A/N: Must edit. Thanks for reviews, and special thanks to Lucasta who needs awards for epic reviewing.
Warniing: Language. AUish. This chapter is fine, but before the next chapter the rating of this story will get bumped up.
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Respect the delicate ecology of your delusions.
-Angels in America
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Serena is a liar. She lies so much and so well, that she's only sure it's the truth because others tell her. The lies she tells herself are the loudest. Always she believes them with every fibre of her being. When the truth outs, she's always so shocked, so distraught by the very falsehoods she cultivated.
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It was after seven in the morning when she arrived at The Empire and fell into his bed like she belonged. He followed, probably because he had nothing better to do.
Chuck doesn't ask questions about the dark circles under her eyes, the lankness of her hair, or why she's not with the guy she's been kind of seeing at college. That's why Chuck just might be her favourite person.
It was one of those rare times when neither of them were seeing anybody. Well, Chuck was seeing a lot of bodies, mainly warm, naked bodies who were named after cars or candy, but the point remains.
One hand rests on his hip, tensing fitfully with her dreams. Serena sleeps the same way she does everything else: messily. They've only fallen asleep together a handful of times over the years, but it already feels familiar. He knows now to ignore his first instinct, which is to kick her shin in childish retaliation whenever she kicks him awake. Instead he lets her thread her legs through his until they both become irreversibly trapped and Serena can't move in her sleep.
"I need coffee," she murmurs, not opening her eyes.
"What made you think I was awake?" he questions.
"What made you think I cared?" she answers smartly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
He rolls onto his back, simultaneously detangling their limbs. "Just for that you can procure your own beverages."
"However will I manage?" She leans over his chest, picks up the phone and orders room service. When she hangs up, she stays slumped over his body, absently examining the room.
"Not that I don't enjoy playtime with my favourite sister, but what the hell are you doing here?"
"That's both disgusting and offensive." Serena rests against the head of the bed.
"Impressive, right?" He studies her curiously. She kind of looks like crap and despite it being the end of Summer her skin is barely peach. "Shouldn't you be back at college?" He does his best not to pay attention to stuff like that, but it's August and kind of slow with all his friends back to studying.
"Didn't sign up for courses." She goes back to looking around his room.
Chuck just watches her warily. It was the second time she's dropped out of college in three years. He doesn't exactly care about college, but he knows Serena does. Sometimes, at least. "What are you going to do?" He hopes she doesn't expect a pep talk or some crap.
She flashes an overly bright smile. "No idea."
Chuck just picks up his blackberry and starts typing. "I suppose you want to stay here?"
"Maybe"
He doesn't mind her staying, well, except for the piles of clothes that even the maids can't possibly keep on top of. But there are other things. "S, it's not like Lily won't notice when Columbia doesn't bill her."
"Yeah," she says, a quiet acknowledgement of the truth to his words. But she thinks she knows the real reason; he doesn't want Blair to suspect. She slumps against his shoulder and stays quiet for a second. She's still half asleep, and tired. Burnt out, really. That's the only excuse she has for what she says next. "Don't you ever think about it? You know, us? We're so easy. Sometimes I want that to last."
"No, I don't," he lies shortly. "Because I'm not an idiot. We're easy because we don't last."
Serena sits up, crossing her arms to hold the sheet over her breasts. "So you have absolutely no feelings for me?"
Chuck tenses. How is that even related? He'll never know how she can jump from one subject to another. "Serena—"
"Don't worry about it." She slithers into her slip and skirt, doesn't bother trying to find the rest of her clothes. "I'll find somewhere else."
She's ruining this, them, whatever—the easiest thing she's ever found—just because she was having a lousy week and needed to hear someone tell her that she was wanted, and she knows it, knows that with every word and move she's making it's becoming harder for them to go back to what they were, but she can't seem to stop.
"Look, you can always stay here, you know that." Chuck stands, not caring about his nudity. Serena has that strangely frantic look in her eyes. He's only seen the look a couple times before, but it doesn't bode well. "Stay, S."
"No," she says simply.
She thought that he loved her. Not in some huge, romance-of-the-ages way, just a little bit, just enough that what they had between them wasn't another cheap affair.
But it was just another lie. Just another sordid truth she'd hid from for too long.
}{
She doesn't tell Chuck, and she's not sure why, but Serena can barely remember a time when Blair didn't know.
