Final Kiss
When will I see you again?
You left with no goodbye not a single word was said
No final kiss to seal anything
I had no idea of the state we were in
It was a humid day, the heat sticking to people's skin, causing undignified sweat to make tracks down their skin. Unusually hot for that time of year, most seeking shelter in public places. Of course she was wealthy enough to have a very good air conditioning system. It was why she had stayed home, declining Serena's offer of beach and ice cream and tanning. No one ever looked at her when Serena was in a bikini, understandable but still not desirable.
Unfortunately though she was wealthy enough to afford air conditioning, there was the problem of over use. It chose to break down of course, like a common Brooklyn system, not realising it was being used by the upper crust of society. She had fumed, yelling at Dorota as if the Polish maid had somehow schemed for this to happen. Her mother, typically, had opted to take a day with some new squeeze, reclining in some spa or other while her daughter suffered the indignity of trying to talk to maintenance. Apparently even they didn't work on a Sunday.
Eventually Dorota had escaped to purchase a lesser air conditioner which used common ice. Blair had demanded she return with sorbet and strawberries, the maid agreeing to everything in order to escape the heat of the apartment. Now Blair suffered alone, attempting to cool herself with ice while she sweated like one of the less wealthy masses. She hadn't expected any visitors, stripping down to a loose fitting white shift, not even bothering with a gown for modesty. If anyone wished to come up the doorman would have to ring. Besides everyone knew Blair Waldorf would never accept company which she had no prior arrangement with, it just wasn't done.
She sipped covertly at her glass of orange juice, practically no pulp of course, only the best for her. The absence of pulp wasn't very comforting at a time like this however, failing to make the sweet juice any cooler, or prevent the drops of undignified sweat from slipping down her brow and stinging her eyes. She contemplated ringing Dorota again, making sure the maid remembered the sorbet and perhaps demanding some champagne, they'd run out of the brand she liked. The sound of the elevator stopped her finger just as it was about to press the button, the unexpected interruption causing her phone to slip and fall softly onto the plush carpet.
She quickly rose at the rude intrusion, turning in anger and annoyance. Typically Chuck Bass stood in the entrance corridor, staring back at her. Instinctively her hands crossed over her chest, for modesty's sake though it seemed like a rather moot point right then. Chuck didn't raise his eyebrow however, or make some snide comment. He just stood there in his pin striped Versaci suit and looked oddly helpless.
"Chuck, is everything all right?" she fills the empty silence with the soft question, actual concern tinging her voice. He looked odd, slightly ruffled, his usually pristine appearance marred by his untucked shirt and his loose tie. All thoughts of the white party, of his failure to say those three perfect words, left her head. When one of their group was in trouble, everything else took second place. Chuck and Blair took that particular rule very seriously.
He doesn't answer, but at the sound of her voice his knees seem to buckle, and he looks like he is about to fall. Her bare feet make small rustling noises as she rushes forward and grabs him before he can collapse. She quickly takes his weight, he leans on her heavily, threatening to topple her over. They both sway there for a moment, like drunks, she can smell the slight twinge of scotch on his breath, the smell saturated into his suit. He managed to right them, balancing on his own legs once more, his hand coming up to grip her hair tightly. It almost hurt, but she said nothing, just held him while he breathed heavily. In, out, in, out. She starts counting. She gets to fifteen before he lifts his head off her shoulder.
She looks up at him, and he looks down at her, his hazel eyes dark and full of so many things she doesn't even know the words to. And then suddenly his lips are on hers, hungry and burning. She feels heat separate from the warm cloistered air, heat that springs up from inside, filling her not unpleasantly, making every part of her feel alive. She doesn't push away, doesn't think to ask him what is wrong, just allows him to lead her. In his desperation he almost lifts her up as they back their way up the staircase, stealing kisses, leaving a trail of clothes like breadcrumbs.
She comes to herself once they reach her bedroom, ignoring the taste of salt and heat as he desperately pushes her towards the soft sheets.
"Chuck wait," it came out more like a breathy whisper, an indistinct noise. But he paused immediately, his lips just grazing the velvet skin of her neck and she wondered if maybe she should just keep quiet, morals be damned. She couldn't though, she had to know. So she pushed him back, her manicured nails almost digging into his flesh, looked up at him with wide brown eyes and slightly parted red lips. "What's wrong?" it wasn't exactly the question she wanted to ask, but as his skin left hers the comforting heat became almost an ache and the humidity closed in once more, suppressing her, making it hard to breathe.
His hazel eyes catch hers, the sunlight filtering in from the window make them seem almost green. He looks like a drowning man, sweat has plastered his usually coiffed hair. There's a small bruise under his eye she hadn't noticed, she resists the urge to reach out and brush it with her fingertips.
"I love you."
It's the last answer she expected. Perhaps she should have known this would end in disaster considering the question that was asked. But all she heard were those three words, ringing out from his parted lips. No fear, or maybe fear was the reason why. And then his mouth is suddenly on hers again, the searing heat enveloping her once more. She doesn't resist as he guides her gently onto her bed, still in shock.
