DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN GG NOR THE SONGS 'Kohaku no Yurikago' by Yonekura Chihiro and 'a little pain' by Olivia Inspi'REIRA AS WELL AS ITS RESPECTIVE ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS.
Author's note: If it's too cheesy... well. Blame it on the Angst. Romance and Angst and Drama have a way of bringing out the cheesy-ness in me, especially in Chair. I need this over-the-top cheesy-ness to make up for the vomit-inducing BULLSHIT storylines of S04.
I'm trying to heal the broken Chair in my heart and mind.
A post-Christmas gift for all devoted Chair fans.
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Watchet on Watch
~the attitude of a traveler who leaves everything behind and embarks on a journey
~a volatile situation
~the need to be wary of sudden disasters or hardships
*Taken from the manga "The Tarot Cafe" (Chapter 12) by Park Sang-sun
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Chapter III: Hauntingly Hollow Holidays
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Toumei no ame kawaita te wo atatameta kowagaranaideii?
Chigireta kumo todokanai koe kokoniite fureteitaino
/The transparent rain, the warmth of drying hands, is nothing to be afraid of right?
Scattering clouds, a voice left unheard, painfully screams, "I'm right here!"/
-Kohaku no Yurikago [Amber Cradle], sung by Yonekura Chihiro (Groove Adventure Rave ED1)
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The days passed slowly and without significant activity. By then, it had become routine for Chuck to sleep in Blair's room. Blair wasn't sure Harriet and Marion had noticed, but the caretakers made no mention or hint of being aware of Chuck and Blair's sleeping arrangement. It wasn't as if the two teens were doing anything more than just cuddling and sleeping on the same bed. No lecherous activities ever occurred between them; no groping, no heavy kissing, no sexual contact at all. Chuck would climb in bed with her, Blair would wrap an arm around him, and they would go to sleep and wake up to each other.
One morning, Blair woke up and found Chuck already awake, just gazing at her.
They would go to sleep with Chuck facing away and Blair holding him from behind. But in the morning after, Blair, always the one up before Chuck, would find their positions changed, the two of them face to face, similar to the situation Blair found herself in when she awoke on the day of Bart and Lily's nuptials. Instead of Blair's arm around him, Chuck would have his arm around her midsection, his face a few inches away from hers.
Blair was a bit surprised to see him awake before her, because he always woke up around noon. She just blinked at him as they stared at each other's faces.
A few seconds of silence passed, until Chuck leaned in closer and softly kissed her lips. "Good morning," He whispered as he pulled back slightly.
"Good morning indeed." Blair greeted back breathlessly. She craved more, but she didn't want to be too aggressive that she could drive him away.
"It's Christmas Eve." Chuck informed her.
"I know."
Chuck stared at her for a moment before turning to lie on his back.
"Bart didn't even spend Christmas with me last year."
Chuck had been in Monaco with Nate and Bart chose to be with Lily, Serena and Eric for that holiday, not even bothering to invite his own son to that particular gathering, hadn't even bothered to inform his only son that he was planning on remarrying. Chuck only learned about the proposal when he got back, and it had been from Serena.
And Nate... Nate probably accepted Chuck's invitation as means to get away from his family and their troubles, not because he wanted to accompany his best friend whose own father ditched him during the holiday for another family.
Blair shifted closer if possible, pressing herself to his side tightening her arm around his midsection while gently pressing her lips on his shoulder, hoping that the intimate proximity would soothe the bitterness of Chuck's reminiscence of Bart's absence.
"But this year, we're spending Christmas and New Year's together." She could think of nothing else to say, to let him know that this year, he wasn't alone during this family-centric holiday.
Chuck turned his head to look at her. "We don't have gifts to exchange."
Blair shrugged her shoulders. "It doesn't matter." And it really didn't. It didn't bother Blair at all that tomorrow, she wouldn't have a pile of presents to unwrap.
"I left my present for you in New York."
Blair perked up, but not wanting to appear too eager, she tried to casually lift herself up by leaning on an arm. "Well, since we won't be able to exchange gifts tonight, tell me what you bought me."
Unexpectedly and unintentionally on Blair's part, her question caused Chuck to grin and chuckle. The chuckle was low and brief, but Blair relished it, felt accomplished by being able to pluck that sound from him.
"Well?" Blair's zeal for gifts and low tolerance for surprises couldn't be subdued even in the current situation. "What did you buy me?"
Chuck shook his head in amusement. "Lingerie."
"La Perla or Victoria's Secret?"
"Agent Provocateur. Corset." Chuck smirked at her, and for that moment, Blair saw a glimpse of the Chuck she knew and loved.
Blair's eyebrows shot up as she felt herself flush. "Interesting..." she breathed out while averting her gaze, for lack of a better response. She didn't really know where this conversation was heading. If this were before, she knew just what they'd end up doing, because this interaction would be a pretense to salacious activities. But given the circumstances, Blair just didn't know where they stood. But then again, ever since the night at Victrola, Blair was never sure what their relationship were. They were more than friends (with or without benefits), but not quite lovers. Even though she had said the three words, eight letters, Chuck himself told her days earlier that she wasn't his girlfriend.
Chuck then looked away from her, his face becoming blank as he stared at the canopy of the bed. "I was going to tell you after the Snowflake Ball that I wanted to try a relationship with you."
Bitterly, Chuck realized that it had been Bart who always happened to sway him from being with Blair just when he was a step away from taking that risky leap into a romantic relationship. First Tuscany, then the Snowflake Ball.
"I was going to tell you by the end of the night that I wanted to exclusively date you, and then we can eventually work through dating until we can say... the three words, eight letters to each other."
Knowing what Chuck had intended to do, Blair couldn't help but let herself wonder what the two of them would be doing at this moment if Bart hadn't gotten into a car crash, and the night had gone as Chuck had planned. Chuck might just be at the Waldorf penthouse, sharing breakfast with her and her two sets of parents. Later on, they'd go to the ice rink, skating with Harold and Roman. But Bart's death had derailed that probable future that had now been rendered impossible in the wake of this tragedy.
Blair laid her head down on the pillow after Chuck's revelation. She was now lying sideways, just looking at his profile since he was on his back, avoiding looking at her directly.
"I can wait," Blair softly said after a while of silence, making Chuck turn sideways so their bodies were parallel to each other.
Chuck's eyes saddened. "You deserve better," he whispered.
"That's why I'm waiting," Blair laid a hand against his cheek, causing Chuck's eyes to flutter closed. "Because I deserve those three words, eight letters from you and no one else."
Chuck placed a hand on top of hers that was on his cheek. "I'm sorry I can't."
"I can wait." Blair reassured him. Because even though these destitute days seemed to stretch forever, Blair knew— hoped— that someday, Chuck would eventually heal; this grief would disappear like the melting snow, the sorrow would pass like the winter season. This was the winter solstice, when cold nights lasted longer than daylight, and the dreary season seemed never ending.
