Chapter 1 of Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass
Author: Isabelle
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.
A/N: Another crazy idea. Care to read?
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"Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it."
Michel de Montaigne
Supposedly December 1st, 2008
According to my inept doctor, he recommends my writing all of the memories that come to mind. I have repeatedly informed him that I remember absolutely everything. I remember the small scar I have by my knee from the bicycle accident when I was seven years old. I remember the feeling of inferiority whenever Serena showed off a new dress. I remember the perfect color of Nate's beautiful eyes when he smiles at me.
Apparently, I also remember that the first person I saw when I woke was none other than Chuck Bass. As to why he was looming over me and staring at me with the most disturbing look, I cannot say, because my doctor (yes, the inept one) has asked that I learn things slowly. That not too much information be distributed at once.
I explain to everyone over and over that I am well in the hopes that they will leave me alone. I glare at the mirror before me and wonder why on earth my hair is so light. Why my skin is so tan and why my hips are larger.
I suppose you want to know how it all began? I suppose I'll tell you.
When I woke five days ago, I felt sticky, gross and instantly noticed that my legs had not been waxed.
What had happened that was so very horrible that my legs were not waxed? Inconceivable.
I made a mental note, before my eyes even fluttered, that I had to have Dorota make an appointment with Madam Lee to get them done ASAP. COB, if possible.
The second was that I was certainly not wearing silk, and everyone knows that I don't sleep in anything other than silk. That alone was enough to cause emotional trauma. The next was that my right hand felt extremely warm. Like hot. Like there was another person's skin pressed to it.
I blinked and instantly realized that I was in a hospital room.
For the love! Honestly!
Well… it was nice. A private wing. Mauve walls. Eww. Loads of flowers and teddies and balloons. I felt so very loved in that moment that I was overwhelmed with emotion. I wondered which bouquet was from my beloved Nate. I scanned the room and spotted his the moment I saw it. It was luscious, sophisticated, tasteful and said 'I love you' with every opening bud. My heart swelled. He must be worried sick, I thought to myself at the time. He must've spent hours – days – weeks in a silent vigil by my bed. Unable to shave, to sleep, to eat as he watched his beloved in a hospital bed, badly injured from… from something very drastic and heart wrenching, but that made me look beautiful – like a sleeping princess.
My heart swelled with love for him as I imagined that this would bring us closer than ever. He would know now for sure I was the one he was to marry, the one he would love for the rest of his life. And I would be the very best girlfriend that I could be.
I could almost feel the Vanderbilt ring slipping onto my finger… Oh, finger. That's when things began to go wrong. Just wrong.
The head resting on my own, clutching it like life depended on it was…not blond enough. I racked my mind to think if Nate had done something funny to his hair, but I couldn't think of anything.
I shifted, trying to alert him of my presence (so he could take me into his strong and manly arms, kiss my forehead, and tell me he loved me over and over again as his voice cracked from the weeks, most likely months, of worry).
He did shift, and I sighed, closing my eyes.
I wanted to look like the perfect sleeping beauty. I wanted him to kiss me, and then I would flutter my eyelids and wake. Magically. It would be ever so romantic.
I loved him so much.
I hope I had my Dior mascara on.
I felt him wake, I heard him stand, and then I felt it. His fingers brushing against my face. My fluttering excitement took over me, and I waited until his lips would brush mine. I was living my own fairytale. It was breathtaking.
His face was ever so close. My heart caught at my throat. That's when I felt it. Wetness on my face.
OH MY GOD.
Was he crying? I was going to pass out. I knew I was.
The emotion was overwhelming, life was just happening so fast. I didn't know what to say.
That's when he kissed me.
It was a soft butterfly kiss, but the emotion and power behind it was so intense that I felt all the hairs in my arm stand to attention, my toes spread, and a deep moan that I could not control erupted from my throat.
When the hell had he learned to kiss like this?
I felt my world crashing, and I knew whatever this was, it meant to be because one's body does not respond like that to mere kisses.
My eyes fluttered opened.
The eyes that met mine were a shock, to say the least.
