I don't even know what this is. I caught the tail end of a GG episode this afternoon (the one where Chuck is kissed by that guy and Blair is caught out in her plot if anyone is interested) and went off looking for some anti-CHAIR fic before giving up and writing this instead. Inspired by the many character death movies I've seen recently, I give you a weird piece of writing.
No one knew death better than Erik van der Woodsen.
He would forever stare at the scars on his wrists and remember how it felt to be alone and empty and bored and scared and curious. He could trace the faint lines over his arms and they would feel like a warm sweater that covered his body, something comforting and oh so familiar. Whenever he shut his eyes he hoped for the barest of moments that he would never open them again.
Nobody felt deaths cool grasp better than Charles Bass.
He would drink and drink and drink and puke and drink until he passed out, because growing up he'd never been taught any better. He could lie awake at night and count the glow-in-the-dark stars that had somehow found their way onto his ceiling and for every one he could recall an experience that he'd much rather forget. Whenever a shot of burning poison slid down his throat he would blissfully wonder what it would be like to fly.
Her breathe came quickly, illuminating the air in small white bursts. She clutched her jacket closer to her body and glanced at her mother's watch on her own wrist. Gone were the days when Mrs Waldorf would scowl and reprimand her for taking without asking. Gone were the days when she would care that she slept in today's skirt. Gone were the days when she felt there was someone worth impressing.
Blair Waldorf stood on the steps outside the cemetery and waited for her friend to walk her through the headstones.
The wine sparkled red and swirled almost magically around the outside of the tall stemmed glass. The blonde sighed and set it on the table in front of her, instead picking up the bottle and taking a large gulp. It spilled out of the corners of her mouth and she continued to knock more back. A vain attempt to block out the images racing through her mind. To stop her wondering why. To stop the burning question of what if.
Serena van der Woodsen drained the bottle of expensive wine and curled her arms around her knees, alone in the Manhattan apartment.
The backboard trembled and the ball smacked against the court after having missed the hoop once again. It was only moments before it was back sailing through the air and bouncing off the board into his hands. He turned it over, glimpsing the grazes on his palms, and tossed it forcefully at the chain fence. He was beyond angry. He was more than upset. He was terrified.
Nathaniel Archibald collapsed to his knees on the empty basketball court with both wind and tears caressing his cheeks and spat out every profanity he knew.
Her brother's arms wrapped around her shaking body and he held her as she let out sob after heart wrenching sob. Her fingers clutched his tearstained shirt and he couldn't think of anything to tell her that would make this okay. He couldn't tell her that everything would be fine. He couldn't tell her that time would help it heal. He couldn't tell her that he was as shaken up as she was.
Jennifer and Daniel Humphrey clung to one another as they stood in the middle of the loft, hoping they can save each other from themselves.
The funerals were on subsequent days and the whole city was in mourning. Most were unable to experience the joy they thought they would feel upon hearing of the downfall of the infamous Bass because they could not seem to grasp the circumstances that they were presented with. How are you meant to smile when an innocent boy so young was gone as well? Bass stole your girl, drank your booze, spent your money, but when it all came to an end, you couldn't be happy. You looked past it all and saw nothing other than two boys so desperate that they took their lives together.
There must be more to it than everyone is saying, but no one will ever know. Secrets signed in blood and promises whispered in the depths of uncertainty, Erik and Chuck were found on Chuck's bed with their fingers intertwined, looking more at peace in their eternal sleep than they ever had during life.
And an extra little bit, I'm anti-CHAIR because I think they both deserve better. I don't know how that works, but it's my opinion. Love isn't enough to keep a relationship going, especially one with people like them. I love Chuck, and I love Blair, but I don't love them together.