Blair just had to wait and have faith in a distant vernal dawn.
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"A merry Christmas morning to the two of you!" Harriet cheerfully greeted as Chuck and Blair together made their way to the dining table for breakfast.
"Good morning and merry Christmas," Blair returned as she took a seat beside Chuck who ignored the greeting.
"Nothing like eggnog to warm you up," Harriet poured the two teens a cup of warm eggnog and then putting pancakes of snowmen and candy canes on their plates. "Dig in, kids. Those are choco-chipped."
The elderly housekeeper's merry tinkle of laughter resounded as she served two separate plates of butter for Chuck and Blair and then placed the bottle of maple syrup in between the two.
"Marion's bringing in a tree later on, and then we can hang up the tree ornaments."
Blair put on a smile, also adding to Harriet's effort of bringing some cheer. "I love decorating trees."
"Why that's wonderful, dear! You can help me later. Now, why don't we start after breakfast, hmm? What do you say, Mr. Bass? We could use your height."
Blair knew Harriet was trying to make the mood jolly, but it was a struggle, and Blair could sense a slight uncertainty, a pull of hesitation in the elderly woman's attempt.
Chuck looked up from decapitating the snowman pancake on his plate. "I'll just be in my room."
It seemed Harriet's attempt was for nothing, as Chuck remained unmoved, unwilling to do anything than stay in his room.
Breakfast continued in silence. Through the corner of her eyes, Blair carefully watched Chuck pick at his pancakes while she carefully ate. He took two bites, but just pushed around the rest of the pancake tidbits he segregated with his fork.
"Here, put some butter and syrup. It tastes better." Blair decided to intrude his plate, spreading butter on his pancakes and then pouring syrup all over. She wanted to encourage Chuck to eat. He hadn't been eating much the past few days. He was considerably thinner, his fair complexion now seemed like a shade of emaciated pallor, his cheeks were sunken and he had dark bags under his eyes.
Blair pulled away and watched him stare at his pancakes. It took only a second for Blair to make her next move. She speared a piece of his pancake with her fork and held it to his lips. "Try it," Blair urged. If she had to spoon feed him just so he won't die of malnutrition, she'd do it. There wasn't much she could do, but whatever needed to be done to help him, Blair was willing to undertake that task. Chuck had no one else.
Chuck just stared at her, and then lowered his eyes to the proffered piece of pancake on her fork. Tentatively, he ate it, and Blair felt a whoop of achievement in her. "It's good, right?"
Chuck gave a nod while chewing slowly. Blair left her own fork on her plate and reached for his fork, which he held in his left. She forked another piece of pancake and held it to his lips again. She hoped he would take this one too. He did after swallowing. Blair held a third bite for him, but Chuck reached for her hand and took his own fork, eating the pancake on his own volition.
Blair never thought she'd feel accomplished with this kind of effort. Blair happily dug into her pancakes, feeling hunger settle in her. And this time, she didn't mind eating until satiated.
But that victory was short-lived. Chuck just took three more bites on his own before pushing back his chair. "I'm full."
Blair turned in her seat to see his retreating back. "But you're not finished—"
"I'll be in my room." Chuck walked up the stairs, leaving Blair at the table.
Suddenly, Blair felt her appetite dissipate with Chuck's exit. She pushed away her own plate, and rested her head in her hands.
'You're so maternal with him,' Nate told her when they were both trying to hold up Chuck so he could get through his father's burial.
More than Nate, more than Serena, Blair had always felt like she had to take extra care of Chuck even if he was the more capable of holding out on his own and surviving in the city than the two blondes combined. Perhaps, because despite Chuck's proud gait and overconfident swagger, he had always looked lonely when his back was to her. Because Chuck had no one to really rely on, that by the end of the day, his heart was as empty as the lavish abode he lived in. Blair understood that loneliness and felt that same emptiness when she would finally get to her bedroom and realize no one really thought about her as soon as she left their sight.
Harriet's sigh permeated through Blair's thoughts. "Lord, remind us that patience is a virtue." Harriet sighed again then shook her head dejectedly. She approached Blair and rubbed the brunette's shoulders in comfort. "Soon, darlin'. Soon. It'll pass. You just have to be patient and persist in being there for him even when he's pushin' you away. When a person pushes someone away, it's not always because they don't want that person around. Ironically, they might even be silently beggin' not to be left alone."
Managing a small smile, Blair laid a hand upon Harriet's wrinkled hands in thanks. The elderly lady patted Blair's shoulders. "I'm going to town to do some grocery shopping for Christmas dinner. I'll be back later, and then we'll take down the Christmas decorations in the attic when the tree arrives."
Blair forced her lips to turn upwards and nodded her acknowledgement of the caretaker's words. Harriet then left Blair alone in the kitchen. It wasn't long before Blair heard the front door open and close. Blair sighed and decided to follow Chuck upstairs and persuade him to eat more even if she had to bitch about it as a sort of change in tactics.
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After breakfast, Chuck went straight to the bathroom for a quick shower. He was now in his boxers, standing in front of the mirror with a cheap razor in hand. A bottle of shaving cream was on the bathroom countertop, next to the left knob of the sink tap.
Chuck had never imagined just how onerous grief could be; it was not only confined to his heart but it extended even through his body. He had never felt this tired; every time he woke up, he felt as if he had been carrying heavy blocks of stone the whole night. His worst hangovers couldn't even compare. Everyday was like being in quicksand; he felt he would inevitably sink and succumb to a crushing force whether he stayed still or struggled.
However, despite the unusual weariness, every morning, Chuck still found it necessary to shave. It was one habit that he couldn't drop, even during these times. Shaving was a morning routine of Bart's that Chuck as a child would watch with fascination. Bart was rarely in the penthouse, away either in business trips or spending the night with women in one of his various hotels but never at the penthouse where Chuck resided with him.
As a child, the first thing Chuck did when he awoke was to check if his father had spent the night in their penthouse. And the rare times Bart did, Chuck always caught him the next morning in the bathroom, door slightly ajar, the older Bass, wearing only boxers, shaving in front of the mirror. 'I have to look well-kept, so I always try to look so, as should you,' Bart told a young Chuck. 'If you want people to respect you at first glance and ensure that they do glance at you, always look well-kept and confident.' It was the first life lesson Chuck would learn from his father, about appearance. That was the reason Chuck always endeavored to look stylish even when wasted.
The truth was, Chuck dressed to the nines to impress his father. Chuck dallied with as much beautiful women as he can bed to impress his father. Chuck drank liquor to impress his father. Chuck caused trouble to garner his father's attention.
