Part 12
The way he loved her terrified her.
She met his eyes from across the street, when she spotted him waiting inside the towncar watching her. His intent eyes were trained on her. Even from afar his gaze was molten. When he looked at her, it was almost like she burned.
He loved her.
And it terrified her.
She wrapped her coat tightly around herself, tied the belt loosely around her belly, and walked towards the hotel. She stopped at the door, turned her head, and saw him sitting still, his face turned to her, watching. Waiting, it seemed. Waiting for something. And his loving her and waiting scared her.
She felt his eyes boring a hole in the back of her skull. Even as she entered the building she felt his eyes follow her. She nodded at the doorman and strode towards the suite. Inevitably she was inside the bedroom, sitting alone on the bed, her face turned to his side. Her eyes drifted close and she took in a long, deep breath.
She smelled him. His scent was fainter than yesterday. She buried her nose in the sheets. Blair rose to her feet and walked to the closet, pushed her clothes to the side and ran her fingers along the beige coat that hung as their border. She reached to pull it down, but could not reach the hanger. She went over to the kitchen and returned with a stool. Grasping the closet door, she pulled herself up to teeter on the stool. Elevated, she reached for his coat and pressed it up to her nose.
Better.
She climbed down and laid out his trenchcoat on his side of the bed. She picked up a checkered scarf from his pile and wrapped it around her neck.
And then, like that, she breathed a sigh and decided it was the best way to sleep.
It was morning when she woke up, morning when she felt the gentle rocking of her body. She opened her eyes and saw her mother smiling down at her.
"Come home with me, Blair," Eleanor invited, running her fingers through the material of Chuck's scarf around her neck. "I had Dorota prepare your favorite breakfast."
Her brows furrowed, and her gaze shifted to Lily standing by the doorway with a sad smile on her face. And then she realized. It was day three, and here they were. She moistened her lips. "I can't come home, mom. Chuck's waking up today," she told Eleanor.
"Sweetheart—"
She turned her gaze to Lily. "Forty eight hours, right?" Lily nodded. "That's what they said." Blair said to her mother, "Imagine the hassle of moving back home only to move again when we get our own place."
Eleanor threw an imploring look at Lily, who now walked into the room and sat down on the bed with them. "Blair, I was just there at the hospital."
Blair glanced at the wall clock. "You didn't wait for me." She pushed her hair behind her ears. Blair looked down at her hand. Her ring. This was the morning he would see it. It sparkled there, adorning her finger. Very soon she would need to take it off. Her fingers were growing fat. He should be happy for it. He wanted her big and heavy. "Can I take the car?"
And then her ring was covered by Lily's hand around hers. "The swelling's been gone since yesterday," Lily informed her.
She frowned. "Then why isn't he awake?"
"The doctors don't know," Lily told her.
"They said forty eight hours."
"Blair," her mom said, her voice firm, much like the strong, elegant woman who faced the humiliation of being abandoned by a gay husband, so like the mother who sought to protect her daughter from the explosion caused by the sex scandal that initially caused her fall in Constance.
When her mother used that tone, it was because Eleanor needed Blair to be strong.
Blair turned away, and climbed out of the bed from Chuck's side. She glanced at her mother, and saw the way the older woman's lips tightened as she noticed the crumpled beige trenchcoat. Blair picked up the garment and folded it, then placed it on the pillow.
"I'm not coming home, mom," she informed Eleanor. "It just doesn't make sense."
As if everything needed to make sense.
Blair turned to Lily, and repeated her earlier unanswered question. "Can I take the car? I want to visit Chuck."
"Blair," Lily breathed, "you know everything ours is yours. But I don't think it's a good idea."
No one, not Lily, not her mother, would ever understand. Neither of them loved the same way she did. Neither of them understood.
Neither of them had ever experienced being consumed alive, straining to breathe, twisting in pain—all because she loved.
Only two other people in the world knew what it was like. One of them was asleep, and one of them, she was sure, waited still, under the bright morning sun.
Jack Bass hated her. In his eyes she saw. Ha hated her so much he loved her; loved her so much he wished she died.
Blair turned her back to the two women and walked over to her laptop. It was open still, on the website that posted pictures of her and of him. It was sick, to be watched by so many people. Yet right then all she could do was smile at the photographs they had displayed of them. He was happy, almost content, holding her in front of him with a tiny yellow jumpsuit in his hand.
They wanted to come, and she refused. She made her way to the car and felt the same watchful eyes on her. She closed the car door even before she entered, and then she turned to the street and looked from side to side, ready to cross. Before she could, he was striding towards her.
"Couldn't you just call me over?" he demanded. He loomed over her, leaning close, and she felt crowded. Always, he took up space. Always, he crowded her like he needed to fill every vacuum in her life. When he looked at her, she recognized all that he felt. Jack never hid anything, not even when it was best to hide. "You know I'll come. I'll always come."
