Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf have been the objects of much curiosity on the Upper East Side for as long as they could remember. Born within weeks of one another, their parents had been close friends. After Evelyn Bass died giving birth to her son, Bart drifted away from the Waldorfs. But their children grew up together, and they were inseparable before they could even talk. No one understood the magnetic attachment that existed between the Bass troublemaker and the Waldorf golden girl.
From a young age, Chuck spent more time at the Waldorf's than he did at his own house, spending nights sharing Blair's bed and mornings having breakfast with her family. He was always welcome there, although as they got older, people started to talk about the strange arrangement, calling it socially unacceptable.
Maybe it was the fact Blair had a boyfriend since she was in kindergarten, a boyfriend who was Chuck's closest male friend. Or maybe it was the fact that Chuck made it a point to never have a girlfriend, but always keep in the company of beautiful girls, including Blair's closest female friend. Maybe it was just that people on the Upper East Side were too old fashioned for their own good, cringing away form the idea of girls and boys being best friends. But that's the problem. They aren't little kids anymore.
Blair's a young woman in a relationship who spends more time with her womanizing, male best friend than with her sweet, well-bred boyfriend. Chuck's a young man who doesn't seem to know how to behave himself in front of anyone except for his delicate best friend, who'd he'd protect with his life. Nowadays, with the disapproving eyes of their society on them, they wish they could just go back to being little kids.
"Wanna play hide and seek?" She asked him when they were four.
He smirks, actually smirks, at age four, and runs off to hide.
He's good at hiding. He has to hide a lot at home. When Daddy's in a meeting. When Daddy's on the phone. When Daddy comes home late. When Daddy's mad.
He's so good that Blair can't find him. Not after twenty minutes, which might as well be several eternities to a four-year-old girl. Not even when she's standing a handful of feet away from where he's crouched in a corner behind a large plant in her foyer.
So she starts crying, and even though he hates to lose, he hates to see her cry more. That's when he first realizes that he'd do anything for her. Even surrender his title as King of Hide and Seek.
He runs over to her and takes her tiny hands in his.
"Blair, it's okay, I'm right here! Don't cry!"
"Ch-Chuck?" She chokes out.
He nods, too scared by her tears to smirk.
"I thought I lost you and I was never gonna find you! I thought you left me!"
"I'll never leave you, Blair."
She crushes his four-year-old body in a hug, barely managing to get her petite arms around his shoulders.
"Don't hug me, Blair!" Five-year-old Chuck Bass exclaims when his best friend winds her arms around his waist on their first day of kindergarten.
"Why?" Blair asks, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. "I'm scared. You always let me hug you when I'm scared."
"That's when we're watching movies in your room. We're at school now. It's different."
She frowns but consents, taking a step away from him as he smooths out his blazer.
"Here, let me," she tells him, grabbing his lapels.
He throws her hands off and scowls. She watches hesitantly as he moves on from straightening his blazer to fixing his hair. He primps almost as much as she does, she thinks. Almost. Unable to watch as he runs his fingers through his locks anymore, she steps towards him again.
"No, no, no. You're just messing it up, Chuck! Dorota will be angry!"
She combs her fingers through the tousled tresses, trying to assemble them back in order, but he won't let her.
"Stop touching me!"
Now he's hurt her feelings.
"Fine," she says, and marches into their new classroom without him, fury replacing her fear.
"Come back!" Chuck calls after six-year-old Blair as she storms away from him on the playground.
She doesn't turn around, just beelines for their teacher, certainly planning to tell on him for pulling her hair. He grabs her arm and she whirls around, pining him with as much ferocity as a six-year-old girl can muster.
"Why'd you pull my hair?" She yells, stomping her foot for emphasis.
"Nate and the other boys dared me!"
"Nate wouldn't want you to pull my hair," she says, sounding confident, but flicking her eyes over to where Nate stands snickering with his classmates. "He's my boyfriend," she says, less sure this time.
"And I'm your best friend! It was just a joke! Please don't tell on me!"
"Why shouldn't I! You're not even sorry! You all think it's funny! It's not funny, Chuck!"
"I'm sorry," he whispers this time, not wanting anyone else to hear. "You can't tell. You know Mrs. Greenberg will call my dad. I can't get in trouble again. Please, Blair."
She grabs his hand and pulls him under one of the unoccupied slides where no one will stare at them.
"I won't tell," she says, softening under his pleas, not wanting to subject him to the wrath of his father.
He nods his thanks, but neither of them move to rejoin their friends.
"What?" she says, already able to read him well, even at age six.
"Last night I wanted to play with him, so I snuck into his office while he was on the phone and none of the housekeepers were looking. He yelled at me, and…"
"Chuck?"
"He…"
"Did he hit you again?"
Chuck nods.
Blair sighs.
"Dorota is making lobster mac n cheese for dinner tonight," she informs him. "You'll sleep over."
"Your bed is ready, Mr. Chuck," Dorota informs him, peaking her head into Blair's bedroom.
"Thank you, Dorota," seven-year-old Blair and Chuck say at the same time.
"Jinx, you owe me a soda!" They both yell.
Dorota smiles and closes the door, leaving them to their fun.
They laugh and fall back onto Blair's pillows, nearly knocking over the bowls of melted ice cream set on a tray between them.
"I'm tired," Blair says, indicating for Chuck to go to sleep by pointing at the door across from her bed, connecting her room to his.
Technically, it's a guest bed room, but Chuck occupies it more often than not.
"One more thumb wrestle?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow at her.
"Fine," she complies.
Several rounds of thumb wrestling later, they fall asleep with their hands still interlocked.
"Chuck, wake up," Blair whispers when they're eight years old.
He pretends to still be asleep, but she sees his eyelids flutter. She knows he sleeps like a rock, so the slightest movement gives him away.
"I'm serious!" She says. "Dorota will tell my mother if she finds you in here again!"
Chuck rolls onto his stomach and moans into his (Blair's) pillow.
"So whaaattt," he drawls, voice muffled by the pillow. "We've been having sleep overs since we were babies. We've never gotten in trouble before."
"We're in third grade now! It isn't proper," Blair says, quoting her mother.
"You didn't care about 'proper' last night when you wouldn't let me leave," Chuck reminds her.
He's right. She's been on a horror movie kick, but they give her nightmares. She has nightmares anyway. She's not used to sleeping alone. But all of a sudden, Eleanor decided they were too old for sleepovers, so she had Dorota start doing nightly bed checks. More often than not, Chuck simply climbs back into Blair's bed as soon as Dorota leaves for the night so they can continue whatever movie they'd been watching.
