He liked to believe he knew everything.
He didn't have the perfect home life his friends and classmates did, he didn't have the best grades at his posh Upper East Side school, but he felt like he knew more about life than anyone else he knew. He considered himself street smart, if you will.
She was the same way.
Headstrong, ambitious and stubborn, she went her own way. Advice is the last thing she would take from anybody. She thought she knew just what was right for her, and she always knew just what to do.
Her ambition, her state of being stubborn, her headstrong ways - she unexpectedly threw them out the window on a February morning.
Because for the first time in her 14 years, she was lost.
She stared at the test in her hand, shifting her eyes between her reflection in the mirror and the ugly truth resting between her fingers. I can't be pregnant. She whispered to herself.
But the pink line said it all. This was something she could not ignore.
Meeting him in Central Park to break the news was the easiest part of the process for her. She cried, but the way he kissed her and promised to never let her go made her feel better. Though nothing couldn't change her thoughts on the future. What would their future be? Surely this would tarnish their families' good names ; their parents wouldn't have this. They'd each be kicked out, left by themselves to figure out what to do with a child. And how could they manage to take care of another person when they could barely take care of themselves?
The boy, on the other hand, had different feelings about the subject. He didn't care what his parents thought or what her parents thought. This would be their life together, and nobody could stop them from living it. He thought they could be married in the Palace, and prove the world wrong ; prove to the world they were just as capable as adults were.
But there would be no teenage wedding at the Palace, and there would be no bundle of joy. She had made up her mind.
Days later he accompanied her to the clinic. He may not have agreed withwhat she was doing, but he refused to let her do this on her own. They were met withstares as he walked her out of the clinic an hour and a half later ; with the girl crying hysterically and his expression and body cold as ice. From a distance, he saw Isabel Coates take a picture - this would be Gossip Girl's frontpage news in about five minutes, but it didn't worry him. He was just worried about her.
He brought the girl back to his house ; she hadn't stopped crying from the time they left the clinic on East 70th to the time they arrived at his place. Both of their cell phones were ringing off the hook, with text messages from friends saying they had read the piece on Gossip Girl - they wanted to know if it was true, why couldn't they had told them, etc. He didn't respond to any of them. Their friends were one of the last things they could deal with right now.
He laid her down on the couch, wrapped her in the warmest blanket he could find, and put the TV on for her. Her sobs, it seemed, were getting louder and louder, and he sat down next to her, unaware of what to do. He suddenly felt like he was her father, like he was now responsible for everything she did and ever would do. I can't be held responsible. He thought. She got us into this whole mess.
"Look...I'm going to go to the store, and I'll pick you up anything you want - magazines, food, Tylenol - anything. I'll be back in less than 20 minutes." He stood to leave, but she pulled him back down. "No. No. Don't leave ; you promised you wouldn't leave." She continued to cry, not noticing that her mascara was streaming down her cheeks and onto the blanket. "I have to. I'll be right back." He said again. "You'll be fine. Just rest, and I'll be back before you know it." He was acting more mature than he had ever even seen his own father act ; he was growing up in just the matter of a day. "I love you." he said to her, and kissed her on the forehead as he left.
"I love you more." She whispered through a sob.
20 minutes later, like he promised, he returned home. She seemed to be okay ; her sobbing had come to a stop and she was still wrapped under the blanket.
He called out her name.
No response.
He called it out again.
Still nothing.
He rushed over to her and saw 3 things:
1) The girl on the couch, not breathing.
2) A piece of paper on the coffee table that hadn't been there previously.
and, most importantly,
3) His father's bottle of Valium completely empty.
He read the note aloud to himself.
Nate,
I'm sorry about the about the abortion.
All I ever wanted was a family with you.
I can't live with the guilt and regret for the rest of my life.
Just know that I love you more than you could ever understand.
xo Always,
Blair.
Nate proceeded to do 3 things.
1) He ran to his parent's bedroom and got the gun he knew his father kept.
2) He went back into the living room ; he wrote his own note and left it next to Blair's.
4) He called Serena to come over.
When Serena arrived just 10 minutes later, she found her two best friends dead - one of an overdose, one of a gunshot to the head. Both were clearly suicides.
She read both notes, but read Nate's first. The note read:
I couldn't live without her.
And I promised I'd never let her go.
I guess we weren't as smart as we thought we were.
We were merely freshmen.
-Nate Archibald.