It seemed that everything Chuck did had to do with Bart, as if the root of every exploit Chuck undertook, whether it was trouble or not, was Bart. So now that his father was gone, what the hell was he supposed to do in his life?
"Chuck?"
Chuck blinked, his sight refocusing in front of him. He saw Blair's reflection behind his as she gasped and ran inside the bathroom.
"Chuck!" Blair grabbed his wrist and pried open his fingers. "Oh my god, there's blood, you're bleeding..."
Chuck hadn't realized how hard he had been clenching his hand. He hadn't even known that he was gripping the head of the shaver, hadn't even felt the blade deeply cut into the skin of his palm.
Blanching, Blair took out the shaver in his hand and let it clatter in the sink, causing a few tiny splatters of blood to color the white porcelain.
"Uuhh," Blair's hand was shaking as she saw the dark red oozing from the cut. "You're really bleeding... hold it under running water..." Blair turned the hot water knob and put his hand under the running water that washed away the collected blood. "I need a clean cloth," Her free hand opened the topmost drawer of the bathroom countertop and fished out a small hand towel. When his hand was pulled out from under the water, Blair swallowed and bit her lip as she saw the sliced skin starting to line with red.
Pressing the hand towel on the bleeding, Blair breathed deeply as she looked upwards, trying to get a grip on herself. She had always hated blood, and the deep cut with scarlet lining made Blair queasy and faint. At the height of her bulimia, the sight of blood in her vomit was what caused Blair to confess to her parents about her condition. Her fear of blood plus Chuck's insistence that Blair needed to get help urged her to take action. Chuck had walked her to her father's office door and stayed in the hallway in silent support as Blair requested. Serena at that time was too indulged in partying, drinking and drugs, and dating guys to notice anything amiss with Blair, and only learned about the bulimia when Blair turned down a shopping spree with her because of an appointment with Dr. Sherman. Nate had been kept in the dark, as Blair had begged Serena and Chuck not to clue him in on anything.
Chuck just stayed still and silent as Blair fretted over his wound. The apology was right there at his throat, but he couldn't voice it; instead, he went along with Blair as she pulled him downstairs to get the first-aid kit in the medical cabinet located in the kitchen because, as Misty reasoned before, that's the most accident-prone area in the house.
Blair was only able to breathe with calm after the wound had been disinfected and hidden away under gauze.
"You shouldn't do that."
Chuck just stared blankly at her straight face. "I didn't notice it."
Blair crossed her arms and eyed him. Chuck just turned around and headed out of the kitchen.
"Where are you going?" Blair's footsteps could be heard behind Chuck who was just dragging his feet through the floor.
"To my room. I hate having stubble." Because Chuck never saw his father sporting a stubble. "You intend on watching me while I shave to make sure no further accidents happen?"
Blair didn't answer, but she did follow him to his room. Chuck didn't pay her any attention, even when she sat on the foot of the bed, warily watching him through the open bathroom door as he went through grooming himself. When he got out of the bathroom to dress, Blair flushed in embarrassment as she looked away, realizing just now that he was only in his boxers while he pulled out clothes for the day.
"You've seen me less covered before, Blair."
Blair blubbered, still looking away. "W-well... it's inappropriate... as of... now..."
Chuck slipped his head past the collar of the cotton shirt he paired with plain cotton pajamas. He only wore silk for sleepwear, but he hadn't cared much about clothes nowadays when he wasn't even going out of the house.
With a sigh, Chuck plopped back into bed, pulling the covers over his head to block out the daylight.
Blair turned her torso to look back at the lump on the bed. "Don't tell me you're going back to sleep."
"There's nothing to do in this place."
"That's because you don't really do anything else—"
"Because I'm tired, Blair!" Chuck suddenly shouted out as he flung the covers off his torso. "I'm fucking tired!" Chuck took deep breaths while the bottom of his palms dug into his eyes.
"I can't drink in this place, because I don't want to disrespect Aunt Misty's memory. Same goes with a line of coke or a joint," Chuck huffed irately as he slammed his arms to his sides, the mattress absorbing the force of his frustration.
If being in this place was any good, it was because it confined Chuck and kept him off his destructive tendencies, acting like a restraining rehab. Chuck was reverent to the pristine atmosphere of this place, just as he honored the memory of his mother, though he had never known her embrace, and his aunt, whom he had only been acquainted with for a short summer.
"And I can't very well go to a bar, because it's winter and I hate going out in the fucking cold."
The three of them had always joked about how Chuck seemed to hibernate during winter, the only time he'd prefer being cooped inside, refusing to go out of the warmth of his residence unless necessary. And when Bart deemed him old enough to be able to undertake traveling overseas alone, Chuck "migrated", as Blair put it, to the tropics during winter break. Misty told them that Evelyn hated winter and snow as well, and had always wished to live somewhere sunny all year round.
"Go do something else if you're bored, because I want some goddamn sleep."
Blair bit the inside of her lower lip, nodding her head slowly in weary exasperation. "Okay, Chuck. Okay."
Chuck had flung the covers over him once again, so he didn't see Blair. He only felt the movement of the mattress as she stood and heard the slight rustling of feet on the floor as she exited.
Chuck closed his eyes, his breathing even. However, after some time with his eyes closed, he could not fall back to sleep. It had been so easy for him, but now trepidation caused him restlessness. He sat up, pulling back the bedcovers. He looked out the open door of his bedroom. He got out of bed and tentatively stuck his head out his room. He looked sideways, but found the corridor empty.
Blair's bedroom door was closed, so he walked across to stand just outside. He raised his hand and curled it, just holding it out in the air for a while as hesitance halted him. But after taking a deep breath, he softly knocked. "Blair?"
No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. He finally opened the door and peeked inside. The uninhabited room made him apprehensive. His heart pounding in his ear, he turned and hurried downstairs.
"Blair?" He waited for a sound. None. "Blair." He walked around: to the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, foyer. No one was there.
"Blair? Blair? Blair!" Chuck called out louder, desperation unknowingly seeping into his tone. He rushed upstairs again, and this time, he was going to look through every room. He burst through the door of the nearest room, feeling frustration when he saw it vacant. He did the same to two other rooms, until a voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Chuck?"
Chuck turned to see Blair, a box in her arms, standing in the hallway, looking confusedly at him.
"Were you calling me? I wasn't sure if you were looking for me. I couldn't really hear you."
Chuck felt something clog in his throat at the sight of her, wondering if her standing before him was an apparition like his father. "... I... I thought you'd left."
"I was just in the attic." Blair put down the box on the floor. "I thought I'd take out the Christmas decorations before Harriet and Marion get back." Blair's eyes blinked quickly in confusion and curiosity as she moved closer to him. "What's wrong?"
Earlier, the thought that Blair was gone caused a panic to rise in him. And now, to see her in front of him, an overwhelming relief washed over him, like a breath of air after drowning. He swallowed thickly, trying to find the words in him.
