Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl.
(A/N): just some drabble. Takes place after season two's finale
we write our own futures
--
Awkwardness is the ruling condition at the moment. They're in barely any clothes. Both exhausted. The bed's a mess.
Right now is what soap operas call "the morning after."
Out in the street, he came bearing gifts and an eight letter sentence, repeated over and over again as many times as he kissed her. Each time a broken mirror being repaired again. This moment, Blair's waited so long for. Whatever the excuse was, anyone could guess the answer circled around the words:
"I'm Chuck Bass."
And it'd be done.
Which is what made now so odd.
What did this mean? He loved her, he said he's loved her for a long time. It took him forever to realize that, and longer to admit it. Now the fight was over, the battle won.
War was just past the bridge. A long, winding, rickety bridge.
He said "I love you." Chuck Bass admitted to having humanly feelings. Let the world rejoice.
And it did for fifteen minutes in his bedroom.
But all parties, no matter how loud the music, have to end.
While she sits half-naked in his bed, he sleeps—after-glow of what initially brought them together in the first place, if she remembers correctly. Back of the limo riding down memory lane, anyone? Anyone? No?...
Just as she finds she's treaded to the middle of this unsteady bridge, held up by old rope and weak sticks, she finds that she doesn't know if she can make the journey further. There's too much between them. But wait, that would mean Blair—the Blair Waldorf—was giving up. No. Say it isn't so.
She recalls nights of fighting and frustration. Nights of trust issues and suspicious alibis. Despite as much as she's said she's changed, she was still chasing her fairytale.
Old Blair Waldorf, dead and buried with no chance of resurrection?
The Devil beside her has provoked otherwise.
Doubts fill her, and although she can guess it's the nerves and excitement biting, she doesn't care to mend the wounds. Fight or flight. She's getting scared. What she's waited for all this time has happened.
He says "I love you."
What happens next?
Once upon a time, Nate said those same cutting, piercing words—they never leave you. Like scars and bad tattoos.
She hugs her knees at the comparison. Cries a little.
Nate. Boys and their "I love you's." Everyone knows how that old story ends.
She lies back down and kisses Chuck on the cheek, praying on all her lucky stars and faux rosaries that her new book wouldn't be as badly written as when she was sixteen.