18. Tobacco

The kids in the UES are different from kids everywhere else. Whereas in the rest of the world teenagers decide to rebel against their parents, school or just the universe at large by drinking beer, smoking cigarettes or stealing their parents' car keys, the children who come from the most exclusive zone of Manhattan invent their own type of rebellion. They down champagne and whiskey bottles as though it were Perrier water, they smoke pot in the school restroom and leave the cocaine for parties, and if they really want to piss their parents off, they escape for a weekend on the family yacht.

Chuck Bass is the UES' favorite troublemaker, the worst womanizer in town, the guy who never turns down a chance to party. He has never bothered to learn the rules, much less follow them… but he's never tried a cigarette and he's only drunk beer once, in the best Irish pub in Manhattan. He found it so disgusting, though, that he's never tasted it again.

Perhaps that's why he is thunderstruck when he finds Blair Waldorf smoking a Marlboro in a restroom during a party.

He stares at her for a moment, his eyes wide open. At first he believes it's merely a figment of his imagination, that the last martini he had is causing hallucinations. Soon, though, he realizes that is not the case: the girl in the tight black dress, with a velvet bow on her head and a cigarette on her lips is undoubtedly Blair, as shocking as it sounds. He could never mistake her for anyone else.

She doesn't notice his presence, busy as she is smoking and coughing, her back turned to him. Rings of smoke come out of her mouth, creating a strange halo around her head.

'Blair, what're you doing?'

She is far too dignified to flinch, but she blinks a couple of times in surprise. When her eyes meet his in the mirror, though, her expression becomes defiant.

'I'm smoking, don't you see?'

He narrows his eyes, suspicious.

'And since when do you smoke?'

She shrugs and in that moment he notices her dress is a strapless that leaves her delicate shoulders on display. He swallows and avoids her gaze for a millisecond. Memories of a silky slip sliding down those very same shoulders flood his mind and he can almost feel her smooth skin burning under his fingertips.

'You could've at least tried something a little more… I don't know, light. Marlboro is not your style.'

She glances at the cigarette and lets out a sigh.

'A guy gave it to me.'

'Who?' Chuck asks at once, feeling the sudden urge to smash this guy's face. She rolls her eyes.

'No one important.'

She keeps smoking, coughing less and less. She's almost mastered a technique to avoid getting her precious shoes stained by ashes and Chuck can't help wondering what might have triggered this. Blair Waldorf isn't the rebellious type. She's the Guardian of What's Right and Proper, Queen of Tradition and Good Manners, the Model Daughter and Student. Perhaps she is no longer an innocent virgin, perhaps she's manipulative and vindictive, but Blair is not the kind of person who breaks the rules. Instead she thrives upon creating them and forcing everyone else to follow. Whatever reason has driven her to cause herself a lung cancer (and ruin her teeth forever) must be grave indeed.

Chuck shouldn't care. She told him clearly where her priorities lay and what his place in her life was, whereas he made sure she understood how little he cared about her opinion.

But both of them know that's all a bunch of lies and self-denial, and tonight Chuck is not in the mood to keep pretending.

'Blair, what's wrong?'

She barely bites her lower lip and Chuck can almost read the reasons written all over her face. Nate's still mad at her, Mommy ignores her as per usual, Daddy is in France with his boyfriend, Serena in Brooklyn with hers and she has lost her crown among their elitist circle of friends. Blair is nothing but predictable; however, she keeps fascinating Chuck in a way he cannot explain.

'I'm so… tired,' she whispers and Chuck almost misses her words because of the hellish racket going on at the other side of the door. 'I'm tired of doing everything by the book just to get all my plans blown up on my face, I'm tired of worrying all the time, tired of caring about what everyone says…' Her eyes are fixed on the mirror in front of her but she doesn't seem to see neither her reflection nor Chuck's. 'I just wanted to forget about all of it for a while, I guess. Be someone else, do things differently. I don't know. Stop being… myself, I guess.'

Why, Blair? You're the only one that matters in this place, in this entire city.

Chuck hastens to push that treacherous thought out of his mind.

'Don't you think there are better ways to relax? I don't know, maybe getting drunk or smoking a joint or wait, if you really want to rebel, why don't you try some coke?'

She rolls her eyes without turning around to face him.

'Everyone does that.'

'So now lung cancer is original?'

