He could never stay away, could never stay back. She drew him in, there was just something special about an angel drawn to the dark side. He misses pulling her away from class, secret kisses up in her room, her turning up to his suite at the Palace in nothing but a coat and sneakers - sneakers, he never thought he would see the day but she had apparently just been at tennis practice.

He remembers that day, holds it close to his heart, treasures it best because he thinks that may of been the exact day he fell in love with her. It wasn't the day he got the butterflies but the day he realised he truly liked spending time with her, they had been spread out across his bed after coming down from their high. They had ordered room service and had talked all night, about school, about Audrey Hepburn, about Serena, Bart even made his way into the conversation. He shared with her what had really happened with his mother, she had looked guilty at the floor and had replied that they all had already known for years.

That fact didn't even make him mad and so he had kissed her but it wasn't like their usual kisses, there was something to it and he thinks (no, he knows.) that he's in love with that doe eyed brunette who likes to pretend that she's in a Hepburn movie and always gets straight A's and sometimes he liked to pretend that she was in love with him too and not his best friend. The two of them had fallen asleep somewhere around three in the morning and she had already left for school by the time he woke up with a note next to his head, "Sorry! Had to run, lunch? - xo B."

He just wanted to keep her, he didn't want to lose her, didn't want her to go. He had pulled her back down onto his bed before she got up and left to go to her fitting with Nate, had nuzzled her neck and pleaded for her not to leave. She had giggled and wriggled herself out of his grasp.

"Chuck, I have to go. I'll see you tonight at Serena's grandmother's tea, you are coming, right?" And he couldn't deny her in that moment but he didn't show. He had stayed home, called her up late and apologised. She brushed it off as if it was nothing and they didn't bring it up again but he slowly felt her slipping out of his life.

So he was stupid and schemed without her, schemed against her. And he had lost her. To Nate, to the golden boy, to his best friend and he could never be what she wanted him to be. He could never be a blue eyed blonde Vanderbilt offspring who was charming and kind and everything nice.

So he did what he did best and he ran. He just left, he escaped. He thinks it was Monaco but he can barely remember, he remembers threatening the object of his desire and his best friend appearing on a yacht with him - or something along the lines of that. Years later he finds it fitting if he really did go to Monaco, he left because Blair didn't want him and when Blair didn't want him later she escaped to Monaco.

He doesn't really miss those times, when he had to be Blair's dirty little secret. He used to find it entertaining and the only reason he ever really went along with it was because he didn't want Nate knowing. Nate would kill him and Nate was all he had, was all he ever had and he didn't want to risk him for some girl he was suddenly enthralled with.

(He knew they would never work out, it was just a fling. She would run back to Nate and he would attend their wedding and play godfather to their children. He would come over for brunches on Sunday's and watch the two of them be domestic with each other, matching rings glistening on their fingers and he would play along as if he was happy for them and he would be. He would teach their kids the ways of the dark, Blair would scold him about corrupting their children and he would take a sip of his scotch and leave to go and meet his newest fling. He would forget all about this brief affair and everything would go back to the way it was, the way everything was meant to be.)

It was only when Nate wanted Blair again and Blair wanted Nate again that he didn't want to be a dirty secret any longer. He wanted to sit by Blair on the Met steps, his hand in hers. He suddenly wanted to be the dotting boyfriend and it disgusted him because that's not who he was. He was Chuck Bass and he was in love with Blair Waldorf.

It wasn't a maybe. It was a fact and it scared him. It freaked him out more than finding out he had killed his own mother. It was scary and huge and he felt like a small child, he didn't know what to do.

A\N: I have no idea what I just wrote. Or like wrote last night\early this morning and even though it's really weird and just weird. I like it, so I posted it and I sort of ditched my whole layout but I'm tired. Thoughts? Sorry this is sort of angst-y.