A/N- Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, here's the second xxx
The Saddest Song
Chapter 2: The Study-Party
Everything now is a blur. It's like life is passing by in slow motion, and she's the only one living in real-time. School drags, even manicure sessions drag, and they're not supposed to go slowly. Pilates sessions last longer. The instructor asked her the other day whether everything was ok, whether she really needed to be pushing her still-developing body through a grueling fitness regime every day. Blair had answered quickly, that her body was up for the challenge and had added with a lowered sharp voice whether the instructor would mind keeping her nose out of her life. It's all little extreme, some might say, but when she can think of nothing else other than the white stick in her bedside drawer, anything to keep Blair slim and busy is something worth doing.
Every assignment, every piece of homework she's been set, every piece of literature she's been told to read has been done, and even though she's averaging A's in English, Math and Latin, her C in History is letting her down, and no matter how many books she reads on the French Revolution or the Black Death that swept through Europe in the 14th Century, that C doesn't get any higher. And yet for Serena of course, even though she's spent countless school nights in suave bars with shots of goodness knows what, that A grade comes naturally.
Serena doesn't notice things have changed, and for that, Blair's glad. She's always known her best friend's unintentional self-absorbedness would come in useful one day.
"Chuck's throwing a study party in his suite." Serena tells her friend obliviously as she sifts through rails of extravagant material, fingering different shirts in the closet as Blair sprawls out on the bed. She's begun spending too much time in that hotel lately, and only the fact that Chuck had moved back to his suite had kept her from rearranging outfit-planning sessions at her place.
Serena finally settles on a plum-coloured shirt, chiffon with a bow detail at the neck. It's a shirt Blair would never even cast her eye over, but teamed with fresh new jeans on her blonde best friend, it looks nothing short of stunning.
Blair wishes she could just throw clothes together like Serena does. Everything she ever wears takes careful consideration to prove that it looks respectable, classy and worthy of trend setting.
Nobody copies Serena's outfit choices. They'd pale drastically in comparison.
"Hello, B?" Serena frowns, waving from inside the closet, looking for another pair of effortlessly beautiful shoes no doubt.
"Yeah?"
"I said, Chuck's throwing a study party tonight."
"And you're telling me why?" Blair asks bluntly.
"Because you're only averaging a C in History and that C isn't going to get you to college."
"And you think Chuck is the answer to my...less than sufficient grades?"
Serena shrugs. "He got an A in the last assignment. And in the one before that."
"Yeah, but he probably paid someone to write them for him."
"B, he's pretty smart you know."
Blair hadn't told Serena about Amelia. She knew things would just escalate, and she preferred to save herself the embarrassment of having people know that yet another boy had cheated on her. So she'd said that she must have been going through a serious lapse of judgement, because now, the more she looked at Chuck, the more it made her feel sick.
The blonde had just laughed, telling Blair she knew she's see sense sooner or later.
It all made Blair just that little bit more pissed that Serena couldn't even notice what was perhaps Blair's most unconvincing lie to date.
"I never loved Chuck. I hardly even liked him."
"Please." Blair scoffs rolling her eyes. "Chuck Bass couldn't teach me anything."
"You mean, besides how to bend into...certain positions." Chuck smirks in the doorway, eyeing up Serena standing there in only jeans a bra. "And S, please put some clothes on. You're practically begging for a case of incest here."
Serena rolls her eyes and pulls the shirt on, smoothing it against her skin without a thought of pressing it first.
"You make me sick." Blair spits with disgust as Chuck settles his eyes on her. It's true, the first time he's spoken to her since the incident in the boy's bathroom, and it's making Blair more than nervous.
"That's not what you were saying while you were in those positions before." He replies. He's guessed her little game, because if she'd told Serena the truth, there's no way that this conversation would ever be happening. So as long as Blair's pretending, he'll pretend too. "And for the record, Serena's right, I'd say you do need my help."
She supposes she does. And not just concerning Latin.
"So I'll expect you 8ish." Chuck continues. "I'll provide the drinks and the snacks, at least, for those people who eat."
He directs the last part at Blair, and she begins to panic in case Serena asks anything. But then she remembers that she expects too much from the blonde when it concerns noticing things, and that Serena would just discount any comments made by Chuck as...well...meaningless.
"Entertainment arrives on request."
"Great." Blair sighs, rolling her eyes in a mock-interested way. "Hookers at a study party, bet they're fountains of knowledge when it comes to European history."
"You always expect the worst in me Waldorf."
"You leave me no choice."
