The room was spinning. Everything was getting blurry and the sounds of laughter and music were all melding into one and moving away from him like the tide.
Chuck Bass stood in the middle of Victrola and stared unseeing at the stage where the burlesque dancers where earning their money double fold. His mind was in a fog of memories that never seemed to lift and in that moment, he could almost see her up there ... slowing taking off her headband and throwing it into his waiting hands. Unzipping her dress and letting it fall unhindered to the floor. For just a second he was in that time before ... before his world had come crashing down.
He could hear his heart beating heavily in his chest as the pain came crashing back and his drug-hazed mind snapped painfully into focus.
"Welcome back."
Eric. His little brother. Everywhere he looked, he was confronted with his failures. He could never be the person anyone needed him to be.
"How was Bangkok?"
He really didn't have the energy for this anymore ... the pretending to be someone that he just wasn't capable of being. His weariness showed in his face and voice.
"I honestly don't remember."
"You should come home Chuck."
Home. What was that? Chuck Bass, the richest kid in New York City, was homeless. Always had been actually.
Picking up the nearest bottle Chuck tried to make his escape quickly.
"I think I'll take the view from above."
Nevertheless, even as he tried to leave it at that, a small piece of humanity escaped before he could stop it.
"It was nice having you as my little brother."
Forcing his feet to move he weaved through the crowd needing only to feel the cool wind on his face and to see that New York skyline again. How he had missed the lights and sounds of the city.
Rooftops. They had always represented freedom to him. He could go there and feel like he was on top of the world. No one could ever be stifled on a rooftop. There was just so much air up there.
Opening the door he could sense the cold night immediately creep into his skin, tingling and numbing. Chuck opened his bottle and poured the fiery liquid down his throat. It burned all the way down and warmed his chilled skin. Finally, his mind starting floating again and his memories drifted to a song his British nanny used to sing to him when he couldn't sleep ... It always held the nightmares at bay ...
Now let every man drink off his full bumper,
And let every man drink off his full glass;
We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,
And here's to the health of each true-hearted lass.
Another drink slid down. And another. Chuck felt his feet guide him to the ledge. The wind was whispering all of his greatest fears come true into his ears and his fathers face swam before his bloodshot, alcohol-hazed eyes. The song carried him along in its wake almost as if he was no longer in control of his body.
Farewell and adieu to you
Spanish Ladies
Farewell and Adieu
To You
The bottle lifted to his lips once more and he leaned back as far as he could trying his best to breathe the alcohol into his mind and burn away the memories and the pain. When the roof tilted under his feet, for one brief moment, Chuck thought he was going to fall and as he stood there watching his liquid salvation race to the earth and shatter into a million pieces he wondered if that would be a bad thing.
"Chuck!"
Spinning around he saw his dear old uncle Jack and his sweet, beautiful Blair staring at him as if he were insane. Which clearly he was.
"God you idiot! You don't surprise someone standing off the edge of a building!"
Chuck could feel a little laugh form in his throat. Leave it to Blair to give a verbal dressing down to his suave uncle Jack. She never did disappoint did she?
"Chuck come away from there. Let's go down and join the party."
Why wouldn't everyone just leave him alone?
"I was at the party I'm not really that into it."
Party? Sucked. Royally. Blair hadn't been there. And everyone else had.
"Chuck your father wouldn't have wanted this."
Now that was a laugh. If there were one thing his father probably would not have minded it was for his son to take a flying leap off a Bass Industries Skyscraper. Would have cleaned up a long-standing nuisance.
"Dear old Dad? Unfortunately, all I know is what he didn't want. Which is me."
Looking over the edge and into the lights, he could feel the anguish twisting inside at the truth finally acknowledged. From the moment he had been born, his father had been trying to get away from him. Death really was Bart's final victory. Leaving his son with a billion dollar name and nothing else. Not even the belief that someone who loved him was now up there watching over him.
"I'm Chuck Bass."
He yelled into the abyss. Would the wind whisper a reprieve? Would the world stop turning to console him? Silence was his only answer. It had been greeting his pleas for help for almost two decades why should that stop now?
"No one cares."
And there it was. The most painful truth of them all. There was no more lying to himself allowed. The mantra continued in his head unceasingly. No one cared. No one cared.
No one cared about Chuck Bass.
For a second he really thought about jumping. One step and it could all be over. His gazed locked onto the horizon and the wind whipped his hair. Why not? No one cared.
"I do."
Her voice broke through the fog like a wrecking ball into a brick wall. Tearing his eyes from the distance, he turned to look at the girl whose arms had once provided solace and whose chocolate brown eyes now pleaded him glistening with dewy tears not to do this.
"Don't you understand? I'll always be here ..." Her voice caught in her throat. "I don't want you going anywhere."
"I'll stand by you through anything." She had said that. And here he was standing on a ledge. And there she was with her heart in her eyes yet again.
"I couldn't bear it."
Chuck's head cleared a little bit more as he looked deeply into her face and saw the meaning behind her words.
"So whatever you want to do to yourself, please don't do that to me."
And then the realization hit like an anvil. His hurting himself was hurting her. Deep in his heart, he knew that if he went down in flames he would be taking her with him. And it wouldn't matter how much he tried to push her away from him. She would always be there. He could do that to himself without a second thought.
But not to Blair.
Never to Blair.
Slowly she reached her tiny hand up to him. A part of him was afraid to grasp it.
Then she spoke softly and her word caressed his heart.
"Please." He knew that she was begging for his life. Maybe even for her own as well. And he needed to stop her pain more than he needed even to stop his own.
Bending down he placed his cold, wind-chapped hand into her soft warm one and felt her grip close around him, strong and sure. Looking down he realized what they were doing.
Chuck and Blair were holding hands.
When he had said that he could never picture them doing that, he could not have imagined that a trivial act normal couples do everyday would be the one thing that stood between him and certain death. Physical and emotional.
She always managed to break every concept. A more amazing girl could not possibly exist. And he had hurt her. He'd run away. He'd thrown her I love you back in her face, even though he'd known what saying it had cost her. Then he had almost left her forever by getting drunk and standing on a ledge.
Her hand pulled him down from the edge and the relief in her face made his bravado crumble. He needed her warmth to surround him again and so he buried his face in her shoulder and felt her hands cup the back of his head to hold him to her in a death grip of epic proportions.
"I'm sorry."
The words seemed so small compared to what he had done but they came out on a broken sob and he knew that she understood. They were all that he could manage.
"It's okay." She whispered gently into his ear her breath warm and sweet upon his skin.
"It's okay."
And somehow, because of her, it was