Since Blair can't think of a halfway decent retort, she just aims her heel at his shin under the duvet.
"Alright! I'm going!" He cries.
He crosses the room and slips through the door to the bathroom. As soon as Blair hears the bathroom door click shut, her bedroom door swings open, revealing Dorota carrying a tray with her breakfast.
"Time to get up for school, Ms. Blair!"
"I have to get up for school, Dorota!"
"No, Ms. Blair! Doctor says you have a fever. You must stay in bed today."
"But it's the first day of fourth grade! I can't miss the first day of class. I just can't. There will be important information that I simply need to hear in person."
Blair tries to sound as dignified as a nine-year-old can, but really, she just misses her friends. Her summer had been lonely, to say the least. Nate was at camp upstate for the last month of summer vacation. Serena had spent the last few weeks living with her mother's latest boyfriend. And Chuck had left the country with his father as soon as school let out. Bart had business to take care of in Europe, and for once, he decided to bring his son with him, as his stay would be an extended one. But, Bart had refused to let Chuck contact Blair, or anyone back home, and this was the longest they'd ever gone without so much as a word exchanged through their families' staff members. She's beginning to think he'll forget what she looks like!
"Ms. Serena will bring notes over after school," Dorota says.
"Serena takes horrible notes! It won't do!"
Blair tries to escape her bed. Usually, she can evade Dorota easily when she wants to, but she really is sick. The simple act of standing makes her nauseous. As determined as Blair is, she can't put up much of a fight when Dorota lifts her back onto the comforter.
"I go get tea and toast," Dorota informs her.
Blair throws herself down into the mountain of pillows strewn across her bed, trying to devise a plan to get to school. But she's too sweaty to get dressed and too cold to leave the comfort of her blankets and her head hurts from staring at the sun streaming in through her open window. She'll have to remind Dorota to close it when she comes back in.
It doesn't matter, anyway. Dorota's already let her over sleep. She'll just have to wait another day to see her friends.
When she hears the elevator ding, she thinks the fever must be causing her to hallucinate. When she hears Dorota shriek in indignation, she thinks it might be inducing nightmares. But when she hears the silky notes of Chuck's voice, she knows she's fully awake. His voice sounds too real, not like when she dreams they're back together again, playing cards and sipping lemonade in the Hamptons like they were supposed to all summer. She vaguely registers Serena's squeaky pleas for Dorota to let them stay and Nate's suave little attempts to butter the housekeeper up, but she was out of bed and rushing down the hallway in bare feet the second she heard Chuck. She's down the stairs and in his arms before Dorota can intercept her. She has a couple blissful seconds of peace with her head buried deep in the crook of his neck before Serena shrieks and throws her arms around the both of them. Nate's embrace follows, but Dorota splits them apart soon after.
"Ms. Blair, no! You must go back to bed. And Ms. Serena and Mr. Nate and Mr. Chuck must go back to school. It is wrong to skip."
Dorota pins the three mischievous children with her signature glare of disapproval, and Nate predictably snaps under the pressure first.
"It was Chuck's idea!" He blurts.
Chuck just shrugs.
"Guilty as charged. We did stay for the first half of the day, Dorota. And by the time you get us out of here and back to school, it'll probably be time to leave anyway. So why don't you just let us stay with Blair?"
"You will get sick," Dorota says, purposefully stepping in front of Blair, but they all know she has a soft spot for Chuck, and Chuck already has a way of manipulating people to get what he wants.
"Dorota," he says, looking up at her from under dark hair that's grown longer than Blair remembers it ever being over the summer. "We realize that Blair is sick, but we're willing to accept the consequences to keep her company." Serena and Nate nod along. "I know you want what's best for her, and so do we, so why don't you do me a favor and just pretend you never saw us come in. Please, Dorota?"
She looks down at the snarky brunette boy skeptically.
"Are those new shoes, Dorota?" He asks. "They look quite lovely on you, if I do say so myself."
"Oh, alright!" Dorota gives in. "When Mrs. Eleanor and Mr. Harold come home, I say you got here after school to bring Ms. Blair notes.
"Thank you, Dorota," Chuck calls over his shoulder as they make their way up to Blair's room.
Blair is grateful for an afternoon spent with her friends, but she really is sick, so when Eleanor comes home and demands that Nate and Serena leave, Blair is almost glad for the reprieve.
"You should go home to your father, too, Charles."
"I spent the whole summer with him. Doubt he'll miss me for a couple more hours."
Eleanor, by now far too used to Chuck's presence in her house, consents to let him stay easily.
As soon as the blondes say goodbye, Blair immediately wraps her arms around Chuck again.
"I missed you this summer," she rasps.
"Does your throat hurt?" He asks.
She nods.
"I'll ask Dorota to make some tea."
"No, don't leave," Blair says. "Let's just take a nap."
"You don't want to catch up? I've got tons of stories to tell."
"I'm sure you do," Blair rolls her eyes at him. "And I'm glad that you brought Natey and Serena, but I'm tired. Can we please just go to sleep? Dorota will even bring us soup in bed for dinner, 'cause I'm sick."
Chuck agrees to be quite for the time being and pulls the blanket up over them, even though it's close to 90 degrees outside.
"You're shivering," he says, sounding concerned.
"Just let me sleep, Bass."
And she does, without stirring for the first time since summer started.
She stirs when she hears her door open, and as she blinks in the darkness, she can just barely make out the outlines of Chuck's face.
"Chuck?" She asks drowsily. "I thought you were staying at Nate's tonight."
Chuck, Blair, Nate, and Serena had all been at the Archibald's earlier that night, but Blair left when they started to raid the wine cellar, as they'd recently taken to doing.
"I was, but it was less fun without my best friend."
She can smell the wine on his breath as he comes closer.
"Seems like you had plenty of fun," she says through gritted teeth, still repulsed by the smell of alcohol. She's only ten, after all.
But they're well into fifth grade at this point. Middle schoolers. Double digits. Practically grown ups. So she tries not to squirm when he collapses down on her bed.
"Chuck," she whines. "At least take your shoes off."
He fumbles with the laces to no avail, so she just reaches down and yanks the things off for him.
"You're my best friend," he tells her as they stare at the ceiling.
"I know," she says. "You're mine, too."
"We've never kissed," he says.
