AN: Oh, look. It's me! The girl that should be writing position papers that are due in one day! I can't help it if writing CB is way more interesting than writing about what Yemen thinks of cyber terrorism. Side note: I have been Yemen for the past 3 model UN conferences I've been to. I mean, I love reppin' the poorest country in the Middle East, but 3 times?! That's a little excessive. You know what's not excessive? The love Chuck and Blair share for each other. I know, I need to shut up now. Here we go...

P.S. I'm going to steal a John Green line. Disclaimer: John Green wrote it. I did not come up with it on my own.

...

Blair studied her reflection in the mirror of her en suite. Each hair on her head was impeccably placed by a violet satin headband. Her were eyes dark, outlined by long black lashes, and her skin was a porcelain pale. She saw that her lipstick, a subtle blush, was applied thicker on her bottom lip. She wondered if he would notice.

Of course he would. He noticed when her headband was giving her a headache behind her ears, but that she was too proud and too much a lady to take it off. He noticed when her collar bones stuck out too far during her sophomore year, and that she would excuse herself to the restroom after every meal to 'touch up her makeup'. He always noticed.

He would signal it subtly. Discreetly hand her aspirin with her drink. Remind Nate when an important anniversary was coming up because Blair was worried he wouldn't remember. He would keep her at the table after meals, until it would be too late for her to binge. He was the drunk. The womanizer. The always high-but-would-never-actually-smell-like-hash. Unlike Nate. He was all of these things, yet he noticed. In between shots, and whores, and joints. He noticed.

So he would notice tonight. When she was so nervous about seeing him, that she forgot to blot the excess Frou by Mac off her bottom lip. He would notice that the belt around her waist was one notch too tight, so she could control her breathing even though he knew shallow breaths did little to calm her down. He would notice. He always did.

She took a deep breath, or as deep as was allowed in her belted dress, and turned on her heel to walk out of the bathroom. Serena was sitting on the bed waiting for her.

"You look beautiful, B." She got up to hug her best friend. "Now let's go before you chicken out!"

"I'm not going to talk the entire way there."

"Saving your voice? I hope you're not planning on singing to him."

Blair smiled. "I'm just trying not to throw up."

The fluorescent lights of the hospital were dimmed, giving the place an almost forced peacefulness. There was nothing peaceful about this place, though. This place where people came to die. This place where Blair had died a little bit, only 11 hours prior.

The girls walked out of the elevator and approached the nurses station. She glared at them, but pointed to Chuck's room.

"Don't wake him." She whisper-warned as the girls started down the hall.

"I'll wait out here, Blair." Serena hugged her friend once more before watching her walk inside.

Chuck was a peaceful sleeper, but he did not look comfortable, restrained by the brace that held his spine together. He had his non-casted elbow over his eyes, and he was breathing lightly. Blair had to strain her ears to make sure he was. That's when she noticed it. He was sleeping with a lamp on. To keep the demons away, or... dare she think of it... to wait for her.

Blair pulled up a chair to his bedside. She gently lifted his arm away from his face to place it by his side. He turned his head toward her. The circles under his eyes were dark, made even more apparent by his long lashes casting dramatic shadows on them. His hair was disheveled, and the his lack of having shaved was creeping along his jawline. He looked well beyond his years, while simultaneously looking like the most vulnerable child.

Blair laced her fingers with those of the hand she had placed by his side. They stayed like that for a while. Chuck didn't stir as Blair traced circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. Those perfect hands. Even while belonging to a sleeping Chuck, they filled her with a sense of security and belonging she could find nowhere else.

He awoke like she had fallen in love with him, slowly then all at once. His eyes opened quietly, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he saw whose fingers his were laced with his. He slowly pulled her hand to his lips. Their flesh was just about to touch again, when he froze. His sleepy eyes turned hard, and he dropped her hand. He remembered.

"What are you doing here?" He spoke, his voice full of fatigue and hurt.

"Chuck... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ran out earlier and blamed your declaration on drugs. I ran out when you said it because... I love you. I didn't know what to do with it all. There is so much there. It's been eating me from the inside out. My butterflies have turned into a brick in my stomach, and it only ever goes away when I'm with you. I love you so much it hurts."

He turned his head away from her, and she felt her tears start to fall.

"Xanax." He spoke.

"Chuck, please." Her tears were coming faster.

"You're still on Xanax."

"Don't do this." A sob escaped her chest.

"Must be the drugs." He said in a barely audible whisper.

She was a mess. She turned to leave his room, but not before she saw a single tear fall from the corner of his eye.

Her belt was on too tight. He noticed. Her voice held a tone he had never heard before. Absolute sincerity. He noticed. She had a hangnail on her right thumb. He noticed. Her eyes shown with her feelings, and she walked with a perfected grace that he knew she had practiced in the mirror for years. She was the most devastatingly beautiful creature he had ever seen. She made his heart feel like it had been rubbed raw by the coarsest sandpaper.

He loved her.

But he could never make her happy.

AN: How was that for uplifting! I really don't have much to say except that it hurt me to write. God, they're amazing. Okay. I'm sorry if I made any of you really upset (that was me over estimating my writing abilities). Bonsoir. xoxo