A/N This is me trying to get back into writing C/B, and make sense of what's going down on the show using an unhealty amount of car/driving analogies. As for the title, what can I say? I've been watching a lot of Supernatural lately, and Dean must've rubbed off on me.
Dedicated to my lovely friend Noirreigne. Happy Birthday! I hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing
This is unbeta'd, my apologies for any mistakes.
Life's about the journey. Chuck lived his in the fast lane; driving under the influence on a dark, winding road littered with empty bottles and empty smiles. If not the Highway to Hell then something achingly close (he's never been a fan of classical rock) He travelled down the road like it belonged to him, cruising between lanes.
(I'm Chuck Bass)
Chuck ruled his world, certain he'd be the most handsome road kill the UES had ever seen before he came halfway to wherever it was he was heading. He rarely gave much thought to the scenery or the destination, and made sure he never stopped for gas long enough for the travelers he'd sped by to catch up with him.
But then Blair Cornelia Waldorf showed up; waving a metaphorical thumb from the stage of Victrola, hitched a ride home and after that he could never quite escape her no matter how hard he tried. He picked up speed but she was lightning fast, always on his tail or right in front of him. Blair called shotgun and forced him to slow down, stop and look at the scenery that had only whooshed past before. The ride got complicated and it wasn't long before Chuck slammed on the brakes; sending Blair flying all the way to Italy and himself into a summer of screwing faceless Italian au pairs in the Hamptons.
But she came back and he'd never left (never stopped wanting her) and they picked themselves off the ground after months in repair.
Then there was a crash - an explosion of sound and blaring sirens and shattered glass - and they ended up just as wrecked as the twisted pieces of metal cooling on a cold, New York street. The driver responsible was charged but Chuck got away with a hit and run (I'm sorry, you deserve much better, don't come looking for me)
He lost his way. Lost track of everything real and good and Blair in the haze and the fog of running away. Nearly went off the edge but was pulled off with seconds to spare.
(Don't you understand? I'll always be here)
Motor failure. Breakdown. No map and no one to ask for directions. Heart racing and an acid taste in his mouth.
(I'm done. Take me now. Tell me if what you feel for me is true, or if it's just a game)
Junction.
(Tell me you love me)
Chuck pushed the pedal to the floor, speeding past the offered chance in barely suppressed panic, but found himself more sick of the speed with each passing day, town, country.
There are points on the road that defines who you become. Times when you're given a choice and a decision is forced upon you. Left or right? Stop or go? "That's too bad" or "I love you too"?
(Everywhere I went, you caught up with me)
Blair became his co-pilot, map and destination all wrapped up in one. (I love you. I believe in you. I have you, that's all I need)
Suddenly there were highway exits and detours and red lights, and Chuck quickly became an expert on crossroads and turnarounds and going in reverse. Nothing seemed impossible anymore. The headlights that were them (Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck) kept him on the road and he'd never believed in anything as much as he believed in the two of them together.
***
Unfortunately; opening your doors (heart) to someone can sometimes enable free riders lurking in the background to sneak their way in. Elizabeth shows up, with Jack in the backseat and Chuck feels like he's been blinded by the lights that were supposed to guide his way.
He acts out of panic, picking up speed and barely noticing when Blair's struggling to keep up. He doesn't notice her trying to calm down his reckless moves but throws the two of them into a race against time and his past and a psychotic uncle.
He can't go back; it's not an option. He can't lose everything he's worked for because he's sure that if he does he'll lose the person he has become with Blair in the passenger seat – and her too - in the process. Blair is just like him and everything he's not all at once. He knows her better than he knows himself, and he sure as Hell trusts her more and has more faith in her than he has in himself. But how could she ever stay with him if he lost it all? If he proves that she was wrong to believe in him and 'I'll stand by you through anything' becomes I'll have to stand by you through nothing, you lose everything you touch? If he's going down how could he ever allow her to go down with him, again?
If there are signs telling him he's doing it all wrong he pays them little notice, only aware of his heart beating a panicked staccato in his chest and the mantra that keeps playing like a broken record at the back of his mind (you're soft, a disappointment, soft, a disappointment)
The warning lamp comes to life in a flare of red and a burning cheek and it's too late. He's spinning out of control; yelling himself hoarse but the words are lost in the sound of screeching tires.
(No, no, no, no, no. Please, forgive me. I'm sorry)
When the second crash happens it's only in his head that he can hear the sound of it, feel the smell of burning rubber and a blinding explosion of light and fire. On the outside it's like nothing more than a stalling engine, hacking and coughing before finally giving in (This is the end, Chuck)
Before the smoke has even settled he's done a one-eighty; a blonde on his arm and a bottle of champagne in one hand, speeding off into the darkness.
He sticks to what he knows - roads well travelled and familiar. If looking at the empty passenger seat next to him has a lump beginning to grow in his throat then he pretends he doesn't notice.
(This is who I am)
FIN
Thanks for reading!
