She felt like everything was spinning. Collapsed pretzel-style on the floor with one hand holding her head and another grasping the toilet for support, she watched her teardrops hit the checkered pattern tiles. She was pathetic. It only made sense that everyone had either left her or was disinterested.
It had been a month since Serena had left without saying goodbye. Since then, she had no one to talk to. Now her dad had left her too and even Nate was beginning to act like he wanted nothing to do with her. Stupidly she had once tried to write a letter to her best friend, to explain how everything was falling apart, but she didn't send it. Even if she needed Serena, she knew that Serena didn't want her, she probably never did.
Her throat was scratching now from performing the one act that provided her comfort and control and from muffling her sobs so no one would hear them. She needed something to drink, but water seemed too weak. She didn't want to think anymore. She couldn't.
Dorota was in the kitchen, preparing food that Blair knew would only make people want her even less, and this made it easy for her to sneak out alone without a word. Even if she had, by chance, run into her mother, it's not like she would have cared.
She found herself at The Palace bar, but it was only six o'clock and her company were mostly of the alcoholic businessmen and scumbag variety. Under normal circumstances, she would have cared. Tonight she didn't.
The bartender approached her and offered a charming smile, "What are we having?"
She considered it for a moment, "Mint Julep," because she wanted to feel its cleanly sting.
The bartender made it quickly and professionally, he garnished it with a mint sprig and placed it neatly in front of her. She muttered her thank you.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" The voice sounded familiar.
She turned around to find Chuck Bass taking the seat next to her. His father did own the hotel and he did reside in it, so she was not surprised by his presence. If anyone was said to rely on alcohol at all times, it was him. Rather, she was surprised by the fact that she hadn't even considered this fact when deciding to come. It was like some sort of subconscious force had directed her here. Maybe it was because, by some sick twisted turn of events, Chuck Bass really was the closest thing to a friend she had left.
Staring at her mint julep, she still hadn't answered his question, "Waldorf?" It worried him a little.
"What?" She snapped.
He smirked, "Isn't it a little early to be drinking?"
"I could ask you the same," she scoffed.
"Fair enough," he conceded with a turn to the bartender to order a scotch, "But seriously, why are you here? Did Nate somehow convince you? Because if so, I mean, I have to give him credit, I've been telling him…"
Her eyes scrunched up and she pursed her lips, "No, I'm just here alone. Okay?"
He hesitated, "Okay…"
She knew she would have to offer some sort of explanation though, "You should know better than anyone that people turn towards alcohol for comfort."
"It is one of its many uses," he gulped down his scotch and slid the glass back across the counter, "But what does Princess Waldorf need comforting for anyways?"
She wanted to strangle him right then and there. As much as she found him repulsive, he was still a part of the non-judging breakfast club and he didn't even seem to notice Serena had left. He didn't even care.
"You're an ass," she sneered.
"What?" It was a rare occasion that he was genuinely shocked at being ordained that title.
"Serena is gone…at boarding school," she paused, "…and she didn't say goodbye."
He sighed, "C'mon Waldorf, we all know how Serena is, it's not like…"
She grasped her glass, not looking at him, "I wasn't done. My dad left for a 31 year old model. A male one. Nate won't talk to me either," then she laughed, "It really looks like you're all I have left now."
He gulped, unsure of what to say or do, so he avoided any real issues, "I feel a little hurt you only consider me a consolation prize. I'm Chuck Bass."
"Forgive me, for not thinking Chuck Bass, Manhattan's sick, twisted, likely STD-infested billionaire playboy is a replacement for everything else in, or at least that used to be in, my life," she wasn't amused by his remarks today.
He caught on, "Alright, slow down there Waldorf, that's not how it is," he continued, "I know I'm not Serena, and I know I'm not Nathaniel, but I still do care about you."
"Great," she rolled her eyes in sarcastic response.
Now he was annoyed, "No, look at me," she did, "I'm serious."
"You'd care about anything in your field of vision that looks good in a skirt."
The corners of his mouth turned upward, "While I'm not denying that I can't help but enjoy seeing you in a skirt," she scoffed, "I can't let you stay here."
"What?"
"I just told you Waldorf, I have some sort of concern for you," he felt that he had to continue, "And as Nathaniel's best friend, I can't let his girlfriend stay at some bar by herself with these losers," he gestured around himself to make his point.
"Then you should probably sit somewhere else," she flashed him an ingenuine smile.
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, "Whatever, we're leaving."
"You mean you're leaving."
"No, I don't. I do own this bar, sweetheart," he paused, "So, you either leave with me or I'll have you kicked out."
"Oh, is that the only way you know how to get girls to go home with you? Charming."
"I'm not joking."
"Go ahead, Bass." It was a test.
He groaned, "Blair, please. You know I can't leave you here alone."
"Fine."
He held out the coat that had been draped over the back of her chair, "I'll have Arthur pull the limo around."
She registered the mention of his chauffer, "Absolutely not."
"What? Why?"
"I will not step foot inside that nauseating contraption. I'd rather not contract anything from it."
He decided it was not worth arguing at this point, "Just so you know, Waldorf, I actually haven't slept with anyone in the limo. I like to maintain personal boundaries," he considered this, "Though, that it is not to say that I haven't…"
"I don't need a play by play."
"Fine. I'll call a car service."
"Thank you," she replied, though in a way that implied his gesture should have been expected.
It was only a short while before a sleek black car pulled up to The Palace's curb. The driver stepped out to hold the door open and Blair slid in, surprised to find that Chuck had followed suit.
"What are you doing? You live here."
"I'm not stupid, Waldorf," he continued, "I know the kinds of games you could play, I've played them before myself. I'm just making sure you actually go home."
He was right, "Fine."
It was silent for the majority of the ride home. Without Nate or Serena, things felt a little out of place between the two. Though, the silence was not uncomfortable, it felt natural in its own way. Blair was also a little relieved that traffic had further increased the duration of the ride. She needed the solace and the longer time away from her home, the longer the time away from a reminder of everything that was wrong with her life.
She broke the silence when a thought occurred to her, "Chuck…"
"Yeah?"
"Do you know why Nate is being so distant?"
He paused, he couldn't do it to her, "I don't know."
It was a half-lie. Even though Chuck knew about Nate and Serena sleeping together, it was true that he didn't understand how Nate was able to be so distant from Blair. It was obvious that his best friend wanted Serena but latching onto Blair as a placeholder seemed pointless. It wasn't like Nate was using her for sex either, which was something else that he couldn't comprehend. Blair may have been untouched but she was captivating.
But now it was clear that she was hurt too. Chuck knew the feeling of being alone without anyone to really turn to. It was all he knew actually. Even though he pretended like it didn't bother him, like he actually preferred it this way, he wouldn't wish it on anybody else. He had acted like seeing Blair uncharacteristically alone at his bar early in the evening was only an unprecedented surprise but really it made him realize that she was going to hit rock bottom fast.
"Waldorf…," he studied the way she pressed her face against the window.
"Hmmm?" She was drifting away.
He didn't know what to say to make it stop, "…we're here."
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! As always, please do review with any comments, suggestions, or requests. I read and cherish them all. Also, I'm not sure yet whether I am going to leave this one a one-shot or continue it, so any thoughts regarding that would be especially helpful.
Finally, a special thank you to Bassward for the request for the basis of this story and inspiration.