Though she does remember that awful feeling of years ago when Blair found out. Chuck and Blair aren't together and haven't been in a while, but when has that ever mattered? The feeling that if Blair turned away she just might die.
How clever, to convince herself that this day would never come. Her and Chuck had been telling each other the same lies for too long. No one gets hurt.
She thought there'd be screaming and tears and all that. But Blair just presses her lips together and averts her eyes from Serena's sheet covered body.
Blair's not surprised. She always knew it would happen. When did she ever get something that Serena didn't? Never. Never. Never.
"I'm sorry," Serena says finally.
Blair pauses, gives a slight snort. "No, you're not. You're just sorry you got caught."
"Please? I'll—" Serena stops short, not wanting to finish that sentence. Would she stop? She'd do anything for Blair. But this—she needed this.
Blair smirks, reading Serena's mind as easily as she can read her own. "You'll what?" she asks, slow and dangerous, wanting more than anything to trap Serena with her own words.
"I love you, B," she admits quietly. She needs Blair more. Most. And she waits, because this is the part where Blair either says if you love me, you'll give him up, or I love you too.
The smirk slowly melts from Blair's face. She gives Serena one last icy glare. "Fine," she snaps.
Serena gets her breath back when Blair slam Chuck's door shut on her way out. All she can feel is relief that Blair finally knows, relief that she still loves her.
}{
Every time she makes a decision, she likes to pretend that she's growing up. Leaving Chuck is no different. Not that they were ever together. But it's still hard.
It's easy enough to take back Dan for the umpteenth time. And for a while it stays that way. She remembers all the good things she can be when he's by her side and she's really trying. She signs up to take classes over the holiday break, and she'll only have to take one second year course next year to make up for the missing semester. She takes more literature courses, so she'll care about what Dan cares about. She takes writing, because she imagines there will be a day when Dan needs fresh eyes to proofread his work and he'll be able to come to her.
But there are other times.
She invites her study group to his loft, because it's where she almost lives. They've almost finished their project when the group decides they should read their lecturers book. (The accidentally—coinciding-opinion grade bump is a well-documented fact.) Her and Kris are left with The End of Medieval Literature in Norway. To stay awake they take a shot whenever their professor just happens to slide in some of his Latin skills.
The next day Dan accuses her of flirting.
But he's not mad.
You don't even know that you're doing it—it's just what you do.
It hurts. Dan always knows how to hurt her. He doesn't even mean to do it. But she just tries so hard to be what he wants, to think that no matter how hard she tries her nature will always out-it's a blow.
Usually she'd go to Chuck. Not even for sex, even if it sometimes ends there. She just liked knowing that there was someone who liked her exactly the way she was. But she has no crutch, no stabilising addictions left over from a previous lifetime.
So she does what she always should have done. She tries harder. When she sees Kris, she dims her smile just a tiny bit. And when her lecturer writes "one grade will be taken off per diem" she doesn't even meet Kris's eyes.
But changing everything about yourself…
It never gets any easier.
And she never feels any older.
}{
The first time she sees Chuck again is in the least likely place. She's by the university lakes, head pillowed on her bag. Her textbook is open on her thighs, but forgotten in favour of the bright sun and ultimate Frisbee game across the lake.
She senses him. It's almost eerie, but not really, because he always has those intense vibes that refuse to be ignored. She shades her eyes, watching him walk straight past her. His steps falter and he turns to look back at her. There's a second of silent appraisal, maybe a challenge. Chuck moves towards her, sits on the grass in his ridiculously expensive suit.
Serena can lie there carelessly in Ralph Lauren and he's never liked to be outdone.
She laughs suddenly as a careless throw sends the Frisbee straight into the lake.
Chuck cracks a smile when the heavily berated boy pulls off his shirt and dives straight in after it.
He glances down at her. "S—"
"Yeah, I know," she responds.
One argument. Six months of silence. And he earns her forgiveness with one syllable. He didn't even know how much he needed it until now. "I never wanted to mess us up," he admits.
"Neither did I." She smiles up at him. She has to squint to see him past the glare, but it's worth it, just to see the flash of happiness in his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Nate's studying. He needed an out of print book." He'd tracked down the author, who had dozens of copies and surprised Nate with it in the Humanities Library. But he doesn't mention that, because it's kind of lame what he'll do for one dazzling grin. "What are you doing here?" Serena would never take a class that demanded her Friday afternoons.
