❝APPLICATION ANXIETY ❞
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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chapter fifty,
Gilmore Girls — Season Three

September 29th, 2002

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[ LUCY'S POV ]

   MY YALE APPLICATION CAME IN THE MAIL TODAY, and while most would find that nerve racking, I'm exited. In a few short months, I'll know if I'm going to be attending an Ivy League school or not. It's been a dream of mine to attend Yale since I was a child, and if I manage to submit a stellar application, I'll be over the freaking moon.

The beautiful, heavy and important Yale application sits on the table, staring up at me and my dad. I'm almost too scared to write on it── too scared to touch it, but I also really want to hold the weight of this application in my hands.

I want to get into an Ivy League school.

"Okay." I breathe out. "You open it." Dad looks at me strangely, but he doesn't hesitate to reach forward and take the application. "Wait!" He pauses, still looking at me with an odd expression. "Have you washed your hands?"

He gives me a knowing look. "Luce, I work with food."

"Okay... That doesn't answer my question," I scoff, not finding him to be taking this as serious as me. "Have you washed your hands?"

"Yes, but would you like me to do it again?" I shake my head, realising I might sound a little insane. Yale aren't going to know whether we washed our hands or not, are they? God, I hope not. "You still want me to open it?"

I nod. "Yes."

   Dad opens it, and I watch anxiously as he flicks through the beginning pages, stopping when he reaches the important stuff── the stuff I have to write on. "Okay... personal information. State your full name." He grins. "Better not get that one wrong."

   "Oh, yeah," I scoff.

   He looks down at the page. "And nickname, if any."

   "Lucy," I reply, but then I hesitate. "Or Luce. Can I put both?"

   "I don't think it matters."

   "Of course it matters." I shake my head. "See, if you had just named me 'Lucy', my nickname would be 'Luce', and we wouldn't be arguing about this."

   Dad stares at me like he can't believe I'm his daughter. He's stared at me in that exact way several times over the years, and I'm not surprised this is the time he decides to glare at me. I sound insane, I know, but he should've just named me Lucy. Why he needed to be fancy with my name, I'll never know. "I'm sorry," I mumble. "Continue."

   Dad clears his throat, averting his eyes from me. "Okay. Parental information," he reads. "Mother..."

   "Dead," I reply bluntly, and Dad's eyes widen. "Sorry. Estranged."

   Dad shrugs. "Dead works for me, kid."

   "Good."

   "Father..." Dad looks over at me with a smile on his face, and I suspect he's going to say something really stupid. "Out of this world."

   I roll my eyes. "I think they just need your name, Luke."

   Dad looks back down at the application. "Personal statement."

The personal statement is known as the big kahuna... I think. Anyway, this statement will make me stand out against everybody else who is competing to get into Yale, and I'm determined to write the best statement possible.

   I just don't know what to write.

   "You can evaluate a significant experience that's had an impact on you." Dad grins, and I give him a pointed look because I know what he's going to bring up. "Hey, why don't you write about the time you got your first piece of mail, huh?"

   "I was excited," I argue. "It was my first piece of mail. I was twelve."

   "It was a Chinese menu, and their food gave you food poisoning." I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "But that was a meaningful experience, right? It taught you to never eat from that restaurant again."

   I glare at him. "Read."

   He looks down at the application again. "Or you can write about a person who has had a significant influence on you."

   "You?" I suggest.

   "Or..." Dad shrugs. "Or one of your authors."

   "Or you," I repeat, but Dad doesn't seem all that pleased about the possibility of me writing about him to answer the question. "What? You've had the most influence on me since the day I was born, Dad. Take the compliment."

   "Thanks, kid," he grumbles, and I roll my eyes. Dad hates being the centre of attention, so while I'm sure he won't mind if I choose to write my essay about him, I know he'll find it strange because he hates any kind of compliment, but he'll be thrilled if it helps me get into Yale.

   Dad looks back to the application. "What activities interest you?"

