Yeah, so I really shouldn't be posting this, or anything, right now, but this has been sitting on my laptop (unfinished) for ages! And my muse has apparently abandoned me in some lame attempt by my subconscious to get me to actually work for my exams, and I got a little scared and decided I simply had to write something to make sure I'd actually be able to once my exams were over.
So, it's a little random, and quite different from my other stuff; but I give you this, and hope you enjoy it…
Title: Young Boys, Young Girls
Disclaimer: I only ever own things you don't recognise
A/N: I advise listening to the song quoted at the beginning- the lyrics, the whole song really, it's hauntingly beautiful, esp. the acoustic version.
A/A/N: italics = the content of the letters.
Summary: It started with a letter, followed by three more; and it ended with the hands that penned each note being burned to a cinder.
.
"Young boys, young girls,
Ain't supposed to die on a Saturday night."
'The '59 Sound', The Gaslight Anthem
.
It was the hottest day of the summer, when the Non-Judging Breakfast Club burned alive in the house their best friend used to live in.
He received a letter from each of them; only the different date and location stamps declare that they never predicted they were going to die that day.
There was a goodbye in each of their words, though, and it kills him a little each day to think that he is the one they chose to tell it to.
.
He doesn't think he ever fully understood the term a 'New York Minute' until word of the fire at the former Archibald home spread around him.
He's not sure it should be called the former home, since he's certain wherever Nate is, his presence still lingers there.
He had the chance to walk out once; to move on from the place he once called home and never return; he should have left when he had the chance.
There's nowhere else to go now.
He's sitting in the derelict building that stole the last breath from his brother's lungs and burned the insides of his mouth when he tried to take another. The derelict building that caused the last tears of his brother's girlfriend to fry against her flaming skin. The derelict building that caused his sister's lips to crack in the intense heat and imprint the scorch mark of a smile on her face. The derelict building that caused the hand of the boy his sister loved to sizzle and char as he reached out for her, for them, until it was nothing more than ash and blackened bone.
He's sitting in the derelict building where they died, because he wants to be close to them this last time.
He carefully lifts the lid of the box before him and places it neatly on the floor, the angles it sits at matching those of the original. And then he takes out the letters they wrote to him; their last written words-as-testament.
The first one was from Blair; and, in hindsight, he thinks it should've tipped him off to the others. For his sister may have been the one to actually carry out many of the acts, but Blair was the original source for the ideas and generally the first to bring them forward.
E!
I wish you were here – but Chuck says we can't fly you over till later, because apparently you have a life, and school, and friends and can't just appear at my command.
I told him he was being ridiculous, and of course you'd come if I asked, but he still said no.
He can imagine her pouting at this, as clear as the picture of his brother smirking at her in response. It makes him smile; he hasn't forgotten, and as long as he can still see them, he never will.
Your sister's here though, with Nate – those two are so not 'just friends'. I know you know something; I want an in-depth response pronto!
I'm sending you photos of them together; make sure you have them framed and displayed front-and-center for when we return! And have a camera ready – I want to capture her face when she sees them all!
The mini-scheme amuses him; her mind never stopped working, not for a second, and it was one of the things he really admired about her. She was really intelligent.
I'm also including photos of your dear brother; because God knows that apartment needs to be brightened up. I'm thinking blow-up versions of Chuck in his summer attire; that should about do the trick. You know how he likes his colors and patterns.
The smirk he imagines adorning her lips is one akin to his brother's and it lights something within him; they really were made for each other.
You really should think about coming out here, because it'd be fun, and you'd get to see you sisters (yes, I included myself in that) and, I suppose, you might enjoy seeing Chuck, and Nate too. Besides, I think I might need you to keep the crazy people at bay – I swear your sister acts deranged half of the time, and Nate's not much better, and Chuck… well, I can handle Chuck, but I really shouldn't have to handle the others too.
So, you see, I need you, Little E!
Please come see me (us) – I'll let you in on a secret; it's very exciting.
I hope you will seriously consider the suggestion, and that we will be seeing you here very soon.
Take care.
