Inbetween Days (Jess Mariano x Reader)

Chapter 12

Yesterday I got so old
I felt like I could die
Yesterday I got so old
It made me want to cry

Go on, go on, just walk away
Go on, go on, your choice is made
Go on, go on, and disappear
Go on, go on away from here

And I know I was wrong
When I said it was true
That it couldn't be me and be her
In between without you
Without you

Summer was ending before it had even begun. My family, in an effort to cut down on expenses, had forgone our usual trip to the beach. School was barely over and my teachers had already piled on the holiday homework. My life, already hyper supervised and rarely very exciting, had been nothing short of miserable.

I was finding my small joys where I could. Delving into new music, with a lot of help from Lane and Dave, and reading a ton. I finished 'A Moveable Feast' in a single day, impressing even Jess when I informed him of this in a letter. I was taking new leaps in making and altering my clothes, and my double dressing skills were improving to the point that I was sure I'd be making an impression come September. I was becoming. Slowly but surely. What, I still wasn't sure yet.

Even when I wasn't sending them, I wrote letters to Jess almost every day. A lot of them ended up crumpled up and tossed in my little waste basket in my bedroom, but a few were too precious to destroy. In some of them, I'd even managed to tell him how I felt. These got tucked away in a back corner of my closet, where even my mother had never cared to clean.

The tree behind the school that I usually took refuge under had been damaged by an ice storm, and had to be cut down. Ever since the spring warmed enough to enjoy the weather, I'd taken to the lake instead. It felt very Whitman-esque to sit out there, watching the mayflies flitting over the water, reading a book. Though I never could sit through all of Walden, I'd respected the concept. I'd been buying a lot more books lately, and Andrew had become quite familiar with the sight of me sitting cross-legged on the old blue carpet of the bookstore, choosing between this book of beat poetry and that novel from the silent generation. It wasn't what I usually read. I couldn't think what had gotten into me, other than I missed him. 

Sometimes I feared that loving someone like Jess would take me over. That I would change everything unique about myself trying to be different like he was different. I just wanted so badly to stand out, on my own. For people to look at me across a cafe or a bookshop and think, "oh, it's her." I wanted people to remember me when I left a room, even if they gossiped after I did. I used to love fantasy books, pop punk music and making things with my own hands. Sculpture. Paintings. That girl felt so distant and pitiable now. But still, I missed her. So I took long walks in the woods and displaced Joy Division with Avril Lavigne once in a blue moon. 

It wasn't that all my self esteem came from Jess. The thing is that I saw that he could be great, if only he applied himself to greatness. Meanwhile I, try as I might, believed it my destiny to struggle my way through the real world before realizing I wasn't worth anything more than where I started from. I'd come home to Stars Hollow, maybe open up a record shop, or work for Andrew in the bookstore. And that would be the end of that. Part of why I liked having him around so much is because he convinced me that this mindset was too hard on myself. And he was right. So even though it felt like trying to hold my head above water when I didn't know how to swim, I struggled in the dark for my own identity. 

I was sitting on the bridge, poring over 'The Age of Reason' by Sartre. I was very close to putting it down, as it was becoming far too relatable for my taste, when I heard shuffling footfalls over the planks behind me. Not thinking much of it, I returned to my book until I heard something heavy fall beside me with a dull thump. It was a duffle bag. A large, blue duffel bag I'd seen before. I jumped up before I could think, nearly headbutting him in the chin, he was standing so close. Still without thinking, I threw my arms around him, but once reality set in I quickly pulled away, embarrassed. I'd gone over how I would confess to him so many times in my mind, I forgot that in fact he was not mine, and he likely never would be. Big brown eyes twinkled just enough to leave my chest aching. Like maybe he'd enjoyed that closeness. Like maybe if I'd held on, he'd have hugged me back. 

"Good to know someone's pretty happy to see me, then." he muttered.

"It's been duller than the grave around here without you, Mariano." I pass it off like he's just a respite from boredom, nothing more or less.

"Sure, I bet. What's the big shindig up the pathway there?"

I turn around. Faint music can be heard coming down over the hill. "Oh, someone's wedding I think. Up at the inn."

"Lorelai's inn?" his interest is piqued.

"The Independence, yeah. Probably some rich snobs filling the lake with swans again. Who cares? What brings you back?" I'm getting desperate now, trying to turn his attention away from the Gilmores as much as possible. 'Look at me!' I want to say, 'Don't look at her! I'm right here.' 

"Just got sick of New York, I guess." But the eye contact he gave me could have lit a cigarette. Why is he doing this? Who gave him the right to those gorgeous eyes and that smile that could get him any girl he wanted? Why was he using them to try and get the one girl he can't have? As if Dean Forester, that possessive bastard, would ever let her go? 

"But you're back for good, right? Or are you just visiting?" My voice cracked a bit, giving away the right answer to the quiz, and he took ready notice.

"What's the point in leaving? As long as Luke'll have me. It's a free place to stay." 

My heart was pounding. For the first time in months I felt like I could breathe. But all I said was, "Cool."

He looked down at my book on the ground. "So, Sartre? Didn't take you for an existentialist."

"His novels are actually pretty good standalone. He's definitely getting to me."

"Yeah? I should read it."

"I could make you." It slipped out before I could filter it and I hoped I didn't go a shade off-color. "Y'know, homework." Poor recovery, but an attempt was made.

"I look forward to it, Teach." This nickname had come up in our letters a few times. This was the first time I'd heard it from his lips. "Your copy, when you're done?"

I smiled back. My voice, my eyes, my very being begging him to remember our history. "The usual? Sounds fine."

"Should be interesting." But his eyes were searching the woods in the direction of the music. "So, I'll see you around?"

I wanted to reach out and grab his wrist. I had lists and letters worth of things to tell him. But I didn't just want him to stay, I wanted him to not want to go, so I painfully pulled a smile and said, very slowly and deliberately so I could watch my tone and not sound bitchy. "Yeah. See you around." 

He trudged up the path to the Inn, and to Rory. Leaving me alone again.

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I'M SO SORRY IT'S BEEN SO MANY MONTHS SINCE I'VE UPDATED. I GOT ENGAGED TO MY BEST FRIEND OF THREE YEARS AND MOVED HALFWAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY TO BE WITH HIM SO LET'S JUST SAY IT'S BEEN BUSY. Thank you all so much for your patience and support, or I would not have had the motivation to continue with this. I hope this new chapter lives up to your standards, I know it's been a while. 

Song at the beginning is "Inbetween Days" by The Cure, which felt appropriate for both this comeback and this part in the story. The drama is only just beginning. Hold onto your asses.