AN: I seem to be pretty stuck on the whole Chuck and Blair as star-crossed-lovers-who- can't-get-their-freaking-act-together-and-seem-intent-on-torturing-themselves line of thought, so sorry if this seems a little repetitive. I can't help it.. annnnnd you'll get over it :)
The sharp edges of his shield snag and hold the smooth silk that is her very being. And soon they're so tangled and caught that he can't create enough distance to put his arms between them and push her away. Not that he's sure he would, even if that weren't the case. His shield, cold and hard, in contest with her silk, soft and fluid. One could be forgiven for backing him in that match, but with strength only in appearances he was the inevitable loser. That smooth silk can be deceptively strong, even just a single thread capable of holding him - not against his will and want, but definitely against his better and momentarily selfless judgment. He knows that single thread will eventually pull the wrong way against that carefully composed facade to leave it in tatters, and there'll be no fixing it then. He will be her undoing. To begin with, that silk will willingly give – lose – that thread to hold him there, close. It'll pucker at the site, leaving the entirety slightly flawed. But she'll justify that imperfection just with him. And when that thread pulls loose, and everything begins to fray, she'll justify that too. Because there'll be other threads; other ways to hold him. And he'll let her. Justify away, he'll think. It's selfish and cruel, he knows, but right now she's the only way he can live with himself. He'll be her undoing, true. But she'll be his, too – just in a way that's more ... beautiful and debilitating, all at the same time. She'll chip away at that shield of his, leaving him open and exposed. Open to possibility and feelings and love and her; exposed to betrayal and hurt and love and her. But the rate all of this happens never matched closely enough for it to be worth it. As fast and effectively as she worked her way through that damned shield of his, breaking down walls and paving ways, there was too much left to allow her do it unscathed. What remained still captured those strands of her perfection, stealing and damaging parts of her as she tried to fix him. And there was nothing he could do; nothing she could do. They were only human. Sometimes it doesn't matter how hard you to try not to hurt someone, or how hard you try to save someone, it just doesn't work. So when he sees the rips and tears he's causing, he knows what has to be done. He always knew it would come to this – that one day, the clock would strike twelve and the fairytale would be over. Catch. Fray. Tear. Break. You're good at that, you and your shield, Chuck Bass, the bitter thought playing over and over in his head. And so, he did the only thing he could think of – rebuilt his shield, reinforced it with self hatred, guilt and affliction. Him on one side and her on the other, far away. It would hurt. But he wasn't concerned about his own misery, only it would be so much worse for her if he let this continue, when he really did leave her in tatters, an irreparable, broken mess. He would make it as easy as possible for her – as easy as tearing a thousand little pieces of oneself from the whole can be. He could make her mad. They say it's easier when you're mad. He just hoped whoever "they" were knew what the hell they were talking about. Mad. Hate. Easier. Silence would achieve that.
Total silence.
But silence didn't hide the truth. She heard too much in that silence. If only he could see she liked who she'd become with him; that for the first time in her life she loved being Blair Waldorf, because being Blair Waldorf finally meant something. Blair Waldorf was nothing without Chuck Bass. She wasn't going to let him back down that easy. She could do this. She was determined; reassured by the fact that from the beginning, she had known that as dark and damaged as he may be, she only had to look in his eyes to know he wasn't completely written off. She could do this. He would see how wrong he had everything, how back to front this had all come out. They would go back to the way they were, because as imperfect as they were, they were happy. But when she had looked in his eyes, glazed over, dead and void, panic gripped her for the first time since she'd realised his plan. He wasn't there. She looked in his eyes and honestly saw nothing. Nothing of the man she'd fallen into a limo and then in love with. Nothing. She couldn't see him anymore.
He sees the realisation in those liquid chocolate eyes and thinks maybe, just maybe, he's done it – pushed her away from him; pushed her to safety.
Yet another AN:I could resolve this with the whole "Whatever you want to do to yourself, please don't do that to me" quote from Blair-step down off the edge of the building-live happily ever after as a happy, albeit twisted, couple resolution from the series... but to be honest, until that happens for me, writing about their happily ever after just makes me all depressed (and mighty spiteful, too, apparently!). So I'm going to leave it here, all unresolved and tortuous and frustrating. So this time art imitates life.