He hadn't gone; by the time he was finished up with school, and the end-of-term trip he was required to go on, they were coming back, and he told his brother he'd just catch up with them when they were back in New York. Bring a bit of normalcy to them as their lives dissolved into chaos and deflection.
He never did get to see them, though.
They'd gone straight from the airport to Nate's old house; Chuck had called him on the drive over and said they'd spend the next day together.
They did; but it wasn't quite what they'd planned.
He went to the morgue to see his sister and Nate; saw the sheet being pulled over his brother's body after standing outside the OR and waiting with bated breath to see if his brother's unborn children survived, while their mother slowly died.
He said goodbye to four people that day, when he should have been welcoming their return.
.
He remembers Dan making a comment about the Non-Judging Breakfast Club finally having ended, and how he had wanted to snap at him and say that if he'd ever been a part of it, if he'd ever really understood any of them, then he would know that it could never end.
He's proof of that; the slips of paper he holds in his grasp are proof of that; the children that live on in their legacy are proof of that.
He likes to say their names; uses them as much as he can. Interchanges them with: my sister, my brother, your Mom, your Dad.
It's all he can do to keep their memory alive.
.
Serena's flittered across his path sometime after Blair's, followed closely by Nate's, of course, and as he finishes the letter from one sister, he starts to read the letter from the other.
Eric!
He can still sense her excitement within the first line, as quickly and completely as he did her best friend's.
I hope everything's ok at home, and you're not missing me too much ;)
So, I have something to tell you, but you have to swear not to tell anyone – swear, Eric! Or they'll be really really mad and know it was me and then I'm dead, Eric, DEAD!
He laughed at this the first time he read it; but it's not funny anymore. Jokes rarely are when they come true.
Ok, so Blair's pregnant!
I know, right? How exciting is that? There's going to be little mini Blair's or Chuck's running around! It's going to be awesome! I'll be fun Aunt Serena and you'll be wise Uncle Eric! :D
He does laugh at this, because he can never help himself. His sister drew a smiley face after her words; as if he wouldn't feel the uncontrollable excitement that permeated from every large loop or swirl her pen had taken.
Yeah, so that's why we're really out here – not that our brother invited us because we're his best friends and he wanted to spend time with us, or anything. No, it was because B was apparently freaking out about being a young, unwed, mother and I needed to be present to give her support – and if she got me, he got Nate.
Oh, but they're not getting married – at least not yet anyway. Can you imagine how B would hold it over Chuck's head if she had to get married while she was pregnant to cover up the scandal? Actually, I think I might try convince them to do it, just so I can laugh about it in the years to come!
He can see his sister smiling, plain as day, and when the image appears before his eyes, it's as if her smile spreads contagious across his face. It's as if nothing has changed.
And that hurts more than anything, because everything has changed. Everything.
They always like to mix up the order of things – God, they had sex before they had their first date; of course, they were gonna be parents before they were married. For two very smart people, they tend to be ignorant of the obvious things about themselves.
And, and, AND they say I'm unconventional – as if they could ever be anything close to normal. Normal = boring, E, you know that, so you can agree with me that Chuck and Blair, they'll never be normal!
When I told B that there was this weird smile on her face, before she accused me of predicting her unborn children would be aliens.
I swear those hormones of hers make her crazier than ever.
If you're missing all the excitement we bring to your life, I can always send her your way ;)
Can't wait to see you!
Miss you!
A single tear tracks a path down his cheek then, curves in until he can taste the salt on his lips and licks away the evidence of his grief.
He misses her so much; misses them all so much.
.
Hey man, hope you're all good back home and not missing the awesomeness we bring to the table too much!
Nate's first line brings the smile to his face once more, and he thinks he may have taken some of his sister's personality within him, because she would smile on sight of the boy, no matter where they were or what was happening around them.
So, I heard Serena told you about Blair – crazy, isn't it? Actually can't believe they're gonna have a baby – no, two babies!
I actually thought I was high when they told us, I swear, but you know, seeing them together – they could make it work, Eric. I mean, really make it work; not screw up these kids lives like our parents did.
I know Chuck's shit-scared, and Blair is too, for the most-part; but they're… they've always looked after us, you, you know; so why not their kids, right? And besides, we'll help them out.
