So I've had this written forever and I only just realized we could post under the Books category for the TV show, so here it is. Spoilers through whatever episode had the brunch and Blair claiming Serena was in rehab. If you read, review!
A Map of Every Single Thing
"Her face is a map of woe;
a map of every single thing."
-- Julie Taymour
You're a part of this world, he said to her once.
He says it still; those times when she gets overwhelmed and starts talking about leaving New York for good. She liked Connecticut, or so she tells herself. She's always thought the South would be pretty. Or maybe Europe – think about it, she urges, we can sit in French cafes and make fun of the rude waiters.
We can do that on Fifth street at that place your mother likes, he points out, so that she laughs a little bit and lets the matter drop.
He's careful to never actually say no; doesn't want to take away the possibility. For all the designer dresses in her closet, there's a lot she's been denied and he won't disappoint her that way.
But they both know she belongs here.
XXX
She came back for her brother.
That much, he learns quickly. After Blair's display of cruelty, he follows Serena away from the party. I'm not crying, is the first thing she says, even as another tear trips down her cheek. He nods, wipes it away. Says, I believe you.
She tells him about Eric then, about the scars on his wrist and the scary look he still sometimes gets in his eyes, like he wishes he hadn't messed it up the first time. She talks about how much she loves him, how she just wants him to be healthy again.
He's my little brother, she half-sighs, half-sobs. Her face is a mess, all ruined makeup and misery, but he kind of likes her this way. Turns out she's human after all. I need him to be okay.
It's not something he would normally have the courage to do, but what the hell, she's coming undone right before his eyes and what kind of person would he be if he didn't pull her close to his chest and hold on?
She keeps her body stiff at first; head angled so he can't see her tear-stained cheeks. But then her hand spasms on his arm, digging into the fabric of his jacket, as if she needs to be sure he's solid. So much of her life is intangible these days; hovering in the chasm between who she was when she left and who she is now.
He's going to be fine, she whispers, more to herself than him. We're going to be fine.
Her breath is hot in his ear, and if this were any other kind of situation or if he was any other guy, things would take an interesting turn right about now. But that's not how things are and he just tightens his grip and lets his fingers tangle in her wild mass of hair and says again, I believe you.
XXX
Two weeks later and things are awkward between them. Slow. He's not sure how much she can take on, how far he'll be allowed in. There are tiny cracks in her façade, but she tries to pretend otherwise and he can't make her face demons he doesn't have a name for.
The thing about Blair, she explains to him when he stumbles upon her in the library one day. She's hiding out from the brunette's latest rumor, this one a vicious blend of fact (drank too much at a party) and fiction (caught an STD from the random guy she slept with).
She's a bitch, he provides, just wanting to see her smile. Selfish, yes, but even pale and quiet, she's the brightest part of his day.
She knows everything about me. Here, she pauses. Almost.
He wants to know what she's leaving out, but he also doesn't. Serena is perfect in her imperfections so far, but he understands that there's something else, something deeper, and he worries how it will change her in his eyes. He doesn't want to look at her and see the girl she used to be.
She seems to get it, because she folds her hands in her lap and looks down and when she meets his eyes again, her lips curve upward in an almost-smile and he has to wonder how she can fake it so that her eyes shine, too. Plus she's a bitch, she agrees, and waits until he laughs to join in.
XXX
He knows now that she has never dyed her hair; that this is a point of pride for her. All natural, she proclaims, shaking the gorgeous tresses for emphasis. It's a stupid, poetic notion, but from that moment on, he thinks of her as sunshine personified.
He knows that she hates popcorn and the sound of rain on the roof. She slips the cleaning lady money (he doesn't ask how much and she doesn't say, which just means it's a lot) to not clean her room, preferring to do it herself. She had her first drink when she was thirteen. She wears silly, unsophisticated pajamas and checks the locks twice before going to bed.
She's taught him how to eat at the fancy dinners she was raised on, four forks and three knives to every plate. She's shown him pictures of herself as a child (smaller, maybe, but the same Serena – fashionable and fierce, chin up and look in her eyes that says, Go on, try it). She's laughed so hard she snorted, right there in front of him, and didn't try to brush it off or cover it up like some girls might, just giggled some more.
He still doesn't know why she left. He doesn't ask and she doesn't say.
XXX
What are we doing? He asks one day, breathless and kissing her. They've done plenty of that, but it's never gone any further and he's not the type to push his luck. This is crazy.