"I know," she says. "I have a boyfriend. Your other best friend."
"I've kissed other girls," he says.
"I know," she says. "Did you kiss a girl tonight?"
"I kissed two girls tonight."
"Serena?" She asks, inexplicably praying the answer is no.
"No."
She doesn't ask for more details, and he doesn't provide.
"I like kissing other girls," he tells her. "But you're my favorite girl. You're my best friend," he reiterates, clearly drunk.
"Okay, Chuck. You're my favorite, too."
"I'm you're favorite girl?" He wrinkles his nose.
"No, you're my favorite boy."
"Nate's your favorite boy."
"No, you are," Blair insists.
He smiles. It doesn't matter. She knows he won't remember their silly conversation come morning.
Blair hopes she doesn't remember anything about tonight come morning. It's her first real party. Her first party with high schoolers and crystal flutes of champagne and a penthouse with an even better view of the New York skyline than her's and music louder than she ever though any hotel would allow. She's wearing a dress she borrowed from Serena, a sparkly little thing that hugs all of her blonde friend's newly developing curves, but hangs a little awkwardly on her. She keeps tugging at the hemline and hoping Nate won't notice, and she doubts he does.
It's not just the dress that's making her feel uncomfortable. She supposes she should feel more mature, but she and he friends are the youngest ones in the suite by far. Carter Baizen, a boy who has five years on them and who's been selling Nate and Chuck weed suddenly and frequently, got them invited. She came because her best friends insisted and because she knows they'll be the talk of the school tomorrow. Everyone will be jealous. But now, she wishes she stayed home and watched Dorota bake cookies.
Nate's surrounded by a group of older lacrosse boys, beaming at the attention he's receiving from the team he'll no doubt be a part of in just a few short years. Serena's in a similar position, surrounded by a group of older swimmers, flaunting the cleavage that's just barely there thanks to an extremely padded bra.
Blair stayed glued to Chuck's side at first, desperate for the safe feeling she gets from her best friend's company, but after a couple of hours of trailing him, she just couldn't take it any more.
She knew something was off with him as soon as she slid into his limo earlier that night. Serena and Nate were already sloppily popping bottles of champagne, sending foam shooting all over the back of the limo. Chuck was downing glass after glass like the stuff was water, staring out the window, ignoring them all completely, so unlike the witty, social boy she knows. He doesn't say hi to her. Doesn't crack a joke. Barely even blinks.
"What's up with Chuck?" Blair asks Serena after kissing Nate hello.
Serena just giggles.
"He's been like that since he picked us up! No fun at all!"
She giggles and goes back to whatever drinking game she was playing with Nate. Blair slides across the back seat of the limo until she's pressed up against Chuck.
"Hey," she says.
He glances wordlessly down and their thighs, her bare leg touching the fine fabric of his slacks, and then returns to brooding out the window.
"What's up?" She asks.
"Nothing, Blair. I'm fine."
He takes another drink.
"Something with Bart?"
He drains his glass in response, and she backs down. He's scaring her, to be honest. Usually he's fairly open with her.
She tries to join Nate and Serena's conversation, but she can't focus with Chuck's bad mood coming off him in waves.
And even now, hours later and severely intoxicated, he still hasn't said a word to anyone. At least until Georgina Sparks struts over to him and puts a joint between his lips. Blair recognizes Gerogie, she's in their grade at Constance and socializes with Serena, but mostly hangs out with an older crowd. She seems much older, and for some reason, Blair flinches away when Georgie's fingers brush Chuck's lips. She stays unnoticed, staring at Chuck as the joint gets smaller and smaller until he flicks it off the balcony, unable to figure out what's wrong with him. It bothers her to no end. When Georgie drags him over to the bar for tequila shots, she can't take it anymore. She feels like she's about to cry, and all she knows is Chuck's the reason. She reaches for a glass of champagne, downs it, and goes to grab Nate.
"Hey, Blair! What's up?" His eyes are glazed over but his face is bright, and Blair thinks he must be as crossfaded as Chuck is, a term she just recently learned from Serena. All of her friends are wasted, and suddenly, she wants to be, too. Has to be. She's done cowering like a child, done feeling like she doesn't fit in where her closest friends do, done obsessing over Chuck's suddenly inscrutable emotions when he clearly wants nothing to do with her. She just wants to forget, like everyone else.
So she kisses Nate more intensely than she ever has before, sliding her tongue past his lips, a move she learned from Serena. Nate reciprocates with enthusiasm, and she wants to lose herself in him, but she can't seem to relax. Across the room, Serena and Chuck snort their first lines of cocaine at eleven years old. Minutes later, Chuck loses his virginity to Georgina. Nate finally puts his hands up Blair's skirt after years of waiting. And Blair blacks out for the first time.
When she wakes up, she doesn't know where she is. All she knows is she needs to find a bathroom, and fast. She bolts up and finds it instinctively, just in time to get sick in the toilet. She vaguely registered her best friend's lap under her head, but doesn't really process his presence until he pushes open the bathroom door seconds later without knocking.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey yourself." She tries to smile, but she's too hungover.
She's only twelve. This is the second time she's lost control like this, although she watches the friends she loves so much do it on a weekly basis.
Chuck lights a joint in the bathroom, and Blair starts retching again.
"Ugh, how do you smoke that stuff so early in the morning?" She pulls a disgusted face, a rather unattractive one, one she wouldn't put on display to anyone other than Chuck.
He just shrugs, and she thinks maybe he's still drunk from last night.
"Where are Nate and Serena?" She asks, still practically hugging the toilet bowl.
"Passed the fuck out right across from us."
"And, um, where are we?"
"What's the matter? Don't trust me all of a sudden?"
"You know that isn't true, Chuck. I'm just wondering who the fuck owns this apartment."
"Georgina," he says.
Blair vomits again.
"That was a little dramatic," Chuck says, moving to sit on the cold tile floor behind Blair. He blows smoke in her face, but she lets him because he's brushing the hair off her sweaty forehead and when she's sick, even hungover, all she wants is to feel her best friend by her side.
"What can I say? You know I hate the bitch."
"She is…"
"Psycho, unstable, a compulsive liar, dedicated to absolutely despising me?"
"She's just jealous because I've been avoiding her ever since we fucked, but you get my attention year round."
"Lucky me," Blair quips. "I know if you ever got in my pants, you'd drop me the morning after like you've done all the rest. High school girls, college girls, your father's employees… you're ruthless, especially for a seventh grader."
