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And I thought he should know how it feels to lose you, cause trust me it's not fun.
She pauses, uncertain and insecure of what words might escape her lips and then finally brings herself to say it.
It's not like I was having the time of my life then either.
She looks away because it's too much, the kiss, the way he looked at her now, just too much. Then again, as if it could ever be any different when he is around. Corner of her eyes catches a steady tall figure approaching and she leans in to Rufus before Bart is too close to spoil this, looks at him for a short fleeting moment trying to find something unfamiliar even though she knows in her heart that other than a few frown lines it all comes down to the same him, and kisses him slowly and unsure. When she pulls back just an inch Barts back is turned to them and she looks at him walking away and smiles. Rufus is shocked and confused and almost hurt but he lies to himself to believe that she is not able to get to him the way she used to almost two decades ago. She opens her mouth to say something but he stops her.
It's all right, I'm glad I could help.
Yes well I didn't…
He does it again, interrupts, because he is afraid of what she might say.
I really should go.
She understands or at least tries to. Why is it whenever he doesn't cross the line that is when she finds herself clinging to what ifs and maybes, hopes ever so desperately that he will. Weeks later she is glad he doesn't cross it, after the effect he had on her starts to wash off. But she waits for him to turn around, to give her even the slightest of chance for something. The wait is excruciating and it's not until the elevator rings that she realizes he is actually walking away. So she follows him without a word. They stand in silence until the elevator door closes and he pins her against the wall and kisses her with a force she recognizes a little too well and it leaves her out of breathe. A forever ago in a dark backstage storage room where she was his, just like now, after a fight which, compared to the tangled limbs part, she doesn't remember at all. It's only more now, with the nostalgia, so much time and space and lost moments they could've shared, between them and she can see it in his eyes, the anger and all, but it's happening too fast and as his hand is slipping further up her dress she is spiraling out of control and knows there nothing anymore she can or even want to do about this.
Somewhere between the fourth and second floor she whispers 'Im sorry' in his ear as he is leaving a mark on the side of her neck and he pulls away, puts loose strands of hair he messed up behind her ear. For what?
For everything.
He never did ask why, never hears how she remembers it. The breaking his heart part. He just assumes this is what she is apologizing for, but isn't quite sure for which time she is sorry, for the one twenty minutes ago or twenty years ago.
It's all right.
He is just so lost in her scent, and the feel of her against him and not strong enough to let this stop what's inevitably happening between them.
And she knows he was always the better person, better with grand gestures and definitely better to her than she was ever to him. She mumbles 'you never lost me' and looks away shy, because Lily Van Der Woodsen was never the heart on a sleeve type. He kisses her slow and certain.
She follows him home, to an empty loft in Brooklyn, because some things never change and as much she tries to fake distaste she doesn't remember ever feeling more at home than now with him carrying her into his bedroom with her legs around his waist and trails of kisses from her neck over her collar bone and down. It goes fast, and its rough just enough to remember who they used to be and soft and tender when he slows down to make a memory of her to take with him years later. After, she doesn't speak, just curls up to him, traces her fingertips lazily over his chest and looks up with a sleepish smile across her face and he doesn't understand how he ever convinced himself that he can be happy without this. Her.