Chapter Text
Rory should be asleep. She knows that. She looks over and sees Logan deep asleep. She loves seeing him sleep, he’s so relaxed and at peace when he’s asleep.
She wishes she could join him.
But she can’t.
Because her mother left yet another voicemail berating her. Telling her how she is ruining her life, throwing away everything the two of them have worked for, just for some stupid rich trust fund boy.
Except that isn’t the truth.
She isn’t giving up everything because of a boy.
She’s giving up everything because of her.
Because she isn’t sure if everything that her mother convinced her she wants was actually her.
“Babe. If you were thinking any louder Finn could hear it down the hall. You okay?” Logan hasn’t even opened his eyes, but he allows his mouth to fall into a lazy smirk.
“Sorry. I’ll just go to the couch so you can go back to sleep.” Rory bites her lip and moves to get out of the bed, but Logan pulls her back in.
“Try again. What’s going on babe?” Logan pulls her into his arms and kisses the top of her head.
“Lorelei left another voicemail while you were out tonight. She’s furious that I skipped going home so I could go to that charity event with you this weekend.” Rory snuggles into Logan’s hold, feeling safer than probably anywhere else in the world.
“She’s mad that you went to a charity event?” Logan asked, bewildered, he’s done his best to understand the Gilmore Girls, and while he likes to think that he has a pretty good understanding on his Gilmore Girl, he’s beginning to think he will never understand her mother.
“She gets mad anytime I do anything that is remotely connected to my grandparents world. And I think it scares her. But that’s not what should scare her.” Rory bites her lip, tired already of her midnight musings.
“Ace?” Logan moves both of them so they are sitting up in bed, although he makes sure that she stays securely in his arms, even as he turns on the bedside light.
“Did I ever tell you about where I grew up?” Rory realizes this is a sudden change of topic, but it’s something she’s been thinking about a lot.
“Stars Hallow? You talk about it all the time. It still doesn’t feel real, and it definitely doesn’t feel like a place we should allow Finn unattended.”
“No. I mean yes, I grew up in Stars Hallow but we didn’t move into the Crap Shack until like… middle school. Before that… before that I lived in a potting shed. That is not an exaggeration, or me being dramatic. We literally lived in a shed behind the inn. We didn’t have electricity or running water. It was one room, the bathtub was in the middle of the shed, it was hooked up to the garden hose outside. When it would get really cold Mia would let us sleep in the inn but… I was this quiet little thing living in a shed, I was practically a mouse.” Rory feels her eyes water as she thinks about the shed.
“Ror…” Logan is fully focused on Rory, listening to her talk about her past, watching as she gets lost in the memories.
“I didn’t even think about it as bad or wrong until I started school. I could never invite anyone over, and when I would mention the shed.. the adults around would get a weird look on their face. But Mom had me so convinced it was the life of a dreamer, it was romantic. I was like… Eloise who lived in a hotel, except I lived behind one. I fell in love with reading because books, and newspapers… they were all I had. We didn’t have a TV, I didn’t understand half the things my friends would talk about. I would read about all these amazing places, and people who did the most fantastic of things, and I fell in love with words, with reading, and with writing. Mom… she kept repeating that I was her little mini-me until I believed it. She is a free spirit, if she could travel every day she would. She ran away from Hartford and from her parents because she didn’t want to try and live up to their expectations but… My grandparents are not evil people. Their expectations were not impossible to live up to standards. And do you know how I know that?”
“How?”
“Because when I was in high school, specifically after I transferred to Chilton and we were suddenly thrust into Hartford, and that whole social circle, they were never once embarrassed by me. Not even when I did terribly embarrassing things. You should ask Grandpa about the time he and I went golfing. But they were just so proud that I was there, that I was trying. And yes, the strings Grandma put on the money was harsh. But I never needed a legal obligation to see them. And that scares Mom. It scares her that I choose Hartford events. It scares her that I don’t hate Friday Night Dinners, I don’t cower in fear every time Grandma turns to ask me a question. She hates that I am realizing that I am not her Mini-me, and I likely never have been. I think about that Taylor Swift lyric, a lot more than I probably should.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask…?”
“You made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter. I mean carefree woman instead of careless man but… With you I feel safe enough to take risks, to try new things, to be frivolous. I never felt safe to do that with Mom, because someone had to be responsible. Someone had to make sure no one ever called CPS again.” Rory remembers that night, that night haunts her.
“Someone called CPS on Lorelei? What happened?” Logan is genuinely shocked at this conversation, he kind of wishes it wasn’t happening at midnight so that he could be a little more on the ball, but he wouldn’t give up this insight into his Ace for anything.
“The potting shed. It only locked from the outside, and you couldn’t unlock it from the inside. Usually, Mom would go inside the shed, I would lock it from the outside and then climb in through the window that was just big enough for me. But, Mom was working late. So she locked me in for safety, but there was some sort of firework malfunction at the event she was working… and it got too close to the shed and I couldn’t get out. See the window was too high for me to climb out of without help, usually Mom would lift me up. I was okay, she got to me in time. But I had to go to the hospital. I had to get checked out for smoke inhalation and the like. The doctors were concerned when I told them I was locked in a shed, even more so when I explained that was where we lived. They called CPS and a social worker came to talk to me at school.” Rory squeezes her hands tightly as she remembers how mad Lorelei got when Rory explained what happened. Rory just told the truth, she didn’t understand why that was so wrong.
“What happened?” Logan kisses Rory quickly, needing to confirm that she is actually here, safe in his arms, and that she didn’t somehow perish in that fire all those years ago and was just a figment of his imagination.
“I lied to the social worker. Or at least I didn’t tell the whole truth. Mom got so mad when I told her what I told the doctor. Apparently I shouldn’t have. Apparently the world wouldn’t understand the beautifully poetic life of the Gilmore Girls. So I told the social worker that we slept in the Inn most nights, that this was an unusual circumstance. I told her that it was an accident, that my Mom was right there to make sure I got out safely. I didn’t want Mom to get in trouble, I didn’t want to be taken away from her and given to my cruel and wretched grandparents which was something she always reminded me could happen.” Rory buries her head in his chest and tries to compose herself.
“We aren’t going to solve your family dynamic tonight. Why don’t we try and get some more sleep, pretty sure you have classes in the morning, tomorrow you and I can game plan what to tell Lorelei, how to handle her, and I promise… United Front. Deal?” Logan kisses the top of her head and turns off the light, pulling her back into a lying down position so that they can try and get some sleep.
“You are surprisingly good at this boyfriend thing you know.” Rory half smiles, kissing Logan before settling back in his arms.
“I like to think I am just good at being your boyfriend, I’d likely be trash with anyone else.” Logan returns her kiss before closing his eyes, trying not to let the images of Rory locked in a shed invade his mind.
Midnight Musings aren’t always poetic.