A/N: Prompt response from gilmorefanforever! You sure know how to cater to my muse Sophie! It's angsty (as usual), it's season six (what else is new?), and you'll just have to read to find out more!

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What Silence Can Tell You

She lies in bed. She is alone. She scoffs and rolls her eyes. She is always alone these days. He always has some excuse as to why he will be home late. She'd like to really admit to herself that they are valid excuses, but she is too sad to do so. She sits up and looks around the room. Does he really live here? The only way you could tell is if you opened the closet door and saw his traditional uniform hanging in there. She jumps up and flings open the doors to the closet. She needs to see the proof that he is in fact living there. She runs to the bathroom. She needs to see his toothbrush there in the holder next to her own.

She remembers when the bathroom was first put in and they had a nighttime routine. She would use one sink to do her own things and he would do the same with the other sink. Occasionally their eyes would meet in the mirror and they'd share small smiles. It was such a little thing, but she loved it all the same. Now, he is never there. There is no routine. He is never home. She tiredly lies back down on her side facing away from the door. Silently, the tears begin to flow. They trickle down her face leaving salty, wet tracks behind.

Downstairs the door opens quietly. She hurriedly swipes at her eyes trying to destroy the evidence that she is upset to the point of tears. She hears the bedroom door open. She hears him go into the bathroom; 5 minutes later she hears him come out. He lies down on the bed. He is so far from her that she can't even feel any part of him. She moves slightly trying to indicate that she is awake. He does nothing. She coughs and shakes her head. He remains silent. He doesn't care. The tears are coming again. Spilling down her face; there is no stopping them now. The sadness is turning to rage. The words "He doesn't care" repeat over and over in her head. He hasn't said anything yet even though she is obviously awake. He doesn't care. He won't touch her or even come near her. He doesn't care. She jumps up and whirls around to face him. Tears still pouring down her face, anger blazing in her eyes, she stares him down.

"Lorelai," He says sounding a little unsure.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She yells. Judging by the look on his face, that is not what he was expecting to hear.

"What?"

She ignores him and continues to yell. "Is this house so bad that you can't stand to be in it?" He is still confused. "I mean it must be since you're never here!"

"What are you talking about? I'm here all the time!"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh please. You spend more time at the apartment then you do at home." She accuses, using air quotes around the word home.

"I have early deliveries!"

"Every single morning?"

"No."

"When was the last time you slept here?" She knows the answer. She wants to know if he realizes it.

He hesitates. She has caught him with that question. That silence speaks volumes. "You see." She says quietly. "It's so unimportant to you that you can't even remember."

"No, Lorelai!" He exclaims rising quickly off the bed. "No, it's not like that!" He walks towards her and lays his hand on her arm. She stares at it unblinkingly. He is actually touching her. When was the last time he did that?

"I have to go." She whispers and runs out the door, downstairs, and outside. She braces herself against the wall of her house and slides down onto the ground. The thought crosses her mind that she just called it her house. Not theirs. Well he is never there. It might as well be her house. How did she not see this coming? After all, he never stayed over at his wife's house. As she put it, he was a "rude houseguest."

She remembers something he told her once right before their first kiss. "You're supposed to let your actions speak." She knows that he is right. He never touches her, he hardly ever spends the night; he hasn't come down to find her. She isn't stupid. She can put it together. He doesn't love her anymore. It's so obvious that she wonders how she missed it before.

She hears the front door open loudly. "Lorelai?" He yells sounding frantic. She doesn't respond. Part of her wishes that he would find her, and part of her hopes he doesn't. He walks around the yard for a few minutes before he sees her. "Hey." He says sitting next to her. She doesn't look at him. She doesn't think she could stand it to look at him.

"You don't love me do you?" She asks quietly. Next to her, his eyes widen until they look like saucers. She might have laughed if she had looked up at him. He is not laughing though. She has shocked him so much that he can't even form words. All he can do is sit there and stare at her. What could make her think for even a second that he doesn't love her?

She feels her heart plummet to her stomach. He didn't answer her. The silence is practically screaming at her. He doesn't love you! He doesn't love you! He won't answer! The tears spill over again. She couldn't even count how many times she has cried that night. She feels sick. Like she could throw up any minute. She is shaking like crazy. Slowly she stands up and, still not facing him, gathers herself together as best she can. "Okay," She whispers brokenly. "I'm just going to go. I'll see you…sometime." With that, she runs as fast as she can away from him. She is gone by the time the whole scenario registers in his mind.

He jumps up and begins yelling frantically. "Lorelai, wait!" No one answers. She is gone. The silence envelops him and he sinks to the ground as tears threaten his eyes. He knows now what a huge mistake he has made in this relationship. This could very well be the end. It might be the end. The silence tells him so.

A/N: This is probably the end. I might continue if inspiration strikes, but this is most likely a one-shot. Hope you liked it!