"Don't worry, you're protected," he says, and she doesn't ask what he means.
She feels him start to push himself off the floor, but she doesn't want him to leave her here vomiting up last night's liquid dinner alone in Georgina's bathroom, so she collapses against his chest and his ass hits the floor again.
"Let's get you home," he tells her.
"The room is spinning," she says, nausea forcing her eyes shut.
"Fine," he says. "Five more minutes."
"Five more minutes!" Blair yells through the bathroom door.
"This is an unusually long time to primp, even for you, Waldorf!" Chuck shouts back.
"Just wait for me in the limo, okay?"
He wants to say yes, but something is keeping him rooted to the ground outside his best friend's bathroom. In the weeks leading up to her thirteenth birthday, she's been acting weird. She's been talking less, laughing less, eating less, just… less. She isn't his Blair. Now, on the day of her thirteenth, she's scaring him. If he's honest, he's had his suspicions. They're more than suspicions. He just can't bear to find out if they're actually true. Part of him knows they are. The way she's started picking at their shared snacks instead of insisting on taking the bigger half. The little comments she's dropped about wishing she could look more like Serena. The constant scrutinizing of herself in the mirror. The pale skin. The silence. The… being less. When he hears the water start to run again, he gathers all his courage and tries the doorknob. It's locked.
"Blair! Let me in! I'm serious!"
"Leave me alone, Chuck!"
He hears her voice crack and waver like he knows it does when she's crying, and his desperation builds.
"Come on Blair, let's just go, okay? You have guests waiting. Just come out and we can go to your party."
More water running. The faint sound of Blair coughing. A soft thud.
"Blair?"
No response.
"Blair!"
Nothing. He's really desperate now, so he throws his shoulder into her bathroom door as hard as he can, again and again, until he breaks it in and finds her slumped on the floor in front of her toilet, looking paler and smaller and younger than he ever remembers her looking, and he's known her since before they were in diapers. He should have done something sooner. He's known she's been starving herself and purging for weeks now. But he didn't know what to say. And now he's in over his head. He thinks she might be mad at him later, if she isn't dead, but he doesn't know what to do, so he calls Nate and Serena for backup. He doesn't waste time telling them specifics. He asks Serena to shut down the party and meet them at the hospital. She does so without thinking twice, having had the same suspicions as Chuck. Nate, clueless as ever, simply does what he's told.
Thirteen-year-old Chuck isn't particularly buff, but Blair is so light that he easily carries her to his limo in his arms. He doesn't want to call 911 and cause a scene at her building, so he just commands Arthur to drive them to the hospital, and upon arrival, he calmly informs the front desk that his best friend is unconscious, possibly dead, in his limo just outside. Doctors spring into action immediately, Nate and Serena arrive in a flurry of blonde hair, and Eleanor and Harold, who were "giving Blair space" on the eve of her birthday, are called and told to forget their dinner reservations and get to the hospital as soon as possible. Everything is moving in fast motion around Chuck. When Eleanor and Harold arrive and disappear with the doctors, it all slows down. Chuck rips off his Blair-knotted bowtie (it's suffocating him) and collapses in a chair in the waiting room.
"Chuck, man, what's going on?" Nate asks.
Chuck can't respond. Suddenly, he feels like he might throw up himself. How could he have let this happen?
"Let's go for a walk, Nate," he hears Serena say, and in that moment, he's grateful for the blonde, and not just because she's nice to look at.
His head spins and he stares at the wall for what could be seconds or hours before Eleanor comes out and stands over him.
"Well?" She asks, clearly uncomfortable.
Chuck springs to his feet.
"She's awake. She wants you, obviously," Eleanor says, rolling her eyes ever so slightly.
Chuck practically sprints into the room he subconsciously noted was Blair's.
Eleanor trails behind him, less eager to reenter. She takes one of the two empty seats next to Harold, but Chuck climbs in the bed with Blair. He doesn't care. He doesn't care that her parents or there or that the doctor is staring at him or that he has a reputation as a badass womanizer to cultivate. He just needs to hold his best friend in his arms, to make sure she's okay, to make sure she's still here. The doctor glances uncertainly from him to Eleanor. Eleanor looks like she might scold him, but then Blair wraps her arms around his waist and buries her head against his chest.
"Oh, let him stay," Eleanor tells the doctor.
Blair is diagnosed with Bulimia, and they both sleep in the hospital bed that night.
When she wakes up, he's not there.
She doesn't panic anymore, like she did when they were little. They're fourteen now, high schoolers, and Chuck often leaves her house after sleepovers to get ready for school.
He came over last night at her insistence, a box of macaroons in hand, knowing that she just had a huge fight with Nate. They watched Tiffany's in silence, but she was grateful for his company anyway. Usually, he sides with Nate when Blair and Nate fight. Bro code, she assumes. But when Nate really fucks up, or when she's obviously upset, or when Serena is too busy partying with Georgina, Chuck knows he needs to be there for her. And he was last night, but she doesn't see him all day at school. She's avoiding Nate, and Chuck, naturally, stays by his side throughout the day. Blair doesn't blame him for it. She knows how important his friendship with Nate is to him. And he did give his attention to her last night.
Thankfully, Serena also respects the bonds of sisterhood and lets Blair vent about Nate over lunch on the Met steps, even though Serena loves Nate like a brother.
"I mean, it's one thing to stand me up to have dinner with his parents, or for emergency lacrosse practice. But to not even call? To completely ditch me just because Carter Baizen of all people invited him to play video games? He doesn't respect our plans, he doesn't respect our relationship, and he sure as shit doesn't respect me! All I wanted was a measly apology, and he couldn't even give me that. He called me childish! Me! Can you believe it, S?"
"I know, but you know how Nate is, B. He worships Carter and would never pass up an opportunity to play Grand Theft Auto."
Serena shoots Blair a smile, but the brunette doesn't think that her boyfriend standing her up for GTA is really a laughing matter.
"Serena!"
"Okay, okay. How about we have dinner tonight and then we can go over to Nate's together and you guys can work this out? I'll be there for moral support."
"Thank you," Blair says. That's what she wanted to hear.
After dinner, when they show up at Nate's, the first thing Blair notices is that her best friend is uncharacteristically absent from the Archibald household.
"Where's Chuck?" She spits out, still furious at her boyfriend.
"Dinner with Bart," Nate says. "Don't worry, I got him sufficiently drunk before hand."
