A/N: This was something I awkwardly came up with in the bathroom...the places we come up with stuff! If any of you are writers, you'll understand that. Next up to write is the next chapter for Midnight In Moscow, but I just had to write this while it was fresh in my head. I'm not one for AU, but I'm giving this a shot...enjoy!

Based off of the Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I do not own any of his characters (Gatsby, Jay, Tom, etc.) or the story itself. Sadly ;)


The sun glistened softly on the fresh green grass of the Bass Manor. Multiple maids and butlers flew inside and back out of the ten bedroom mansion in preparation for the festivities that were about to start. The owner of the house was none other than Charles Bass, teen billionaire and business tycoon. The young Bass had taken what his father had left him and used it to his advantage, building one of the largest enterprises in the world. He was the same notorious womanizer, stone-cold individual, and lover of the substances that he had always been in high school. However, it seemed as though ever since his schooling had ended, he went from being Chuck Bass to Charles Bass. He was more clean cut, sharp, cunning, and strong than he had ever been. Everyone had put it up to adulthood, but only he himself knew the true reason to his change in demeanor.

He was not Chuck Bass without Blair Waldorf.

She had left in haste. They had finally had everything. And it scared them both to the point of no return. For her, it was all too much.

She was a famous fashion designer now. She, like the Bass prodigy, had taken the family business into her own hands. Waldorf Designs flourished under her every touch. She was on the covers of magazines, from Elle to People, making it even harder for him to push her out of his mind. Her longtime boyfriend was Jay Buerorine, a French lawyer. By the looks of pictures he saw and words he heard from Serena, he seemed like a decent guy. But Chuck knew he wasn't what she wanted. He wasn't dark, challenging, allurious. He was just as flat as Nate was to her. He could tell this by not even meeting him.

It wasn't because he wasn't him, or because he was jealous, but he just knew by looking into those deep brown eyes. There was no spark, no light, no connectivity. The corners of her lips didn't curl up high enough, her nostrils didn't flare in delight. It was the little things that made up the big picture.

Yet he didn't go anywhere near her.

It wasn't because he didn't want her. He wanted her more than anything else in the world. She was the forbidden fruit on the tree, the purest virgin, the star that he could never grasp. And as he sat on the patio of his Hampton's home: feet rested on the brick wall and looking out into the depths of the ocean, he felt more further from her than ever. It wasn't the distance. That was the bottom of it.

It was the vacancy in his heart.

No matter how many women he slept with, nobody would ever be her. No one else would feel like fire and ice against his skin, pain and pleasure, love and hate. No one would fuel the fire in the put of his stomach or make him completely lose all of his senses. It would always be her. He had accepted this a long time ago. Six years later, he still felt chills under his skin when he thought about her.

"Mister Bass, where would you like the fire pits to be set up?" His lead butler asked him. The staff knew better than to set up things where they thought they should go. Mister Bass had a certain taste and everything had to follow it.

"Five on the patio, forming an X, all equidistant from each other. This has to be neat. This is a big event, Clarence." Chuck ordered, keeping his eyes locked on the ocean.

"Understood sir. We will comply with that." Chuck narrowed his eyes.

"You better or you all can collect your things and head out." Clarence stood tall. He had become used to Mister Bass' moods, being a summer butler at the Manor for all five years of it's existence.

"We will always diligently follow your orders Mister Bass. Now I must go tell the others." Chuck sighed and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. He had quit chain smoking after high school had ended, but thinking about her made him nervy. He watched the embers on the tip of the cigarette as he lit it with his Zippo. His insides felt like that tip: always burning and red hot, like any second he could turn to ashes. Flicking his Zippo shut, he put the stick up to his mouth and inhaled deeply. The back of his throat burned like hot coals, causing him to start coughing. The cigarette dropped to the ground and he quickly stomped it out, still hacking on and on. What was with him today? He hadn't had a day like this in a while.

