A/N: My first Gossip Girl drabble/fic. Good, bad, ugly? Let me know. :)
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If you ever want something,
And you call, call,
Then I'll come running.
When Your Mind's Made Up
Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova
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It was the middle of the night, and Blair Waldorf was currently somewhere between heartbroken and furious. She could feel a headache beginning, and the crumpled piece of paper she was holding felt like it was burning a goddamn hole in her hand. It was ridiculous, she knew, to hate an inanimate object, but she was convinced she had never disliked something so much in her life.
Actually, that wasn't true. She was pretty sure she currently hated Chuck Bass more than the stupid piece of paper – which made sense, seeing as he had written the note she was holding.
With a harsh sigh, Blair unfolded the paper and began to reread it for what must have been the hundredth time. Now, she figured, it wouldn't hurt to make it one hundred and one. It had been twenty minutes since she had woken up to find him gone – twenty minutes that she had spent alternately reading the note and squashing it into a ball.
I'm sorry for everything, it began.
Blair smiled in spite of herself. Chuck Bass apologizing? Well, at least there was that. Even though, given the circumstances, it actually made her more concerned that he was spiraling enough to say he was sorry. But whatever, at this point, she would take what she could get. She continued reading.
You deserve much better.
Well, that was debatable, at best. Blair wondered how much better she actually deserved. She was, in her own right, nearly as messed up as he was. And in any case, deserve was such a funny word. What did it matter when she only wanted him?
Don't come looking for me.
And then there was this line. Chuck was clearly telling her to stay put, to give up, to quit caring, to stop loving him. And of course it was no problem for him to say that, Blair thought. He didn't have to deal with waking up to an empty bed, or have to be stuck worrying whether someone was self-destructing and jumping off buildings.
Blair ran a hand through her hair. Yeah, well, of course it was harder for her. It was always easier to be the one leaving than to be the one left behind.
And to make matters worse, she still had a choice to make. She knew what Chuck wanted her to do, but what did she want to do? Was it worth going after him? She knew what would happen if she did. He would insult her, she would snap right back, and then she would most likely end up crying alone somewhere.
Blair thought of how her heart would inevitably be broken – again. She thought of everything that could go wrong – of everything that already had. She thought of what it would mean for them both if she went after him – of what it would mean if she didn't.
Then she realized that it didn't matter, not really, not anymore. And, now that she thought about it, maybe it had never mattered at all.
Because no matter what would happen to her if she followed him, it would be worth it. It would always be worth it because she would always love him. Because it was always about him, even when it wasn't.
Like when she had worn the nicest dress she owned to Serena's birthday party freshman year, hoping to outshine her best friend, and only Chuck had told her that the dress looked nice . Actually, looking back, Blair was pretty sure he had told her she looked like a whore, but she figured that was synonymous with beautiful in his book. And in any case, his words had made her night.
Blair thought of Marcus, of the Snowflake Ball, of every other damn thing she had ever done. It was always about him.
She would go after Chuck, of course she would. After all, what other choice did she have?