"Great work," Blair says sarcastically, pushing her way past Nate and through the door.
Serena prances off to Nate's room and turns on the TV.
"What are you doing here?" Nate asks.
"I thought we should talk," Blair says, trying to remain calm.
"There's nothing to say, Blair. If you won't let me hang out with my friends, then maybe this isn't going to work out."
"You can hang out with whomever you want whenever you want, just not when we have plans for a date!" She says, voice rising although she's still trying to keep her cool.
"I don't want to break up either, but there's really no point in fighting like this anymore. Let's just go watch a movie with Serena and forget about it."
Nate's suggestion sets Blair off, she doesn't know why, but it's just the straw that breaks the camel's back.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Well, why don't you go watch a movie with Serena," she seethes, "Since there's 'really no point' in us making up."
"You know that's not what I meant."
"All I know is that you stood me up for Carter, and now you're refusing to talk because you'd rather hang out with Serena. I take you away from your friends? Fine. Go be with your friends, and I'll go be with mine."
She leaves before Nate can reply, knowing neither he nor Serena will follow her. She wants to go to Chuck's, obviously, but she knows Bart won't appreciate her showing up unannounced during dinner. So she cuts her loses and calls some of the girls from school to make plans to meet up for drinks at one of the bars they know will serve them.
Two drinks in and she's still thinking about Nate. Two more and she's drunk enough to make their fight seem funny, but not drunk enough to make the mind-numbingly boring conversations around her seem interesting. Another two and she can hardly stand, but she knows it's late, the girls around her are still blabbering, she's thinking about Nate again, and all she wants to do is talk to her best friend. She stumbles out of the bar on the pretense of needing to "get some air."
She can't quite see the keys on her phone, but all she needs to do is press the number one to reach Chuck. He picks up after the first ring.
"Waldorf! Surprised to hear from you at this hour. Shouldn't you be making up with Nathaniel about now. And by making up, I, of course, mean sex."
"Didn't wanna make up," Blair slurs. "HeswithSerena."
"And where are you, might I ask?"
"Bar," she says vaguely.
"Should I come get you, Blair?" He asks, slightly more serious now.
"You're so nice to me, Chuck. So nice. You're not nice to the other girls."
"No, I'm not," he says, smirking into the phone.
"You like me better than Serena, right?"
"Of course," he tells her.
"You love me?"
He hesitates.
"Of course, Waldorf. You're my best friend."
"You too," she says.
"Tell me where you are. I'll come pick you up."
"All the girls say you're a good kisser."
He can't help but smile as Blair continues.
"Nate isn't very good. I don't know. I guess I have nothing to compare it to. But I just know. Ya know?"
"You're not making sense, Waldorf," he says, even though he understands her perfectly. But she's drunk, and mad at Nate, and he should probably try to get her home, even though he's drunk, too, having downed several glasses of Scotch throughout dinner with Bart.
"Take me home," she sighs through the receiver. Then, she promptly hangs up.
He tries calling her again, but to no avail. Somehow, he forgets he has a limo with a driver on call 24/7, and heads out into the city in search of Blair on foot. He also forgets he has a closet full of jackets worth thousands of dollars, so he wanders around in the cold without one. He's not worried. He's warm from alcohol consumption, and his best friend isn't hard to find.
Sure enough, he finds her crouched on the Met steps, also sans jacket.
He stands over her until she looks up at him with clouded eyes, but a smile on her face.
"You found me," she says happily.
"You're not hard to find," he says, unceremoniously collapsing on the steps next to her.
They're silent for a beat, but she never could keep her mouth shut for long. Especially not when she's drunk. And especially not around her best friend.
"Why couldn't you have just been my boyfriend?" She asks unnecessarily.
It's not something he hasn't thought about, and the question makes him squirm, but he answers smoothly and in typical Chuck Bass fashion.
"You know the answer to that."
"Chuck Bass doesn't do girlfriends," she quotes back at him, making them both smile.
Ha ha, they'll never be more than friends. Ha ha, he's a womanizer. Except it's not really that funny to either of them. They know that's not the reason they can't change their relationship status. There's too much between them. Too much history, too much knowledge, too much love. They won't, they can't, risk losing each other.
"We should go over to Nate's," Chuck says knowingly.
He knows the fight was stupid, knows they'll all see it as funny now, knows Blair wants to make up with Nate, knows Nate's parents are both out of town and it's their tradition to crash at his place and play Guitar Hero with the volume on full blast, knows they all belong together, him and Blair and Nate and Serena, in whatever messy way.
"Yeah," she giggles. "Seems dumb now."
He agrees, takes her hand, and pulls her up. They walk to the Archibald apartment in a comfortable silence. When Nate greets them at the door, he immediately apologizes to Blair, and she readily forgives him. Then, the four of them play Guitar Hero and drink spiked hot chocolate until the early hours of the morning.
The three of them play Guitar Hero and drink spiked hot chocolate until the early hours of the morning, as per tradition, but it's not the same without Serena.
It's not the same for a lot of reasons, and Chuck knows all of them, although he wishes he doesn't. He also wishes he would stop feeling so much for his best friends. He cares about them, aches when they ache, despite his best efforts not to.
Nate misses Serena in a way he's not supposed to, Chuck knows. He knows what they did at the Sheppard wedding, knows Nate loves Serena, or at least has always been preoccupied with the blonde girl, knows Nate feels abandoned by Serena and ashamed of what he did to Blair. And while Chuck can't help feeling a little sorry for Nate every time he catches him looking a little more forlorn than usual, he also can't help but hate him for cheating on Blair. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know if he should confront Nate, if he'd be able to control his temper if he did, or for how long he'll be able to pretend like he doesn't know if he doesn't say anything. He does know that he absolutely cannot tell Blair.
She's been withdrawn lately, even towards him, especially since Serena took off without telling her why and Nate started acting distant when Chuck knows she really needs her boyfriend at this point in her life. She's mentioned to him a couple of times about Eleanor and Harold fighting, the possibility of a divorce, but she doesn't disclose much. All he knows is that she's looking paler than usual, looking less again, and that all of a sudden, now that they're sophomores and their relationships are a whole lot messier than they used to be, back when they all loved each other and it wasn't weird, this is not his territory. This is Nate and Serena territory, and he shouldn't push his way in. He can't complicate things anymore for the four of them. But he also can't stand to see Blair look less enthusiastic about Guitar Hero and more enthusiastic about the alcohol in her hot chocolate than she ever has before.