"Jenny's staying with us. Dan doesn't get to see her very often; I figured I'd give them time alone."
Chuck knows she's lying. Serena doesn't like Jenny, has never really forgiven her for past transgressions. He's always had a soft spot for Jenny, but it only goes so far. He has priorities. Three of them. No one messes with that.
He wants to say something so badly. Come back. Please. Any way you want. Because if Serena asked for it, he'd probably do it. His priorities—every one of them—make him weak. And even if she wanted to move in or something, he'd give in. No matter how stupid he thought it was. "Well, if you need a hand, or, you know, other body parts, my door's open."
Serena laughs. "I bet." Then she stills, lips pursing in concentration. "Chuck," she starts, and he already feels ill, knows where this is going, "I won't use you anymore. Not like that. I need to do things right. I need to deserve Dan this time."
He keeps his face blank, doesn't meet her eyes. What about what I need?
Cheering breaks out. The shirtless boy emerges from the lake, bright red toy held victoriously over his head, his other fist pumping wildly like he just medalled.
Serena claps along with the rest of the bystanders.
Truth this time: this is the right thing to do.
It's why she's always preferred lies.
}{
Blair graduates six months early magna cum laude.
She hugs Blair, smiles at her friend's happiness, but keeps one eye on Chuck.
He looks like something important had been torn from him at the sight of Blair's engagement ring and Nate's slightly embarrassed grin.
She lingers for as long as she can at the Hamilton House celebration, hoping Dan finds a way to make it to the party. With Dan by her side, she'll do the right thing. She'll go straight home. No detours.
Nate stops her, bright blue eyes darkened with concern. "So?"
She's not sure what he's looking for. "Congratulations?"
"Yeah, but what do you think?" he asks earnestly.
"I don't know." She really doesn't. "What do you think?"
"That things didn't turn out the way I expected. I always thought—" he gives her a sidelong glance of almost amusement, "You know what I thought. But this…This feels good."
"Then I think it's good ," she says firmly.
Nate gives her a grateful smile, which disappears too quickly. "I wish Chuck felt the same. Or at least stayed so I could talk to him."
Please don't. Please don't. Please don't.
"Could you talk to him? You always understood each other. Just make him see that-" Nate dips his head. Forgiveness might be too much to ask for at this point. He shouldn't ask anything for himself. "Just make sure he's okay," he finishes roughly.
Serena smiles wanly. "'Don't worry about it." She'd tried to ignore the broken look in Chuck's eyes, tried to convince herself that it wasn't her place to fix him. She only knows one way to help Chuck, and surely life can't be that unfair. But Nate had asked. And Chuck deserves better from her.
She knocks. She isn't surprised when nothing happens. "I know you're in there! I can hear your glass!" Eventually she uses the key that Nate gave her.
He's at the dining table, a bottle of scotch open in front of him, of course. "Only you could hear alcohol," he says snidely.
Chuck moves and drinks, sees and hears and is surprised that he can manage that much.
Because he's empty on the inside. His heart's broken and what's left is just some perverted reality of a person. Empty flesh and tissue that kept breathing and choking down drinks too stupid to know that it should just lay down and die.
Serena moves in front of him, sits on the edge of the dining table. "Isn't all this a little cliché?"
"Can't say I really give a fuck." He goes to take another drink, but Serena takes it, draining without even a wince.
He and Blair were balanced on that fine, shining edge of friendship that could have been so much more. He was certain it could be, if he could just find a spark of what they once were. They were Chuck and Blair and shouldn't that have meant something? Wasn't there a promise in there somewhere? He'd never been naïve enough to believe in forevers, but he thought they'd have longer. He thought they'd have another chance and this time it would last, at least long enough for him to tell her all the sappy, sentimental thoughts that had run through his head when he had no one to share them with.
"Chuck, I know this hurts, but it'll get better." She inches the bottle away from his grasp.
"You don't know a damn thing." He figured out her secret ages ago. No one can break Serena, because Serena breaks them first. She always loves them just a little less than they love her. Except Blair. And look how unhealthy that friendship is.
Just the thought of Blair makes his eyes shut, forces his head into his hands.
"Then tell me." She pushes his hair back, rubs his back in comforting circles.