I've told Serena she'll be on diaper duty, but she says Blair'll have Dorota do that, because there's no way they're gonna be wasting their manicures on that – and besides, she's already swiped dibs on baby-clothing-duty. (I don't think there's really such a thing as a baby-stylist, but Serena insists there is, so I just let it slide.)
He lets out a laugh at this, because Nate never really could argue with his sister; and it's endearing, really. The boy loved her.
It's actually pretty funny watching Blair be demanding of someone else; ordering the staff, or Chuck to get her anything and everything at all times of the day or night. But I'll warn you now, so you can prepare yourself, because if you laugh at her, or even so much as look at her the wrong way, she'll bite your head off. And I don't mean, like have a little chew on it and then let you go. No, I mean, she will rag on you, and go on and on and on, and then toss you aside like you're leftover scraps for Handsomethe dog. (Not that Handsome would ever be given anything, but the finest – because he's a Waldorf, Nathaniel – but you get my point.)
Pregnant Blair is a crazier-than-normal Blair.
There's a video and some pictures for you to see for yourself (and probably laugh at). If you're caught with them in your possession, lie!
His smile widens as he remembers watching them; he had laughed at them. He'd put the pictures in the book he'd compiled for the twins, along with those Blair had sent, and filed the disks with them too.
It makes his eyes brighten and his cheeks hurt when he remembers watching it with the twins; seeing their little faces light up at the sight of their parents and their best friends, seeing them laugh along with their Aunt and Uncle when their mother threw a hissy-fit at their father.
Anyway, hope you can come out and see us – we'd all love to see you; plus, it might tone down the all-round crazy if you're here!
You're the original wise-beyond-his-years one, Eric (before Chuck tried to steal the title) we need you to sort us all out.
He can only hope he's done them justice.
.
Anne Archibald tells them that some of the rooms and hallways were fitted with cameras; she doesn't offer anything further. It's proof of what money can actually buy you when they're informed that some of the footage from that night survived.
After the investigators have seemingly had their fill, and the insurance is all done and dusted, and the only thing that is left testament to what happened that night is four headstones, orphaned children and the broken remains of those left behind; he asks to see them. He is the only one who does.
And as he places the last of the letters in the box, he doesn't need to reread it to remember every word his brother bestowed upon him, Chuck's voice fills his ears; and he lifts his gaze to watch his siblings' last living moments play out on the screens before him.
I hope this finds you well, little brother.
Your presence is missed, I assure you; and if you weren't so stubborn as to insist on actually attending school, I'd have brought you with us when we first flew out.
His heart swells at the words, because Chuck's always been concerned about him first and himself second. And really, he couldn't have asked for anything more in a big brother; couldn't have asked for anyone else.
I presume word has reached your ears already that Blair's pregnant.
His brother always seemed so to the point, it's a wonder he didn't receive a memo to tell him what exactly was happening that fateful night. His eyes refocus on the screen directly in front of him and he's drawn in by the wild, frantic, look in his brother's eyes as he runs from room to room screaming Blair's name. He realizes then that this is what he would have received, and the words continue to play through his mind as proof:
I'm scared.
I can't lose her. I won't.
His brother loved that girl, woman, so completely it consumed him.
And he can see it now, as he lays witness to Chuck's frantic search through the derelict building in which he sits: that it wasn't him playing the martyr, and it wasn't because he couldn't live without her; it was because she was all he knew.
And he knows that it was a selfless act on his brother's part; probably the only one he'd ever committed.
He didn't save Blair for him; he saved her for her. Because he could imagine a world without him in it; even a world with her in it, but not him; but he couldn't imagine a world without Blair in it.
We've extended the trip – there's less stress this way, less media attention, outside interference.
She's more preoccupied with the ridiculous notion that she's as big as a whale – I told her two babies tend to take up more room than one. The bruise has yet to fade from where she hit me with her purse. Damn hormones!
A smile crosses his lips as the words permeate and play as the soundtrack to the image before him of Chuck and Blair locked in a tight embrace; even in a time like that they couldn't help but show one another the love they had for each other.