"I-I was afraid... you'd left."
Blair stared intently into his eyes, taking slow steps towards him. "I was here all this time." Even when you couldn't see me, refused to acknowledge me. She hadn't gone anywhere.
In slow movements, Chuck wrapped his arms around Blair's shoulders and buried his face in her brown curls, his eyes closing as he sighed in comfort at feeling the certain softness of her skin. "I thought you had gone far away."
Blair wound her arms around his torso, reciprocating the unexpected embrace. "You silly boy," Blair chuckled slightly, trying to appear lighthearted; she also closed her eyes as she felt tears prick her eyes. "Where am I going to go?" She dug her fingers into the material of his shirt, as if afraid he would drift away. "I don't want to be anywhere else."
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The Christmas Eve dinner had not gone smoothly; not horribly though, but definitely not festive. Harriet had cooked up a sumptuous meal, and she and Marion ate with Chuck and Blair. Table conversation was a bit awkward; Harriet and Marion provided polite chatter, which Blair, through years of social etiquette training, had been inclined to join. On the other hand, Chuck was curt in his responses.
After dinner, Chuck and Blair were caught off guard when the couple presented them with gifts. That particular Christmas tradition had eluded Blair, as she had been beside herself with worry and watchfulness over Chuck's condition. She apologized for not having anything to give to the couple, and accepted the gift (a collection of pretty barrettes and hair clips) with a polite smile and thanks.
Chuck accepted his present with a bitter laugh and a shake of his head. He only had this comment: "I can't remember the last time I received a present I actually had to unwrap. My dad always just called to inform me he'd already transferred extra money to my account all for me to spend on whatever I want." Chuckling darkly, he then stood, bid goodnight and even complimented the meal before sauntering off for bed. He didn't even open his gift.
Harriet and Marion assured Blair that it was alright; they didn't take any offense. They bid Blair a good night and Merry Christmas, urging her to head on up after Chuck while they take care of cleaning and locking up for the night.
Before Blair retired to her room, she snuck a peek at Chuck's room, checking up on him. His back was to her, but it was clear that he was sleeping. Dejectedly, Blair sighed and whispered a Merry Christmas to him before she went back to her own room to sleep alone. She had hoped Chuck would sleep next to her, in hopes that they would find a bit of solace in each other during this lonely holiday.
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On Christmas, Harriet and Marion weren't in the main house; they had gone to visit their daughter and her family for the whole day. Harriet had left them food in the refrigerator and they only needed to heat it on the stove or in the microwave.
Chuck was never an early riser, but early that morning, Chuck found his sleep disturbed again and again as he would wake up from time to time, like he was being shaken awake by his distress. Disturbances poked him as if telling him to get up, that he had no right to sleep through his grief. Furiously, Chuck threw the covers to the side and sat up at the side of the bed, his bare feet on the floor.
"Shut up. Shut. Up." Chuck hissed through clenched teeth as he pressed his palms over his temples. "Are you always going to blame me for everything wrong that happens in your life?"
Chuck's head was bowed, but he could still see the shiny black leather shoes and dark blue slacks in front of him. He could hear the familiar deep voice, cold and condescending in its bluntness, reply to him, a ghostly accusatory whisper that had been haunting Chuck since his first visit to the morgue.
"It's not my fault... It's not my fault!"
''We both know you're the cause of it all...' was the ghostly reply.
The next thing Chuck knew, he had grabbed the lamp on the side table next to the bed and threw it against the wall. Overcome with a surge of vigor that he had not felt since his father's death, Chuck proceeded to wreck the room. Anything he could grab, he threw on the wall, hitting some hanging paintings and causing a few dents. He overturned the sidetables, he pulled out the drawers of the dresser and threw them against the wall with force. Finding a quaint wooden sculpture (it had previously sat on a bedside table) on the floor, he threw it towards the mirror on top of the dresser. He panted from fury and exertion, and he proceeded to rip the covers of the bed and overturn the mattress.
The ruckus he was making must've awakened Blair, who, shocked in silence, stood stationary at the door. Her shoulders jumped at every loud crash but she never made a sound or an attempt to stop Chuck's rampage as her eyes followed his movement.
He wasn't aware of the tear streaks on his face until he had slumped on the floor, absolutely drained in body and soul. But still, there was an internal maelstrom in him that devastated and destroyed from the inside, and no matter how he moved, it could not be released.
And when he couldn't demolish anything else in the room, Chuck screamed. He lurched forward, his arms crossing over as he clutched his abdomen. His shouts were loud and echoing, powered from the diaphragm, from the very pit of his stomach, as if he was being gutted alive. When his lungs had expended all the air, he would draw in a deep breath and resume yelling as if the tears that sprang from his eyes instigated too much pain.
He felt like he was being clawed from within, innards being ripped savagely, and then slowly being skinned as he felt his throat become sore. He fell to his knees. He did not know how long he had gone on, but eventually, he suddenly found himself worn out, his screams broken down to hysterical sobs. He slammed his hands on the floor, fingers clawing at the polished wood.
Blair, who had stood by it all, witnessed his breaking, then felt her feet move towards him, her pace wobbly and slow. Seeing Chuck unravel in his grief shook her to the core. If Chuck were drunk or high, she'd make sure he made it to his suite, even accompany him to the bathroom while he vomited. If Chuck were with women, she'd shoo them away and drag him out. Those petty, troublesome circumstances, she could handle. But this, Blair did not know how to handle Chuck like this, and her heart ached and reached out for him.
Chuck was still sobbing, head bowed, his hair veiling his eyes. Between his hands, Blair could see the teardrops coalescing together on the hardwood floor. Tentatively, Blair knelt in front of him, but Chuck did not notice her, still imbibed in his lachrymal agony.
Blair lifted her arms, hands trembling. It hovered in the air, unsure of how to make contact. Chuck's shoulder blades jutted out, and she put her hands on top of it. When Chuck did not move, Blair knelt in front of him and dared to embrace him. Her arms laid on the back of his shoulder, her forehead pressed to his nape, her body blanketing him. She felt him trembling, his breath hitching violently causing his back to rise and fall.
"I'm... I'm right here, Chuck. I'm right here," the tears fell down her cheeks, blurring her eyesight just a bit. "I won't... leave you..." Her voice was starting to get muffled from trying to suppress the sobs that racked her throat. She felt his anguish reverberate through her, echo in the stillness of her very being that for a moment, she was both intimidated and awed by the intensity of her attachment to Chuck, how their very heartbeats might be in synch not just in pulse, like a thread tied them together, and a single pluck of the cord could be strongly felt by both ends.
