Hmm this is a little bit self indulgent. I miss season 1 ok? I've found myself thinking a lot lately of what was going through Blair's head after 1x07, and I decided to try and write something to satisfy these thoughts. Give it read, yeah? Apologies if it's all over the place but I tried to kind of capture Blair's inner turbulent thoughts and this is how they came out.
She knew that lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling shouldn't have been her number one priority. She had an essay to complete that was worth half of her grade, due in two days and nowhere near the crippling word count. She had plans to make, text messages to read (and then delete and deny she had ever received) and 29 missed calls to return (ignore).
She knew all this, her commitments hadn't been forgotten. No, now they were just being announced periodically by the tiny part of her that was clinging to the illusion, that she was still Blair Waldorf.
She grabbed her phone with a dainty, manicured had as it buzzed incessantly once again.
Chuck, calling
No way. There was no way she was answering. What the fuck was she supposed to say? "Hey, how have you been since I lost my virginity to you last night? Any chance you could return my panties? Please not as part of some lewd victory dance performed in front of our entire school's population combined"
(Are you, yourself again yet?)
When the buzzing stopped so too did her traitorous thoughts, and she returned to the numb sedation she had been under ever since she'd awakened.
She had started that morning with a resolute plan of action. Don't think about it. (deny, deny, deny) This had been going swimmingly well, right up until the point where the hot stream of the shower doused her hair, filling the entire room with the smell of smoke, scotch, champagne and reality.
With her hair still dripping and only half of her normal bathing routine complete, she left the bathroom, slumped on her bed and covered her eyes with her hands.
Hours had passed. She knew this because her phone had been buzzing spontaneously too many times to count, her bed was completely soaked and her hair had dried into a fluff ball completely beyond salvation from products.
Initially when her phone had emitted its first beep, her stomach had jolted so much that she had to remove her hand from her eyes, in order to clasp her throat gently until she relaxed again. After a while, the novelty had worn off and Blair merely cut Serena's sixth call off and then switched vibrate mode on.
She had to get up. She had so much damage control to do. As a queen she knew this, but she rationalised, even the most powerful rulers surely had to take a personal day when their whole kingdom had been ransacked? When a dragon had set the village alight? When a dark knight had asked the queen if she was "sure" before he fucked her, smashing every preconception she'd ever had about him.
Why couldn't he have been an arrogant asshole? He managed it just fine on every other possible occasion and opportunity. Why couldn't he have turned to her in the limo and threw her gratefulness back in her face or spat out one of his lines? Why, instead was his tone so hesitant, his eyes so sincere? Why did he have to make her remember all the times in the past when he'd cancel what or whoever he was doing and become miraculously available to help her? Why did he have to be so stupid, letting her catch his gaze at times when she was with Nate, when his mask cracked?
Amateur
Blair sighed and rose from the bed resolve strengthened.
Why the fuck did he have to make her consider that there may be more than two cases of unrequited love in the non judging breakfast club?