Or maybe that was the point; maybe that was exactly what they should've been doing at a time like that.
He watches as his brother tries to lift her and sees the pain etched in her face when he gathers her in his arms. She has one hand placed protectively over their young, while the other lies discarded over his shoulder.
You know, I've thought of names. Blair wants regal, I want memorable.
I thought of Monarch, for a boy or girl, I'm not fussed. It's about as close to a royal title as you could get, plus it's a butterfly, so it has special meaning – don't you dare tell Blair I said that! She'll hold it over me forever if she thinks I'm going all sentimental on her.
She mentioned Sterling and I laughed. It's a currency, for Christ's sake! Then again, it does have a certain strong quality to it. I might let her win on that one. The kid would sound all snooty and us-like; I think that one might just become a serious contender.
His brother is carrying his girlfriend along the corridor, calling out to his best friend and their sister as he does so. Moments later, Nate staggers out, with Serena by his side and the two are hobbling towards them.
No doubt our sister and Nathaniel will want their input taken seriously; but if Serena honestly thinks I'm going to name any child of mine after some hippie hideaway she spent time at during her early teen years, she's mistaken. Get thinking – we'll be coming to you next.
Until then, stay safe, little brother, and try not to frame too many of our photos in homage of our existence in your life.
That last part always angers him, causes the bubbling that sits low in his stomach to erupt until he is growling like an uncontrollable wild animal. Because why did he always have to be the one who was safe? Why couldn't it have been Chuck? Or Serena? Or any of them? Why couldn't they have stayed safe?
His eyes are boring into the screen before him, and he watches as they maneuver themselves through rooms and corridors; but there was no way out. The flames lick the edges of the screen and he knows this is the moment he's been dreading, the moment where it all comes to an end.
Nate is by Serena's side, holding a wet cloth to her mouth as well as his own. His brother is hunched over his girlfriend doing the same, but Blair's eyes are wide and terrified and she holds her sister's hand tightly in her own, as her other one clutches Chuck's over their children's hearts.
The four of them are huddled close, the boys on the periphery, girls cocooned within; but it's not enough to stop what's going to happen.
The furniture is ablaze and the fire is building around them, and then there's a flash that nearly blinds him and a bang that vibrates from within the speakers and then the ceiling falls in; and the last thing any of them see is each other.
.
He hits rewind because he doesn't need to watch anymore to know what happens next.
The four of them were trapped, inside that burning building, and though they all made it out alive; they died before they ever got the chance to live again.
This building that he sits in now is what killed them, and yet it still stands.
He hits play and turns the volume up, and his eyes refocus on the screen before him where they're all sitting in a circle; before anything bad could reach them and shatter the world they'd made for themselves. He hears his sister's squeal of excitement as she launches herself forward, till she's sitting on her knees, all wide-eyed and glowing like the mother-to-be herself. His brother's hands are splayed across his girlfriend's pregnant stomach while she heaves a sigh against his shoulder and tilts her head to angle her eye-roll up at him.
"Can we name one Noelle if it's born near Christmas?" Serena asks, unabashed glee showering her whole body.
"Chuck, tell her no," Blair's voice is exasperated, but there's that teasing lilt to it.
"Serena," his brother addresses, lifting his chin. "Sister."
"We're not naming our child after a season or a holiday or any little plebeian place of the world you thought looked amazing once when you were high," Chuck informs her at that.
The blonde's whole face, which was just previously that of hopeful excitement, falls instantly into a grumbled frown as their brother carries on. "That sort of hippie boho-esque behavior is reserved for when you get knocked up, in whatever country you decide to visit next, by some random guy who tells you your eyes are as blue as the ocean and marries you on the beach at sunrise, only for you to wake up the next morning and disappear having drunk way too much of whatever will pass for alcohol in that place and done far too many 'shrooms."
There's three sets of raises eyebrows directed towards the dark-haired male by the time he finally draws a breath. "Are you quite done?"
He smirks at the blonde and replies, "I could've just said that it's reserved for when you and Humphrey spawn your incestuous offspring, but I thought I'd be more considerate to your feelings and make it look like it took more thought than that."