She held her hand out to ward him off. Her palm rested on his chest, and he dropped his chin. He grasped her wrist with his hand and brought her hand up to his lips. She snatched her hand away, but he gripped tightly.
"Let me take you," he pleaded.
He knew where she was going. Blair searched his face, and it was obvious that he knew. What motivation would a man have to offer, when it was so clear? Still, she said, "I'm going to visit him."
"I know," Jack said quietly.
"I want to see him because I miss him." Jack nodded. "Because I love him." So much, she thought. So much she was wilting every breath she took. Someday she would be dried up and rotten, all because she was too long away from him.
"You said that."
Blair pulled her hand away, and then finally, he released her. She rubbed at her wrist. "Why are you still here?" she demanded.
He breathed, and she watched the rise and fall of his chest. He breathed, and it fascinated her. The only way Chuck breathed now, was with tubes running through him. And yet here Jack was, breathing without help, living and awake.
She wished it were Chuck standing in front of her instead.
Jack in his place.
And she did not feel bad, not one bit, for the awful awful wish.
She turned her back on him, and slammed into the car. She asked the driver to take her to the hospital. When she arrived, she made her way to his room. Blair walked towards the bed and smiled down at his sleeping face. Like the last time she was there, she laid her lips on his.
Wake up.
He didn't stir. She did not expect him too. The door opened and she turned and saw his doctor step inside. The woman walked over to him and flashed her tiny flashlight into his eyes. Blinding him. He should be irritated enough to wake up.
The doctor smiled at her, and asked, "How are you, Blair?"
She licked her lips. "I'm getting impatient. You said he'd be awake by now."
The doctor walked over to her, and her lips curved. It was stupid for her to smile, Blair thought. When the doctor moved nearer, and looked down at her abdomen, Blair saw it. She had never been this attuned to a stranger. It was in the way the woman held her breath, the way her lashes fluttered to shield her eyes.
"May I?" the doctor asked, placing her stethoscope in her ears and gesturing to her belly.
"Go ahead," she whispered. Blair felt the cold metal through her blouse. The cold metal moved across her belly, and the doctor nodded. "How is she?"
"Sounds fine," the doctor informed her. "Have you had your ultrasound? Is it a girl?"
Blair shook her head. "I'm not finding out for sure until Chuck can find out with me."
"You shouldn't wait," the doctor advised. "You want to know that the baby's healthy."
Her heart was pounding. It was everything the doctor did not say. It was everything in her eyes. Blair's voice sharpened. "You don't think he's going to wake up."
And then the doctor reached for her arm and squeezed. Blair rested her hand on her abdomen. The woman glanced at her hand. "That's a beautiful ring." Blair looked down at the engagement ring, felt so silly wearing it now, like it would change anything. "The swelling's gone. There's no reason for him not to wake up."
"And he's not waking up," she said.
The doctor nodded. "The human brain is complicated. I honestly can't tell you if he will or he won't."
Blair swallowed. She turned to Chuck. In the periphery of her vision she saw the doctor leave the room. She looked around the room, his hospital suite. Even sick he got the best. Even dying, he could afford the best. His bed looked big, comfortable. More comfortable now than their expensive hotel room bed with him there. She crawled in beside him and pressed up to his side. She closed her eyes.
"Wake me up when you're up," she whispered.
All she wanted to do, the moment he fell asleep, was sleep. All she had energy to do was close her eyes. All she needed to do was disappear into him.
If she could melt into him she would.
Jack was right. Even long long ago, when it was Chuck who was sinking and she was the only one holding him out of the water, Jack saw her for what she was. He had told her and she did not listen. He recognized her for what she was when she had fooled herself into thinking she was better.
"Look at you. You're a fucking disaster."
"I am," she admitted, keeping her eyes closed, her cheek pressed against Chuck's hospital gown.
He sounded mean, like he did not understand what she felt. Only, she knew, he was the only one who understood the most. "I hate seeing you like this."
"No one's forcing you to watch," she answered. She wanted to tell him to leave them alone, so let her sink into oblivion beside Chuck. The closer she was, she more probably it was that she would surface into the dream he was in.
His hand rested on her back. She squirmed away from him, pressing closer to Chuck. "Let me take care of you." She shut her eyes tightly closed. "I swear you won't regret it."
"Quiet," she shushed him. She let herself drift off. And then she found herself ripped from the warmth of Chuck's side, and Jack had pulled her up to sit.
He glared at her, the scowl on his face showing her how angry he was. "What the fuck are you doing?" She turned her face away. He grasped her face and made her look at him. "You don't care anymore, is that it?"
Defeated, her lashes lowered. She tried to pull her face away from his grip. Weakly, she swatted at his hand, but he held tight.
"I'm in love with you."
He had said it so many times, even back when he thought it was all that mattered. Back when Chuck could not say it, back when it was all she wanted.