When Chuck's shaking shoulders had subsided, Blair pulled away. She reached out and gently held his face, her dainty hands cupping his cheeks, and forced him to look at her directly. She pursed her lips, an effort to halt the impending tears. Looking straight into his eyes until their gazes locked and he was unable to shift his line of sight anywhere.
"He's dead. He's dead, Blair. My dad's dead." Chuck scrunched his eyes shut, his grief etched as the lines on his forehead created by his furrowed brows. Strands of his long bangs stuck to the wet tear trails on his face. "He's dead and I hate him, just as much as he hates me for killing my mom and for ruining his marriage to Lily."
Blair shook her head to refute him. "You can't know that for sure—"
"I can hear him! He's always... always... just behind me, whispering in my ear!" That was the closest Chuck would admit that he's been having momentary hallucinations of his father. "He blames me just as much as Lily blames me!"
Blair frowned. "What did Lily tell you...?"
Chuck's face scrunched in defiance, holding back the possible display of tears he would be embarrassed of. "She told me herself... if I'd just stayed out of it... He wouldn't have gotten in that car accident." Chuck stubbornly wiped away at the falling tears on his face. "It's true. I wish I hadn't called him to tell him to fight for Lily."
Blair shook her head vehemently. "No."
"First I kill my Mom, then my Dad—"
"Stop!" Blair shouted, and in an effort to pull him out of this innate despair that was slowly sucking him in, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. He was right there in front of her, but she felt as if she were losing him, inch by inch everyday. "Stop blaming yourself for things out of your control!"
Chuck was immobile as Blair sobbed, filling the silence that suddenly came with her tearful outburst. "Stop it. I love you. Don't do this to yourself because you're doing this to me too."
Blair held up a hand to cup his face once again. She tried to push back the hair on his face so she could try to see what he was feeling, try to read him, but he turned his cheek to reject her hands.
"I can't lose anyone important to me anymore. I just can't."
Unsteadily, Chuck got back on his feet. His matted hair was like vines clinging to his face, veiling most of his face from Blair.
"You shouldn't have come with me."
Blair now frowned in confusion as she stood, eyes darting from side to side as she tried to inspect him, understand him. "What, what do you mean? I don't understand—"
Just then, Chuck grabbed her wrist and started to drag her out of the room.
"You should get out, get away from me."
Blair took a step back, trying to pull out her hand from his grip.
"It was a mistake to come with me."
'But I am me. And you are you.' If there was one trait about Blair Waldorf that always made an impression, it was her persistence, her stubbornness. No one kicks her out, she walks out. Even though it hurt her that Chuck was basically kicking her out, she knew him better than anyone, and she could see that he was doing this because he was scared, not because he didn't want her there anymore, not because he didn't need her.
"Chuck—" Blair dug her heels on the floor, trying to impede the force of Chuck's pull.
"Don't you understand? You shouldn't waste anything on me anymore—" Chuck persisted in pulling her even when she defied his efforts by bending her upper body and trying to take a step back, her free hand holding on to his wrist.
'... that in the face of true love, you don't just give up. Even if the object of your affection is begging you to.' Blair could remember that moment with clarity, could still feel the pennate palpitation that wedding toast inspired in her chest even in reminiscence. She was not going to give in, even though he was telling her to give up on him because he had given up on himself.
"No—" Blair was still fighting him, but Chuck insisted on pulling her out, even if he couldn't move her.
"It's no use, Blair. There's no use in saving me."
'...the worst thing you've ever done, the darkest thought you've ever had, I will stand by you through anything.' It was not a promise, it was a certainty. When Blair gives her word, she never forgets it. When she gives her loyalty, it will never cease. Either she'll save him, or they both sink. Better together in suffering than alone in regret.
"It's better you leave now before you thoroughly realize you regret this and abandon me like everyone else."
With a renewed determination, Blair dropped to her knees in a sitting position, anchoring herself on the floor. In a bold move, she held on to one of his legs, and then elbowed the back of his knee. As a result, Chuck stumbled on the floor. Immediately, Blair scrambled on top of him, then raised her hand and slapped him hard on the cheek. "Snap out of it!"
The smack stunned Chuck. His turned his head so he could face her, his eyes wide and incredulous as Blair, her hair disheveled, straddled him, taking shaky gulps of air.
"You don't want me to leave you, then stop running away from me!" Blair's tears dripped on his face. "Stop pushing me away, and let me help you!"
She had come to face a wall. Chuck was hiding in a tower with no doors, and Blair could only go so far as to the foot of that tower. She could shout and pound on the granite walls, but she could not do anything else unless he looked out the window and give her a way in.
The frustration and helplessness overwhelmed her to this point. Blair felt as if this moment, Chuck's breakdown, would be the pivotal event that could either push him to retreat or crack. She had done all she could, the next step was now up to Chuck if he would accept her or reject her.
Chuck's face was turned to the side by the force of her slap, and he had yet to lift his face. His bangs curtained his eyes. Slowly, he redirected his face forward, eyes to the ceiling.
Blair breathed heavily, straddling him, watching his next move.
Slowly, Chuck's right arm rose and rested over his eyes. "I don't know what the hell I should do now. I don't know where to go."
His voice broke, and Blair saw a few tears trail down from Chuck's temple to disappear in his dark tresses.
Chuck was tired, and right now, whether Blair's stubbornness was a blessing or a nuisance, he didn't care. He had reached his breaking point, his most vulnerable. He felt like his chest was now cut open, as if the grueling agony from before that scratched from within had finally forced itself out to reveal everything from the inside.
"I'm alone, Blair. I've got no family anymore, and I don't know what to do. I don't have anyone anymore."
Blair sadly looked down on him. She rested her forehead on his forearm, and their breaths pushed against each other. She felt drained too, and vulnerable.
"I'm family." Blair closed her eyes, her hands on his chest. "So is Nate. So is Serena. We're the Non-Judging Breakfast Club. We're a family all on our own. That was our pact, remember?"
They were eleven and the four of them had snuck out for an overnight stay, Blair giving the excuse that she was staying with just Serena and Eric, Serena saying she was going to be sleeping over at Blair's, Nate claiming he was staying over at Chuck's, while Chuck booked them a suite at one of his father's hotels. That was the first time they all tried drinking alcohol with no limits, sampling every liquor bottle they ordered. And in the midst of their drunken merriment and emotional, personal exposures, Serena proposed a toast, asked for a group name; Nate saw the ignored movie (chosen by Blair) playing on the TV and suggested the movie name; Chuck added the adjective non-judging.
"To the Non-Judging Breakfast Club!" Serena started, as she wobbled, urging the three others to stand, who got up on their feet despite being tipsy.
"Two pairs of best friends!" Nate laughed out loud as he and Chuck had their arms around the other's shoulders, and knocked together their tumblers.
"Sisters!" Serena wrapped her arms around Blair's neck and kissed her on the cheek.