He watches his brother chuckle as his sister throws a pillow at his head; sees his brother's girlfriend duck to the side and then cry out at her best friend that she needs better aim; and witnesses all of them burst into laughter at the sandy-haired boy's words of, "Tiberius!"
He pauses the footage and drinks in the sight: it's the last time they were together, and it couldn't be plainer that there was nowhere else they'd rather be.
He's just sorry he missed it.
He clicks a button on his laptop and it cuts the image, begins printing it from the machine that he has hooked up.
When the paper feeds through to the tray next to where he stands, he lifts it slowly and it takes his breath away.
Serena has her arms thrown across Nate's shoulders, a wide smile on both of their faces, as they lie tangled on the carpet before the dark-haired couple. Blair's still sitting in between Chuck's legs, back pressed against his chest, except now there are the bodies of two others strewn across them. Their lips are curved, and somewhere amid all the chaos, they found one another and joined hands.
It's a beautiful picture; and it makes for a beautiful story.
Their tale was more than that of friendship, or even family; it was a chronicle of love.
He'll do all he can to make sure it's told right.
.
He's packing up his things, their things, taking one last look at the room where they last were, the faces of his niece and nephew swimming in front of his eyes before anything his gaze falls on; when the concept whittles away at the corners of his brain.
It's a terrible thought, of this he knows, but he can't help but wonder if it would have been better – not easier, just… better – if Blair had never been pregnant. He knows it wouldn't have made a difference to their ultimate outcome, because Chuck would always choose Blair in the end; but… maybe, maybe the children would have been better off.
Children. He can say this because he's more than a little certain he went from six to sixteen in a matter of choice moments his mother laid out for he and his sister to live through. His childhood was gone before his teenage years even had a chance to establish themselves as the numbers that correlated with the time he'd actually been alive in this world.
And he knows, he knows, they have a family; but they're still orphans.
He thinks he might've been one too, in a sense, once upon a time; before he was saved by eyes that spread an ocean of possibilities before him as vast and unpredictable as the sea they portrayed. Eyes so dark they drew him in fast and deep and never let go – eyes that his nephew now possessed, and he could find himself staring into for hours on end.
He'll be there for them, of course, but it won't stop the times when he wishes it was his brother in his place, the younger female instead of the elder by his side.
It won't stop the thoughts from entering his mind, that although he loves them both to death; their parents did die, and maybe, just maybe, it might've been better for them if they'd never existed to live within such heartbreak that they never even bore witness to.
It is a terrible thought, and he'll never admit it to anyone, but it still lingers.
He doesn't wish them dead; chokes on the mere suggestion, because he couldn't bear it – these are his brother's children, after all. They just happened to be born within a tragedy, and he thinks that is a tragedy in itself. To be brought into the world amid such chaos, such devastation, and never be able to live up to the saving grace that is expected of you. There can be no competition between parent and child, but with their survival came such a requirement. And how could anyone ever imagine Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf to be replaceable?
Their children are as unique as they were.
But they are alive, and they are the legacy that remains, and they are expected to live up to that.
He's well aware that this would have fallen onto him as the last remaining of the tight-knit four, as the brother of two; had the twins never been present to be fitted with the burden.
So sometimes he thinks it might have been better – not easier – just… better.
.
He was named Godfather, and he stands alone in the task. The children – he scolds himself; they have names.
Sterling and Monarch.
Their middle names are those that their Aunt and Uncle wanted for them, because it's only right that they hold a little piece of all four within them. It's only right that they know of the family they come from. A mother, a father; sisters, brothers; best friends.
That is what are made of.
Unequivocal, everlasting, love.
.
They have three grandmothers and four grandfathers, not five, with one dead of each. Rufus may be marrying his mother, but these are still his brother's children, and she would never dare taint the legacy of the Bass men like that.
Jenny tries to fulfill some of what Serena would have, but it's not the same; so different in fact he's not sure why she bothers at times. Her smile will never flit quite so easily across her face, nor will her eyes shine in that same adorable way when she suddenly gets so excited about something she's barely containable. And the children will never feel the diffusion of her sunshine air as she passes it onto others because it is all she has to give. They will never know the woman who was as much a sister to him as she was to their parents; never have the proof of a bond that doesn't need blood connections to be unbreakable except what he can show them. And he's not sure that's enough at times.
