A short little ficlet. I don't know if I'll continue it, but it ties into just after 6x01. Something to get me back into the swing of writing :p Lyrics belong to Pink.
Doctor, doctor won't you please prescribe me something?
A day in the life of someone else?
There's this part in Inside where Sabrina, high on God only knows what, giggles in the face of Dylan, Claire and the rest as they valiantly try to save her from herself.
The hair that hangs limply around her face is twisted around itself, like a reflection of her doped up thoughts and morals as her chiming laughter rises into the heavy atmosphere.
"You really don't get it, do you? I don't care how you feel or what you think. I don't care.." the sharp sound of her mirth spits in the face of their compassion and she says it with a self-absorbed freedom rather than sadness, "about you."
Dylan feels Claire's fingers tighten around his own.
Sabrina's never cared about anything.
Somewhere in the two…three…four?...somewhere in the time she spent drugged out of her brain, she reread his stupid fucking book. But this time she is tied into that paragraph, it wraps itself around her brain and her heart and she can't read past it or escape it.
Sabrina's never cared about anything.
The violent, brutal ache from her characterisation subsided a while back, and as she lies in a hotel room one night somewhere in Wisconsin, Serena realises that might be the least accurate line in the book.
Serena cares about Lily, who is so quick to believe the worst in her, William who's done nothing but be a constant source of hurt and disappointment. She cares about Chuck and Nate and Eric, about Rufus and hell, even Jenny some days. She cares about work and school and animal cruelty, global warming and next seasons Loubitons. She cares about Dan and Blair.
Blair, who flounced around Manhattan with the love of Serena's life in tow before she got bored and slunk back to Chuck. Blair, who kissed him before her while her grandmother lay dying a few rooms away. Who never forgets and never forgives and tears at her for every little thing she's ever done wrong before making her crawl, bleeding her for forgiveness. But even crawling and bleeding is better than I'll never have to see you again.
Nothing makes her heart rend and writhe more than I'll never have to see you again.
Serena cares.
They don't.
Serena tells him she's got things in her past, darkdanktwisted things, and he barely bats an eyelash 'don't we all?' Steven's a little bit of every man she's ever really liked; Nate's easy smile, the adult steadfastness of Ben, every now and then a cheeky smirk that reminds her ever so slightly of Carter. But nothing, at all, like Dan.
She likes that.
She likes Steven.
But Serena van der Woodsen knows Serena van der Woodsen, and she will inevitably wreak havoc on this like she does everything else. Someone will leave and someone will hurt and irrespective of which role she plays it will eat into her soul. Because Serena van der Woodsen cares too much.
Sabrina's never cared about anything.
Blair doesn't understand. She huffs and stalks away, contrition from moments before evaporated in the heat of her indignance and hurt and wounded pride. Serena lets her walk away because she is weary of running after Blair; of tugging at her hand and praying she'll deign to listen. She thinks Serena is bitter and begrudging.
She's not.
She forgives Blair. The painangerguilt twist around eachother and ensconce her, but they aren't hers anymore. And when Dan's doe eyes meet her own, the flutter of her heart and catch in the back of her throat aren't hers either. She doesn't want them, she doesn't need them, and she doesn't care about them.
Serena might.
But Sabrina's never cared about anything.