Disclaimer: I own nothing and I stole the title from Shakespeare
Summary: I wrote this after watching this weeks episode. . .just a little story about
how Rory might have been feeling at the end. . . Enjoy!
PS I LOVE feedback!
Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow
ďSee you around Mary,Ē he murmured quietly with a smile as he walked
out of my life. This time the nickname made me smile.
He was gone but somehow I couldnít muster up an ounce of happiness or
even relief. He was gone but things felt incomplete, unfinished. Even
between his sarcastic comments, his moody broodiness, his hurtful words, I
still felt the need to reach out to him. We had been friends once. Maybe
friends is too strong a word to describe what we had. Seeing him in the
hallway had been like a shock to my system.
He was back. I was even happy to see him. He was different but the
same. He baited and I got caught all over again. You would think that I
would have learned to stay away. Learned that all my overtures of piece and
attempts at understanding would just be thrown back in my face. But I still
tried. For god knows what reason I tried.
He was back but somehow it wasnít him. Maybe it never had been. He could
be kind. He could be considerate. Hell, he could even be sweet when he
wanted to be. Even in that limited time that we had, when we had finally
reached an understanding, I could see all these things in him and more.
But then he came back and brooding Tristan was the mask he wore. Bad
boy Tristan who somehow thought he had something to prove. To me. Always
to me. I saw something flicker deep in his eyes and saw him wince slightly
as I mentioned Dean. Pain and harsh reality filled his eyes but was gone in
an instant leaving me to doubt whether I had actually seen it. He fell too
easily into sarcasm and scorn always reaching towards me and then pushing me
farther away. Why did he have to act that way? Iíll never understand him.
He was back and he was almost cruel. Almost non-human. Because how could
anyone with any sense of human reason, sense of right and wrong, sense of
compassion ever try to ruin my life.
He was back and he was lost. Struggling to find his way. Struggling
to connect to me. Maybe I was the one already gone.
Then he was leaving and somehow the hostility and bitterness cleared.
I even tried to find a way for him to stay. I guess it hadnít hit me then.
Tristan seemed like he would always be there. Right where I didnít want
him. Right where I least expected him to be. He had jokingly said he
wanted to give me a kiss. Somehow I donít think he wasnít joking. Somehow
I donít think I would have minded. In the end, we kept our distance from
one another. Never getting too close but connected anyway. In a smile of
goodbye, a few parting words.
Then he was gone but somehow the memory remains. Taunting me. Reminding
me that there never was an ending.