"Cool it over there Waldorf," he says, unable to help himself when he catches her taking big swigs from the bottle of Scotch while she thinks he and Nate are both looking at the screen in front of them.
"Just trying to keep up with you, Bass," she says, slightly irritated that her best friend is paying too much attention to her and her boyfriend doesn't seem to care nearly as much.
This might be the worst day of her life. What's worse is that she really just wants to talk to Chuck, but feels compelled to cling to Nate. He's been distant from her, especially since Serena left, and she's worried about their relationship. She can't lose him, too. She can't help it when she thinks, a little drunkenly, that unloading on him might help solidify their relationship. She takes another swig from the bottle as Chuck looks over his shoulder. She drinks again, making defiant eye contact with her best friend, who's been strangely more protective of her than usual. She shouldn't be surprised. He can read her better than anyone, worries about her more than anyone, and automatically suspected she would suffer from Serena's disappearing act. On top of it, she told him all too much about what's been going on with her parents. She wishes she'd been stronger, been able to keep it in, but she's forced to admit that she'll always need her best friend to share her burdens. She takes one more pull from the bottle for good measure before sidling up to Nate and reaching up to kiss his neck.
"You're distracting me," he says uncomfortably. "I'll lose."
"We already know you're the best at Guitar Hero," she purrs, dragging him away from the screen.
He glances apologetically at Chuck over his shoulder, unsure how to handle this new Blair, who seems unstable and clingy, especially when everything with Serena is still so fresh in his mind.
"I'll go… refill the mugs," Chuck says unnecessarily, just trying to clear out of the room for a little while.
Blair's glad he leaves them alone. She needs to tell Nate now, while the liquid courage lasts.
She lures him to the love seat with kisses, but once she's settled onto his lap, she pulls back, preparing for what she needs to say. When the tears start rolling, she can't help but think that it's the perfect touch to really get him to feel bad for her. God, what has she turned into? All she knows is she needs to get him to stay with her, no matter what. Serena left without a thought to how it might make Blair feel, and now, her dad's done the same. She won't let Nate be next.
"My dad left…" she chokes out, hands on Nate's chest.
He freezes.
"Blair… what?" He carefully deposits her in the small space next to him, hands nearly wrapping all the way around her tiny waist. She wishes he wouldn't be so careful with her.
"Blair," he starts again, voice filled with concern. She's glad he at least still cares about her enough to worry. Maybe she can save their long-standing relationship.
"My dad left us. He left last night. He's divorcing my mom and moving to France to live with his model boyfriend full time."
"His… what…" Nate says blankly.
"He's gay," Blair confirms. "And he's leaving me."
Nate just stares at her, and she starts to regret telling him. Fuck. She shouldn't have told him! She probably just scared him away even more!
"Fuck," she says, pushing off the couch.
"Blair," he starts again, but doesn't continue.
He must hate her, she thinks. He must think she's weak and disgusting and he must want to leave her just like Serena and her father.
"Fuck!" She screams. "I'm so sorry, Nate."
She doesn't know why she apologizes, but apparently he thinks it was warranted.
"It's okay," he says.
"Are you fucking kidding me, man?"
It's Chuck's voice, laced with anger. Blair whirls around, startled by her best friend's tone, unaware of when he materialized in the room. The spin makes her dizzy, and she collapses back onto the couch. She's drunker than she realized. She can usually handle her liquor better than this. As soon as her ass hits the seat, Nate gets up.
"Chuck, what are you…"
"She tells you that her dad's gay, that he's leaving her family and moving to another country, and all you can do is sit there and let her apologize to you!?"
"Dude, you're way out of line. That's not what I meant to say to her."
"What exactly did you mean to say to her, Nathaniel? Go on, tell her," Chuck says with an arch of his eyebrow.
Nate turns back to Blair, who's slumped over like a rag doll, apparently drunker than he realized, too. She looks frightened and he wants to tell her it's okay, but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out.
"That's what I thought," Chuck says, still seething.
"Just stay out of it, Chuck," Nate says through gritted teeth. "Why do you even care, hm? Isn't there some call girl you should be fucking right about now?"
At that, Chuck explodes.
"She's my best friend!" he screams. "Why do I care!? Goddamn it, Nate, I should have done this way sooner."
Chuck punches Nate square in the jaw, Nate goes down, and Blair screams, dropping her fresh mug of hot chocolate, which shatters all over the hardwood floor.
"What the fuck was that for?" Nate asks, hoping Chuck doesn't give the real answer.
"You know what that was for," Chuck spits. Nate's grateful that's all he said.
Blair, suddenly more sober, rushes to Nate's side.
"What the fuck, Chuck!?" She reiterates, looking up at him.
"Spare me, Waldorf," he says more aggressively than he means. "Stop feeling so goddamn sorry for yourself all the time! Maybe if you just toughened up a little bit, this shit wouldn't happen to you."
She looks like she's been smacked, and Chuck turns a shade of green and storms out the door. She looks to Nate, who's jaw is already bruising, apologizes again, and excuses herself to go find him an icepack before he can reply. When she returns, frozen peas in hand, he's lying on the couch, taking pulls from the Scotch.
"Here," she says, gently applying the peas to his face as she sits down beside him.
"Thank you," he says, putting down the bottle and opening his eyes.
They're silent as he ices his jaw.
"I am sorry, you know," he says weakly.
"I know," she says. "Thank you."
She kisses him on the forehead and leaves as if nothing had happened.
She turns to head home, but catches a puff of smoke from the other direction out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly furious, she changes direction and rounds Nate's building, spotting Chuck sitting on the stone wall not far away, chain smoking joints even though he knows she thinks it's disgusting.
"Bass," she barks when she's close enough, meaning to skewer him for what he said to her.
How could he? She's hurt and ashamed, but still drunk enough to be courageous and mean.
When he lifts his head and meets her dark eyes with his own, all the fight goes out of her.
"Whatever insult you can think of, I've probably already told myself twice," he mumbles.
She sits down next to him and rests her head on his shoulder, having lost the words she intended to throw at him.
"I know," she sighs. "Anyway, you were right."
"No I wasn't," he says with a ferocity that distinguishes the sentence from the composed and unaffected way he usually speaks.
"You were. I was feeling bad for myself and I wanted Nate to feel bad for me, too. It was stupid."
"It doesn't mean what happened was your fault," he says simply.
"You have to be more specific than that, Bass."
"Serena… your father…"
He looks like he wants to say more, but decides to leave Nate out of it.
