AN: I published this a while ago on my tumblr, but never got around to putting it on here. I don't expect to get many reviews considering how old this is, but I just wanted to share it with those who didn't get a chance to see it before. This is sort of my head!canon for what happened after 4x20 when Chuck punched the window and Blair fled. Please let me know what you think if you have the time!
You left more than a scar on my face
Left more than humiliation and disgrace
Marks on my wrists where I bore your chains
Bites on my neck where your pleasure was my pain
Hurt in my heart when you left me alone to bleed
Terror in my soul when I couldn't meet your needs
Bruises on my arms when you held me close and said,
"Without me you are nothing; without me you are dead."
The first time he sees her scar, they're in the same public vicinity together, the smile on her face not matching the angry wound she has tried so desperately to cover with make-up.
No one else seems to notice. Maybe he's just used to her unblemished face. He has been seeing enough of her lately for the change to seem a bit off.
In pictures it looks less severe.
In his head it's still open and bleeding.
The second time he sees her scar, they're alone. They aren't supposed to run into each other. They don't plan a meeting. It just happens.
"Does it hurt?" he asks, running his fingers over her cheek and feeling the roughness of the wound compared to the rest of her skin.
"No." she says, taking in a sharp breath. He isn't sure if this is because she's lying and it really is painful or because he's touching her.
"What happened?" He brings his fingers around to scoop her jaw, holding her chin up so he can look into her eyes.
She withdraws from his gesture, her gaze falling to the floor. "I fell. My cheek hit the side of the kitchen counter."
He nods, but he doesn't believe her. It's not a bruise. It's a scratch. A cut. Like someone took a shard of glass and ran it across the left side of her face. She looks incredibly forlorn and weak – very unlike her. He wants to wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything will be okay, but that would be incredibly inappropriate. They're friends. That's all. No need to complicate things.
"Are you going to be okay?" That's the only thing he can manage to say. The words aren't too heavy. They don't mean that much. Do you need me to stay? Do you need me at all?
"Yes." she says resolutely, giving him a weak smile.
"Good."
If you're okay, I'm okay.
The moment he finds out what really happened to her, he nearly throws a fit.
He opens his phone, and a long, choppy text appears on his screen.
'I lied. I'm sorry. I didn't want you to be mad. He was drunk, and I went to see him. He punched a window. A piece of glass hit my face. Don't do anything rash, PLEASE. I shouldn't have tried to reason with him while he was under the influence.'
He drops his phone on his bed, shaking in rage. He almost wants to punch something, but then he realizes that this will just mirror her ex-boyfriend's actions. Instead, he grabs a fistful of pillow and shoves his face into it, letting out a furious cry.
He doesn't know how she can possibly blame herself for someone else's abusive actions. If Chuck can make her think that… If he can manipulate her into thinking that the injury is her fault…
She's in too deep.
He's in too deep now.
No fighting. She doesn't need any more violent men in her life. One is enough.
No, he'll confront Chuck and tell him all the reasons why he's wrong for her - all the reasons why he should leave her alone and let her be happy, for once.
He finds his fist curling into a ball, words spouting, spit flying from his mouth. Tears run down his face. How can you possibly hurt her? How can you blame her for all you've done? How can one person cause so much pain?
He rehearses everything he'll say in his bedroom, pretending his Cabbage Patch Doll is Chuck, only satisfied when he slumps the doll over and ceremoniously shoves it under his bed.
He never says anything.
She never tells him she needs him.