laugh. "Not so miserable," he mumbled. "Right."
"She's worried about you too, Tristan."
He held up a hand. "Don't," he said. "I don't want to talk about her, Jess."
"Tristan, come on. You have to stop this, you have to pick yourself up and live your life."
He shook his head. "Do you want to tell me how to do that, Jess? Do you want to enlighten me on how exactly my life is supposed to be? Because I thought I knew but apparently I don't have a fucking clue! You want me to smile? Because I can't. You want me to laugh? I think I forgot how. Without her, this is my life. Nothing, that's what I am without her. And we both know that."
Jess got up, threw down a few dollars on the bar to pay for Tristan's drink and dragged him outside. He gripped the back of Tristan's well known leather jacket tight and spun him around, taking advantage of the taller man's alcohol content, and shoved him against the building hard. "You want to know how to live your life, Tristan?" He hollered. "You want to know how to pick up the goddamn pieces!? You put down the bottle and go get your girl back."
"She doesn't want me, Jess." Tristan's tone was defeated before he even started. This seemed to piss Jess off even more and he let the smaller figure slam him against the building again without protest.
"And how the hell do you know!? Have you picked up a phone to try, Tristan?" He didn't wait for an answer. "No! You haven't. You haven't even tried. She walked away and you didn't follow her. You didn't fight for her." Jess pushed Tristan away from him and Tristan straightened his jacket. "You gave up."
"What did you want me to do, Jess? Beg her to be happy with me? She knows that I love her, she knows that I want her. She chose him. What the hell do you want me to do!" He was yelling now. He was yelling and he didn't care anymore. "There's nothing I can do now, Jess. She doesn't want me. She chose him."
"What do you want, Tristan?"
He sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I want her to be happy. That's what I want. If she's happy with him then why should I take that away from her. I can't ask her to give up her life for me, Jess."
"She still loves you."
Tristan held his hand up. "Could you do me a favor?"
He sighed, nodding. "Sure."
Tristan smiled slightly but it almost looked like a wince, a movement to push away the pain. "Could you not tell her you saw me here, like this. Tell her whatever you want. Tell her I'm happy, that I've moved on, that I'm better than ever, that I'm seeing someone. Just don't tell her that you saw me the way that I am. It would only hurt her."
Jess frowned shaking his head. "Tristan, you could just come back with me. You could just try to,"
He shook his head again. "Just tell her I'm anywhere but here. Please."
Jess nodded reluctantly. "Okay."
Tristan sighed, leaning back against the building heavily and watching his friend, the friend that he knew was only trying to help, walk away without gaining an inch. He'd been surprised when the first phone call came. But then again, he hadn't been. He'd expected it, almost hoped for it actually. It meant that maybe she still wanted to know he was okay.
What was he thinking. Of course she wanted to know if he was okay. She didn't stop caring about him she'd said that herself. And he was being unfair to both of them by walking away, by not fighting back, by giving up. He just didn't have the strength for it anymore.
Six months. All she would've had to do was wait six more months and he would've been home, they would've gotten married, they would've raised kids the way they'd always wanted to, their dreams were six god damn months away. But she didn't know that, and neither had he. He couldn't blame her really. He knew it was hard on her. Two visits a year for three years, the crying every time his plane took off, not hearing his voice for sometimes months at a time. It was hard, it was damn hard.
He remembered her last phone call, her last letter, the last time he heard her say that she loved him. It'd been six months since then. And if she'd just waited for him a little bit longer. They'd be married two days from now. They'd be starting their lives together, moving in, making babies, raising kids. They'd be doing it all two days from now if only she'd waited six more god damned months. She waited three fucking years for him. Three years! And she couldn't wait six months more.
These were the jumble of thoughts that ran through Tristan's mind as he walked home from the bar, back to his apartment, back into the life he never wanted, to the loneliness he never dreamed would hang on his shoulders. He turned the key in the lock threw the door open, kicked off his shoes, walked the plush carpet to his chair. Picked up the book he'd read over and over again for the last six months. Pride and Prejudice. Of course it had to be a Jane Austen, with her it was always Jane Austen. And he read it, because he missed her. He just fucking missed her.