Here we go again! Than you again to reveryone who's reviewed this story and took the time to even read it, I'm so happy it's been well received.
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So you gotta fire up, you gotta let go
You'll never be loved til you've made your own
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Blair awoke the next day with a crying-induced headache reverberating around her skull. For a moment she just lay there, staring at the inside of her silk eye mask as she basked in the after-dream glow. She'd dreamt it was years from now; her and Chuck lived and schemed together in the most beautiful apartment she'd ever seen. A huge diamond was on her finger and a mini-Chuck ran around the place, causing the loved up husband and wife to laugh together fondly.
With a sigh she gave in, tugging the mask off her face. Even in the darkness caused by thick velvet curtains Blair could make out odd shapes dotted around the room. She frowned, clapping her hands twice so the lights came up, revealing hundreds of peonies in beautiful vases on every surface.
She pulled a face halfway between a grin and grimace and yelled out "Dorota!"
Her maid scuttled into the room, looking concerned.
"When did these get in here?" She yelled, but her tone was hushed so the Bass next door couldn't hear.
"I do not know," Dorota admitted, looking around the room in awe, "Who are they from?"
"That's what I would like to know. And I'd also like to know where I can get a maid who actually notices when certain asshats sneak into my hotel room." Blair bit back, scowling at the beautiful flowers.
"I sorry, Miss Blair. They are from Mister Chuck?" She said, straightening Blair's clothes from the previous night which were strewn on the floor haphazardly.
Blair sighed, rubbing her strained eyes, "Who else?"
"He show his love for you!" Dorota exclaimed. She'd always wanted her Blair to get back with Chuck, she could see it in her eyes how much she loved him. And Dorota only wanted the best for the girl she practically raised.
"It's not even close to enough!" Blair shouted, before clapping a hand over her own mouth. All she needed right now was for Chuck to hear her talking about him.
Little did she know Chuck was many streets away, making arrangements. He'd been up for many hours, most of the night in fact, thinking and planning and trying not to imagine what it would be like to have Blair reject him again.
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After a good hour of facemasks and cucumber Blair's eyes looked considerably less puffy, and donning her new Carolina Herrera sundress she stepped out into the Parisian sunshine. Dorota followed dutifully by her side, ready for her day of carrying the boxes and bags Blair accumulated.
"First, pastries at Ladureé," Blair announced, "it's only ten minutes from here, I'll hail a cab." Soon enough they were strolling down Avenue des Champs-Elysees, the sun sheltered from Blair's still tender eyes with an exuberant parasol. She avoided the urge to call Chuck, asking him to join her. She also avoided thinking about why he hadn't called her. Wasn't he supposed to be begging for her eternal forgiveness or something?
The door to her favourite French pastry shop opened with a ding and the smells of freshly baked macaroons wafted across her smiling face. There was no better therapy than freshly baked pastries, no matter the calories.
"Blair Waldorf?" The server inquired as she reached the counter. Blair nodded, a small smile at being recognised growing on her face, "These were ordered for you."
She avoided the smug look she knew was on Dorota's face as she snatched the perfect purple box from the person's hand. Her hand traced the elegant chiffon ribbon with a delicate intimacy. Then she noticed the card attached and turned it over slowly, trying not to seem too eager.
Because they're your favourite.
Was all it said, in that infuriatingly familiar calligraphic handwriting.
"Mister Chuck," Said Dorota knowingly, opening the box for Blair who was still stood stock still. Inside were the most perfect of Ladureé macaroons, in shades of dusty rose and deep violet.
"Damn him," Blair muttered, crushing a macaroon between her teeth for self-control. She then shoved the box into Dorota's hand and ordered croissants and pain au chocolat to be brought to her favourite table in the large bay window.
The pastries disappeared quickly into Blair's mouth, washed down with lashes of orange juice. The more Blair thought about Chuck, the more she ate, the moment of sweetness blocking out all thoughts of the Bass devil. Dorota watched Blair eat with some concern, worried heartbreak could bring on a relapse in her old habits.
Blair laughed at Dorota's strained expression, "Don't worry Dorota, I'm not going to let Chuck Bass break me." Even so, she clamped her teeth around a lilac macaroon for luck.
Blair didn't see Chuck all morning, but he was everywhere she went. When she waltzed in the door at Dior a beautiful cerulean silk dress covered in tiny Swarovski crystals was already prepaid for. The colour complimented her pale skin so perfectly it was as if she'd chosen the damned thing herself. No prizes for guessing who'd paid for it, from the purple tag which read:
Because it's as beautiful as you are.
Blair stamped back out of the store (not without hastily shoving the dress bag into Dorota's waiting hands). In Chanel, her favourite bottle of No5 was waiting on the counter with another darned note:
Because you're all I think of when I smell this.
In Dior, a perfect pair of patent heels. Because in these you're even closer for me to kiss you. In Prada, the black and white handbag she'd had her eye on for weeks. Because you deserve everything you want. Every shop she went in there was another exquisite gift which showed each time how well Chuck knew her. And with every gift another macaroon disappeared past Blair's ruby hued lips.
When she reached the end of Avenue Montaigne she noticed a familiar impeccably dressed figure stood next to the Flame of Liberty, just next to the Pont de l'Alma tunnel.