"If he's gone, you still stay."
She felt the hot rush of tears in her eyes. "If he's gone—"
"I'll take care of you," he assured her. The words were empty, and she felt her tears spillover uncontrolled. "I told you. I'm here. I don't care. I'm so fucking in love with you we'll name your baby after him and I'll love it."
He was back. And he was here. And he loved her. And he wasn't ever going to leave.
"If he dies, I'll be here."
"I hate you," she sobbed.
He pulled her to him, and his lips moved hungrily over her slack ones. Blair was frozen, and she felt him over her, eating her, consuming her, finishing her, roving over her mouth and over her face. His tongue was in her mouth, tracing her tears, running through the tracks. He disgusted her, and she only had enough energy to remain still.
He pulled her off the bed, and pressed against her, pushing her ass back against the bed.
And then she felt it. It was hot. When his first tear fell on her cheek, she thought, were tears really that hot?
She remained passive under the onslaught of his mouth and his tongue, and he kissed her, disgusting in its fervor, unsettling when it grew tender.
Blair closed her eyes. His lips were hot and wet as they pressed into her ear, her neck.
Finally, he looked down at her. "Open your eyes." She shook her eyes. "Open them!" And she did. When she saw his tear-streaked eyes, she felt nothing. "I'll take care of you better than he ever could."
Blair sighed. He was waiting for her to speak. Instead, she returned to Chuck and sat, laid her head on his chest.
"You're trying to hurt me, like the bitch you've always been," he snarled. With her back to him, she closed her eyes and drowned out his voice listening to Chuck's heart. "He'll never love you like I do. He's always going to choose everything else before you."
One. Two. Three.
Twenty eight.
Forty seven.
His heartbeart was the only music she wanted to hear.
"You think he's changed? When I wanted to prove to you that he would choose his father's company over you, he did. I make a simple call for his secretary to call him for a status update from Tokyo. And then he comes running to work. Didn't matter that he had a commitment to you."
Her hand fisted on Chuck's abdomen. She lifted her head, and she turned to look coldly at Jack. "You were the one who called him," she whispered.
"I was there for you when he wasn't. If you needed me, I would have walked into that appointment with you and held your hand," he said.
"He was there because of you," she said softly.
He repeated, "I love you." As if it made all the difference. "You understand what that means."
They would all burn for their obsessions. They would burn and sink and destroy one another, and none of them would survive.
It was merely a matter of who went first.
She was a disaster, like he said, and she would destroy him. She loved a boy and was about to lose the man he had become.
And now, she did not want to sleep, did not want to rest, did not want to vanish. Inside her, a small flame burst. Anger lit fuel in her veins.
Jack knew her more than Lily or Eleanor ever would. And she understood him the way no one else did. She closed her eyes and let the tears run down her cheeks. He stepped towards her and picked up her hands, pressed kisses to them.
"I hate it when you cry," he said.
She met his gaze, her eyes unwavering. "You love it," she challenged. "You want me to cry."
His nostrils flared. He shook his head. "Never."
"I hate you so much. And I can't look at you." He drew his hands back as if he was burned. "I can't live like this."
He shook his head. "I'll do anything for you. You know that."
She leaned down and hovered her lips over his. He rose up and she shifted away. She placed her cold hand on his cheek. "As long as I know you're out there, I'll never forgive you. And that's going to kill me every day."
"I'm sorry," he gritted out.
"I know," she whispered. "And you know what I need." And then she lay down on the bed and pressed against Chuck and closed her eyes.
"Blair—" She did not respond.
She heard the door shut.
That night, she called her mother to join her for dinner at Lily's house. Eleanor looked pleasantly surprised when she arrived and took in her daughter dressed up and ready. Blair accepted her mother's kiss.
Serena opened the door, and grabbed her hands as she pulled her into the house. During dinner, the van der Woodsen's maid entered the dining room and handed Lily the phone. Blair watched silently as Lily gasped and hung up the phone.
"Excuse me," Lily apologized to the dinner party, "I have to go see to an emergency."
"What is it, mom?" Serena said worriedly. Is it Chuck?
If it was, she would have felt it. Blair reached for her glass of water and tipped it to her lips. She felt her mother's eyes on her.
"No. It's Jack," Lily said. "They found him in the skyline hotel bar bathroom. They think he overdosed."
Classic, she thought. Like choosing the bathroom from New Year's Eve would be more meaningful. Sacred.
"Is he dead?" she asked, placing down her glass back on the table.
Eleanor's lips thinned. Serena looked at her with wide eyes.
"He's alive," Lily responded. "Barely. I need to go. I think I'm the closest relation he has."
Pity that, Blair thought. His closest relation and they weren't even connected by blood. His only relative was lying in a hospital bed, all because of him.
"Of course," Eleanor murmured.
Blair blinked, then reached for a slice of tuna. "Say hello for me."
tbc