"I love you."
OH MY EFFFING GOD.
There before me was Chuck Bass. Chuck fucking Bass. Not my boyfriend. Not my love. Not my prince charming. But syphilis-carrying Chuck Bass whose leering looks I had avoided since the 4th grade. Chuck Bass: player extraordinaire, devious plotting bastard that was known to bang everything in sight. Sure, we'd had some decent conversations, but nothing to provoke this kiss and much less – much, much, less – to provoke this apparently heartfelt confession of love.
"Chuck?" Was all I managed to stupidly say.
"I love you," he repeated, and his voice was so low and raspy and … real, that I couldn't think of anything else to say. Scratch that. I couldn't think of anything at all.
So you understand how everything started going the wrong way all too quickly.
--
When I didn't respond to this unexpected and unwelcome declaration of love, he quickly told me he would get the doctor.
So I sat for only a few minutes by myself. I was still shaking and deeply disturbed by what has just happened. Chuck Bass loved me.
Oh, my God.
Chuck Bass loved me. He said it. Twice. With his mouth. From his lips. With his eyes.
Oh, my God. And he had kissed me. Was it considered cheating? Would Chuck and Nate fight over me in the streets of New York… Hopefully in the rain?
This was just… And Nate! How could the asshole live with himself? Ugh!
Where was Nate?
My thoughts were disturbed when a doctor entered (yes, the inept one) and began asking me questions. A couple of nurses huddled over me, and I tried to answer how I felt. That's when I saw him once more, standing by the door, his eyes wide and fearful and … worried.
I couldn't look at him. I just couldn't.
Where was Nate? I was starting to get angry. This is so not like what I dreamt it would be.
Where was my mother?
The doctor told me I was fine, a bit of a concussion that had placed me into a coma.
A coma!
This was so Days of Our Lives.
Chuck shifted, looking even more worried. But he really surprised me when he started making demands of the doctor on my behalf. That's when I started noticing some things were different on Chuck.
He was taller, for one. His hair was longer and combed to the side, and he carried himself differently. He looked… older. This was so strange. How long had I been asleep? I apparently said this out loud because the doctor and Chuck turned to me.
"Five days," Chuck answered.
I stared at him, then looked away.
The doctor mentioned that they would keep me for a few more days of observation, but I could go home afterwards.
That is when no other than my estranged best friend burst through the door.
"Blair!" She cried, and I saw something that caught my attention. When she brushed past Chuck, there was a sense of familiarity. She had grasped his hands, and they had shared a look. Then he had placed a hand on her back, moving her towards me.
"Oh, B! We've been so worried!" Serena was by my side in an instant.
I remembered I was not happy with her. She had just decided to show up and we were going to go back to being friends?
Her hair did look nice. She continued chatting, going on and on about how they had looked for me and hadn't been able to find me, but a person addicted to socialite newspapers had seen the picture of me and Chuck in US and had brought me to a hospital.
I was in Us? With Chuck? I told her I didn't remember that. I didn't remember being with Chuck with a photographer nearby.
The doctor assured us that I would remember bits and pieces.
That's when I realized he was inept.
I told him so, and Chuck smiled, which felt better since Chuck is usually amused by my bitchy comments.
The nurses and doctors left us and then it was just Serena, Chuck, and myself.
I was angry at Serena, but I felt even more uncomfortable with Chuck who continued to walk around as if he himself had had all the flowers sent here.
"Where's Nate?" I finally ask.
I noticed Chuck stiffen, as he should. I mean, he kissed his best friend's comatose girlfriend and confessed he loved her. Twice. He should have been brimming with guilt.
"He sent a teddy," Serena replied, and there was an odd look on her face. She also looked older.
God, what was going on around here?
A teddy. He sent a fucking teddy?
"No flowers?" I asked, and I knew my face was falling. I didn't want to talk about this to Serena, because I didn't trust her and she had abandoned me. But the only other person was Chuck, and he had kissed me.
Something will always be off from now on.
Serena looked confused. Why? Because she thought Nate would only send her flowers?