Her comment stings, they both know that, and it's not only the guilt for the whole Amelia-incident that makes Chuck feel sick. Those butterflies are still there, bigger and more alive than ever. He makes to exit, fingering his latest ridiculous scarf as Blair rolls back against the scatter cushions, unaware of Serena's confused expression.
"What was that?"
"What was what?" Blair asks nonchalantly.
"I thought you guys weren't talking because you 'found him repulsive'." She air quotes with an ignorant smile.
Blair simply shrugs. "I guess we are now."
X
Seems the study party has been turned into a stripper's party, probably due to the arrival of two very drunk, and very underdressed maids. Blair recognizes them as belonging to the fourth floor due to a trip to the laundry room there once, and contemplates calling Bart, intrigued to see his reaction.
But then she catches Chuck's eye as Serena places a drink in her hand, and Blair forgets all about the phone call.
"Some study party Chuck." Serena muses.
"Yeah well, the entertainment came earlier than expected and…well let's just say that the French Revolution just isn't as interesting as French kissing."
"You disgust me."
Chuck only shrugs. "We're all human."
That's another reason Blair has to be jealous of Serena. Her blonde bubble is never tainted, her reputation never tarnished even with the addition of Chuck as a step brother and Dan as a boyfriend.
Blair couldn't get away with either.
Nate's here. Looking around like a lost puppy, (he was never one for these sort of parties, just stayed on the sidelines as a dutiful boyfriend would. Still, that same dutiful boyfriend managed to sleep with her best friend).
She's secretly pissed that he and Chuck have reconciled, even if they aren't how they used to be. She'd rather they both hate her as well as each other, than hate her with each other.
Mind you, she knows Chuck would never hate her. She's felt him watching her every move at school, and it gives her the slightest ounce of satisfaction to know that there's still something there between them.
She doesn't go over there though, not to the other side of the room where the set up looks nothing unlike a 50 Cent video, just stays by the doorway clutching a cup half full of tequila and coke, ready to make a sharp exit if needs be. She hasn't drunk any, not a drop, and she's not sure why exactly, (because she definitely isn't keeping this…thing inside of her) but she raises the cup to her lips every now and again as if to take a sip, never once swallowing the liquid, but instead, returns her hand to its position by her side, the liquid never leaving the pristine glass. It's precision of course, but then Blair's always been one for that kind of thing.
Nate looks at her then, stares with cold eyes, so she brings the glass to her lips again, lips open ready, but something in her stomach lurches, and she nearly throws up into the glass.
He'd never had that much of an effect on her when they were together.
"Have you seen Vanessa?" She hears him someone whose name she doesn't know after he's finally stopped staring through her. Not knowing names of people is becoming too much of a habit, but she knows who Vanessa is.
And clearly, he's not the best person to play hide and seek with considering Chuck's suite comprises of the main room, bathroom, closet and lounge area. It's not like she'll be hidden away.
"I think she was at the drinks table the last time I saw her." Who's Vanessa? Comes the reply, and Blair finds a smirk creeping across her lips.
Chuck's parties used to be fun. Every one was different, some including poker, (or strip poker more often than not) some resulting in ludicrous bets that always ended badly, and some just…never ending. And even though she pretended to Chuck, to Nate and Serena that she was tired of the frivolous bashes, she enjoyed each and every one. They're different now though, the parties. There seems to be a sort of routine, where they have the same drinks, with the same people talking about the same things. And Blair Waldorf hadn't imagined Chuck would fall into a routine.
The only one who cared for routines was herself.
If she cared enough about how things were back then when she was oblivious to Nate and Serena's lies (although she's never been that oblivious really), Blair thinks she could long for the old days. The old days always seem better now, back when everything was new and exciting, when she could sleep with Nate, but never actually with him without having to return to a cold, empty bed with nobody but Dorota for company. The old days didn't include Chuck Bass in the way he's included now.
X
"B! Come dance with me!" Serena yells above the now very-loud music, a nearly-empty champagne bottle in her hand acting as a microphone. Blair rolls her eyes, wondering just how much longer it's going to take for the guests beneath Chuck's suite to complain about the noise. She'll be glad when they do. Then this little charade will be over and she can go home.
Blair waves Serena away, shaking her head as she contemplates calling Dan. Her blonde best friend wouldn't be nearly as drunk under his watchful eye.
"Come on Blair!" Serena pleads. "For me." And then she pouts, her lips glossy as she rolls puppy dog eyes, and Blair finally realizes how Nate could have been so captivated that one unfaithful night (and every other night he was in love with her).
So Blair places her glass on the first available surface, trying to imagine how she'd dance if she was tipsy right now. All thoughts turn to that night at Victrola.