She opens her mouth to reply, but thinks better of it. Now she's staring at the cigarette with a dubious look in her eyes.

'No one gets cancer after smoking only one cigarette,' she says but he notes she doesn't take it to her lips again. He arches an eyebrow.

'Probably not. What about your teeth, though?'

She frowns and meets his gaze in the mirror.

'What about my teeth?'

He adopts a nonchalant air, placing his hands inside his pockets.

'Well, they'll get yellow, which won't photograph well. As for your breath… I'd rather not talk about it.'

Now Blair does look horrified, but she still won't get rid of the cigarette. It occurs to Chuck that to her it might symbolize the freedom she never enjoys, the rebellion she doesn't dare to manifest. He can imagine then how hard it must be for her to let go this small act of rebellion, this little act of defiance, no matter how silly and insignificant it might actually be.

'If you want to do something different, something… liberating,' he says and she looks up, 'why don't you try something more fun?'

She eyes his reflection with a suspicious glint in her dark eyes.

'Like what?'

'Well, I don't know. We could start by leaving the lamest party of the century and go to somewhere more entertaining.'

She rolls her eyes and scrunches up her nose.

'I'm so not getting into your limo ever again, Bass.'

He shrugs.

'We could walk.'

'It's raining.'

'So what? It's summertime.'

She lets the ashes fall into the sink, pensive.

'And where would we go?'

Chuck has no idea, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

'We could go to the park. You've always loved the swings.'

For the first time she turns to look at him directly, her chocolate eyes now huge in surprise.

'You remember?'

'How could I forget? You forced me to push you when Nate wouldn't.'

'Liar' she replies at once, almost pouting. 'I was perfectly capable of swinging by myself.'

'I didn't say you couldn't, just that you wouldn't. Even then you liked to boss everyone around.'

She gives him a weak smile and he smiles back. What's going on? They're supposed to loathe each other, they've ruined each other's lives, they swore they would never speak to each other again. However, here they are, Blair looking like the broken, eternally sad doll she is, while he desperately tries to make her smile as though his life depended on it and maybe, maybe it does.

'And what would we go to the park for, besides the swings?'

He decides to play along.

'We could have some ice-cream…'

Shockingly, she doesn't hasten to point out that those things aren't low fat, but she merely says:

'Chuck, it's 2 AM.'

He smiles.

'Blair, this is New York. There must be an ice-cream shop open somewhere and if that's not the case, we can always steal some from the hotel's kitchen. What do you say?'

She seems to hesitate, the cigarette dying between her fingers, a rebellious curl escaping from her bun, framing her delicate face. He waits for her answer, almost but not quite holding his breath. He can almost, almost picture it…

She is walking under summer's light rain, without worrying about her perfect hair or her make up and he is by her side, wrapping her bare shoulders with his jacket, not caring if it gets ruined. The two of them are racing on the streets, pushing each other around just like they used to do as children, mocking and bantering as always. Her heels sink in the mud as they walk across the park, his laughter loud and light when he pictures the look on Dorota's face when she cleans them, her laughter soon joining his. Her brown curls floating in the wind as she swings higher and higher, Chuck always by her side, always trying to reach her, their feet grazing the sky…

And then, both of them walking under New York's lights, ice-cream melting inside their mouths, her warm hand clutched between his and perhaps later…

She puts out what's left of her cigarette by pressing it against the sink and leaves it there.

'Thanks for the offer, but I have to go. I promised Kati that I'd dance at least once with her brother. See you.'

And before he can utter another word, Blair leaves the room, the Ice Queen's mask back in its place, with its plastic smile and its dull eyes. Chuck watches her walk away, the magic from a moment ago suddenly dissolving under the fluorescent lights.

He swallows and his mask is back in place too. Just like Blair, he has a reputation to maintain. He might be considered the Upper East Side's rebel, but the truth is that Chuck is as bound by what everyone expects from him as Blair is.

He is heading outside the restroom, intent on getting himself drunk and finding a girl to spend the night with when his eyes fall upon the cigarette. On impulse, he grabs it and puts it in his pocket. He can't explain why it seems so important to save a souvenir from this night, but Chuck Bass rarely questions himself.

With one last glance at the mirror, Chuck readies himself to carry his own chains again, taking with him the reminder of Blair Waldorf's last act of rebellion.