Love is the longing for the half of ourselves that we have lost.
- Milan Kundera "The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Blair always liked New York better in the winter. Something about the way it suits her frostiness. Everybody calls her an ice queen and it has never bothered her: on the opposite, ice queens are perfect, in control, unruffled - they are something to strive to become.
Chuck tells her how he loves the fire below her cool shell, and she can't but frown upon that. No, no, she has no such fire. Fires burn out. Fires melt shells. Ice is consistent. Ice is stable. Ice crushes everything - even rocks. But fire is the one thing ice can't defeat.
It worries her at first, when she's still at Constance wearing headbands and eating yoghurts - how being with Chuck makes her sloppy. Later, she'll realize she loves him - and people in love get sloppy. But that can't be the whole explanation. If Chuck is fire to her ice, then he will melt her and be her destruction.
He sure does break her heart many times enough to make her worried, to make her flinch away from his assumed fire. To preserve her icy self.
But then she remembers how similar they are. Controlling, intelligent, distrusting and ruthless, even cruel, when it comes to their loved ones. Chuck is no fire. His emotions don't live on the surface. Serena is fire. Nate - well, he isn't really settled into his own skin yet. But maybe he'll grow to be a fire. One that even the scorching white-hotness that is essentially Serena can't put out. But Chuck - he's ice. So he can't melt her or destroy her. He can only make her more.