"Thanks," she says. "But honestly, that doesn't really help."
"I know you're gonna blame yourself no matter what I say."
"How can I not?"
He wants to help her, but he knows he's useless.
"I don't know."
All he can do is wrap his arm around her waist and pull her close, flicking away his half finished joint because he knows she hates the smell no matter how hard she tries not to, and breathing her in instead.
They're juniors when everything changes. When their lives go to shit. When Serena comes home because her brother tried to kill himself and Blair finds out what Chuck knew all along, but never told her. When Nate and Blair finally crack, their families shattering along with their relationship. When Chuck inevitably ruins the one good thing in his life, the thing he can't live without, so he stops trying. Nate hates him. Serena distrusts him. And his best friend can't even look him in the eye anymore.
They had sex, broke the fragile damn holding their relationship together, and now they can never go back. None of them can. They all fucked up too badly. So they spend junior year ignoring each other, miserably sulking through the halls of their prestigious school, alone.
Serena tries to go on a few dates, but she's too wrapped up in thoughts of her brother to pay anyone much attention. There are a couple of one night stands here and there, but she gives that up, too; she sees Nate and feels sick whenever someone runs their hands through her hair.
Blair devotes herself to her minions, scheming and reeking havoc upon Constance because she misses her best friend, but whenever she misses him too much, she can feel his lips on hers, feel him inside of her, and as much as she tries to fight thoughts like these, she can't control them. So she takes control the only way she knows how, by abusing her classmates, but never more than she abuses herself.
Nate tries to forget the pain of losing Serena and Blair and Chuck all at once. He tries to blame it on everyone else, when he knows he's the one to blame. He's the cheater. Chuck and Blair were always going to end up together, but now they're less together than ever. He tries whatever drugs he can get his hands on, but can never bring himself to take more than one hit, not so soon after everything that happened with his father.
Chuck has no such qualms. He's given up trying to impress Bart, and Blair isn't around to tell him when he's gone too far. So he goes right over the edge.
It's Serena who finds him, hands braced on the wall of a dirty alleyway a couple of blocks from Saint Jude's, struggling for breath. She decides she shouldn't ignore him, decides she's far more to blame than he is for the mess that used to be the Non-Judging Breakfast Club, so she let's herself worry about her friend for the first time in months.
"Chuck?"
When he doesn't reply, just keeps gasping for air, she knows something is seriously wrong. She ducks under his arms, face inches from his, and wills herself not to see Nate in his eyes. His eyes are heavy and his face is slightly blue.
"Chuck?" She asks again, grabbing his face in her hands.
He flinches immediately and violently, throwing her hands away and slamming himself against the opposite wall. He loses his balance and hits the ground hard, adrenaline alone forcing his arm out to break the fall. He sits up and his back finds the wall again. That's when he starts mumbling incoherently, and Serena puts it together. She should have known as soon as she saw his face drained of color.
"Oh my god, Chuck! What did you take!?"
He's still talking to himself, and she doesn't know what to do. She should leave. She should leave him here to suffer for fucking Blair and ruining the most constant relationship between the four of them. But that would mean she would want him to leave her, too, if the roles were reversed, so she can't do it. She contemplates calling 911, but that would be a scandal. It would be all over Gossip Girl, and Bart would kill Chuck, anyway. So, in a move motivated completely by desperation, she texts Nate and then Blair, knowing they'll respond to her SOS no matter what, no matter how long they haven't been talking, no matter how much they all hate each other right now.
As soon as she snaps her phone closed, Chuck's head lols to the side and he throws up all over his blazer.
"Fuck," she says under her breath, moving to pull the ruined garment off his shoulders.
"Blair?" He mumbles, and she's just relieved he's capable of speech and feels more justified in her decision not to dial 911.
"No, sweetie, it's Serena," she says, using the term of endearment she reserves for when Eric has the flu and she has to take care of him while Lily's nowhere to be found.
He moans and tries to push her off.
"Don't need your help," he mumbles agin.
She continues to fight to pull the blazer off him, he's sweating now, but he doubles over, clutching his abdomen, making it impossible for her to help him. She's about to lose it when Nate appears.
"What's going on?" He asks apprehensively.
Serena moves away from Chuck, and when Nate sees the other boy, he turns around immediately. Serena chases after him, somehow forgetting about Chuck momentarily.
"I need you," she forces out when she grabs Nate by the arm, spinning him around.
"What is this? Some kind of trick to get me to talk to him? It won't work, Serena."
"It's not a trick. I was skipping class and I found him over here, completely out of it. I think he overdosed on something, Nate. You have to help me."
"So call 911," Nate says, shaking Serena off.
"You know that's not what we do," she says, and he pauses.
"Please," she begs, and he starts to turn around when they hear Blair scream from behind them, Chuck's name, of course.
She already has him out of his blazer and miraculously on his feet, Serena notes, and the brunette starts shrieking at Serena and Nate as soon as they round the corner.
"What the fuck!? You just left him here while you two were off making out!?"
"We weren't…" Nate starts, but Serena cuts him off.
"He took something… I don't know what… Help," Serena begs again, panic rising in her chest once more.
Chuck pitches forward and vomits, hitting the ground on his hands and knees this time, and Blair drops with him.
She wraps her arm around the front of his shoulders and pulls him back against the wall, immediately moving to unbutton his shirt, which is stuck to his chest with sweat.
"Do something!" She shouts at Serena. "Call his limo!"
Once Serena's given Arthur their address, she kneels next to Blair, who already has one of Chuck's arms slung over her shoulder, so Serena takes up his other side and they try to pull him to his feet.
"Nate! Help!" Blair shouts.
"Why should I?"
Blair's mouth falls open, but Serena pleads again, and Nate finally takes over and easily supports Chuck by taking Serena's spot.
"You would listen to her," Blair spits at Nate.
Chuck starts to struggle against Nate, just conscious enough to recognize how wrong this situation is supposed to be, and Blair immediately abandons fighting with Nate to resume her post by Chuck's side. She wraps her arm around his waist and turns his face toward her's.
"Let us help you, Chuck," she begs.