The brunette joins her friend in the formal living area, blotting out all disbelieving glances and whispers because whatever scandal this might prove to be tomorrow, it'll be another day her real secret is kept under covers. Too many people are around them, rubbing and grinding, the small area having been turned into somewhat of a makeshift dance floor.
She's not sure how a study party could have possibly turned into this.
Serena shakes her lithe body against Blair's, arms and champagne bottle swinging and the deafening bass line begins to act as a heartbeat. Lord knows her own stopped long ago.
Blair tries not to count the seconds until drops from that bottle spill onto the shag pile, but does anyway because she's just always been a little OCD-ish. It's something she loves (and hates) about herself, but it's there, always will be, and she can't change that.
X
"Step outside." Chuck breathes roughly against her ear, mid-dance as she leans back, thinking that if there weren't as many bodies packed as tightly, she might well fall over.
Blair just glares at him. Her heart beating even faster, no longer in time with the music and it pisses her off. She likes things to be synchronized.
"I want to talk to you."
He leaves then, sleeking out of the door without a backwards glance her way, and for a moment, Blair scoffs at the idea of ever following. But panic and curiosity get the better of her, and she motions to Serena that she's just going to step outside for a little fresh air.
The blonde says she'll come, but Blair shakes her head no, silently thanking the lusting mousey-haired boy who thrusts another bottle of champagne into her best friend's hands.
"This better be good." She says icily as he smirks her way at the empty corridor and closed doors keeping them from anyone else's ears.
"Babe, I'm always good."
"Babe? Who says that?"
"Chuck Bass apparently."
"Well once you've stopped referring to yourself in the third person, would you mind telling me why you've made me come out here?"
"I didn't make you do anything."
"Urgh." Blair fumes. "You're so infuriating!"
"You love it really."
"I love nothing about you, and neither does anybody else."
"That's not how it seemed when-"
"Hurry up, I like this song." She cuts in before he can finish the sentence, knowing that she's probably not going to like what he has to say. She stopped wanting to hear the words leaving his mouth the day he moment he explained what happened when they were supposed to be flying to France. Blair never did tell him that she flew there with BEN?? anyway. And now she's just lining herself up for round two.
"I..." He begins, but then his dark eyes narrow at her. "You don't like this song."
"What?"
"You don't like this song." He repeats. "I remember you telling me once how much you hated it."
"You must have heard wrong."
"I didn't hear wrong, I…look, this isn't about the song."
"Then what is it about Chuck because I'm not sure why you're even talking to me." She spits. It's true, she's not. She'd told him after his confession never to speak to her or look at her again.
"You left this in the bathroom the other day." He hands her the lipstick she'd left by the sink, a small hopeful smile crossing his lips. She's not sure why, she won't be returning it.
"You wanted to find me so that you could give me my lipstick back?"
"Yes." Chuck nods. "And to talk."
"We don't talk."
"Says who?"
"Says the unwritten book of me and you."
"You and me."
"What?"
"The correct grammatical form is to you 'you and me', and not 'me and you'." Chuck corrects with a stupid grin. "It's much more polite."
"And you'd know what about politeness?"
"Clearly more than you."
"This coming from the person who practically declared his undying love for me, and then screwed some slut twenty minutes later."
"I never declared my love for you."
Blair rolls her eyes and turns her body, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "I'm leaving."
-
She'd never really noticed it before, but even the full length windows in the hallway of The Palace give one hell of a view. There are two of them: one at each end, particularly unusual for a hotel corridor she thinks. Out of one she can see the traffic below, headlights making patterns in the dark street. The other window looks out towards the back of the hotel, featuring a small walled garden, courtyard even, with hundreds of herbs and scented flowers that probably cost more to import than most peoples' houses. During the day, she can pick out the block where Victrola is situated, not just because she likes the view that way, but because something about that place always used to make her smile.
She tries not to let herself think about that place, yet always fails, and it just makes that aching in her chest worse. So she stares back out of the other window, the one towards the unimportant city lights, where if she looks hard enough, they all turn into a blur, flashing too fast in front of her.
"Blair, are you going to look at me." Chuck asks, joining her at the window.
She steps to the side quickly. She won't let his body touch hers, that's too dangerous because she figures that if she thinks about it, she might still love him. It's better then, to feel nothing, to be numb, because it would be harder to sleep with that pain in her chest constantly there.
"Okay, you don't have to, but can you at least listen to what I'm saying?"
"I'm listening." She shrugs coldly, her back still turned, her chest heaving because all of a sudden, it seems a little harder for her to breathe.