She is not named as his counterpart; no one is.
He's not sure if this gnaws at her each day when she sees them together and knows that the part she plays will never quite be enough to gain her full entry, her access restricted; but he thinks that is how it should be.
Her time will come, and so will her brother's – this is his only opportunity, it's only right, fitting, that he does this by himself.
.
His mother may have postponed her wedding, but it eventually happens, because these things can only wait so long. Rufus can only wait so long.
Half of his family died and his mother fell apart. Rufus was there for her, of course, but it was hard. Hard when he was trying to soothe her cries, comfort her with reassuring words; as his own children stood quite healthily and alive no more than ten feet away. Eventually her cries did quiet and her body did still; but he suspects it was because of the redemption, the second chance, they all sought out in the two tiny babies that seemed to embody all that they had lost.
Rufus was still there, but he doesn't feel his mother owed it to the man because he stood by her throughout it all. It's true a lesser man might have cut and run; but when he thinks of love all he sees is the burning image of his brother protecting his girlfriend and unborn children. Nothing quite compares when you've watched someone give their life to save another; nothing quite compares to Chuck and Blair.
Dan is Rufus's best man and Jenny the Maid of Honour. So here he stands, in the front row, because he can't bear to be on the altar without his brother by his side and his sister standing across from them. His eyes never waver as he watches his mother marry for what she tells him will be the last time (a fact he doesn't want or need to hear since his hope died with the last) as he officially gains a father and suddenly has a brother and sister again.
And he feels alone.
He feels a hand on his shoulder mere moments after another slips through his own.
His mother invited Carter and he appeared, because the pull of his sister was always the only thing that could ever tie the elder down. It's an odd but somewhat comforting movement and he doesn't shrug it off, and he knows his sister would be smiling because she really did love the boy like no other (even if she did love another as well) and they are so very similar in so many ways. He thinks his brother might even nod his approval too, because Chuck was always like Carter too in many respects; and all he ever really wanted for Eric was for him to be happy, and if the other can help him on his way to that, truly help him, then he can do nothing but accept it for what it is.
Of course, his brother never missed an opportunity to try and get one over on the elder; which is why a smile curves across his lips quite naturally, quite surprisingly.
His little niece is by his side, one identical hand clasped in her younger brother's and the other curled around her Uncle's much larger fingers.
He can never feel outnumbered when he has them on his side.
(He was the one who stopped the thought before it even voiced itself and told his mother that the twins would not be playing any part in her wedding bar that of distinguished guests. It was a selfish move, he knows, because for them to play Flower Girl and Ring-Bearer he'd have to play a part too, and he couldn't; just couldn't. It was also for them though, because he doesn't want them to be any more tangled in the present and past than they already are and this would only complicate things further.)
So they stand side-by-side, their Godfather and Grandmother-cum surrogate mother flanking them and three other men stretched along the line; and he doesn't feel quite so alone anymore. With this strange, eclectic family they'd created together; Eric van der Woodsen-Bass feels as whole as he could be.
.
They never set out to be epic.
They just were.
They were soul mates.
They were best friends.
They were family.
And their love will survive.
Forever.
.
The End.
Hope it wasn't too confusing with the chop an change of tenses - basically, it's the day of Rufus and Lily's wedding and Eric returns to the Archibald residence to watch the video of the NJBC's last moments together, and he reads their letters, and then he attends his mother's wedding :)
Oh, and 'cos I didn't really explain Blair's part very well: she survived as far as the hospital, where she had an emergency operation to save her children, but she died.
- I read a story a few months back about a man who made the decision to keep his wife on life-support until it was safe for her to deliver her child, which they did, and then they turned off the machines. It was really sad, and one of the things that inspired this; so that's sort of where the Blair-part comes in. Hope that clears some things up.
Thanks so much for reading, and please let me know what you thought – it really means a lot to me!
Steph
xxx