He's only saying that because they're locked in a janitorial closet at school; one of the few places they're ever truly alone. Yesterday, it was her walk-in closet as her mother waited impatiently and yelled out that she looked good in everything, could they please just get a move on? The day before that … he forgets now, it all blurs together, but he knows they're running out of places to hide.
This is my life, she tells him. For now, at least, she wants them to keep a low profile. She pretends it's for her sake, but it's him she's trying to save. The people in her world would eat him alive. You know that.
He wishes, not for the first time, that he could take her away from all this. She'd be willing to go, she's made that clear. But he knows that she has already tried to run away, understands that she would regret trying again.
Hey, she says suddenly, as if she knows what he's thinking. She takes his hand and laces her fingers through his. It's worth it, right? Everything always comes down to value with her; another side-effect of so many years of expensive tastes and cheap thrills.
You're worth it, he says, and it's true, she is gold in his pocket, golden in his eyes.
XXX
She left because she got pregnant.
It's almost two months before she tells him this. They still haven't had sex, but they've come close and now he knows what's been stopping her. He is laying facedown on her bed, shirtless, speechless. She is tracing his spine with one idly fingertip, like it's a timeline of the things that brought them here.
I thought you should know before, she says, and doesn't specify any further, but he knows exactly what she means. It was … I was different then. And I'd always had this crush on Nate, he just seemed so … ideal, and it just … happened.
He still doesn't say anything, doesn't move. He'd had his suspicions, anyway, and the rumor mill had offered up a dozen variations on this theme. Kept it, got rid of it, handed it off. He's not sure he wants to know which.
I went away to start over, just me and the baby. There's a thickness to her voice that means a wetness in her eyes, but he can't bring himself to offer comfort just yet. I thought I could do okay, if I just got away from this place. But then … I miscarried. I lost her. A little baby girl. And I … I couldn't keep her safe.
He turns over then, sits up, gathers her in his arms. She is limp as a rag doll and that frightens him; she has never been weak before. Delicate, yes, but never breakable. It's okay, he soothes, there was nothing you could've done. You're okay now.
She brushes her cheeks with the back of her hand; tries to pull herself together. I'm sorry it took me so long to say it. I didn't want to scare you away.
He smiles, shakes his head. Not possible.
XXX
You're the only secret I've ever loved, she tells him.
This is after. Her mother is away for the weekend and they've spent the majority of it in bed; learning each other; tracing out patterns on skin with fingertips and tongues.
He lifts his head from a careful study of her torso, eyes kind of wide like he didn't expect it. Don't look so surprised, she laughs so that her stomach quivers beneath his palm. What'd you think we've been doing this whole time?
He shakes his head. He'd known they'd been picking up pieces; helping each other find what fit. He'd known that while he was helping her stitch herself together again, his heart had gotten tangled up in the thread. But he hadn't known if she felt it, too.
Are you gonna say anything? She demands, but there's a giggle in her throat, a twinkle in her eye. When it comes to boys, at least, she has never not gotten what she wanted.
I love you, too, he says, marveling at the weight of the words; the warmth of her skin beneath his.
She shifts on the mattress so that every inch of her body is pressed against him. Hums a little, obviously pleased. Maybe we could just stay right here, in this room, forever, she proposes. How does that sound?
Impossible, he chuckles. She frowns at him, just a little, for not playing into the fantasy, and he's quick to press his lips to her forehead. But perfect.
XXX
It's not like life suddenly gets any easier.
She still fights with her mother and worries about her brother and arrives at school late just to avoid the fallout from whatever punishment Blair is doling out that day.
Sometimes her life stretches out before her; a long line of things she doesn't want to think about, and her skin feel too tight. Let's leave, she says to him, but she never really means it because she knows that this is his home, too. He has a family that doesn't drive him crazy and a future bright with things other than jewelry and sequined dresses.
And in some strange way, she is tied to this place and these people. They have forged her out of stone and it would be too easy to run away again. She wants to face this world on her own terms. She wants to make it a place where her own daughter could grow up and breathe and understand that having everything isn't nearly as important as having someone to share it all with.
It doesn't get any easier, but it does get better, because at the end of the day, she knows he will be there. She can curl into his side and feel, finally, like she is home.
XXX
She stays for him.
He doesn't ask and she doesn't say, but they both know it's where she belongs.