Just listened to this song for the first time in ages, and remembered I had seen a video of it on youtube, for Chuck and Serena, and loved it, so thought I would write a story.
Please Read and Review.
Disclaimer: I do not own gossip girl or this song.
Thursday night, every thing's fine, except you've got that look in your eye
When I'm tellin' a story and you find it boring,
You're thinking of something to say.
You'll go along with it then drop it and humiliate me in front of our friends.
Then I'll use that voice that you find annoyin' and say something like
"yeah, intelligent input, darlin', why don't you just have another beer then?"
Then you'll call me a bitch
And everyone we're with will be embarrassed,
And I wont give a shit.
My fingertips are holding onto the cracks in our foundation,
And I know that I should let go,
But I can't.
And every time we fight I know it's not right,
Every time that you're upset and I smile.
I know I should forget, but I can't.
They're sitting at the bar. It's a Thursday night and all of their friends are there. Blair and Nate are holding hands, listening politely to her story. Kati and Is are looking round the room, checking out the hot businessmen sitting at a table in the corner, pretending to listen to her story. Some of Nate's lacrosse buddies are there, watching the beautiful blond, more interested in her lips than the sounds coming out of them.
Everyone is paying attention to her though. Except him. He glances at her from time to time, boredom etched in his face, before returning his focus to the other women in the room.
She pretends not to notice. She pretends not to care. But she knows that look in his eye. And boredom is the most dangerous thing for a Bass. Because they will do anything to get rid of that feeling, and she is not prepared to let that happen.
As her story finishes, everyone laughs and he looks back round.
"Oh, is it over?" And there it was. His ability to humiliate her in front of everyone. Because she knew that they saw how much she wanted his approval, even he knew it, but he never gave it to her willingly. They all averted their eyes awkwardly, and Blair said something to distract them all from the look of hurt and sadness on Serena's face.
Serena should be used to it by now. His rudeness, his indifference, even his cold nature. But it still hurt her. She couldn't pretend that she didn't care anymore.
She turned her attention back to her friends, laughing at Blair's joke, and trying to get back into the conversation.
"Yeah," she said light-heartedly to Blair's question. "Did I never tell you about that time where I was really drunk and…"
"Because Serena's stories never start with that sentence?" He interrupted, as though he enjoyed this constant humiliation of her. He laughed, and the guys around him smiled guiltily.
"Intelligent input, Chuck. Why don't you just go and get another drink or something? Leave us to our conversation." She had had enough of his idiotic comments, which always made her feel like shit. She locked eyes with him in an unspoken challenge.
"Bitch." He said under his breath, but everybody could hear. There was a sharp intake of breath, a collective silence, in which no-one dared to speak, but just stared from Chuck to Serena, unsure how to act.
She laughed at him derisively and then carried on with her story, not rising to his challenge. She would not be responsible for making their company squirm in their seats with embarrassment. She was, after all, an Upper East Side socialite, who did nothing if not excel in uncomfortable social situations.
Her relationship with Chuck was complicated. No one understood. And if she were them, she wouldn't either. Because he was a bastard to her in public. He was rude, nasty, and he flirted openly with other girls.
They all wondered why she stayed with him. But that was because they didn't know what he was like behind closed doors. Because appearance was everything for Upper East Siders. Because while Serena had to keep up her reputation as a charming socialite, it was just as important to Chuck to keep up his reputation as a selfish prick.
To each his own.
And she accepted that. She had always known that about him, and had always tried to accept these faults. Because when they were alone, there was no more charming, selfless and kind gentleman in the whole of the Upper East Side.
And so she held on to their relationship for dear life. She still didn't know if it was worth it, she knew that it wasn't good for her, but she couldn't let go.
You said I must eat so many lemons
'Cause I am so bitter.
I said
"I'd rather be with your friends mate 'cause they are much fitter."
Yes, it was childish and you got aggressive,
And I must admit that I was a bit scared,
But it gives me thrills to wind you up.
My fingertips are holding on to the cracks in our foundation,
And I know that I should let go,
But I can't.
And every time we fight I know it's not right,
Every time that you're upset and I smile.
I know I should forget, but I can't.
"Seriously, Chuck, do you really have to be like that?"
"Come off it, Serena, I was just messing around. And you can be such a fucking society whore sometimes!" He said calmly as he poured himself a glass of scotch in his hotel suite, the venom pouring out in his words.
"You embarrassed me in front of everyone, not to mention making all our friends uncomfortable. You're such a bastard sometimes." She shouted with all her energy as she threw a pillow at him.
"Why the fuck do you care? Why the fuck does it matter what other people think?" He shouted back at her, throwing the pillow back.
