Run.
Author: LoveThatMotherChucker
Summary: To her, there was nothing more satisfying than the beat of her feet against pavement, a certain rhythmic feeling. One, Two, Three, Four…Four years since her bulimia had almost killed her. In attempt to gain control, she had nearly caused her own death.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl. Or Chuck or Blair. As much as I wish I did, I don't. And believe me, if I owned Gossip Girl, you would know. Because Chuck And Blair would probably be getting it on in every episode, Jenny would be dead, Vanessa and Nate would move far, far away, and Serena would go ahead and get over herself. Oh and Dan? Dan would…uhmm…well I don't really care what DAN does.
"If you're ignoring something, that means that you're in denial. Because the only way you wouldn't listen to something is if you don't accept it, which is what denial is."
Blair ran. But not in the sense that she was running away, running in fear. She was running as a choice. She loved running. The pain, the feeling of accomplishing something, running three miles non-stop every morning when the sun had just risen. When the first light was beginning to peak over the horizon, and a golden light was mirroring the city, glowing. She loved the feel of the breeze as she moved her arms at a steady pace. The beads of sweat that formed on her forehead were refreshing. She loved the feeling of sprinting out her last quarter mile, feeling light as a feather and practically gliding over the ground.
To her, there was nothing more satisfying than the beat of her feet against pavement, a certain rhythmic feeling. One, Two, Three, Four…Four years since her bulimia had almost killed her. In attempt to gain control, she had nearly caused her own death. But six years since she had seen the cause of that scare. Chuck Bass. But no, she wouldn't think of him.
She had moved to France to live with her father and Roman. It wasn't so bad. She was fluent in French and attended La Sorbonne, a French college. She was an architect now. And while she thought that she was to take over the French branch of Waldorf Designs, she decided she like architecture better. She took Physics. Lots of Physics.
She was smart, quick witted, and was quickly hired Le Architecture Du Jacobs right out of college. Her co-workers were fond of her. After abandoning her bitchier side in New York, the nicer, newer Blair Waldorf was a hit. She had friends. Real friends, friends she actually liked.
But now, Serena was getting married to Stephen Young. Some writer for The New York Times, and an inherent of a large real estate company that he really had no interest in.
So that was why Blair Waldorf, after alienating herself from New York for six years, was returning. To see her friend walk down the aisle, and to be Serena's Maid Of Honor.
Really, she was excited for her friend, whom had finally found someone who accepted her, loved her, respected her, and shared at least some common interests with her. But to be honest, New York was the last place she wanted to find herself. She hated this city, hated the city she once loved. The city had almost killed her. Well okay maybe not the city, but it was easier to blame New York than herself. And God forbid she blame him.
Blair was healthy now. She was muscular (but not grotesquely so) and strong. As strong on the outside as she was on the inside. She was energized and vibrant, and happy. She could run three miles straight with a fairly good time. She ate, a lot. Someone who ran as much as she was required to eat a lot. But she was fine, she never overindulged, and was fit and satisfied with herself for the first time. Bulimia was a dark shadow in her past, one she swore never to repeat again.
It was her doctor who suggested running. Her first time running more that a lap or two around a track…to be honest it was pure hell. And now…now everything was so much better.
But now, because of Serena's wedding…well…
That was why Blair Waldorf found herself reminiscing her past, in her running attire , in Central Park, at 6:23 in the morning, coming close to finishing up her second mile.
Chuck Bass was running. In Central Park. At 6:23 in the morning. There were so, so many things wrong with that sentence, and yet somehow, he liked it. He liked being strong, and feeling good about himself. It was a sort of therapy, the rhythm and up and down movements. Flowing over ground, muscles pumping, blood rushing to his legs. It was painful, but he embraced the pain. He felt the pain, he felt it make him stronger.
Rhythm. He felt rhythm. The first constant rhythm in his life.
One, Two, Three…Three years that he had been sober. He nearly put himself into an alcohol induced coma. After she left. He almost killed himself. But no, anything, anything to keep him from thinking of her again. Six years since he had seen her. Blair Waldorf...no. Not her.
Three miles every day for the past three years. It felt good, right even. His feet continued to pound on the pavement.
He saw a figure, a woman to be exact approaching him, and he continued to run. He was on the bridge now, with only a half mile left. But when the figure came within five feet of him, Chuck did a double take because he immediately recognized her.
But no…It couldn't be.
Not…
"Waldorf?" He said as he passed her.
She stopped dead in her tracks. There was no way. NO way. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be…
"Bass?"
She turned. And there he was, staring at her.
"Blair. It's…you." He said lamely.
"It is…" She said nervously.
"What are you…" They both started at the same time. They each then gave an awkward chuckle.