He had said it, those three words, eight letters.
I love you, was all that she think.
I love you was all that she could feel.
It fills her whole being. Maybe that's why she doesn't notice his urgent desperation, the way he's kissing her like it was for the last time.
I love you.
The warm light was dimmer now, the sheets half covering her bare shoulders, soft as only real silk can be. She came to herself slowly, the events dribbling into her conscience sluggishly but surely. Her body felt sore, yet she'd never felt more relaxed, like she could just lay there forever in warm comfort. The heat no longer seemed oppressive. A small smile spread lightly across her face as she recollected, him taking her into his arms, kissing her. Those three words, said with a surety she never thought she would ever hear from Chuck Bass. 'I love you.' She allows her eyes to slip open ever so slowly, wanting to savour the moment for just that minute longer. Turns her head languidly to the side.
Her eyes widen as she sees where he lay was empty, not a trace he had been there. She sat up slowly but surely, dread building as she moves the sheets, as if he was hidden. She turned her legs, her polished toes hitting the carpet before she knows what she is doing. She doesn't bother with a dressing gown, taking the whole sheet wrapped around her she rushes for the door, flinging it open and running down the stairs two at a time. She doesn't think about Eleanor or Dorota, all she thinks about is him. He's not in the foyer though, not sitting at the piano keying a soft tone with dexterous fingers. Not helping himself to some of her father's vintage scotch which he'd left behind. The house was empty save for Blair.
He must have left a note of course, a reason for why he wasn't there. She didn't rush up the stairs with this explanation however, taking them more slowly, as if she already knew. She searched carefully, clinically. First for a written note, something on her custom stationary penned lovingly while she slept and placed somewhere prominent. Nothing however. She even knelt down and glanced under the bed, deigning to put her hand under and search the empty cavity in vain. Eventually she went to the more obvious place, her phone. Picking up the red metal from the bedside draw she flicked it open. A small precise zero was next to the white envelope on the screen. She double checked just in case, but nothing.
Next to the dread some fear began to well up. She knew him, she was sure she knew him better then anyone. He would never do this, never to her. So that only meant something bad had happened, it must have. She frantically now pressed the number one, the phone automatically dialling those familiar digits. Her heart was in her throat as she waited for it to ring, and ring….and ring…. It went to voicemail, his familiar drawl.
"Chuck Bass here, leave a message and I may get back to you, if I feel like it."
She engaged before it could beep. Pressed the one again…
She tried three more times before she gave up. Pressed the number two on her speed dial instead.
"B. hey, what's up?" Serena's sunny voice sounded through the receiver, not a care in the world for the leggy blonde. Blair could hear the familiar sound of traffic, obviously her friends daily revel had finished and she was making her way home.
"Hey," she tried working to make her voice sound normal, calm and controlled. "Have you heard from Chuck at all today?"
"Chuck?…No, why what's he done this time?" there is eminent patience in her friends voice, along with a teasing quality. She hasn't noticed her friends strained tone yet.
"Nothing…I just…Can you ask Eric…please S. I just…" She choked the words out through a tight throat, almost impossible.
"B wh-?"
"Please S, I really need you to ask," she's begging now, Blair Waldorf never begs.
"Okay, I will," Serena is more subdued now, the phone immediately engaged as she understood the urgency of the situation.
Blair watched the ticking Parisian clock on her bedside table, trying to regulate her breathing with the ticks. Dread kept on building inside of her, filling up every empty moment with white noise.
Her phone trilled suddenly loudly, her fingers shaking slightly as she fumbled to answer the call. Her nail chipped on the cold hard metal but she didn't even care.
"What is it?" she demanded immediately from Serena, her whole body tensed.
"Eric said…" her friend hesitated here, sounding shocked herself, trying to absorb it.
"What Serena?" her voice is shrill, desperate sounding even to her own ears.
"He's gone B…Bart took him to the airport. Eric said they'd had a humungous fight this morning, something about military school…I didn't even know..."
Serena trailed off into obscurity, Blair let the phone slip between her fingers, let it fall onto the carpet. She didn't even bother to pick it up, bile rising in her throat, the bitter disgusting taste filling her mouth. She ran to her familiar cream bathroom, her knees giving out at the porcein toilet. She knelt there and expelled everything from her stomach, until there was nothing left and she was just dry wretching, her salty tears and snot mixing with the foul taste in her mouth. Eventually it was over, her stomach and throat finished spasming, She rested her heated forehad against the side of the cool white bathtub. The tears didn't stop however, the sobs choking her until breathing became a struggle. She wished the memories were as easy to expel as her stomach.
She had seen the many sides of Chuck Bass, known him since they were both kindergartners. He had done many horrible things to her recently. But she had thought that would always remain sacred, to both of them. Those three words, eight letters. They were supposed to mean something, they were supposed to be everything, they were meant to change everything.
But he had left without saying goodbye, like nothing had changed. Like it had all meant nothing…