Disclaimer: Oh bla. Get a clue already.
Author’s Note: I’ve got short stories coming out of my yingyang!
Oh, about the title of the story before: I actually thought Mulder once said it. But then I Googled it and Bella is indeed right. Churchil said, referring to Russia: “[It] is a mystery wrapped in a riddle wrapped in an enigma.” So she kind of gets the kudos.
It’s once again not beta read. I am of the impulsive writing and posting.
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I’ve got the radio on.
So sue me.
It’s late and the diner’s empty. The tables are wiped, the chairs overturned and I’ve cleaned the counter so many times I can see my own soon- to-be-wrinkly face in it.
Besides, there’s nothing you can take from me.
Well sure, the diner maybe, but it’s not like that’s generating a buckload of money. Hell, my main consumer doesn’t even pay half the time.
Oh crap.
Did it again.
I thought about Lorelai.
I’d slap myself on the forehead, but my hands are nicely tucked under my armpits and I’m feeling lazy.
Hm. Lorelai.
What to say about her? Loads of thing, I guess.
She’s nice. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty crazy. Heh. Great mother. All time coffee addict. She’s funny, although I still refuse to laugh at her jokes.
Oh God, I hate this song. Babylon. By what’s-his-name, David White? No, that’s Barry. Barry Banana-Face, Liz used to call him. I guess she was right. Anyway, David Colour-Me-Pretty. Or is it beautiful?
Aw jeez, I have too many thoughts sometimes!
Anyway, it’s this song about love and missed chances and coming back and such. And I hate it. Not so much because it’s a stupid song. It’s pretty nice actually. I could play it on my guitar. After I clean the dust out of it, that is.
The hating of the song. Right.
Well, see, it’s kind of because it reminds me of Lorelai. Well not so much Lorelai as me and Lorelai. The situation between me and Lorelai. Or the situation that I think is going on between me and Lorelai.
And that’s stupid because it’s a sad song.
Which makes me kind of sad.
Or introspective. Men don’t get sad.
Whatever.
So I try to think of peanutbutter sandwiches and vacuum cleaners until the song is over.
After the perfunctory three minutes something seconds I prepare to breathe a sigh of relief, when I hear the next song come on.
Oh man...
Vonda Bleeding Shepard.
“Someone You Use”
What is this, “Get Luke to Think of Lorelai hour on WCBF”?
Who needs Freud when you have radio?
“Just a shoulder to cry on
That’s all I’ve been to you
Just someone to rely on
When your world was empty and blue”
No no no. Turn it off, Luke. Turn the goddamn radio off.
“Just someone you can call dear
Whenever you choose
I’m just someone you run to
Just someone you use”
Turn. It. Off. Come on, Luke, you know you want to. Just turn the thing off.
My hands are not moving.
“I’m just someone you can talk to
And that’s all I’ll ever be
Just a clown you can laugh with
Someone to treat you as you need”
Okay. Never mind. It got to me already. Now I’m feeling really sa- introspective. Damnit.
Might as well get it over with.
“I’m just a fool you can love on
Anytime you choose
I’m just someone you run to
I’m just someone you use
I’m just someone you run to
I’m just someone you use
Don’t you when you need me
My little heart just can’t refuse
I’m just someone who loves you baby
I can’t win and I can’t lose
I’m just someone you run to
I’m just someone you use
I’m just someone you run to
I’m just someone you use”
I should probably explain what exactly is going on here.
I’m in love with Lorelai.
Oh shut up, you heard me. I’m in love with Lorelai Gilmore. Lorelai Victoria Gilmore that is, not Leigh. That’d be gross. She’s like a daughter to me.
To get the whole thing in a nutshell: I’m in love, have been for some time, would do anything for and she just doesn’t seem to notice me. In that way, I mean.
And that sucks.
Sometimes it’s not so bad, really. There are these moments when I think that maybe I’ll have a chance someday.
God, I still remember the feeling I had that night in the diner. The stupid paint samples, and the beer. And then the crawling behind the diner to look for my dad’s order. And then the sitting and the talking and the smiling.
Man, the smiling. I think I actually had butterflies in my stomach.
When she looked at me over her shoulder, when we were hiding from Taylor and his camera crew, I almost kissed her. Really I did. She was so close and she smelled so nice; I seriously almost did.
And I would have, were it not for the fact that she suddenly had to go home. I think she saw it in my face or something. She actually saw it and got scared.
Love sucks.
I groan when a new song comes on. This is just too much.
Kurt Nilssen. Stupid ugly Norwegian hobbit.
“She’s sooo hiiiiiiiiiigh”
You’d think he cut his balls off just to perform the song.
Okay, this is it. It’s a conspiracy.
I grab the radio from the counter and march out the door with it. The night is cool but there’s no wind so it’s not that bad.
I walk over to Doose’s Market.
Stop.
Reconsider.
Then, getting a good grip on the still playing radio, swing my arm back and pitch the thing neatly through the main window of the shop.
The breaking of the glass is the most satisfying sound I’ve heard all night.
I never knew free therapy could be so much fun.
I stand there, grinning slightly, when I suddenly notice a presence somewhere next to me. I whip my entire body to the right and discover Lorelai standing some thirty feet away.
She has on that pretty pink coat and her hair is in this loose ponytail that I guess is in fashion now.
She looks really good.
She also looks confused, like she’s not sure whether to laugh or to call the police.
And I suddenly realize that even if I never get a chance, I’d better take this one. So I march over to her, my strides long and confident feeling.
When we’re only a foot apart, she opens her mouth to speak, a hand half gesturing towards the window, but I simply put my hand at the back of her neck, draw her close and kiss her.
She freezes under my touch and freezes some more and I know that this is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made but suddenly I feel her breathe out through her nose and she’s kissing me back.
I suppose I should wonder why she’s kissing me back and if that means that she kinda maybe sorta likes me too, but all I do is draw her body close. And her arms are around me and we’re kissing, making out, right in the middle of town, where everybody could see us were it not for the late hour.
And all I want to do is kiss her until the sky collapses and flaming stars will burn us all. I want to take her home with me and lose myself in her completely. I want to drown in her, be absorbed by her.
We part because, unfortunately, we’re still human and we need to breathe, and we just look at each other.
Her eyes are huge and her lips are parted and swollen. She is panting.
I grin.
She smiles.
I let out a chuckle.
She giggles.
I laugh. She laughs.
I take her hand and nod towards the diner.
“Coffee?”
END
A/N: Do you like my yingyang? Solely in its short story producing function of course. Not for the other things a yingyang does. Huh. What is a yingyang actually?