Okay, so honestly. I can't stay away from the fluff! But I guess I'll have to stop tormenting the poor boy soon ;)
And I have to say...after watching 2.13 this afternoon (living in the cw-forsaken country of sweden=having to wait an extra day..)...I l.o.v.e.d it....and OMG! haha, am I psychic? ;)
I don't know much about panic disorder or anxiety attacks, and I'm def not a doctor, it's called google. I hope I got it right enough
italics are flashbacks/thoughts. there are some references to 2.13 (happily picking and choosing after my own liking) and to my earlier chapters
(…Suddenly she can feel him stirring, a faint flutter under his closed eyelids as he draws her closer to him. Then he opens his eyes, brown eyes meeting brown eyes, and she knows that no matter how wrong it may be – she's happier in this second than she's ever been in her life…)
"Hey" She tries her best to wipe the silly lovesick smile off her face, but fail miserably.
Looking into his eyes trying to pick up on how he is feeling, what he is feeling. She can still see the sadness and the grief, but happily notices that there is also something else there - something brighter - and it makes her smile even bigger
"How's the head?" She asks him, her fingers trailing his forehead
"In one piece" He answers after a moment's thought, rubbing his face with his hand.
He slowly moves onto his back so that she is resting on his arm. His fingers brushing alongside her arm causing the tiny hairs on her arm to stand on end. And she is amazed how such a light touch can instantly have her full attention, craving more. Desperately trying to remember how he hass just lost his father when her skin starts to burn from the contact with his fingertips.
But he doesn't seem to notice. Normally he would be able to tell what kind of impact he is having on her, a smug, confident smirk on his face as he would tilt his head down and cover her mouth with his, his hands..
"I need a shower" He says, interrupting her thoughts, forcing her back to reality. A reality that - she tries to remember herself - is not about all the million things she can imagine him doing to her in this very bed. That is not why she is here, that is not what he needs. No matter how utterly weird a thought like that might have been, given other circumstances.
"Okay" Suddenly realizing she's famished, she continues; "You hungry? I could order some food from the kitchen"
"I'm starving" He says, sounding almost surprised. As if he's been in hibernation for months and in the meantime forgetting what it feels like to be hungry.
"What would you like?"
"Whatever you want.." He answers absently, lost in thought, before getting on his feet and heading for the bathroom. When he reaches the door he turns around looking at her. An expression on his face she can't quite read.
"What?" She's suddenly missing the dance of his fingers, the warmth of his body next to hers.
A hint of a smirk in his eyes that doesn't fully reach his lips as he looks back at her.
"Nothing, Waldorf…just…never mind" And with that said he walks into the bathroom, leaving her puzzled.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
His head still pounding a little as he examines himself in the mirror. Not exactly Prince Charming, Bass. He thinks to himself, wincing at the sight of his appearance reflecting in the shiny surface. Turning away to spare himself the sorry sight he reaches down to the buttons of his once clean and neatly ironed shirt. When his fingers come in contact with the plastic of the first button an image comes rushing through his head, stopping him in his tracks as he remembers the last time he stood in the exact same spot, buttoning this very shirt.
He'd been hung over then as well. Hung over, drunk and his head filled with dark thoughts. Standing in front of the mirror, trying to button the stupid shirt, not wanting to succeed since that would make him ready to leave the suite. Ready to leave for his father's funeral.
Then the funeral and the reception; all the people, his friend's worried expressions, the black nothing in his chest and the throbbing pain in his head. He had fucked that up too, and then storming off in a panic mode, not able to stand one more second of it all. Ignoring Blair calling out his name. Running after him as he left her and what was left of his life behind - continuing his attempts to drown out the world
The memories hit him in full force, and he is shocked at the power of which the feelings come rushing back, swirling in the pit of his stomach. His breath catching in his throat he can feel his heart racing a mile a minute. He tries not to panic but when he can't get rid of the feeling that he is drowning he can't fight the panic off anymore. When the room starts spinning he backs up against the wall, sinking down on to the floor. A trickle of cold sweat down his back.
I think I'm dying.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
After phoning down to the kitchen she spends some time tidying up around the suite, humming some silly song while emptying ashtrays and removing used glasses from the table and the bar.
When she is finished she heads for the bathroom, feeling a little stupid for checking up on him like a worried mother would on her baby. Maybe she has a maternal bone in her body after all - hearing Nate's words from the reception in the back of her head she smiles as she calls out for him;
"Chuck? I ordered some food, it should be here any…" As she walks into the bathroom she stops at the sight of him. The smile disappearing from her face as she sees him sitting on the floor, still fully dressed. His face is pale as a sheet as he sits staring blankly ahead of him. His arms resting on his bended knees. If she couldn't see his chest moving she would most likely have believed he was dead.
"Chuck!" She throws herself down on the floor so that she is kneeling by his side. "What is wrong? What happened? Are you hurt? Questions come spilling out of her mouth, hot tears starting to burn the corners of her eyes. His eyes back to empty, the hint of a smirk nonexistent.
As she reaches out to grab a hold of his cool hands he snaps out of his trance and looks at her, his eyes shiny. Exhaling unevenly he opens his mouth;
"I just…I" He stutters, looking so lost, so confused it breaks her heart. "I just couldn't take it off" He continues, clearing his throat. "I couldn't breathe…I think…you..." His voice trails off and he lets out another ragged breath.
She positions herself next to him on the floor, slinging her arm around him, trying to stop the tears welling up in her eyes from falling. Wanting to be strong for him but completely overwhelmed by the look on his face.
"It is okay, I am right here" She continues as he buries his face in the crock of her neck, making it impossible for her to longer prevent the tears from slowly sliding down her cheeks.
They sit next to each other on the floor until his breath is once again even and she can feel him starting to relax. She then gets up on her feet and pulls him up with her. Rubbing her hands up and down his arms reassuringly before reaching into the shower, getting the water running, never letting go of his hand in the process.
With her eyes fixed on his she slowly starts unbuttoning his soiled shirt. Tossing it aside she continues with his pants, unbuckling the belt before reaching for the button underneath. He then carries on undressing himself, his movements slow like an old man's. She stands by in silence, watching him, making sure he is okay. As he steps into the shower she picks up his clothes and after emptying his pockets and removing the belt she throws them in the bin.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
Feeling as if the hot water is washing away the last remaining streaks of panic and the cold shivers he stands there - his head resting against the tiles – until the thought of exiting the glass walls no longer seem like an impossible task. Slowly towelling himself dry before putting on some clean clothes. Taking his time. Even so, he still has to stop and breathe for a second before leaving the room.
Finding Blair in the living room, just about to lift platters of food onto the dinner table at the end of the room.
Walking up to her, embracing her from behind as he reaches out to take the lid off the canteen. A huff escaping his mouth as he sees the mixture of cheese and pasta, causing her to laugh and turn around in his arms, facing him.
"Come on, Bass, don't tell me you don't like cheese" She laughs tilting her head to the side, her eyes sparkling. "Who doesn't like cheese?"
"We've been over this Waldorf" he snorts. "If you can't remember saying it, you never did."
But she looks so beautiful, and he's not really upset, how could he be? A smile on his lips for the first time in what feels like forever.
"But I do like cheese."
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
They spend the rest of the day curled up together in 1812 as the snow keeps falling outside the window. Covering the UES in white, Christmas just around the corner. He's still exhausted from his trials and they soon end up back in bed where he falls asleep within seconds. Her back against his chest, his arm slung over her frame. Fingers entwined.
Chuck and Blair holding hands.
There will be more...