This little tidbit popped into my head after seeing the preview for The Serena Also Rises, so I just had to get it out
She forced herself to take in deep breaths. Tears pricked her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She was Blair-Freaking-Waldorf dammit! She would not be humiliated, any more than she already had anyway, by her so-called-best friend at her own mother's fashion show.
Iz and Penelope gush over how amazing Serena looks on the runway and Blair has to physically tighten her fist into a ball to avoid giving into the urge to ruin their perfect nose jobs.
She doesn't think it can get much worse. Serena is up there on the stage of her own mother's fashion show, flaunting Eleanor's designs and looking freaking perfect as always while she, the designers own daughter sits in the second row. The second row!
Blair takes in another deep breath of air but the breathing exercises aren't working and she slowly feels herself slipping into panic mode. And then, as is the natural course of things in her life, things got worse.
Eleanor herself stepped out onto stage, waving and murmuring polite thank you's as the crowd screamed their approval of her new line. Blair herself knew that the humble act was just a ploy. Eleanor was just like her, lavishing up any and all attention that others gave her.
That wasn't what made Blair's stomach drop and her knees weaken. No, it was the ever-so-casual hug that transpired between designer and model that made Blair want to run to the bathroom and stick a finger down her throat, purging herself of all the bad and making herself whole again.
Up on stage Serena beamed brightly at Eleanor and took the older womans hand into her's before whispering something into her ear. The designer smiled brightly before nodding her head enthusiastically and pulled the blonde into another hug, which dozen's of camera's rushed to capture.
Blair's throat tightened and she pushed the bubbling nausea feeling back where it belonged. The tears were stronger now, pricking her eyes with a force Blair couldn't seem to hold back. She ducked her head as she mumbled an excuse to leave, so that Iz and Penelope don't see the wet trails that have made their way down her cheeks. She cowers so they won't see her this way, vulnerable and weak. But the gesture is unnecessary; neither girl looks up as Blair makes her way out of the fashion show and into the crisp air of the night.
She stands there by her limo, undecided as to where to go. She wants to go somewhere safe, somewhere that feels like home but Blair's mind is blank when it is pressed to think of a location.
That's where Serena finds her; leaning against the limo door, make-up smudged underneath her eyes, head tilted to the side, looking like a little girl lost and full of doubt. "B!" Serena declares warmly. "Did you see me? God! I have never been so scared in my entire life. I thought I was going to fall a dozen times." Serena laughs the statement off with a careless grin.
"So a couple of the models are headed to this bar down the street, you wanna come?" "No," comes Blair's quiet answer. Serena lets out an aggravated sigh; "Look Blair I don't know what your problem is but I haven't done anything wrong." Blair's only response is a blank look and Serena continues, "I know things have been different lately but I'm just trying to have fun. I'm just trying to be myself and I feel like I can't do that around you because I'm always afraid I'm going to end up hurting you. I'm just….. I'm tired of trying to hold myself back so I don't outshine you Blair."
Blair laughs and the sound is harsh to even her ears, "You think that this is about your "light" or about how you're hanging out with socialite's now. This isn't about that! This isn't even about the fact that you get dumped by some Brooklyn reject and decide to silently dethrone me and take over the school."
Serena opened her mouth to protest that last statement but decided against it and instead asked, "Then what is this about B? Why the hell are you acting this way towards me?" "This is about her! This is about you going around and acting like the daughter she always wanted."
"I would never do that to you," Blair declared vehemently. "If your dad came back to the city tomorrow and tried to talk to me, I would tell him to go to hell because that's what you would need me to do. I would never be buddy-buddy with the guy that abandoned you S."
Serena shook her head, " She asked to be in the show Blair. It was the polite thing to do. It doesn't mean anything." Blair shook her head as frustrated tears sprang to her eyes. "You don't get it," she murmured. "I don't need you to be polite to my mother Serena. I need you to be my best friend." "I am," Serena interjected. "Then hate her!" Blair cried.
"I need you to hate her! I need you to despise her very being because she couldn't give a rat's ass about me. Because she leaves me every chance she gets and because nothing, nothing I ever do will be good enough for her and you know that! You know it!"
"I need you to hate her," Blair's voice trembled and broke, "Because I can't. I needed that from you Serena and you just put on a fancy dress and hand- served her the daughter of her dreams. I just….." Blair's voice faded out as she pressed a hand to her forehead and turned around towards the limo.
"B…" Serena whispered, "I'm sorry." Blair shook her head and wiped away her tears, "Don't be." Her voice was no longer shaky but cold and emotionless. "Blair-" "I'm over it," Blair declared quietly.
Blair turned around to face the blond, a perfect mask now over her face to cover her emotions. "You want my mother, you can have her. You want the throne, it's yours. I'm over it." She repeated.
Serena stayed silent, not knowing what to say or what to do. Blair looked up, her eyes meeting those of her once best friend. She paused before speaking the words that would make Serena feel as miserable as she did in this moment.
"And I'm over our friendship," she declared quietly. Just loud enough for Serena to hear and then Blair Waldorf held her head high as she opened the limo door and stepped inside, ordering the driver to take her away; leaving a broken blond on the sidewalk in her wake.