"Because friends are the family we choose for ourselves," [1] Blair quoted as she raised her champagne glass.
"And friends are God's way of apologizing to us for our families." [2] Chuck concluded, before all four clinked their glasses up high, like the rapiers of the four musketeers crossed in unity above them. That night, an unspoken pact bound the foursome, and they had banded together through all the craziness, the lows, and the doldrums.
"You say you're alone, but you're not. You just can't see us through your grief. Me, Nate, Serena, even Eric. But you're pushing us away. If you leave us behind to run somewhere we can't follow you, then you really will be alone."
Blair raised her left hand to hold the hand hanging over Chuck's temple, their palms against each other, the image likened to leaning on reflection. "I ran with you. I'm here. Trust me. Lean on me. Cry on me." Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, before moving away the arm that covered his eyes, tendrils of his long bangs sticking to his tear-streaked face. She laid their joined hands on the floor. "Don't shut me out."
Chuck's chest visibly rose and fell as more than their eyes connected at that moment. Then, Chuck's free hand carefully crept up Blair's back, and pressed her down. Blair lowered herself on top of Chuck, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Chuck's arm came around her nape to tightly hold her close, fisting a portion of her shirt, while Blair's free hand dug underneath to grip the shoulder of his embracing arm.
Once more, Chuck was wracked with sobs. But this time, it felt as if the tears were ebbing away, chipping away some of the constricting pain in his chest.
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Blair leaned against the headboard, pillows cushioning her back to make her position more comfortable. Chuck's head was resting on her abdomen, his arms around her waist. He was deeply breathing evenly, sleeping peacefully. Blair had an arm upon his shoulder while her other hand raked through his dark tresses in a gentle manner that Blair hoped relaxed Chuck.
Chuck had calmed down and fallen asleep some time ago. On her bed, he was now cuddled at her side, holding her to him as one would hug a stuffed toy for comfort during a storm.
Blair tried hard not to sob, in an effort to not disturb Chuck. He hadn't been sleeping well despite the long hours of slumber and naps, Blair could tell. But even though she was able to regulate her breathing, as for tears, she couldn't help but let it out. The tears ran down her cheeks, and she tried to muffle her sniffles as much as possible.
Why did loving someone so deeply have to be such a painful ordeal?
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Chuck now slept in Blair's room instead of moving to a spare bedroom. After the devastation of his room, Marion and Harriet tried to straighten it but the room had been severely trashed. The only good that came out after the clean-up was that all the destroyed furniture had been taken out. Only the bed frame remained intact along with the mattress.
Chuck never spoke about his outburst; Blair never confronted him about it. Chuck was not the verbal type; he showed his true feelings through actions, meaningful gestures. Just by sleeping next to her and holding her in his arms every night, showed Blair that he needed her and he wasn't fighting this need. He also hadn't had a cruel thing to say to her, and accepted her efforts of taking care of him, whether it's telling him to eat or getting him to accompany her for a stroll around the estate, even holding her hand.
On December 31st, they didn't do anything celebratory to welcome the New Year. Just another special dinner; they didn't even stay up to count down to midnight. Blair insisted that Marion and Harriet go to town to watch the fireworks instead of staying in with the two teens. Chuck and Blair headed off to bed early, Chuck sleeping next to Blair as he had been doing since his outburst. He held Blair as he slept. Blair felt it was more for his sake, that it comforted him. She was grateful that Chuck was finally accepting the fact that he needed someone during this difficult time.
That night, Blair found herself slowly awakening through the fog of somnolence with the feel of feathery touches over her face, her neck, her arms. She slowly became aware, her mind on the verge of consciousness yet not quite there. When her lips felt the gentles press of a kiss, she sighed, now a bit more attentive behind her closed eyelids. What really woke her though was the heavy press of an added weight on top of her. She opened her eyes, and even before her sight could adjust to the darkness, a much more firm kiss sealed her mouth. Though she could only discern a silhouette in the darkness, she knew it was Chuck. He parted their kiss, but his lips still hovered on hers, so close that their warm exhales enmeshed while their inhales seamed together.
"Blair," Chuck lowly spoke, Blair feeling the movement of his lips against her own. "I need you..."
She could already feel his hands on her thighs, his fingertips on the hem of the nightdress she wore; he was already settled in between her thighs. She answered by protruding her plump lips to give him a gentle but encouraging kiss. He then kissed her hungrily while his hands lifted her nightdress up to her stomach. Blair wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled down his pajama bottoms. With her hand, Blair guided his manhood to her sex while Chuck pushed aside the crotch of her underwear. He entered her swiftly, and Blair stifled a whimper. Chuck set the pace, rapidly plunging in and out of her. To prevent herself from crying out from the pain, Blair focused on breathing in from the nose and exhaling through the mouth. She stayed still while Chuck moved above her. His entry sent tinges of pain through her unprepared body; she dug her heels into the mattress while she tightly held on to his neck, trying to not mind the sting that came with his thrusts. Blair shut her eyes tightly and bit her lower lip, trying to refrain from whimpering as Chuck continued.
Chuck's panting was strained, sounding as if he were running a marathon. If Blair hadn't been concentrated on reining any noise from herself, she'd have noticed that the sound of Chuck's breathing was not sexual at all.
"I'm sorry," Chuck suddenly gasped out as he stilled, resting his forehead on the crook of Blair's neck.
Blair realized, he hadn't found that release he had been seeking.
"I'm sorry."
Whether he was apologizing for not performing or, if he was aware, for the painful coupling, Blair only shushed him. She reached up a hand, lightly stroking the back of his head, not making a move to dislodge him as his weight rested on her. "It's alright. There's nothing to forgive." And really, for Blair, there was no transgression done tonight. She had given herself willingly when she was needed.
"I'm really sorry..."
"Shh. It's okay, it's okay."
"I'm really sorry..."
In a sudden move, Blair flipped them over so she was on top of him, straddling his hips. She leaned down and softly kissed him. With her back straight and firm as she rose, Blair reached for the thin straps and slowly lowered it off her arms to let the negligee collect at her waist, revealing her nude torso.
"Blair—" Uncertainty filled Chuck's voice, now unsure if they should proceed even if he had initiated it.
"Shhh," Blair kissed him on the lips, interrupting his thoughts and his voice. "Let me take care of you."
Blair hovered a hand over his eyes, prompting him to close his eyelids. Chuck obliged, and his hands settled on Blair's waist. Propping herself on her elbows, Blair's hair created a curtain around their faces. She peppered feathery kisses along his face, occasionally on his lips. Chuck sighed as he gingerly returned Blair's kisses on his lips. One last kiss, and Blair lifted herself and began rocking her hips in slow, circular motions while her hand pressed her clit.
