Trying to Be The Me Without You
The night sky was pitch black in colour and so vast it looked like it would swallow his suite whole, once again Chuck couldn't sleep and in his hands the single most valuable of his possessions lay preciously, polished and glittering like the rare cut multi-carat diamond it was. It was like a metaphor for their entire relationship: unique, rare, inconceivably expensive and sometimes so beautiful it makes your heart squeeze because you can never imagine actually owning something so extraordinary that the majority of people never even get a glimpse of. Perfection. The ring was Blair, everything she signified; never had a singular piece of jewellery captured the essence of such an extraordinary girl. Now someone else's.
I let her go. Chuck reassured himself, maintain that single fact in his mind, if you love someone you want them to be happy. Was she happy? He couldn't bring himself to look at the New York society pages, to see her beaming and radiantly pregnant with a flawed heirloom on her ring finger would break his shattered heart. Deep down, he knew eventually he would find some semblance of peace as long as he knew Blair was okay, better than okay which she obviously was as the future princess of Monaco she would finally fulfil her destiny to dictate style to the masses via a very rich, bold throne, a tasteful crown scintillating on her photogenic head. What bothered him in actuality apart from his current loneliness coupled with a dose of intense self-loathing was that without Blair he didn't especially like himself much. Consequently, to expect anyone else to take a fancy to the well-dressed monster he perceived every time he perceived himself in his gilt-framed, steam proof bathroom mirror would simply preposterous. No decent human being he could potentially find his own happiness with would be able to stomach him. Which was why he needed Blair so desperately he could feel his strength seep out of him and she, well, she was moving on. Like she should, like she deserved to.
He just wanted to forget. But then at the same time all he had left were memories, that was all that kept him warm through the night, his ability to recreate entire episodes of their life in exquisite detail. He still remembered the blinding smile on her face when she won prom queen albeit with Nate as her counterpart and the delightfully skimpy satin slip she was in when she lost her virginity to him in the sacred backseat of his limousine. How majestic she looked at the train station in Paris, brilliant red dress, velvet red lips and her sad, sorrow-filled eyes gazing accusingly at him. No one could ever compare. She was always there for him and he was never there for her, without fail he seemed to consistently let her down. It was a wonder she had tolerated it for so long.
But those that endure are rewarded the best in the end, and she found her true match. He couldn't resist twisting the front page of The Times around to see her and her beau plastered on the cover looking regal and worthy of respect. Bullshit. Chuck lit a cigarette and smoked impatiently; drawing the nicotine in his lungs wishing he knew where he had put his Peruvian weed for safekeeping. He didn't believe that Louis and Blair were made for each other, it was mere circumstances that had pushed those two together mainly Chuck being Chuck, he winced at that stray thought. Why did the pain have to be so crushing? The numbness that had troubled him previously was now welcome, what was so great about living if you couldn't do what you wanted to do, be who you wanted to be and share it with the only one you want?
The baby wasn't his, she would eternally be tied forever to another man through that child but Blair would make such a wonderful mother, perfectionist that she is, that it only brought a smile to his face. The first of the night. He couldn't imagine himself as a father so it was a blessing really, his own Dad hadn't exactly been a shining example, the man had enough secrets to make all the Kennedy's put together feel like they were slacking. His mother was a scheming, cheating nobody who wanted nothing to do wit him and had no qualms about screwing over her only child. And Lily, well lovely and as good-intentioned as his step mother was she had only recently just got off on probation. Enough said.
Chuck Bass. A father. The idea was a joke, infinitely laughable. Still, when she stood there in his suite, that had felt so devoid of life and heart for so long, his heart had raced, his mind had turned over the idea. He hadn't repulsed him or made him clutch his sides, the disappoint he felt was staggering, so unexpected. What would children do for him? Annoying, snivelling brats more selfish than he was, he snorted not even convincing himself and he had managed to turn lying to himself into an art. He was sick of it, the truth no matter how harrowing had not finished him off yet and after what he had toughed out he could handle anything. A child, though. Only with her, he could do anything with Blair, but that wasn't an option anymore.
Blair was gone.