Maybe
A/N Okay so this is my second try at Chuck and Blair, its Chuck-centric and a little more angst-y than the last one, I hope you like it!
.
.
.
.
He had it on tape.
His mother's death.
He had found it (the cassette) three years ago, as a freshman, and after watching it he had two bottles of scotch and his stomach pumped.
That Saturday he had been bored, lying on his bed, waiting for the night to start so he could go out in his stretch limo to some boring party and bring a girl home. Normally he spent the 'light' hours with Nathaniel, but that day Nathaniel had to do something 'important' with Blair, which for any other couple would mean sex, but for Blair and Nate probably meant some Hepburn movie and sock-sorting.
The video cassette was lying in the attic, inside a box with a bunch of other clothes. The thing that had struck him as odd, and prompted him to pluck it out of the box was not the fact that it was in a box with clothes, but rather the fact that it was unlabeled. His father was notoriously neat and had always organized everything, from files to color-coded ties – so it was only natural that his cassettes were all neatly labeled and placed with care into each box. However this one was differently, which made Chuck think it was his. He had thought it was porn.
God, he had thought the tape of his mother's death had been porn.
Some days he could still hear his mother's low, throbbing groan as she pushed him out of her. And he could still hear his own wail – it stuck him how sad it sounded, as if he knew, even then, that something bad was about to happen and he would have to live his life unwanted.
And on the worst days he can still hear his father's voice – Big Bart Bass, billionaire, hard-core business mogul, the Al Pacino of the UES –sounding as scared as a child in the dark, crying out, "Misty? Misty? What's wrong with her? Misty wake up!"
On those days he drank extra.
Then Blair Waldorf happened.
Though to say she happened wasn't entirely correct, because she didn't happen in a single moment. He supposes he could pinpoint it down to that dance at Victrola but if he was really honest with himself, Blair Waldorf had been happening a long time before that.
To be entirely accurate he would have to say Blair happened when he first saw her across the playground, wearing the same scarf as him. Even at the tender age of six he knew that fashion repeats were a no-no, so he had marched up to her and demanded that she take it off. She had raised her eyebrows and asked why she should be the one to take it off since she obviously looked so much better than him in it; still she had showed up the next day with a violet headband and asked him to play with her.
Blair Waldorf had been happening his whole life.
She had always preferred Nathaniel so he had never really though much of his obsession with her. She was a beautiful untouched girl, fiery, his counterpart, and unattainable – it was only natural to be so fascinated.
After Victrola, though, it wasn't quite as easy anymore. Now he had her – yet he still wanted more. That wasn't as easy to explain but it still wasn't too far of a stretch. His best friend's girl – dangerous territory, and danger was always a turn on.
So he had folded, one couldn't be Blair Waldof's significant other (secret lover turned almost boyfriend) without having to bend to her rules. He started drinking less, lighting up less (both herbal and regular), flirting less, and he stopped hooking up with other girls' altogether.
And for a few weeks it had been like he had changed. Even Nathaniel, still sore from the fact that he had lost his almost-fiancé since kindergarten to his womanizing best friend, and in the end they had worked out better than Blair and himself – had remarked that he seemed different.
And for those two weeks Chuck Bass was not Chuck Bass. He was no longer drunk or high all the time. Instead, quite oddly, he was happy.
In fact it was downright scary.
So he had left her on that helipad, with every intention of going to her after he was done with Amelia. Then he had left her in Tuscany with every intention of going to her after he finished his bottle of scotch. Then he had left her in France with her father with every intention of visiting her as soon as he was finished lighting up with Nathaniel.
And before he knew it, he was Chuck Bass again – rich, invisible, armed with a large horde of booze and women at his disposal, and absolutely miserable.
At the white party she had stood there in her pure white gown (Because Blair and Chuck both knew you couldn't ever wear off-white to the white party) and her eyes had burned him.
"Three words, eight letters."
He had been scared then, because though he felt it, saying it seemed to be something else entirely. If he said it he wouldn't really be Chuck Bass anymore. He would no longer be able to purse his lips and smirk, "I'm Chuck Bass."
And at the heart of it was another problem. Could he ever really stop being Chuck Bass? And if he couldn't, could he really be cruel enough to tie the girl he loved down to a guy like Chuck Bass?
The answer was, as it had always been, no.
Now she sits before him, hair straight, dress looking freshly pressed, make-up perfect despite the fact that they had just been on a rooftop in Brooklyn together, wind whipping though their brunette locks. Her eyes were a little glassy but Chanel didn't become an international multi-billion dollar cosmetics company for nothing.
He kneels now because it is unbearable for him to see her eyes large and hopeful, looking up at him as if he actually deserved to be looked up to. So he crouches before her and tells her, someday, they'll be together.
Maybe.
He slips that word in there, sure that no one will catch it and it'll just be a secret between him and the night. Then he kisses her lips gently. It tastes of alcohol, lipstick, Chanel No.5, and goodbye. But they both know it's not even close to goodbye.
Maybe.
He has to say it, add that one word in, because thoughts are still bouncing about his head and doubt pumping through his heart and running through his veins.
Could he ever change? Was this the right choice? Should he make a clean break? Where was Nathaniel in all this? Did he even love Blair? Could Chuck Bass even know how to love? Was it (love; him loving someone) even possible?
But there is one thing he knows for certain. Blair Waldorf deserved someone who didn't drink and didn't smoke weed. She deserved that count or lord or prince, whatever he was, without the incest of course. She deserved someone who didn't have a black cassette in the corner of their safe, of their mother's death.
And Chuck Bass wanted to be that person for her.
But if it meant leaving her on another helipad, or selling more sex secrets to Gossip Bitch, or ruining another party so she would just look at him, he wouldn't do it. Because Blair Waldorf is damaged goods, and he would not be the one who finally broke her.
So now Chuck Bass stands up and makes his way from the crying brunette princess, knowing that he'll come back to her someday.
Maybe.
.
.
.
.
.
A/N Reviews are always welcomed and desperatly needed!