A/N: One of the few songs in which the covers are almost always better than the original.

Standard disclaimers apply.

Hoping for the best but expecting the worst,

Are you going to drop the bomb or not?

- Alphaville

It's So Hard to Get Old Without a Cause

Jess has gone through life waiting for the other shoe to drop, living on food from street venders for weeks at a time, tuning out teachers when they tell him he's going to be another bum on the street if he miraculously manages to graduate; it's not like he could afford to be an optimist when he and his mom couldn't even manage rent.

So it's not like he's used to having nice things, at least for a long period – Rory is kind of like the beginning part of his dreams that eventually all turns to nothing and he wakes up in the middle of a nightmare he can't remember.

Winter turns into spring and when they're walking around Hartford, her eyes lingering on storefronts that showcase long dresses and he immediately starts coming up with excuses: he can't dance, doesn't own a single piece of nice clothing, work commitments –

(He may well fuck up before then and there's no use in trying to plan too far in advance.)

They're in his car and Alphaville comes on the radio in all its cheesy glory. He hates this song.

"How can you hate this song?"

He looks over at her, blue eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

"It's just stupid. And overplayed."

"Don't like the idea of being forever underage?" she teases.

He stares ahead, the highway lit orange and littered with red backlights. Underage means being under the control of adults who don't know any better than kids; underage means keeping your mouth shut so social workers won't take you away; underage means limitations and rules and experiences that ruin everything.

"I'd rather grow up," he admits before he really realizes how that can be construed.

"Well I suppose it's a relief that my boyfriend won't be mimicking the likes of Jim Morrison."

"He wasn't underage when he kicked it though," he points out.

"True."

"And at least those in the Forever 27 Club did something worthwhile. They earned to be 'forever young,' if you want think about it that way."

He can feel Rory's eyes on him and he refuses to make eye contact.

"You don't think those deaths were a waste?" she inquires.

"Of course they were – they were selfish and a lot of them could've been prevented with rehab, therapy, whatever. They could've continued making great music for another decade or two. We could've gotten the most powerful song or album of all time – that was their potential – and we were cheated out of it because they just had to have another drink or snort another line. But at least they could claim that did something with their lives."

She shrugs. "But all that potential was gone in an instant; that's the tragedy. The cautionary tale. "

He clenches his jaw. His throat is sore from talking (admitting) that much at once and he hates that classic rock stations don't cut songs longer than three minutes.

"I'd rather grow up too," she adds after a few tense seconds. She changes the station and says, "There's a lot more to look forward to after high school and after college."

He hums in agreement. It's true – her future is bright with possibilities. Even if she decides being an overseas correspondent isn't her dream after all, there are so many other paths and directions for her to go in.

He reaches over to take one of her hands and lace their fingers together. With her free hand she covers his, her hold almost too tight and desperate.

(There's no point in talking about himself when he still can't fathom the concept of waking up above the diner next week and being able to kiss Rory on the same day; his future is like the long pause at the end of one song track that spills onto the beginning of another, one that he doesn't know what could be.)

A/N: Please review!

MissGoalie