"You…run." He said
"I do..." She replied. "And you…are running. On a Saturday…at six in the morning."
"Yeah…"
He had to admit it. She looked amazing. More than amazing, she looked phenomenal. She was wearing just running shorts and a sports bra, and he could tell she ran. She has muscles, not to the point where she was scary muscular, but she had muscles on her exposed stomach and her hair was up exposing her neck…it was needless to say she looked better than ever.
She wished she hadn't worn this. She felt exposed, completely naked under his scrutinizing watch.
"So…you running?" Blair couldn't believe how retarded she must sound.
"Yeah, I do"
"Great."
"Would you…like to get coffee with me? Or something? I mean we don't have to get coffee if you don't want I mean I'm good with whatever if you'd just like to…" Chuck couldn't remember ever rambling before, but after seeing Blair Waldorf for the first time in six years, his mouth was practically running itself.
"Sure, I'd…like that, Chuck. Um I have another half mile to run though…to get to my car…"
"That's fine. I have another half mile too, do you want to meet back here?"
"Sure."
They both awkwardly waved before turning and running away from each other as fast as they could.
She couldn't remember him ever looking that good before. Now he was muscular, and he could see through his white V-neck shirt right through to the muscles beneath it. His hair was grown out longer, the way she liked it, and to be honest, she had never seen him stutter or ramble in his whole entire life and it was sort of…cute.
After she made it to her car, she grabbed her gym bag and pulled a hoodie out to throw over her bra. Then she locked up her car and walked back to the place where she and Chuck had decided to meet.
Chuck made it back to his limo a pulled out a sweatshirt and his sports bag. He pulled it on over his shirt and started walking back to the place where they were supposed to meet.
About fifteen minutes later he saw her waiting for him on the bridge, leaning against the railing. She was looking off in the other direction, and his heart started beating rapidly once more. The butterflies had returned.
He missed them. He had missed her.
Then she turned her head in his direction and gave a slight wave. He nodded and approached her. "Waldorf."
"So where we going, Bass?"
"This place on 21st. Great muffins."
"Awesome, lead the way."
It was then that he noticed that they had the same sports bag. They always found some way to match. He chuckled at the thought.
"What's so funny?"
"We always did find a way to match, Waldorf." He then gestured towards their matching Nike bags.
She gave a small laugh. "I suppose we did."
They continued walking.
"You look good Blair."
She stopped for a second and stared at him. "So do you."
They walked the rest of the way in an awkward silence before reaching their destination. Chuck entered the small café and strode to the counter.
"A small black coffee and a blueberry muffin."
"Yes Mr. Bass."
Blair glanced at him funnily with a raised eyebrow.
"They know me here." He stated with a shrug, and handed the kid a ten.
"Of course they do" She laughed a bit before addressing the boy behind the counter. "I'll have the same."
She pulled out her wallet.
Damn. She didn't have any cash on her, she should have hit the ATM.
So she paid with her credit and signed the check.
"You're Blair Waldorf?!" Said the kid behind the counter after checking her signature.
"I am."
"The same Blair Waldorf who designed that French history museum in Paris?!"
"Yes, that was mine."
"No Way! See I'm doing my senior thesis on the way you designed that building to look like it was built during the French Renaissance!"
"Really?"
After speaking with the kid for about 15 mintes or so, allowing him to quote her on a few things and get her permissio to cite her as a source in his paper, Blair returned to Chuck who was sitting in the corner reading a newspaper.
"Sorry about that." She said
"No problem."
They sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke.
"Are you back in New York for good?"
"I am...for a while at least. My firm is opening a branch in New York so I sould be here for a while, working as the head until they hire someone else. Then I think I'm heading back to France."
"York firm?"
"Architecture."
"Oh."
There was that awkward silence at the table as they both tried to ignore the pink elephant in the room. Blair finally decided to acknowledge it.
"Chuck...Its not going to..."
"I know."
"And we can't..."
"I know, Blair." He said with a sad smile.
"So are we going to attempt friendship here, Bass?"
"I don't think we have any other option, Waldorf."
They smirked at the old joke between friends.
"Shake on it?" Chuck asked
"Naturally."
They shook as they tried to ignore the current of electrictiy that shot up both their arms.
A/N: Well okay in case anyone needs clarification
Blair left New York and graduated from La Sorbonne after four years. Worked for two, and is back for Serena's Wedding
Chuck stayed behind and worked at Bass industries!
All later clarification will come as the story progresses, and my next update wont be untill April 6th because I need time to finish mapping out this story, and I will only update on Mondays and next Monday is just to soon for someone with serious procrastinaiton (and spelling apparentally) issues!