"Are you…I mean…do you…"
"You're asking me to listen to your stutter your way around a sentence? There's a perfectly good party in there that you're making me miss, so could you hurry up?" Blair bites, her hands rubbing her cold arms up and down. It might be late Spring, but the nights are still sometimes surprisingly cold, and the corridor leading to Chuck's suite has never been particularly warm.
"The other day, when you were in the bathroom." He begins. "Were you…did you make yourself…sick? Because you're fine as you are Blair, you don't need to be any thinner, you don't need bigger boobs or a smaller waist. I know you, you think you're not perfect, but you…"
"Yes that's it Chuck." She rolls her eyes sarcastically. "You know me. You're right."
"And I get why you used the boys bathroom." He continues, misunderstanding the whole situation. "You think nobody's going to say anything right? But…maybe you need to…talk to someone?"
"I can't believe my you of all people are telling me that I need to see a shrink."
"Not a…pschychiatrist Blair. I meant a doctor."
"They're all fucking shrinks." She mutters, moving even closer away from him, towards the door. "And thanks for this little chat by the way, I feel so much better by knowing that I'm 'fine how I am'."
She's almost out of the door when he calls her back, and for a moment, she keeps going. But for some reason, she just can't seem to walk away, and he only has to call her name for a second time before she's turned back around to face him, still avoiding his eyes.
"She wasn't you."
"What?" She almost laughs. "What are you talking about?" It's all fake of course, because she knows exactly what he's talking about.
"I just thought you'd like to know."
"That I'd like to know what?"
"She wasn't you. Amelia. She wasn't as good as you, wasn't as beautiful as you, wasn't as…" He trails off, not really sure if this is his roundabout way of apologizing. Sometimes, 'I'm sorry' just won't leave his mouth.
"You're mistaking me for someone who cares." She mumbles, closing the door behind her, leaving Chuck to stand alone in the corridor, in his corridor, simply staring at the decor, (pretty bland, he thinks, for the record).
-
She knows he's staring at her. She'd feel those dark eyes burning into her anywhere, and the fact that she's dancing with some guy from the lacrosse team probably does nothing but intensify his gaze. She can't remember what his name is, Tony, or Toby maybe, not that it matters. But the fact that Chuck's watching does.
She'd switched drinks at the table a few minutes ago, absent-mindedly of course, and now
the glass in her hands contains some sort of lethal cocktail reddy-brown in colour. The smell makes her wants to gag, but she keeps a sort-of smile plastered across her glossy lips nonetheless, moving her hips effortlessly in time to the music. A full smile would be over-doing things, but when these pictures make gossip girl later, she figures she'd better look at least a little interested.
Blair doesn't want to think about the guy in front of her, or the girls to the left, blatantly watching her every move, watching every twist and turn, so instead, she focuses on how she's like to redesign her room. She's tired of the blue walls.
She's not even sure if any studying took place tonight, she bets probably not, but perhaps if it had, the night would have dragged on even longer than it was doing.
She's in mid-design, just trying to figure out what colour the walls should be when before she knows it, the song is changing, and so is her partner, to none other than Chuck. His hands are resting on her hips, a little overconfidently, but they're there nonetheless, and she has to close her eyes quickly and try to remove that lump from her throat.
"What the hell are you doing?" She manages to choke, keeping her glass close with one hand. She's not even sure why she's still holding onto it.
"Dancing."
"You don't even like dancing."
"Neither do you."
It's true, she doesn't.
"Besides, I needed to talk to you."
"I've got nothing left to say to you Chuck, I've got nothing left that I want to listen to."
"There's something you're not telling me." He says regardless, staring at her, as if silently hoping that she'll give in and just tell him. Whatever it is that she's hiding must be something big.
"Stop pretending like you know me." She says, trying in vain to push him away.
He stays though, his hands now pressed against her tighter, and as soon as she feels his grip grow stronger, she wishes she'd just let him stay how he was. Then she wouldn't have shivers going down her neck to the bottom of her spine. Then it wouldn't be quite so hard to stand.
"What is it?"
"What's what?"
"Whatever it is that you're hiding from me."
"Get over yourself." Blair shakes her head. "Why do you think that everything revolves around you?"
In her head, she's screaming that it's because in fact, everything that she does either makes her think of him, or includes her trying not to think about him, and now, it's all becoming too much. She breaks free of his arms, slamming her glass on a nearby table as more tears threaten to fall (as if she hasn't cried enough over all of this) like the after-party for desolation in her world.
Wow, I just realised how long this chapter is! Hope you enjoyed it guys, please review :)