A/N- So this is my first try at a Gossip Girl fic in a long time. Please be nice! It's set after 5X17 – although I'm sure you can work that out. A missing moment, I guess. Please review, I would love to know if you guys would like to see more stories from me.
He crashes to the floor of the empty apartment, despairing. He braces his head in between his knees, breathing erratically and weakly stifling chest rattling sobs.
Hating himself for being so weak- he lets the walls, the floor, the furniture, hold in what he can't. So much has happened; he's had to be strong through so much. He can't be strong any longer, he can't.
The memories flood through his head and a sickening spinning feeling develops. Claws are grabbing at his heart, clamping down and draining the life out of it.
"It's not that simple…"
He slumps backwards into the wall, smashing his head against it in the process- hoping anything will make the memories stop- pain, even unconsciousness would work.
"Chuck, I don't blame you."
But she does, he knows she does! Because it's all his fault. Everything's his fault. And he hates himself just a little bit more for it, but he hopes that this means he's in more pain than anybody else, for he deserves the most pain.
"And I love you, I always will, that doesn't mean I'm in love with you."
He scrunches his stinging eyes shut, and pleads to himself for the memories to go away. He'll suffer the pain anyway- there will always be pain without her.
How? How did this all get so messed up? He asks himself.
Because, you're a monster. His conscience replies simply.
And he knows it, he is a monster. There's an ugly black monster inside of him that claws away at his conscience, puts doubts in his mind, and coats his heart in tar. It's been climbing its way out for a long time, and now finally, it may be making its escape.
Chuck certainly feels that that's what is happening- how can anything that's not physical pain be so agonizing? The pain is searing and harrowing, seeping all the way through his skin, his muscles, his bones, and finding his heart and his mind- piercing away at them with thousands of hot needles.
"I'm sorry, I have to go."
That was it. She just walked away.
He screws his fist up and punches the hard flooring, feeling strangely better when a bullet of pain rips through his arm.
He feels manic, out of control. Like the chains that were constricting him and forcing him to be a good man for her, have disappeared.
And he hates that he loves the fact the bindings are gone.
He feels, for the first time, like he's truly lost her. Like the battle has been lost. And it's going to drive him insane- he can feel it dancing around in his mind. He needs her. She's his air, his water. She can't just leave- why does she get to decide that?
He hates her, he decides.
Shaking his head rapidly, he punches the floor again and again, even as the blood starts to flow from the cuts, and a bone is visibly broken. It's less painful than the pain he has to feel inside.
The room he's in- it's so empty. Like him, his heart, his mind, his soul.
He's empty.