Console me in my darkest hour
Convince me that the truth is always grey
Caress me in your velvet chair
Conceal me from the ghosts you cast away

I'm losing touch

-The Killers

He looks at her slowly. Almost as if she is something else entirely. And in a way she is. Perfect some may say. But he sees her. He really sees her. To her core, she is a broken woman. She went up in flames and all the while kept that poised smile.

She smiles at him, clearly and vindictively. She is a woman who knows what she wants and he appreciates that. He covets that. But in a way he loathes it because she makes him feel naked. In a way torn. He has never been one for emotions, but when she even simply glances his way he knows that he will never escape her brown curls or sinfully short skirts.

She walks past him, ever so subtly brushing his arm. Some may take that as in innuendo, but he knows better. It is just another one of her games. She lives to torture, to seduce…to care. No they have already been through that she does not care. She does not love. No one could love the devil. But he remembers…he remembers the moments when they were alone when she would whisper beautiful nothings in his ear and for a second he would almost feel whole.

She makes eyes at him from across the bar. He knows she wants him to come over. But he won't give her the satisfaction. Not yet at least. She really is the ultimate manipulator because he knows the second he goes over there he is done for. She may not know it, but he is hers. He has been for a long time. Maybe even his whole life.

She starts flirting with a random guy at the bar. His whole body tensed up and anger pulsed through his veins. He wanted to kill that man leaning over in his seat to casually play with her hair. Such a little gesture, but something he liked to think was reserved for him. Her laugh hit his ears like a bullet. Loud and painful. He took deep breaths to stay in control. He was in therapy for a reason. Whatever people want to think he does not want to be a monster. She was the only one who understood him. They were two halves of the same perverse coin. They were so beyond damaged, but even though it was unseen to him, so irrevocably beautiful. But he could not help but notice the entire time she talked to that guy she stared at him.

She ordered another drink. He guessed it before he saw it. Gin and tonic, at least not everything has changed he thought bitterly. He looked down at his glass of scotch as if almost daring it to yell at him, to tell him to leave, to get out. He focused his attention back on the girl and the man across the bar. The man had his hand on her thigh and it was slowly moving upward. She looked forlorn, not scared, just almost dejected, but only for a second. That is where he drew the line. He knew she did not want to take it this far. He stood up.

She watched him as he approached with captivated eyes. He stopped with not even an arm length of space between them. They could feel the electricity crackling between them.

He finally spoke his eyes tracing scars into the man that sat before him, "That type of behavior is unacceptable, you might blind the innocent people of this establishment."

The man looked up at him irritation clear in the contours of his face, "Dude, I have watched you eyeing her up all night. Well guess what I saw her first, so unless you want to start something I would back off."

He smiled a bitter smile that did not reach his eyes, "I would like nothing more, but as the owner of this hotel I will have my security escort you outside with the rest of the trash.

The man looked at him and his hand twitched as if he almost wanted to punch him, but thought better of it instead he said, "Who do you even think you are?"

It was too easy, "Im Chuck Bass."

She glances between them. He sees her stare on him and for a second he feels special. But only for a second, if it had been a second longer he may have thought it meant something more. The man looks in at her longingly for one more second and sends a murderous glare in the direction of the man, but after a second of hesitation leaves this battle unfinished.

And finally she swivels in her chair and turns to him, but does not quite meet his eyes when she looks up at him and distinctly, says, "Bass."

He meets her gaze, but only for a second, and murmurs, "Waldorf."

And so it begins.

A/N

Hi guys- Please, please review, I would love to continue this story, but I want to make sure people like it first, so again please review!