Today marked seven summers since that fateful white party. He could see her flowing curls, white headband, the fake lord. It all ran so fluidly through his mind.

"Three words, eight letters, say it, and I'm yours."

He hadn't said it. It would take him until the next summer to say it. It still wasn't enough in the end. He wonders if he went back and said it then if it would change anything. He doubts it would. No matter how much you tell someone you love them, it doesn't have enough weight to fix everything.

He picked up the dimly-lit cigarette and threw it in the ashtray next to him. Of course it was still burning, it had to fit the mood. It also went with his theme. He turned around to examine the decor.

This year wasn't a white party. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was a red party. Well, it was titled the Age of Innocence. He had intended to play Gatsby, the complicated party thrower. His guests? All flat moths.

What is more dull than watching people try to be innocent? At least that's all Chuck saw at the White Party every year. The year after she had left, he attended it and sat in the corner just watching. White means innocence. It represents purity, cleanliness, and simplicity. The residents of the Upper East Side were anything but that. He watched as white dresses came off, for the right or wrong people. He observed as drinks spilled, ruining the finely pressed cotton on a jacket or dress. And most commonly, he saw people pretending to be perfect.

She wasn't innocent, perfect, pure; none of the above. Beneath that white dress was a fire, one that matched his. Nothing could hide that. Nothing is more alluring than an angel drawn to the dark side, or a devil redeemed.

His eyes moved across the red tablecloths, roses, and blood red alcoholic beverages, all meeting his liking. He watched the fires being lit, starting as little flames and igniting into big ones. He stood up slowly and made his way into the manor. The first of the guests were starting to arrive. He greeted them with a small smirk, as only he could do. The ladies smiled, flattening their dull black dresses. The men gave him small nods and lead their ladies into the main hall. This scene played out for the better of thirty minutes.

By the time his eyes locked on the white limo pulling up to his manor, the party was in full swing. The moths gathered around the music and bar, all chattering loudly and conversing in an Upper East Side manner. His step-sister caught his glance and a smirk formed on her face. She had been dying to see this play out. She adjusted her golden flapper dress and discreetly followed Chuck as he made his way out the front door.

He made his way down the stone steps, caution with every step. He watched the door with a locked gaze, captivated by it. He knew who its occupant was as soon as the first jet-black stiletto hit the pavement.

She stood up and he lost all control of his thoughts. Her brunette locks were contained in a flawless updo with a feather headband, revealing her porcelain neck. Her lips were a dark red, complimenting her blood-red flapper dress that sashayed with her every step. Gone was the White Party beauty.

This was a Waldorf in heat.

She made her way to the front of the steps, where Chuck was standing idle.

"Cat got your tongue Bass? Even after six years, I'll still enjoy to watch me make you rendered speechless." She murmured, pressing her matching wristlet to her hipbone. His eyes locked with hers, and he felt the flames rise to his throat.

"Nice to see you Waldorf. Did the French have enough of you?" She chuckled softly.

"Hardly. Nobody ever has enough of Blair Waldorf. Including you. Your eyes are practically ripping my clothes off themselves." He looked down at the ground and smirked.

"Aw the Chuck Bass smirk. Oh how I missed that. It was definitely on the list." He looked back up at her when he had composed himself to the best of his ability.

"I don't recall sending you or your delectable lawyer an invite? I took you off my Christmas card list six years ago." She stood unfazed in front of him.

"Serena put me as her plus one. You couldn't have possibly thought that she and Humphrey were back together? Please. That's so 08'." He made note to scream at his step-sister later for making him so vulnerable in front of his enemy. At least he could've put some plans together.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have your name on the guest list. I went over it last night. Clarence will not let you in." She rolled her eyes.

"Please, I'm not Queen B anymore. I'm Blair Waldorf. I'm a celebrity. The press in there will lick me up and help the both of us." Of course she has a motive for coming that isn't to see me, he thought. He sighed in defeat.

