The Forgotten Gilmore

Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Bittersweet Escape

Alessia sat on Jess's bed, her thoughts a tangled mess. The fight with her mother had left her feeling raw and exposed, the sting of rejection still fresh. Jess's presence was comforting, but it couldn't erase the hurt.

Jess handed her a glass of water, concern etched on his face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Alessia nodded, even though she wasn't sure. "I just need to get out of my head for a while."

Jess seemed to understand. He disappeared into the small kitchen area and returned with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. "Maybe this will help."

Alessia looked at the bottle, a mix of curiosity and hesitation in her eyes. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Jess poured them each a glass, his movements deliberate. "Sometimes, a little escape isn't the worst thing."

Alessia took the glass, feeling the cool weight of it in her hand. "Just for tonight," she said quietly.

They clinked their glasses together, and Alessia took a sip, the burn of the whiskey providing a momentary distraction from her swirling thoughts. Jess settled back beside her, his expression relaxed but watchful.

"Tell me something funny," Alessia said, trying to steer the conversation away from her pain.

Jess leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, how about the time Kirk tried to set up a raccoon rescue operation in the town square?"

Alessia chuckled, the image of Kirk wrangling raccoons brightening her mood. "Did he actually catch any?"

Jess shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. "Not a single one. But he did manage to scare away a few cats."

The absurdity of Kirk's failed raccoon rescue operation lingered in the air, teasing their laughter. Alessia collapsed onto the bed, giggling uncontrollably. "Do you ever think about how weird spoons are?"

Jess, lying beside her, raised an eyebrow. "Spoons?"

"Yeah!" Alessia nodded emphatically, still amused. "They're like tiny shovels for your mouth."

Jess chuckled. "I guess so. But what about forks? They're like little pitchforks for food."

Alessia's eyes widened in playful realization. "Oh my god, you're right! And knives are like swords for steak battles."

Their imaginations ran wild as they continued to dissect the quirks of kitchen utensils, each revelation fueling more laughter.

"And straws!" Jess suddenly added, sitting up with renewed enthusiasm. "They're like... tiny tubes for drinking the world's smallest rivers."

Alessia wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, fully immersed in the nonsensical conversation. "And napkins! They're like tiny blankets for your food's messy accidents."

They lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, still giggling.

"You know," Jess said after a moment, "if we were aliens, we'd probably think humans are really weird."

Alessia nodded seriously. "Definitely. We'd be like, 'Why do they need so many tiny tools to eat?'"

They shared stories and sipped their drinks, the alcohol creating a warm, buzzing sensation that dulled the edges of Alessia's anxiety. As the night wore on, they moved to the small balcony outside Jess's window, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat of the whiskey.

Jess pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Alessia. "Want one?"

Alessia hesitated for a moment before taking it. "Why not?"

They lit their cigarettes, the smoke curling up into the star-studded sky. Alessia took a drag, the familiar burn in her lungs a strange comfort. "You know, this isn't exactly the healthiest coping mechanism."

Jess exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes thoughtful. "No, but it's what we have right now."

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the distant hum of the town and the occasional crackle of their cigarettes. Alessia leaned her head back, gazing up at the stars.

"Do you ever feel like you're not enough?" she asked softly, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

Jess glanced at her, his expression serious. "All the time."

Alessia nodded, feeling a connection in their shared vulnerability. "It's hard, always feeling like the second option."

Jess reached over, his hand covering hers. "You're not the second option to me."

The sincerity in his voice made Alessia's heart ache. She turned to him, their faces close in the dim light. "Thank you, Jess."

He squeezed her hand, his grip reassuring. "We'll get through this. Together."

As the night deepened, the effects of the alcohol and cigarettes began to take their toll. Alessia's eyelids grew heavy, the warmth of Jess's presence lulling her into a sense of safety.

"Let's go inside," Jess suggested, helping her to her feet.

They stumbled back into the apartment, the world tilting slightly. Jess guided her to the bed, and they collapsed onto it, laughing at their own clumsiness.

"You know," Alessia said, her words slurring slightly, "you're not as bad as everyone thinks."

Jess chuckled, his eyes closing. "Thanks, Gilmore. You're not so bad yourself."

They lay there, the weight of the day finally lifting as sleep began to claim them. For a moment, everything felt right, their shared escape a bittersweet balm for their wounds.

As Alessia drifted off, she felt Jess's arm wrap around her, his presence a comforting anchor in the darkness. And for the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.