"Take these back to the hotel," Blair ordered, shooing Dorota away. She strode toward Chuck, taking long steady steps making herself out to be more confident than she actually felt. In fact she felt worried about the reappearance of her macaroons. "Interesting choice," She commented.
"The everlasting flame of friendship," He responded, gesturing towards the large monument.
Blair flashed a smile, "Diana died here. Let's hope you don't."
Chuck sucked in a gasp of air and touched his heart, "Harsh, Waldorf."
She shot him a scathing look before softening her gaze. Blair took another step forward and pressed a simple but measured kiss on his cheek, "Thank you for my gifts." She said dutifully, with a smile.
"You liked them?"
"You know I loved them."
Blair's smile grew wide, brilliant. The kind of smile which could blind a man if he looked at it too long.
Chuck looked down, "I know it's not enough," He echoed Blair's earlier choice of phrase, "A thousand opulent gifts couldn't make up for the things I've done."
Her face fell a little, but Blair validated his claim with a small nod. The way something clicked in his eyes made her heart hurt.
"But I'm hoping," Chuck plastered an optimistic smile on his face, "That I've buttered you enough to let me take you on your final item on your itinerary. The Louvre isn't it?"
Blair nodded again.
"If not, then I hope this will swing your final decision."
Chuck reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a box branded with the logo of a high end Paris jeweller. Blair gasped, inside was a simple necklace dotted with what appeared to be real diamonds. It shimmered and glinted in the sunlight, its shiny-ness appealing to Blair's materialistic streak. She allowed him to fasten it around her neck, shivering a little as Chuck's fingers ghosted over her bare neck.
"Something this beautiful deserves to be seen on someone worthy of its beauty."
Blair looked at chuck. He stared back. For a moment there it was as if they were going to kiss.
Spotted: C and B swapping lavish gifts under the Flame of Liberty. Can I see a truce coming? You know you love me XOXO Gossip Girl
They both sighed, adjusting their respective clothing and gooey expressions accordingly.
"The Louvre?" Blair asked to break the silence, holding out her arm promisingly.
Chuck linked his arm with her smaller one, "The Louvre." He confirmed, with anticipation.
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"Should we talk, or?"
Chuck and Blair stood slightly apart, both staring intently at Blair's favourite Manet.
"No."
Blair responded simply, not looking up from the painting. She reminded herself of all the times she'd dreamt of meeting prince charming next to this painting, and now she stood here with the guy she knew she was in love with, but couldn't do anything about it. Not yet.
"How are we going to work out our problems if we don't talk about it?"
Paintings were never Chuck's strong suit, it was taking all his resolve to not take his eyes off the brushwork and push Blair up against the painting instead. He was sure he could pay the fine for touching the artwork.
"No words."
Blair hushed him, slipping her small hand into Chuck's. The old warm jolt of electricity passed across their interlaced fingers stronger than ever. They walked the corridors of the Louvre joined at the hand, pointing out paintings they loved and that made them laugh and made them feel something. They talked about everything and anything that wasn't their feelings for each other.
"What's this one?" Chuck asked, stopping in front of a marble sculpture.
It depicted a female laying back on a bed, cradled by an angel like male figure. The two marble persons were trapped in an eternal almost-kiss, with eyes only for one another.
"Typical," Blair commented, nodding at the almost-nudity of the female. She crouched down to read the inscription, almost pulling Chuck down with her as she refused to relinquish his hand, "Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss."
Chuck continued to peruse the sculpture, marvelling a little at the details on the expressive faces. "So the woman is woken up from a lifeless existence by true love's kiss? How fairy-tale."
Their eyes met with matching knowing stares.
"Well you know how I love fairy tales," Blair commented, in a fake airy tone she knew Chuck could see right through. She rolled her eyes at herself, pressing her free hand to her temple.
The way the female was almost consumed by cupid's kiss before it even happened really spoke to Blair. No one had ever kissed her like Chuck did.
"It's exquisite."
Blair looked up at Chuck to find he wasn't looking at the sculpture anymore, but at her.
"Absolutely," She agreed, tracing her fingers along Chuck's jawline.
Chuck caught himself before he broke one of Blair's rules. Just because she wanted it now didn't mean she didn't still want him to prove himself. He looked down, loosening his hand so their fingers were only just touching, "A date, tomorrow evening? A real one."
Blair's eyes softened and her smile grew, "Sounds lovely."
"Fantastic," He said in response. Chuck opened his arms in a very un-Chuck-Bass fashion, Blair narrowed her eyes good-naturedly and allowed herself to be pulled completely into his grasp. Chuck's hands pulled gently on her waist and her arms wrapped around his neck in a hug that was almost more intimate than a kiss. Almost.
Blair felt Chuck press a simple kiss on the top of her head before releasing her again.
"Tomorrow, then?" He asked, with a smile that was almost bashful. As bashful as Chuck Bass could get.
"See you tomorrow."
She watched him turn and walk away fondly. She loved the back of his head, his sharp suits, that certain smell only he had. Blair felt her wall start to come down again as he disappeared into the crowd, knowing sooner rather than later she'd give in. She wasn't Blair Waldorf without Chuck Bass by her side.
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And I know, I know that I did you wrong
But will you trust me when I say that I'll
Make it up to you somehow, somehow
-I'm So Sorry by Imagine Dragons
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So what do you think? Is Chuck really showing Blair how much he loves her, or has he got a long way to go?