"He's in Connecticut with his grandparents, left the day before yesterday – plus the whole thing with Vanessa and Jenny got out of control. He needed to get away," Serena explained, and I noticed Chuck getting more and more agitated.
Wait. Who the hell were Vanessa and Jenny?
"Who?" I demanded.
"Vanessa… you know, Vanessa." Serena answered.
"No. I don't know a Vanessa. Oh, you mean Vanessa Plyatt?" I was getting angrier, because obviously no one was making any bit of sense.
"No, Abrams!" Serena looked exasperated. "Anyways, your mom's plane got stuck in Tokyo because of that storm. She's called nearly everyday. Chuck's calmed her down."
I glanced at Chuck. He was staring at me intensely, and I had to look away because I could still feel the heat of his kiss on my lips. He and Nate were so over. I planned on confessing the whole thing the moment Nate came back from… Connecticut.
I felt so unloved. Nate knew I was sick – that I was in the hospital, and he couldn't even come see me. I felt like crying. Like sobbing and possibly stomping my foot.
"Where's Dorota?" I asked, looking sadly at the teddies in the room, wondering which of them was from Nate, and why I wasn't clutching it.
"She'll be back. I made her go home and get some sleep." It was Chuck that answered.
I'm downright annoyed now. Who does he think he is? Sitting by my bed, holding my hand, kissing me, telling me… Telling me things he shouldn't be telling his best friend's girlfriend. Ordering my maid around? Ugh.
"Would you excuse us?" I sneered at him.
He looked taken aback and there was a hint of raw pain in his eyes which I refused to acknowledge.
"Fine," he snapped and walks out.
I sighed and turned to Serena. I supposed she would have to do. I had to tell someone.
"B, you can't be mad at him forever. He hasn't left your side," Serena told me.
"He told me he loved me," I blurted out and instantly regretted it because Serena and I were no longer the BFF's that we used to be. I mean, she left and just came back, and she expects me to confess things to her?
But Serena's reaction was not what I expected.
"Oh, my God!" She was ….squealing. Like with joy. "I'm so excited!"
What the hell?
"I mean, this is perfect, right? It's what you've been waiting for," She continuesd, and I was now sure the peroxide had invaded her brain.
Waiting for? Why the hell would I want Chuck Bass to be in love with me? Ugh.
She saw the confusion on my face.
"You do still love him, right? I mean – a week ago you told me." She said, and I was sure I had woken up in an alternative universe.
"What are you talking about? You weren't here a week ago!" I started screaming because no one was making sense.
She looked at me, startled.
"B… what's the last thing you remember?" She asked cautiously.
I took a deep breath because I was sure I was hyper ventilating.
"I… You crashed my mom's party… And you were back, and Gossip Girl had posted about it… And Nate didn't want to have sex with me." I whispered.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh… Blair." Her face fell and she looked desperately sad. "B, that happened over a year ago."
--
The doctor spoke, but I could only stare at his lips. He was using big words that were just meant to upset me even more. I wanted to call him every insulting name I had come to know in my short life.
I knew my breathing was coming quicker, I knew it was coming faster, and I was pretty sure I would hurt him at any given moment.
"Give her a breather."
My head snapped up as I realized Chuck had been staring at me intently and could tell that I was about to have a breakdown. I looked away from him, and I knew he was hurt by the way his jaw twitched.
The doctor left, and Chuck shifted, not knowing what to do. Then he finally stormed out. Serena and Dorota were the only ones left, and I began crying because I hated this feeling of overwhelming loneliness that had taken over me.
I felt Serena's arms around me and, deep inside, I wanted to shove her off because I didn't even know who my best friend was anymore. I hated that she was back, and I hated even more that we had apparently bonded for over a year, but I had no memory of it.
I hated that Nate wasn't here. I hated that Chuck kept staring at me that way, and I hated—I hated that I was so alone and no one would ever understand.
--
The doctor advised my 'friends & family' that I shouldn't be bombarded with information. That it was best I take it easy. They ran a few tests on me, which resulted in me just getting more and more upset and wanting to be left alone.