With eyes still closed, Chuck moaned, feeling the familiar stirring of intimate desire. He bit his lower lips, his hands running up and down Blair's thighs while her free hand rested on his chest. Feeling himself near the edge, Chuck's eyes opened and he rose up, wrapping an arm around Blair's waist while his other hand cupped her nape as he gave her a searing kiss, his tongue plumbing inside her mouth. On the other hand, Blair had an arm around Chuck's neck while her other arm was wrapped around his torso, her fingertips grazing along his back as she kissed him back with fervor. Chuck found her clit and expertly maneuvered the nub to instigate more pleasure.
Blair gasped as Chuck moved his hips in sync with hers. In a harmonious rhythm that pushed against each other, they came together, their cries of pleasure muffled by their mouths conjoined in a kiss. Only their lips broke apart— but only for an inch— when they felt the high from their climaxes subsiding, and they panted for air. Blair's forehead rested against Chuck, her eyes closing as she breathed deeply along with him, their breaths coupled like their bodies.
A still calmness enveloped them, and Chuck reveled in the warmth of Blair's proximity. Chuck sighed in serene contentment as he raised his hand and cupped Blair's cheek, his thumb caressing the velvet skin. He remembered why Blair was different from all the numerous people he had had sex with. Beyond the conjoined limbs, beneath the flesh, something bound them together, unseen yet unbreakable, elusive yet enduring. For the first time, he succumbed to the weariness his grief had imposed upon him, and he leaned on Blair, letting her comfort him with complete trust.
Blair pressed a kiss against his lips and also placed a hand on his cheek. "Are you okay?" She asked softly.
Chuck once again sighed in tranquil submission. "I am now," he answered as he nuzzled her nose, holding her ever closer to him. "I think I will be."
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Three days into the New Year, Chuck was faring well, better than when they arrived. There was still a lingering sadness that hovered with him; Blair could feel it palpitate in his presence, especially in the solemnity of his silence, bittersweet and brooding.
Perhaps his previous breakdown and soul-bearing confession had worn him, drained him of energy and feeling. Blair had been afraid that he would suddenly turn spiteful once again, like he had been towards her on the day of Bart's burial. Instead, Chuck had been nothing but courteous. He would talk to them (albeit only when he was spoken to; he never initiated conversation), he did not lash out, in fact he never did anything out of line, no emotional outbursts of any sort.
Blair wondered if this passivity was a prelude to running away, if perhaps he was contemplating relocating some place else to nurse his grief, but without her this time. This incessant trepidation troubled her and churned unease in her heart. Even now that he had told her he loved her, she did not feel reassured at all that she would not be left behind. How many people she loved had told her they loved her and then left her? Serena, her father, her mother, and even Nate. They had left her at some point.
Blair wondered if the calm of these days were illusory, if it were meant to weave a beautiful memory in preparation for the aftermath of desertion. If it were an illusion, she wished it would never shatter into sharp shards that would only cut through them when reality came crashing in.
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For no apparent reason, Blair awoke in the middle of the night to feel the space beside her empty. Almost immediately, she felt her heart thud in nervousness, wondering if the dreaded moment of abandonment had finally come. But despite the alarm ringing in her mind, Blair calmed herself and refused to jump to pessimistic conclusions. Pulling off the coverlet of the bed, she wrapped it around her, fisting the edges and pulled it together to the middle of her chest. Blair then left her room to check Chuck's assigned bedroom across from hers, and felt tears threaten her when she saw his room as empty as her bed. She dashed down the flight of stairs, the coverlet fluttering like a cape on her back as she was intent on rushing outside and perhaps in futile shout out his name in the snowy darkness.
The glow on the hardwood floor stopped Blair in her tracks. The hearth was lit, bathing the living room in dim yellow light from the fire. Blair's bare feet barely made noise as she slowly sauntered into the living room and approached the side of a wingback chair, relief washing away her fears at seeing Chuck sitting regally yet solemnly, the flames reflected in his dark eyes.
Chuck turned his head to her, just gazing at her without so much as a question of what she was doing out of bed in that ungodly hour. For a brief moment, the two did not move, just silently regarding each other's presences, until Blair made the first movement. She took off the coverlet she had wound around her body for warmth and draped it over Chuck, before she climbed into the wingback chair which was wide enough to accommodate another. She didn't exactly sit on his lap; her bum was settled over the sparse space between him and the armrest with her legs bridging over his thighs. Chuck's arms came out and circled her waist. Blair snuggled closer to him, her forehead in the nook of his neck.
But still neither spoke a word nor tried to initiate conversation, just reveling in the quiet stillness of the moment when they found themselves comfortable in their position.
"I thought you left me."
"I was just down here."
"I'm glad you are." Blair whispered, and silence once again came over them.
"Stand up," he later nudged her, and she dislodged herself from him. Chuck pushed the comforter to the side and tugged at her hand, prompting her to return to her previous position. When Blair was settled, Chuck covered the two of them with the bedspread.
"To tell the truth, I don't think I can go anywhere away from you anymore." Chuck shifted her so he could look straight into her eyes, the glow of the fire reflected in his dark brown orbs, his hands cupping her face as she held on to his wrists. "I love you."
It was the affirmation she needed, that he could not run away from her, that he was bound to her like she was intermittently bound to him.
"Thank you," Blair lifted her head to look at his profile. Chuck then slightly shifted his head so he could direct his eyes to her. He lifted his hand to brush away her hair on her face before twirling a lock of brown curls around his finger. And then, tresses loosely curled around his index finger, he laid his hand on her cheek and chastely kissed her lips. He did not attempt to deepen it with his tongue, nor did he prolong it with softly caressing lips. It was a simple press of the lips, but nonetheless, it made Blair feel the flapping of butterfly wings as her eyes fluttered closed.
"I love you too, Chuck."
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Slowly awakening, Chuck opened his eyes to the sight of Blair peacefully slumbering, his arm around her bare waist. He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and then her lips before he sat up and rose from the bed, heading to the bathroom. The sound of water running indicated to a newly risen Blair that he was preparing the bath. He came out not long after with a towel wrapped around his waist, covering his lower area.
He leaned down to greet her with a kiss. "Good morning, beautiful." His smile was almost shy.
"Good morning." Blair smiled back at him.
Chuck held out his hand to her. "Come on." He nodded towards the bathroom. Blair sat up on her elbows, the comforter covering her chest, and smiled shyly before accepting his proffered hand. He lifted her up and out of the bed, and when Blair was on her feet, he held out a bathrobe for her to slip in, something she hadn't noticed was hanging on his arm previously since her attention had been preoccupied with the sight of his bare chest.