   "Nothing to do with sports," I say. "Oh, and nothing to do with water."

   "Water?"

   "Like fishing," I clarify, and Dad looks like I've just hit him across the face.

   "You love fishing with me."

   "No, I love coming fishing to hang out with you, but I hate fishing," I correct, but Dad still looks offended. "Uh, anyway. Move on."

   Dad looks down at the application again. "They want a picture." Dad grins, and I open my mouth to object but he speaks first, "What about the picture of you practising karate when you were six."

   "In my defence, I had just watched The Karate Kid," I argue, holding my hands up.

   "You wanted me to sign you up for classes."

   "I just wanted to be like Daniel-san." I pout, smiling when Dad does. "Can we watch the movies tonight?"

   Dad pats a hand against mine. "Whatever you want, kid. Hey, you should write about him and his influence on six-year-old you."

   "If I'm going to write about anyone, it'll be about Mr. Miyagi, thank you. He had a heavy influence on my childhood."

Dad gasps dramatically. "More influence than me?"

"No comment."

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   I DECIDE TO VISIT TRISTAN AFTER SCHOOL AS I REALLY NEED TO TALK TO SOMEONE ABOUT MY APPLICATION. Also, I know he's also received his applications, so I imagine he'll also need to work on the essay. He's been in the shower for the past ten minutes, and I've been sat on his bed with my laptop pulled close to me.

However, I find myself moving off the bed to look at the collection of papers and applications he has sprawled out all over his desk. I'd love nothing more than to clean this damn thing, but he'd never let me.

   My eyes skim over a few papers, landing on applications to Columbia, Harvard and──

   Oxford... as in Oxford, England.

   He wants to go to Oxford? He's never mentioned it once, but I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised, they do have an amazing English course, but still, this is insane to me.

   I step away from his desk, not wanting to get more involved than I already am, and I crash straight into a very hard, very muscular body. I whip my body around, and I come face to face with Tristan── a shirtless one with a towel wrapped around his waist.

   "Being nosey, Blue?" He grins, and I chuckle awkwardly, feeling slightly embarrassed that I got caught snooping around his room.

   "I-I was just..." I can't think of a lie. I can't think of anything plausible to say, so I just blurt out, "Oxford."

   He looks at me strangely. "What?"

   "Uh, Oxford," I repeat, looking behind me at the applications. "T-There was an application to Oxford. I didn't── is that where you want to go?"

   He steps past me, shrugging his shoulders. "Not sure. Why?"

   "I just didn't know you wanted to go that far away, that's all." I rub my hand against the back of my neck, suddenly feeling very warm and overwhelmed at the idea of him── my boyfriend of nearly two years── leaving for England while I'll be here, in America.

   He shrugs again, moving to his desk to pull out another piece of paper from the crazed pile. "Just looking at the best options, that's all. Oxford have a great writing course, but so does Columbia, Harvard, and..." He stops in front of me again, and he pushes an application into my hands── a Yale application.

   "Yale," I breathe out, a little surprised.

   He takes the application from my hands, and throws it over his shoulder casually. It doesn't land anywhere near his desk, but I don't think he was actually aiming for it anyway.

   He steps forward, hands on my hips, and he pulls me forward. "I'm applying for Columbia, Harvard, Oxford, and Yale, Blue." I stare at him with wide eyes, something of a smile on my face. "They all have great courses for me which is a pro, but the biggest pro of Yale is that you are there too."

   "Tristan..." My head hits his shoulder. "I want you to go wherever you want."

   "Even Oxford?"

   I look back up at him, a frown on my face. "Whenever you want," I clarify, even if it physically pains me to imagine him so far away in another country, I want him to be happy. "You deserve the best education that you want, and even though I'd love to be at Yale with you, we don't know if I'll even──"

   "Do not finish that sentence. You're getting in, Luce," he interrupts, and I scoff.

