Title: Quantitative Learning
Author: Angeleyez
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Short and bitter. Post 6.18. Rory, Jess, Logan.
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How much do you love me? How much? Tell me. This much. I love you. I – how much? I want to make love to you. How much? More. More? I can't even – how much? How much do you love me? Wider. I need – your legs. Wider. I want to make – How much do you love me? How much? Tell me – how much does it hurt?
-
She was crying in her car again. This was nothing new. Nine times out of ten, she was curled into a ball, crying.
This was the silent type, an easy trickle of tears, like a dried up spring. She could drive home in this condition if she blinked enough. But she was five minutes from hysterics. White knuckles and hair pulling and dry heaving in the parking lot.
I'm in love with him. Despite all the bad he's done, I'm –
Four minutes. Three minutes. Two minutes. One –
-
Here it is, she goes back inside. And Jess is in the exact same spot. He hasn't even sat down.
If I'm so in love with him, she says, why can't I bring myself to start my car and go home?
Rory.
You said it is what it is. You and me. What is it?
You and me, he echoes. And that's it. Thought finished.
-
Logan was a regular Nick Naylor. It was his voice and charisma and personality and charm and this whole package. He was Andrew Marvell talking her out of her virginity. In private, he kissed her collarbone and the small dip just beneath. He would say, "I love you. So much. God, Rory, I just – I want to make love to you." He had this way of saying it, this tone, this whisper, this promise that he was speaking the absolute truth.
It was all fucking when he was with his friends. He fucked her. "I fucked Rory last night." Finn laughed, slapped him on the back. "I fucked her in my car outside of the gala." "Holy shit." "Her grandparents were ten feet away." "How do you do it, Logan?"
She came up behind him, poked him in the back. "Yeah," she said. "How?"
-
Okay, she goes back inside. He's standing in front of an art piece hanging on the wall. And then the painting is on the ground, and he's put his foot through it.
I never said I didn't love you, she says. I just said that I loved him too.
Silence.
Jess, I'm always going to be in love with you.
He does not say a word. He stares down at the tempera paints and the hundred of lines that cover the canvas but never ever connect.
I was going to write an autobiography, he says. I was going to call it 'Untitled.' What a big fucking joke.
Jess.
I don't get art. I don't get poetry. I don't even get literature anymore. They're just different orders of the same god damn words over and over and over. What the hell did my book even mean?
It meant you were sorry. That you wanted to do better. That you could.
He looks at her, shakes his head. He says, I think you missed the point.
-
She straddled him in bed. His arms were stretched out wide and he smiled and he said, "I love you this much."
"Really? That much." She bit his shoulder and he hummed, low in his throat.
"So much." Her hand slipped under his boxers and he gave a growl of pleasure. "You are amazing. You are – "
She slid off his shorts, gave him a coy smile. "How much do you love me?"
"Oh, baby."
-
She goes back inside and kisses him like he's the only one and they make love two times, three times and it's more, more, more. She leaves with the promise of return and drives all the way back to New Haven with a high she never got from Logan. Standing outside the apartment, she can still feel him between her thighs.
Logan is there and he's apologizing again and she tells him to stop. Please. For once. Just. Stop.
I love you, she says. But I think I hate you more.
Ace.
I hate you. You ruined my life. You're ruining it just by being here.
Ace. Ace. There's outrage on his face and this blue vein in his neck.
Can you do me a favor? Can you stop existing? Can you please just stop?
-
"I can't tell," she told him. "When you're being real and when you're being fake."
"What?"
"The attitude you have with people. It's like there are two of you."
"Two of me?" Logan repeated. "Okay."
"One real, one fake. But I'm not sure which is which half the time."
"Maybe they're both me. There are many facets to my personality." He laughed like it was all a big joke.
"You have to be more one than the other. Even if just a little bit."
"I'm real right now. Right here with you. I love you."
And she believed him. Or pretended to. She said, "How much?"
-
So she doesn't really go back inside. She cries for fifteen minutes inside her car and then throws it in reverse and pulls out of the parking lot and drives home.
There is this that she carries with her: Jess is always going to be just a little bit in love with her.
And there is this that has been with her for years: She was always going to love him just a little bit too.
-
She arrived home. Logan was already there, sitting on his luggage in the middle of the apartment, waiting for her.
"You're here."
"I couldn't enjoy what was going on. My mind kept coming back here. Rory – this can't be the end of us."
"How much do you love me?"
"What? Ace, I – " He held out his arms and she stepped inside them. "So much." He kissed her. "This much."
She followed him into the bedroom, disappointed. It was less than she thought. And yet, she wasn't surprised.
"You and me," she said, climbing on top of him. "It is what it is."
His hands were already under her shirt, digging beneath the lace of her bra. She barely noticed. "And what is it?"
"Not enough." But she kissed him anyway. She didn't deserve the alternative. It was just too much.