cherry flavored
summary: "Hello." She says in her tiny voice and he thinks she's cute and her lips are the same color as his favorite kind of licorice and he decides to like her for it.
pairing: blair/nate.
::
He presses his hand against his neck.
"I don't know what you want from me." The words feel woolen is his mouth, like he's said them a million times.
"No." She whispers. "I don't suppose you would."
::
It was always like this.
He was her prince charming, the one she could always count on, and she loved him for it, loved him with shining eyes and bright smiles and cherry red lips against perfect pale skin.
But he wasn't a good prince charming, not really, and he was distracted by all kinds of things, but mostly girls, girls who weren't her, girls with beautiful blue eyes and hair that was like spun gold.
He was a bad prince charming and for a while, a long time, she hated him.
(it's always been like this: hate, love, hate, friendship, hate, love. It never changes.)
::
Sometimes, she looks at him and he shines so brightly it hurts her eyes.
::
She sees him in first grade.
"Hi." He says to her, because contrary to popular opinion, she did not picture him as her prince the second she saw him, and she certainly would never have stomped up to him and demanded such a thing. She was a Waldorf, she had class and she definitely did not stomp anywhere.
She barely spares him a second glance.
"Hello." She says in her tiny voice, and he thinks she's cute and her lips are the same color as his favorite kind of licorice and he decides to like her for it.
::
She likes red, he learns, and she likes snow and she likes ducks and she hates clashing and polka dots and heights.
"What do you love?" He asks her.
"I love Serena and my parents and Dorota."
"That's it?" He asks.
"Yes." She stares at him.
"Do you love me?"
His eyes are green, she thinks, and it reminds her of Christmas.
"Not yet." She says. "I barely know you."
He nods at this.
"Okay." He agrees. "I'll give you time."
::
"I've decided we can be friends." She says, slipping into the seat beside him.
"You can't sit there, Chuck's gonna sit there." He tells her, and what he means is stay a while.
She crosses her legs at the ankle, and means i'm not going anywhere.
::
She presses her hand against his neck and it burns his skin.
"I don't know what you want from me." She apologizes.
He kisses her (one last time).
"No," He says. "I don't suppose you would."
::
end.