But he continues to try to break free of Nate's grasp, and Nate doesn't seem like he's trying too hard to keep Chuck on his feet. Blair tries to support his other side, but she's significantly shorter and doesn't do much good. When Chuck finally stops fighting them and leans into Nate, Nate breathes a sigh of relief, but Blair loses it when Chuck starts shaking. She presses herself closer against his side, burring her head in his chest and crying as she begs him to be okay. Serena has to pull her off him when the limo pulls up. By the time Nate pushes Chuck in, he's fully convulsing and Blair physically can't bring herself to watch, so it's Serena who opens the opposite door and forces Chuck to throw up several more times as all the anger goes out of Nate and he tries unsuccessfully to comfort Blair.
Eventually, Serena pulls a less blue looking Chuck back into the limo and collapses next to Nate in the seat across from Chuck, who's wrapped his arms around his stomach again, shivering instead of seizing.
"Let's go," Nate tells Arthur, rolling dow the partition just long enough to deliver the order.
"Get out," Chuck says, surprisingly coherently, but the limo's already moving.
Nate scoffs and turns towards Serena.
"Okay?" He asks.
She nods, eyes on Blair, who seems to have missed the exchange entirely. She's produced a bottle of water from somewhere in the limo and is demanding Chuck drink all of it before he lies down.
"S'cold," Chuck slurs.
"You're sweating," Blair tells him.
"Jacket?" He asks.
"You don't have one."
"He needs fruit juice," Serena contributes.
"How's cranberry?" Blair asks.
Serena shakes her head, and Blair rummages around in the ice bucket again.
"Just alcohol," Blair says, exasperated.
"That'll do," Chuck says, finishing the water and curling up on the seat, face pressed into the leather.
"Get out now?" He asks, voice muffled.
"No. We're taking you home," Blair says.
"Why?"
"It's what we do," Serena says. "We're the Non-Judging Breakfast Club."
They're silent for the rest of the ride, Blair squeezing Chuck's hand every time he tries to close his eyes.
"Don't go to sleep," she tells him.
"I'm fine," he says. "Need to sleep it off. You shouldn't have made me throw up, either," he says with a glance at Serena. "And you shouldn't have come," he says to Nate.
Blair knows he's right on all accounts, but she's still too scared for rational thought.
When they pull up to the Palace, Chuck tries to escape the limo on his own, but Nate is out the door and at his side as soon as he starts to stumble.
"Don't need you," Chuck grinds out.
"Yes, you do," Serena says, coming to Nate's defense.
"I'll take him," Blair says, and Chuck tries to take a step towards her, which is the last straw for Nate, who shoves Chuck away.
Thankfully, he's regained some of his balance, the worst of the symptoms passing mercifully quick, and it just takes Blair's arm around his waist again to steady him. Chuck tries to step to Nate, but Serena intervenes, tugging at Nate's hand and insisting they have to get inside.
They all freeze as Serena pulls Nate towards the door, Blair and Chuck wrapped up in each other and Serena and Nate intertwined at the fingertips.
They're all too shaken to say what they're thinking. Is this how it's going to be?
"Let's just get upstairs," Serena insists again.
Pressed in the elevator, the air is heavy with tension. Chuck locks his jaw and leans heavily on Blair and the back of the elevator, clearly still in pain.
"What?" Blair asks.
"Stomach," he moans.
"We're almost home," Serena tells him, moving away from Nate and toward Chuck's other side.
Blair unlocks the door to Chuck's suite with the keycard she keeps in her bag, and once inside, they all move to make themselves useful again. Stillness is stifling.
Serena searches the fridge to no avail and ends up calling to room service for several glasses of grape juice and a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
Nate rummages through half-empty pill bottles, methodically disposing of them one by one.
Blair leads Chuck to his bed and fights him to get his shoes off before he curls up under the duvet, still wearing slacks and an unbuttoned button down.
"Blair," he moans into the pillow.
"Yeah?"
"Stay. I…" He moans again, unable to finish the sentence.
"I'll stay," she tells him, trying not to feel awkward, trying to remember he's still her best friend.
"I'll always be here," she reaffirms.
Minutes later, Serena and Nate appear with food, lingering by the door.
"Just come here," Blair relents, and Serena readily rushes to the bed and starts forcing grape juice into Chuck.
Nate takes a seat on the couch, looking ready to flee as soon as possible.
Once three glasses of juice are drained and Chuck no longer looks agonized, Serena makes to stand up, but Blair grabs her hand.
"Thank you," Blair says. "For finding him," she clarifies.
"I would never have left him, no matter what. I would have done the same for either of you."
"I know," Nate says, standing up.
"Don't go," Blair says quickly to the blondes. "Can't we just call a truce or something? Just for the day?"
"I'd like that, B," Serena says, falling back onto the bed next to Blair.
"Fine. Just for the day," Nate agrees, unable to handle the fear in Blair's eyes, dropping to the floor at the foot of Chuck's bed and flipping the TV to the on demand channel.
"What movie?" He asks.
"Sound of Music," Chuck mumbles, eyes still closed, but agreeing to the truce by saving Nate the embarrassment of having to request his favorite film.
The girls laugh to each other, and even Nate cracks a secret smile of gratitude as he presses play.
Serena's hand finds Blair's and her foot playfully muses Nate's hair, while Blair lets her head drop to Chuck's chest and he fits and arm around her shoulders. All connected. The way it should be. Even if it's just for a temporary truce.
Except it wasn't temporary.
They fell asleep in Chuck's suite, scattered throughout the room, thinking of old times. Blair woke up remembering winter nights and giggles that tasted like hot chocolate and warm cuddles where none of them noticed who's hand accidentally brushed who's arm. Serena opened her eyes and saw summer days and beaches in the Hamptons and the boys kicking sand in her eyes as she chased Blair into the ocean before they cared about what the salt would do to their hair. When Nate came to, slumped against the foot of the bed with Serena drooling on his shoulder, he thinks of spring and lacrosse and his best friends cheering him on and sweaty hugs that the girls flinched away from and Chuck simply refused to accept, all four of them laughing and inhaling the smell of freshly cut grass.
Chuck just wakes up to the worst headache of his life, soothed only by the feeling of his best friend snuggled into his side for the first time in months.
They all try not to feel awkward, and slowly, apologies start to tumble out as they realize they can't live without one another, that they're too tangled up in to have clean relationships or to separate themselves for too long.
They're messy, but they love each other too much to clean up.
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this lil story that came out of my brain over the past few months! It was supposed to be shorter, but the chapters just kept getting longer and longer and I couldn't help myself! If anyone is interested, I have another chapter in the works about their senior year. There is a happy version and there is a heartbreakingly sad version and I can't decide which direction I want to pursue. Please let me know what you think!