He should have known, really.
Three words, eight letters.
"I want..."
Not enough. Of course it wasn't enough; how could it ever be enough?
Blair Waldorf was not someone you wanted, felt attracted to, lusted after or desired (though Chuck did all of those things).
Blair Waldorf was someone you loved.
It was that simple; you either loved her with your whole soul or hated her with your whole soul.
She was not an accessory, or a fantasy; she was Blair. And Blair Waldorf did not do half measures.
She put her whole into everything, and from her equal, expected no less.
What Chuck didn't understand, and what he decided she simply didn't get (because she was too stubborn) was how she could want all of him. His whole.
People could deal with parts of him.
Bart liked the motivated son who had his eye for business and unfailing loyalty.
Nate liked the best friend who always had his back, who made him laugh and gave him weed and good advice.
Serena liked the stepbrother who got in her space and teased her and looked after her best friend and her little brother, and picked her up after a night out gone too wild.
All his circle liked the upper east sider who could party, outdrink anyone, and had all the right connections and hilarious exploits.
Women - well, it was obvious which part of him they liked.
Eric liked the big brother who didn't judge or treat him like he was wrapped in cotton wool.
Lily liked the charming, amusing stepson who gave a good speech at her wedding.
But that wasn't Chuck.
That was a side of Chuck.
That left out selfish, soulless, twisted, cruel, lying, bitter Chuck who took great pleasure in hurting people.
The Chuck who had killed his own mother, and still never stopped letting his father down.
The Chuck who stole his best friend's girl, and didn't even feel that guilty till he got caught.
The Chuck who blackmailed and ruined that girl's reputation for revenge, and enjoyed every second of it.
The Chuck who told that girl she was rode hard and put away wet, and even felt a twist of joy at seeing how her face crumpled because he'd succeeded.
The Chuck who told that girl he could be romantic for her, finally got her to himself and depending on him, and then abandoned her at a helipad and spent the next few months screwing as many whores as possible to get rid of her.
The Chuck who had the chance he didn't deserve to get her back, who was determined to fight every obstacle till he did - and then stopped, refusing, as soon as she asked for three words.
The Chuck who didn't love anyone.
And that was the truth.
How did he even know what love was?
He had admitted to Nate that he was in love with her; it had slipped out by mistake.
But being in love was different to loving.
You fell in love; it was easy. As easy as a thousand butterflies churning in your gut that refused to disappear and drove you crazy. Falling in love with her had been beyond his control; his best efforts and all his fighting had done nothing to stop it.
But loving someone?
Love was selfless. If you loved someone, you trusted them with everything.
And far more terrifying than the concept that Blair didn't love him (because, really, how could she?) was the concept that she did. The idea that she would trust him with everything she was, with her happiness and her feelings and her.
Say it, and I'm yours.
He wanted her, more than anything or anyone he'd wanted in his entire life, but want wasn't the same as love.
He could lie to Blair Waldorf to hurt her, but he couldn't lie to make her happy.
It was three stupid words that meant everything, and he'd made his choice and decided not to say them.
He was too selfish to let her go, and he was still too selfish and too afraid to give her everything.
A/N The hiatus is driving me crazy, so I've been re-watching season 2...and that scene at the white party gets me every time.