   "Okay, when I get in, it'd be amazing to have you there with me, but you deserve to go somewhere that you really want to go to, and if that's Oxford..." I tighten my grip on his shoulders, suddenly needing something to balance myself. "I get it, I do."

   "It's just an application, Blue, it's not definite."

   I nod frantically, moving my arm around his neck. "I know, it's just scary to imagine that we'll be at college this time next year."

   "Exciting for me." He grins, and I roll my eyes. "I can't wait to get out from under my father's wrath."

    "I'm excited for us, I am, I'm just nervous about getting in, and leaving home, and..." I look at him thoughtfully. "Potentially leaving you."

   He places a hand against my cheek, holding me steady, and I smile at him. "Whenever we end up, Blue, we're going to make it work, I can promise you that. I'm going to marry you one day, do you understand me?"

   I roll my eyes, moving my face to free myself from his touch, but he only holds my face tighter. "Tristan──"

   "Do you understand me?" he repeats, his voice strict and demanding, and all I can do is nod my head and understand that he definitely will marry me one day── if he really means that. "Good. I'm glad we're on the same page."

   "We're always on the same page, you fool."

   "Oh, I know."

Tristan's lips met mine, soft lips on soft lips. For the briefest of seconds, our lips were tentative, unsure on how to move forward after our conversation. We then quickly found our familiar match in warmth and our mouths opened, and tongues met, and suddenly I was feeling just a little better about the idea of Tristan leaving for college... potentially across the Atlantic.

To me, I am like the land, and Tristan is like the sea── the Atlantic if you will── and Tristan is flying over that sea, creating delicate waves and patterns in his wake. The sea is dotted with silver specks due to the moonlight, and our lips meet where the sea and the land meet, crashing and moving together. Together, we're stronger── like the land needs the sea── but apart, we're also the same people, the same analogy── the same land and sea that function together and separately.

If Tristan chooses to take his next step across the ocean, he will find that I will be waiting for him to return. He will find that I will not be giving up on us because he's right. I truly believe that he and I are destined for one another, and I hate to get all poetic, but we're soulmates whether we believe in that stuff or not. We found each other, we love each other, and distance cannot and will not break us apart.

Tristan's the one── the one I'm going to marry, the one I'm going to have children with, and the one I'm ultimately going to grow old with. I don't think I'm capable of loving another person in the way that I love Tristan, and that's scary, but it feels so right to have found the one so young .

Tristan's burning, delicate hands reach from my hips, up to my ribs, and stilled themselves as I pulled him into me, revelling in the soft noises he makes. We continue to kiss, sharing breath, bodies close, the deeper scent of him, beneath the body wash and sandalwood spray.

Our lips break, and we part like the sea would from the land, signifying that he and I can remain as one while being separated. I rest my forehead against his, breathing in the scent of him one more time, and his arms settle around my body, drawing me in.

His lips brush against my temple. "I love you."

I'll never get tired of hearing those three very simple, very generous words. "I love you too."

"Wherever I end up, Blue, I can promise you that we're going to be absolutely fine, okay?" I nod, resting my head against his chest. "I don't think I could ever let you go, Luce."

I feel tears prick in my eyes as I cling onto him. "Don't ever let go," I whisper, brushing my lips against his neck. "Just stay..." I place a hand over his beating heart, my eyes lifting to look at his face. "Just stay with me right now, okay?"

He nods, pushes forward, kisses me, and moves us backwards onto his bed. I tug at the towel around his waist, allow him to pin my arms above my head, and devour every little insecurity and pain I'm feeling.

I have faith in us, and I hope that he will never lose faith in us too.

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authors note:

holy crap i'm sorry it takes me so long to upload parts to this story agahahhsshsg it's annoying

anyway, here's another short but sweet one (a little bit rushed but thats okay!)

will tristan go to oxford... hmm opinions?

comment and vote! thankyou very much for your patience, you're all wonderful :)

not been edited/proof read SORRY