The doctor said I should write things down. That a lot of people find it useful. Like a diary. I ignored him and wished he would disappear.
I was sitting in my room by myself when I once more noticed the flowers that I previously thought were from Nate. I reached out and grabbed the little card stuck on them.
It was a nice card. A tasteful card.
Blair. It read. I sighed.
I'm sorry.
Love,
Chuck.
In a fit of anger, I crumpled the little letter up, made it into a ball, and threw it across the room.
I sat steaming for another hour before a soft knock interrupted my thoughts and Chuck walked in. He was dressed more presentably than what I had seen him in lately. It looked like he'd been living out of the hospital before.
His hair was combed, his clothes were pressed, and he looked like he had shaved.
It was also the first time we had been alone together since he woke me with a kiss. And confessed he loved me. Apparently I was supposed to swoon over this. I was lucky I didn't remember.
"Hey," he said, and I instantly noticed he was timid.
I said nothing and looked away.
He walked in with a little bag in hand and a serious expression on his face.
"Doctor says they're letting you go tomorrow," he said quietly.
I took a deep breath. "Apparently."
He took a seat next to me, and I saw him staring at me once more.
"Can you not look at me like that?" I snapped.
"Like what?" He countered.
"Like you've seen me naked," I hissed.
"I have seen you naked," he smirked. I swear to God I will hurt him.
I will hurt him. I will kill him, destroy him – annihilate him.
A thought occurred to me just then, and the curiosity was so very grand that I forgot I hated him.
"Am I… Am I still a virgin?" I asked, knowing I was asking the right person because if anyone knows the status of V-cards, it's Chuck Bass.
I saw something cross over his face – something I had never seen before, but it was very real. He covered it up quickly and his trademark nonchalant look took over his features once more.
He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it.
"I brought you a present," he whispered as he placed the bag on my bed. I stared at it. He was dodging my questions.
That's when I knew I was no longer a virgin. I had forgotten my first time.
That magical moment when Nate held me and we whispered 'I love you.' In a candlelight room wearing my best lingerie.
I was so angry, I was so angry I was shaking.
"Open it," he encouraged, and I decided to do it before I burst into tears in front of Chuck Bass.
I looked down.
"It's a book," I said simply.
I would have expected many presents from Chuck Bass, but never a book.
Perhaps some condoms. Handcuffs. A naked picture of Jessica Simpson.
Not a book. Never a book.
He shifted, as if he knew this was a gift he would never give.
"The doctor said you may want to start writing things down, so I got you a journal. Like a diary."
I stared at him.
Who the hell was this person?
I stared at the journal. Camel leather with beautiful designs scripted on it, on the back there were butterflies. Handmade – spared no expense. I opened it, and inside he had left an inscription.
Hopefully one day, you'll remember.
I knew it was his handwriting, but there was no name.
"Oh, and there's a pen." He pulled a long box with a white ribbon from his coat pocket.
His throat was working, and he wasn't meeting my eyes as I mechanically took the box from him and slipped the ribbon off. Inside, there was a beautiful fountain pen. It had my initials carved on it in elegant script letters.
I stared at the journal and the pen.
He took a breath and stood up.
"Right, I know you have a lot to take in." he said softly.
I wanted to thank him because in all honestly it was the loveliest gift anyone had ever given me. It was thoughtful, personal, romantic, and it was screaming 'I love you' from all over the place.
It was a present I wished Nate had given me.
I sensed him leaving, his shoulders sagging in defeat.
"Chuck?" I finally asked.
He stopped and turned, and I could see his eyes shining with hope.
"When did it become you and me and not me and Nate?"
I saw his throat working again. His jaw twitching. His hands clenching.
He said nothing; he revealed nothing. I was hurting him.
"Goodnight, Blair." He turned and walked out.
I was angry. I was upset. This was not the way it was supposed to be. This was wrong. But no matter how many times I shook myself awake, I couldn't snap out of this nightmare.
I opened the journal and glared at the blank page before me.
Dear life. I hate Chuck Bass.
And that's how it all started.
--
To be continued