"Fine. But this doesn't mean I want you here." She shrugged.

"Doesn't mean I want to be here either." She stepped away from him gracefully and up the staircase. Chuck watched as she worked her charm on Clarence and walked in. He made his way up the staircase and stopped next to his faithful butler.

"Clarence, you're fired." He offered him one last pat on the back and made his way back into the party.


He watched her from the library. The way her shoulders shimmied when she laughed, that damn enticing neck; he drank her all up. Everyone else did as well. Multiple businessmen entertained her, prominent society women chatted with and envied her. She didn't even have to move from group to group. Everybody came to her.

She was the monarch amongst the moths. Everyone was attracted to her light.

She walked over to her best friend and whispered something in her ear. Serena smiled and nodded, taking the rest of her martini and drowning it in one gulp. They both shared a brief laugh as Blair turned to make her way up the stairs. Chuck's stomach dropped.

There was a light tapping at the door. The sound seemed to send vibrations up his body.

"Come in." He permitted, knowing well who was behind it. He listened to the click of her heels against the hardwood and then the rubbing of her pearl necklace against her dress when the heels hit the carpet. Without invitation, she took a seat in the grand chair next to him, looking out the clear window down at the party.

"It's a glorious party, I must say. Fitzgerald was always one of my favorites." She murmured, toying with her white pearls. Her ruby nails traced the smooth pearls and then down her dress. He felt his pants getting tighter and tighter.

"All of my life, I have been Daisy: pretending to be pure and innocent, wanting a cookie-cutter life, stashing away my dreams. But when it came to the moment when we could've had it all, we let it go. Now we both don't know what that life could've been like." Chuck studied her eyes and his heart sank.

The glow.

"Now..." She rested her hand on her knee and moved it up her leg, pulling up her dress slightly. He was going crazy inside. "Now I'm at a crossroad. Either I go with my Gatsby, or I go with Tom. I run into danger or I hide in security. That is, if time has just kept my love with Gatsby as a burning ember." Chuck moved his hand to the arm of her chair.

"And my body..." Her hand moved higher. "...It burns for Gatsby. But my heart begs for innocence. Sometimes I wonder where my head is." He placed his hand on top of hers and feels her leg start to tremble.

"...What if Gatsby is innocent...he might do sketchy deals, but he's still a love. Isn't all love innocent?" Her hand burns underneath his.

"The great loves are the crazy ones. L'amour fou." She murmured, moaning slightly as his hand dragged hers up higher.

"Then why don't you choose him?" He asked with hooded eyes. She closed her eyes.

"It's too hard." She cried, her body starting to tremble. He squeezed their hands.

"It doesn't have to be. Daisy and Gatsby have grown up now. It's different." She clawed at her leg as a scolding mechanism.

"But it's always going to be the same." She breathed. He flipped his hand and pressed the cool side to her burning one.

"It doesn't have to be." With that, Blair's hand grabbed his and yanked him out of his chair. She has him pressed to the cool window, partygoers beneath them oblivious to this encounter. All except Serena, who has been watching the interaction closely, but discreetly.

Chuck slowly removed Blair's white pearls with a small tug. They all fell to the floor and bounce around, making a small tapping noise. She gasped softly and locked her eyes with his.

"Innocence is for fools. The only thing that's real is what your heart speaks" He murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. Their lips slowly meet in a chaste kiss.

And with that, the spell of time is broken. The ticking of the clock dulls in the throes of passion.

Serena Van Der Woodsen smiles to herself and moves towards the fire pits outside. She might not know one thing about love, but she's learned one thing from her best friend and step-brother.

For two people in love, eventually they'll find their way back.


A/N: Please leave a review :) Also, if you're a Gatsby fan, let me know! I am obsessed haha. If you haven't read the book, I highly recommend it! There are tons of things GG has referenced in there. I know the movie is coming out, but you should really read the book first as it is a classic.