Their fights were always violent. They were both fiery, stubborn people, and their fights were colossal. The whole floor could probably hear them yelling now, but for once, neither of them cared what other people would think.
"Because I like having friends. Because I want to have friends. And because that's what we do. I have to be the Marcia-fucking-Brady of the Upper East Side, and yeah, sometimes I want to kill myself, but that's the way it is, you self-centred dick."
"Why are you so bitter about it the whole time then, Serena? You must eat so many fucking lemons, you sour bitch, 'cause you just can't seem to get over the fact that we all have responsibilities, we all have roles, and you aren't the only one who has to be what the fucking Upper East Side requires." He spat, banging his glass down on the table and moving towards her.
"Whatever, Chuck. Don't tell me about your fucking responsibilities, you couldn't care less about what is expected of you. You're the man whore of the Upper East Side. Compare yourself to anyone else. Any of your mates are better for me. Nate's fitter than you, nicer than you, a better fucking lay than you. So get over yourself." She knew it was childish, she knew it would hit home. She knew Chuck hated her for sleeping with Nate. That had been the one thing that had always seriously threatened their relationship. But he deserved it right then.
As his hand came into contact with her face, she wasn't even surprised, she had provoked it, had fully expected it to happen. "Get out, you fucking slut, get out right now."
His face was red with anger, his fists clenched, his knuckles white. And she ran, tears streaming from her eyes. Because this was bad, even for them.
She had pushed him too far. She had been entirely at fault for that, and she knew it. He was not an aggressive man. He would never hit a woman. And she had done that to him.
And so she held on to their relationship for dear life. She still didn't know if it was worth it, she knew that it wasn't good for her, but she couldn't let go.
Your face is pasty 'cause you've gone and got so wasted, what a surprise.
Don't want to look at your face 'cause it's makin' me sick.
You've gone and got sick on my trainers,
I only got these yesterday.
Oh, my gosh, I cannot be bothered with this.
Well, I'll leave you there 'till the mornin',
And I purposely wont turn the heating on
And dear God, I hope I'm not stuck with this one.
She walked in and saw him at the bar, nearly passed out, but still taking slow gulps of his drink. It was taking all his energy to lift his head up to the glass, before it smacked down to hit the bar again.
They hadn't spoken since their argument. It had been two days and no one had seen Chuck anywhere. Not even on Gossip Girl. He hadn't left the hotel.
By the looks of it, he had been at that bar for the last two days, drowning his sorrows.
"Chuck, what are you doing to yourself?" His face was white; she had never seen him like this. He could usually hold his drink well, and barely even felt compromised. These were new levels for Chuck, and she was scared.
She knew it was because of her. The man was probably torn up with guilt and self-hatred. But he needed to understand that she didn't blame him for it, that she knew it was her fault.
"Serena…I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…" He stammered, letting her put his arm over her shoulder. He began to lift himself up from the stool. Suddenly, he stopped moving. He looked at her momentarily, and then bent over and threw up all over her brand new Jimmy Choos.
"Oh for fuck's sake!" She didn't know if she could be bothered with this. She dragged him to the elevator and pushed him in it, pressing the number of his floor before leaving him there, slumped in the corner. She would leave him there till morning, when someone would find him and take care of him. But not her.
My fingertips are holding onto the cracks in our foundation,
And I know that I should let go,
But I can't.
And every time we fight I know it's not right,
Every time that you're upset and I smile.
I know I should forget, but I can't.
And every time we fight I know it's not right,
Every time that you're upset and I smile.
I know I should forget, but I can't.
The next day she went to see him. She was worried, not sure what would happen when he realised it was her. She stood out side the hotel room door, looking at the floor, thinking of what to say.
He opened it, staring at her without speaking. She looked back at him, their gazes unwavering.
Because this is what he does, he waits. He waits for her to say something, to do something, to sort it out. He waits for her to make it up to him.
He is a Bass, and he will not be the first to cave.
She smiles slightly, amused by this game they insist on playing, this unspoken competition between them. And she smiles because she loves that he is upset, that he cares enough to be upset. His episode in the bar last night, that showed her. That proved everything to her. Because it was so un-Chuck to do that, to drown his sorrows because of a girl. But she had done that to him. And even thought it wasn't some knightly act, it was enough for her. It was his way of showing that he cared.
She stepped forward, towards him.
"I love you." She said it almost defiantly, as though she didn't care what he thought, even though it meant everything to her. He looked at her incredulously, not moving for a second.
Then he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her passionately, pushing the door closed.
And so she held on to their relationship for dear life. She still didn't know if it was worth it, she knew that it wasn't good for her, but she couldn't let go.