Disclaimer- I own nothing
She hated him.
The same way a heroin addict hates heroin and a bulimic hates puking.
She hated the way that no matter how hard she'd try to stay away from him, she would always relapse. He was her vice, her bad habit, her drug.
She hated that when she was away from him she'd feel the guilt and shame burn her skin. She would swear to herself that she'd stay away for good.
But she always went back.
She hated that he was her addiction. No matter how long she'd stay away, when she went back he made her feel like she was in pure ecstacy. Just like the heroin and just like the puking, it felt so good to give in...and it would always feel like hell after.
Oh yes, she hated him...but not as much as she hated herself.
She was the junkie after all...
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"Bye, Chuck," she simpered huskily, lifting her eyes to meet his in what she hoped to be a seductive manner, "call me."
Chuck smirked in response, swiftly closing the door. Another money-grubbing whore that didn't realize she was the one being used. He tossed himself into a large armchair after grabbing a scotch.
The door to his suite swung open viciously.
"Who's the blonde slut waiting for the elevator?" Blair Waldorf questioned him as she tossed her jacket on to his couch.
He straightened up immediately, he hated when she barged in...Chuck Bass never liked to be surprised.
"As if I know," he scoffed, watching Blair fix herself a drink. She sat down on the small couch beside Chuck's chair and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a match from a small matchbook sitting on Chuck's table.
She exhaled in Chuck's face as he glared at her.
"She did come from this room..." Blair informed him before taking another drag.
"Sure," he replied, "but I still can't answer your question."
She rolled her eyes, "you're disgusting."
"Then why are you here?"
Blair ignored him, instead focussing on her drink and her cigarette.
"That shit will kill you," he informed her, eyeing her cigarette distastefully, "besides there's no smoking in the hotel."
"Addictions always seem to kill," she snapped back.
He looked away, uncomfortably.
She smirked and put the smoke out on one of Chuck's ornamental dishes, "I guess it's just another one of my bad habits." She looked him in the eye and smiled knowingly.
"Well, sometimes you have to quit your addictions before they get out of control," he informed her seriously.
"Then think of all the stress I'd have building up with no way to release any of it."
"Is that why you're here," he sighed, "to relieve your stress?"
She smirked once again.
"Maybe."
He opened his mouth to respond but she cut him off.
"But now...after seeing the blonde in the hallway..I don't think so. She looked even skankier than the bimbos you normally sleep with...and that's saying a lot," she sneered.
Chuck moved forward, resting his hand on Blair's knee.
"You know you can insult me all you want," Chuck told her seriously, "but if you weren't such a coward...you could leave Nate and you would never see another girl come out of my room again."
"Oh please," she laughed, "if anyone here is a coward..it's you. You let yourself get involved in shit that you shouldn't and when everything gets smashed and broken you retreat back into your wealth or booze or womanizing or whatever it is that can hide you from facing reality."
"You know Waldorf...I've always known you were a bitch and a liar...but I never pegged you for a hypocrite before..." Chuck strained himself to laugh even though he couldn't think of anything less funny.
Blair downed her drink in one gulp and smashed her glass onto the table.
"I'm leaving."
Chuck followed her to the door.
"Don't come back," he told her.
She slammed the door.
Chuck felt safe when he told her to stay away because he knew she couldn't. No matter how much he hated being used by her and knowing that she was still with Nathaniel...he could still derive some simple satisfaction in knowing that she needed him enough to not stay away.
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Blair stayed away for a week. It was a personal best for her and Chuck was almost impressed...he even considered congratulating her when she finally arrived at his door.
He couldn't be completely impressed though...he knew that Blair was slowly needing him less and less. Maybe one day she would quit her addiction and Nate would be there and she would go happily live her perfect life with him. The thought scared Chuck. He always needed Nate...but he realized that he needed Blair more.
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"We broke up," Blair told him, her eyes filled with tears, "you satisfied?"
Chuck almost laughed, her words were nearly identical to those on her birthday.
"I can't believe you invited him over!" she sobbed, "you knew I was coming...how could you forget?"
Chuck was tempted to tell her that it was no accident but he didn't see the need...maybe she'd accept him more if he wasn't always the bad guy.
Blair continued to rant at him and Chuck stayed silent.
Less than two weeks later Gossip Girl happily posted her newest headline.
B and C: The newest odd couple on the UES.
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Chuck stayed true to his word...Blair never saw another girl leaving his suite. Somehow, she was enough for Chuck in the ways that she was never enough for Nate.
Years later she became Blair Bass, her finger adorned with a rock comparable to the Vanderbilt ring.
A part of her thoroughly enjoyed having her addiction readily at her disposal. She would get her pure ecstasy but nothing seemed to change. She always felt like hell afterwards.
Sometimes when she was drinking (her newest addiction) her vision would blur and she would squint and sometimes her wedding ring would look like the Vanderbilt ring that she had coveted so dearly in her youth.
Sometimes when she was drunk and she squinted the dark-haired man in front of her would become the lighter-haired boy that she had also coveted so dearly.
He seemed to know it too. He always knew it.
His eyes would fill with pain and he'd ask her why he was never enough for her. She'd sometimes feel a pang of regret, remembering how she'd ask herself why she was never enough for Nate.
But he was right...she was a coward. She couldn't pity him and she couldn't take the blame...he was her addiction and he tore her away from her picture perfect life.
He'd ask her why he couldn't make her happy.
"Because," she snidely reply, "addictions never make anyone happy."
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Chuck didn't mind that he had to force Blair and Nate apart. He didn't mind that Blair was only with him because Nate refused to have her once he knew about her and Chuck. He didn't even mind that Blair only saw him as a horrible addiction that she couldn't seem to quit.
He told himself that he didn't mind any of these things because he finally had Blair Waldorf to himself and he could fool himself into believing that one day she would love him the way he loved her.
Apparently he could also fool himself into believing that he didn't mind that Blair didn't love him now.
He could fool himself into believing that one day she would be happy.
He could fool himself into believing that it didn't matter if she wasn't happy then.
He didn't mind fooling himself.
He was a fool after all.
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Chuck sat a Blair Waldorf's grave, thinking, as he often did.
He had killed her. The same way heroin can kill a junkie and puking can kill a bulimic. He forced her into her addiction and she saw death as her only way to escape.
He continued to tell himself that if he hadn't so selfishly wanted her for himself, she'd still be alive. She'd be in Nate arms wearing a Vanderbilt ring, but she would be alive. He finally realized that the pain of seeing her with someone else was nowhere near as great as the pain of not seeing her at all. Of course he realized this far too late.
He couldn't fool himself anymore, he couldn't tell himself that she would one day love him the way he loved her because she was dead and there was no more time for him to lie to himself.
Blair was right...she was a coward and so was he. He broke things and smashed things and would retreat into his wealth or womanizing or booze so he didn't have to look at himself, so he didn't have to see the reality.
"You hated me," he whispers to her grave, he sees the reality now. He doesn't expect a confirmation...the silence says it all.
Blair Waldorf hated her addiction but she was dead because she hated herself.
She was the junkie after all.
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A/N- I figured I'd give the oneshot a try...it's a far stray from my usual fics but I thought I'd follow the Blair suicide trend...
So sue me for being uncreative :P
It kind of made me sad to write this though...
Review!!! Please!!!!