ℝ𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕩 𝕃𝕠𝕘𝕒𝕟; 𝕆𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤

Riptide

Rory POV, 6 hours later.

"Goodbye, Rory."

I could only watch as he lumberly walked away, his hands slipping into his pockets and his figure turning smaller and smaller until out of my sight. My eyes were dry and they burned, begging me to blink and give rest to the facade. He was there, walking away, and I couldn't stop him, I could only see the scene repeat inside my head, the eco bouncing against the walls of my mind . I couldn't convince him to stay. I was only glad I was alone, still packing the last bits of my college life away into my car, clutching the last box in my hands until my eyes locked with the framed photo of him and me, my old self looking at Logan's reckless exitement to throwing ourselves from a desperate height, my  left hand clutching his tightly and the other one holding the umbrella. Then so suddenly it hit me, the sober pain of the heartache wrecking my attemps of staying strong and short-circuiting my brain, hurting everywhere and nowhere at once.

It burned and it ached, as if there was a shard in my guts that wouldn't leave and were slowly leaving me breathless, the memories choking me. The pain I brought upon myself was far worse than I ever believed it would be, the non-palpable heartbreak that came in waves and the gruelling pain made me incapable of holding back the feelings and the tears. I threw myself onto my knees, unable of standing up any longer, the box falling and the picture falling in front of me, mocking me as I cried. Once that first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. I felt myself bend forward where I sat on the floor and press my palms onto the wooden floor and then I began to cry with the force of a person vomiting on all fours. 

My body shook and shriveled under the force of my own tears, which flooded my vision and blurred my thoughts, only letting me feel the pain. I cried for what felt like hours until my eyes were dry and I was incapable of moving, just laying on the floor, staring at the picture and remembering every little detail of Logan's touch and his comfort, which I so desperately needed.

Until the phone rang.

I stopped examining the picture and turned to look at my phone. It was a few centimetres away from my reach, so I had to sit up to take it. I lay motionless, refusing to pick it up and letting it go to voicemail. It did. Its probably mom, I'll call her back, I thought.

But they called again.

I didn't want to pick up, I didn't have the energy. But something about that call seemed off-putting, as if I had to pick up. It felt like bad news.

It kept ringing. 

Tired of my ringtone, I picked up, but stayed quiet, since I couldn't trust myself with conjuring a steady voice. That was until I heard the voice in the end of the line.

"Hartford General Hospital, this is Laria. Is this Miss Rory Gilmore speaking?"

Fun fact: At the very start of their relatioship, Rory gave Logan a necklace with a compass in it. She told him it would be there to guide him when he was in trouble or when life didn't look up, just like her. She forgot about it, but Logan never took the necklace off since.