He doesn't want to tell her. Doesn't want to talk about it, but it spills from his lips. "I never tried as hard as I should have with her. I let things slide, let business and scandals take precedence, because I thought she'd always be there. I thought I'd have a lifetime to make it up to her, make her happy." He's pathetic. He can see all the sympathy written in those ocean-blue eyes. He hates that look.
Chuck catches her around the waist, pulls her sideways onto his lap without resistance.
He nuzzles her neck, breathes in the scent he knows so well.
"Chuck—"
"Make me feel better," he says against her skin. It's a cheap shot, those words she'd used on him so many years ago. He presses his lips behind her ear, drags one finger down her shoulder, holds her tighter when she shudders the way he knew she should.
Just the weight of her, the feel of her body against his makes him instantly hard.
She kisses him softly, lips moving gently against his. She wraps one arm around his shoulders to steady herself, uses her other hand to undo the buttons of his shirt. He tugs at the sleeve of her dress, lips and tongue dragging over the exposed skin of her shoulder. Her nails rake over his chest, just a teasing burn. He slips one hand under her dress, slides it up her inner thigh and she's already so hot it makes him squirm against her,
She springs unsteadily to her feet. "I—I can't," she stumbles over the words, "I have to go. I'm sorry"
Chuck readjusts himself, glaring heatedly. "Fuck you, S. Run back to Brooklyn. Keep telling yourself Humphrey would still want you if he ever found out what you really were."
She doesn't let him see how accurately that barb lands. "When did you become such an asshole?"
"When you became such a fucking tease."
She runs back to Brooklyn.
She takes a shower before Dan can see her. A few tears mix with the hot spray of water, but they disappear into the drain as fast as the scent of scotch and expensive cologne.
Dan switches the bedside lamp on when he hears her come in. "Hey." He smiles sleepily.
"Hey." She crawls in bed beside him.
"Good night?" He opens his arms, lets her tuck her body against his.
She turns her head, presses her face into his chest before he can kiss her. "I'm tired."
He chafes her arms, tries to slow her shivering. "Alright." He switches the light off and wraps the blanket around them tighter. "I'm sure I can read about the latest exploits of the Upper East Side's finest on Gossip Girl, anyway," he jokes lightly.
"I love you," she whispers and the words hurt so bad, hurt like only the truth can.
But Dan remains silent, already half asleep.
}{
Dan starts writing his first novel before he even graduates.
She finds the pages everywhere. They're in bed, on the kitchen counter, barely legible words and arrows drawn in over the typed letters. This time, she grabs the manuscript from the lounge. She places it gently on the study desk in their bedroom. Dan shuts his laptop, raises his face for a quick kiss.
"Going out tonight?" It is a Saturday night after all.
"No. Don't think so."
"You should. Just because I've become a shut-in at the tender age of twenty-two, doesn't mean I have to drag you down with me." He plays with one of her hands, clutches her fingers, strokes the skin of her inner wrist with the tip of one finger, just because he can. It's been years, but it still doesn't feel quite real that he actually gets to touch her.
"Maybe I can help read over your stuff?" she asks hopefully. She wants to know the mystery of the pages so badly.
Dan's hand stills, he looks up. "I don't know. It's not really ready—"
"That's fine, really," she cuts him off. He presses a kiss against the back of her hand. She always understands. "Maybe I will go out," she adds.
Dan smiles encouragingly. "You haven't seen Blair in a while; I don't want the F.B.I barrelling down my door just because Waldorf thinks I've buried you in Prospect Park."
She can take a hint. She goes over to Blair's place, so Dan can have the loft to himself. Nate's sweet enough to play on his laptop, letting the girls have the lounge to themselves. Or maybe he just couldn't handle another minute of Hepburn.
She cuddles into Blair and ignores the curious looks. Blair doesn't bother with subtle when Serena's eyes water. "What's the matter?" she asks worriedly.
"Isn't it sad, the way Sabrina has to change so much for David to love her?"
Blair glances at the television screen, then back to Serena. It's only the second scene. She nudges the blonde gently to get her attention. "It's only sad that David was too stupid to see her before."
Serena just lays her head in the brunette's lap, letting Blair's proficient fingers comb through her hair.
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tbc…
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E/N: Sorry, Sorry. It was meant to be a two-parter, but this chapter just got too long and unwieldy for my taste, so I cut it in half. Plus side, next and FINAL chapter will be up in a day or two.