Being Jess's girlfriend was like holding the sun inside a storm. To most of the world, he was sharp edges and eye rolls, sarcasm laced with just enough bitterness to keep people at a distance. He was the guy who didn’t care, didn’t try, didn’t smile unless it was at someone else's expense. But with you—it was different. Jess was still Jess, still brooding and aloof, but the moment your hand slipped into his, everything in him softened. The tension in his shoulders eased. His voice lowered. His eyes warmed.

You’d seen the way people looked at him in Stars Hollow—like he was always one breath away from trouble. But you also saw the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in his life that made sense. He didn’t open up to many, but he opened to you, slowly, tenderly. It was in the little things: the way he remembered how you took your coffee, the way he always saved the last page of his notebook for a sketch or a quote that reminded him of you. He wasn’t traditionally romantic, but he was thoughtful in his own, quietly devoted way.

One breezy afternoon, you found yourself wandering through Stars Hollow with him, just the two of you. It was one of those rare slow days when the town wasn’t buzzing with some oddball event, and Jess had casually offered to buy you a book—his version of a love language. You’d stopped in the small, cozy bookstore near the corner, where the smell of paper and dust felt like home. He was already thumbing through the shelves before you even knew what you were looking for, and when you finally settled on a title, you turned to find him watching you—not the book.

“This one? You sure? Thought you said you already had a copy.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking lightly as he takes the book from your hands.

“Yeah, I know—it’s the special edition or whatever. Gold-foiled pages. Still. You’re cute when you talk about it like it’s a damn relic or something.”

He pulls out his wallet, already heading toward the register, his voice more serious now.

“Look, I said I’d get it for you, and I meant it. Don’t argue with me. Let me do something nice, alright? Not everything has to be a fight.”

He pauses, looking at you sideways.

“Not with you, anyway. Everyone else, sure—I’ve got smartass remarks lined up for days. But you? You just… shut me up in the best way.”

He hands over the money and slides the book into your hands afterward.

“There. Bought. No takebacks. Consider it a gift for existing. Or for tolerating me when I’m being, well… me.”

He steps closer, the corner of his mouth twitching into something just shy of a smile.

“You’re the only person I don’t feel like running from. And that’s saying something. So yeah, you want a book? You get a book. You want the whole damn store, I’ll find a way."