✢ (Send me a ✢ for my muse’s reaction to seeing yours standing on their doorstep soaking wet in the rain)
Rory rubbed the sleep out of her eyes at the sound of incessant banging at her door. At first she’d been sure she was just imagining it; it was one of the worst storms Star’s Hollow had seen all winter, and it could have just been trees groaning in the wind or debris crashing against the side of the house.
But no, it was definitely knocking. Rory pulled the door open a sliver to look at who was outside, but years of living in New York had made her more cautious about doing so than she’d once been. She squinted, trying to make sure she wasn’t just seeing things in the dark, and then pulled the door open all the way.
“Jess? What are you doing here?” she asked him, confused. She’d known he’d be back for Luke and her mom’s wedding, of course, but it was so early. The ‘here’ she meant was more Star’s Hollow than anything, though -- every time they were in the same place, they always seemed to find their way to each other’s sides.
She hadn’t seen him since that night in Philadelphia, when she’d taken advantage of his feelings and used him to make herself feel better about Logan. It was a low point for her, really -- a lot of her college years had been a low point for her, honestly, between Dean 2.0 and the Logan era. Rory had always let her relationships dictate her life maybe more than she should have... and the soaking wet, leather-jacket wearing man in front of her was definitely the worst example of that.
She’d been crushed when he’d left. So many of Rory’s decisions after that had been because of missing him. Changing her hair? He’d liked it long, so she’d cut it short. Not getting a boyfriend her first year at Yale, despite maybe having options? She missed him too much for anyone to compare. Going to Yale in the first place? 22.8 miles, instead of the infinite stretch of land between Star’s Hollow and Harvard.
He’d still loved her, when she’d seen him almost two years ago. And a part of her had loved him then, too. A part of her would probably always love him, the only boy who’d ever really understood her. If she reached out now, she could kiss him, could start over again, could pick up right where they left off, unless he rejected her...
Instead, she motioned for him to step through the front door. “Come inside, I’ll get you some towels and coffee. We can catch up.”
SEND ME A ✢ FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION TO SEEING YOURS STANDING ON THEIR DOORSTEP SOAKING WET IN THE RAIN.
