He needs to find them. He knows it's the only way.

He clears his throat and exhales slowly. There is a steely glint in his eyes, he is confident, he is determined, he is going to get this right.

Another deep breath, and here it is: "I love you." It is a statement, a fact. It is cold, and regular, and nothing.

"I love you?" Now it's a question. A request. A hand runs through his hair.

"I…love you." It is uncertain. It's weak. His eyebrows furrow.

A sigh, "I love you." It is resigned. It is submission.

Frustration: "I love you!" It's angry, harsh. It is bitingly real.

A groan. "I love you." It is muttered. It is tired. Nearly forgotten.

Eyes lock, shoulders square, and, "I love you." It is assured. And it's true. But it isn't right.

He slumps. He straightens. He turns, and turns back. He grimaces. He is failing, miserably. But he is trying.

His reflection is unforgiving. He stares coolly, thinking, relaxing. His mind focuses on her. It's always been her.

He smirks. "I love you." It's casual, and calm. It's clear and easy, it's smooth. It's perfect, he thinks, and he smirks again.

And then he notices the brown eyes in the mirror are not his own, and he turns in shock to see the girl for whom this is all for.

His throat shuts down, he pales, and he stares wide-eyed, waiting.

She's all poise, as though she hasn't been standing in the hall this entire time, as though she hasn't heard each "I love you," each attempt, each assessment.

There's a sparkle in her eyes and a hope renewed and she tries desperately not to get ahead of herself as she stares at the boy in front of her.

Silence. She won't speak first. He will find the words. He'll try.

"I love you, Blair." It is nervous, it is broken, but there is the faintest smirk playing on his lips, and it isn't perfect but he hopes it will be enough.

It's more than enough. She's in his arms and his lips meet hers and he's flying.

She's crying and laughing, but mostly just kissing, and she feels complete for the first time in a long time.

There are no words now. No words are needed. Only moans, and sighs, and bliss.

He's holding her, and she's nestled in his arms. "I love you," he whispers. It's soft, and content, full of hope. It's perfect.

She smiles into his lips. "I love you too, Chuck."

Hands meld, lips brush, hearts flutter.

"I'm glad you heard me," he says, finding her gaze.

"I'm glad you love me," she answers, smiling broadly, face still wet with tears, eyes shining.

He grins. "Me too." And once again, there are no words.

There's Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck. Together. In love. Happy.

He found the words. She found his heart. They found each other.