He took her hand and led her to the bathroom, just in time, as the tub was about to be filled. Chuck let go of her hand to turn off the tap before walking back to her and stopping behind her. Understanding what he wanted to do, Blair undid the tie of her robe as Chuck reached for the lapels, sliding the fluffy cotton material over her shoulders. When he had gotten her out of the robe, Blair turned around and took his hands, tugging at him. He took a few steps and halted when he was just by the side of the tub. This time, Blair positioned herself behind him, her arms coming around his midsection. She laid a soft kiss on his shoulder blade before she loosened the towel he had around his hips, letting it land on their feet, the towel joining the robe on the tiled floor.
Blair got in the tub first, helped by Chuck before he settled in front of her, his back to her. Blair wrapped her arms around his shoulders and prompted him to lean back on her chest as her back was supported by the porcelain. Chuck's legs stretched out in front of him, whereas Blair's legs were bent and pressed to the sides of the tub, her knees above the water as she accommodated Chuck.
Chuck sighed in contentment as he laid in Blair's arms. His cheek rested on her left upper arm, and her right hand was on the left of his chest, gently massaging circles on the area just atop his heart while her other hand, from time to time, would cup a small amount of water and splash it on his chest.
"Can you say it again?" Blair requested, her voice in a whisper as she placed a kiss on his bared neck.
"I love you." Eyes still closed, Chuck reached for her hand over his heart and brought it to his lips. "I love you." A kiss to her knuckles. "I love you."
With her mouth pressed to his shoulder, Blair giggled like a schoolgirl with a crush. "Nothing will ever top that Christmas present."
And it was true. This year, Blair was away from family and friends; she did not receive tons of expensive gifts; she did not have an elaborate Christmas feast; she did not have a designer outfit for the holiday. She did not have the high-end holiday celebration that she was accustomed to, but this was enough; she wouldn't rather be anywhere. She never thought that three words, eight letters would be better than any jewelry, clothes or shoes she could receive, when she was so accustomed to having those luxuries as substitute for love and attention.
Chuck felt himself chuckle softly as he kissed her hand once again before he slipped his digits over the gap between her fingers, their fingers enclosed on each other.
"Even a buy-all-you-want spree at Tiffany's?"
Blair shook her head, her chin brushing his shoulder. "I don't even have Tiffany's or Cartier's, or Chanel or Valentino in my mind."
Blair kissed a patch of skin behind his ear, and then lifted her left hand to brush through his hair. "Your hair's getting longer than you usually let it."
Chuck shrugged. "I don't really mind."
Blair didn't have anything to say about the trivial matter, so she just pressed her lips to his shoulder again, loving the feel of their skin in contact.
"What would you do if I was cursed?"
Blair frowned in puzzlement at the seemingly random question. "What do you mean?"
Chuck stares blankly at the tiled wall ahead. "I feel like I'm cursed to cause the deaths of those I love unconditionally."
Blair rested her face against his temple. "You're not at fault for killing your parents."
"If I were cursed to kill those I love, would you still love me?"
"I think the question is, would you let yourself love me despite knowing you might lose me someday?"
Chuck sat up and turned his head to face Blair. "Would you?"
Blair nodded her affirmation with a smile. "I think I would. I would. Didn't I finally tell you I love you just when I was surely about to lose you?"
Chuck stared at her for a moment before he changed his position; he was now sitting in front of her, his back leaning against the head of the tub opposite Blair.
"And besides," Blair grinned, "I don't think you'll be the cause of Nate's demise. His cluelessness will do that for him."
Chuck let out a chuckle of amusement. Surprisingly, he found the bit of death jest amusing instead of gruesome. The small peal of laughter on his part seemed to make Blair smile even more, and she chuckled as well.
"That's the first true laugh I've gotten out of you in a while," Blair confessed lightheartedly as she rested her elbow on the side of the tub, resting her cheek on a fist. The bruise around her wrist caught Chuck's attention, the faint yellow discoloration standing out on the fair skin. The smiling curve of Chuck's lips vanished. Blair followed his gaze, distancing her arm from her cheek to inspect the sight that had distracted him when she noticed the guilt in his brown orbs. Gingerly, Chuck reached out for her hand and brought her bruised wrist to his lips, softly laying five kisses on the bruise before placing his cheek against the bruise.
"I'm sorry..." Chuck whispered, his tone clearly contrite as his eyes closed, his eyebrows arched in repentance.
Never had he apologized so much in his life except for the past few days. He had done a lot of wrong and hurtful things deliberately, and he had always stood by what he'd done, never apologizing.
Whether it was out of selfless concern for her or whether it was the fear of being left behind, he had to ask, one more time, just for a little bit more reassurance.
"Are you sure? About me, are you sure?"
And it was like being in the back of his limo that night, his uncertainty of her certainty.
"I've known for a long time, even if I tried to deny it, tried not to make it fact by never saying it out loud."
He looked down, dejected and unsure of himself. He did not believe in himself as much as she did, did not have faith in his capabilities as much as she did. "I want you to be happy."
Blair cupped his cheek with the hand he was holding, the wrist he had bruised when he tried to drag her out. "Then be with me. I know what can make me happy. I know who can make me happy."
Chuck eyed her uncertainly, and she met his eyes with undeniable conviction. "I love you, Chuck Bass. And you finally admitting out loud that you love me is not all that I need. I won't settle for just that. I don't want to just be happy and content, I want to be happiest. And right now, I know you can make me the happiest. You don't need jewelry or flowers or couture to do that for me. More than anything, I just need you to be with me."
Blair motioned forward to reposition herself. He easily welcomed her as she lay cradled in his arms, her ear on his heart. And in a low voice, she beseeched him. "Please don't leave me behind, Chuck," she closed her eyes, appreciating the usually overlooked thud of the heart. "Everyone's always leaving me too, you know."
Chuck didn't answer; he just laid a kiss on her hair and rested his cheek on top of her head.
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Zutto kokoro wa te wo hirogete mamotteru
Ano koro no kimi ga furikaeru made
NO NEED TO CRY...
/My heart will always open my hands to protect you,
until the you back then will turn and look at me
No need to cry.../
-a little pain, sung by Olivia Inspi'REIRA (Nana ED1)
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[1] "Friends are the family we choose for ourselves." - Edna Buchanan
[2] "Friends are God's way of apologizing to us for our families." - Unknown
A/n: A super lengthy chappie to make up for the months of inactivity! Hope that makes up for the long hold on this fic. How's my take for "stand by you through anything"?
I'm picking up the pace. The Christmas break getaway was originally to run for five chappies, but it would be dragging.
Oh, and notice the few official GG lines I've employed? Hehe. Sucker for Chair.
As for S04, all eps preceding 4.07 is unacceptable, and so far I can stomach 4.08-4.09 (I actually love Chair because LeighEd are so talented they're the only saving grace). So far S04 has been a barf fest that I'm only tolerating because I'm SO into Leighton Meester.
Requiescat in pace, Chuck/Blair/Chair/Chuck&Eric brotherhood/NJBC friendship.