Chuck Bass' Miserable Marriage
Aimee
AN. A very very short story. Hope you enjoy~
Sunday
"The floor is hard." He complained.
"Great, it serves you right!" she yelled from their bedroom, behind the closed door.
"Could you please consider the couch as a more reasonable punishment?" he looked at the pillow on the floor which she'd thrown at him earlier.
"No!"
Monday
"Are you still mad at me?" he asked sheepishly at breakfast.
She focused on her strawberry yogurt, giving him not even a glare.
"Blair?" he asked again. This time she looked up at him, pure fury in her eyes.
"What? !"
He immediately shut himself up.
Tuesday
"Blair, please. It's all my fault, Ok?" he sat down beside her on the couch.
She closed the current issue of Elle in her hand, then glared at him. "It is."
"Could you forgive me?" he asked, then added, "please?"
He tried to circle her waist with his arm, but she slapped his hand away and stood up.
"No way."
Wednesday
"She is driving me insane!" he whined to his best friend who was staring at the strippers on the stage.
"As always." Nate chuckled.
Chuck rolled his eyes. "What a best friend of you!" he commented sarcastically.
Nate laughed. "Buy her jewellery and flowers. Grovel at her feet as you always did. See? Problem solved."
"It's not that easy." Chuck sighed, "She doesn't want to see my face, let alone talk to me."
Nate watched with sympathy as Chuck drained another glass dry, hugging himself to think that the poor boyfriend of Blair Waldorf was not him any more.
Thursday
He knew it was clichéd, but he did it anyway. Jewellery, flowers, and a note full of humble words of love and apology.
He was nervous, partly because he knew it was his trump card. If she remained unimpressed, he had no idea what to do next.
When he came home, he found the diamond necklace sparkling around her neck, the flowers blossoming in the vase, while the poor note lying on the table with two words in red ink on it:
NOT ENOUGH.
Friday
"Do you have any plan?" he watched as she tried on the third dress. To his surprise, she answered.
"S and I are going out."
"Oh." He nodded, not so sure what to say next, "Do you need my credit card?"
"No."
"Could you forgive me?"
"No."
"Are you still mad at me?"
"No."
The instant she said it, she knew she fell into his trap.
"Damn you, Chuck Bass!"
He smiled as she cursed under her breath.
"I love you, too. Blair Waldorf."
Saturday
He was doomed.
He tiptoed upstairs, trying his best to prepare for an angry Blair.
Why did he even bother to attend that stupid meeting? Now he was late for their make-up dinner, and she was going to kill him.
He let out a silent prayer for his life not ending here tonight.
"You are late." She appeared from nowhere, almost scared the shit out of him.
He was going to die, slowly and painfully.
"Bl…Blair, I'm sorry." He explained sheepishly, "There's an emergency meeting…and…I'm sorry."
"It's fine." she said, "Shall we start dinner?"
To say he was shocked was quite an understatement.
"You mean you are not going to make me sleep on the floor for another week?" he asked.
"Of course not." She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a peck on the lip.
"So you are not mad?" after finally pulling away, he asked, just wanting to be assured.
"No, I'm not mad."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Positive?"
Now she looked pissed. "Chuck Bass. What's wrong with you?"
"I just want to make sure I'm forgiven. You know, you've been upset with me for a whole week." He explained.
Her face darkened. "Have not!"
"Yes, you have. You've forced me to sleep on the floor, ignored me, cursed me, and refused to make love to me." He counted, "Blair. I love you. But you really drive me insane when you're a bitch."
He realized his mistake when she slammed the door on his face.
Sunday
"The floor is hard." He complained again.
"Great, it serves you right!" she yelled from their bedroom, behind the closed door.
Fin.