A/N: Just a warning, this first vignette is more abstract. It's sort of like having vignettes in the middle of a vignette. I know it's a little all over the place, but I hope you like it.

Summary: There had always been something between them that she couldn't understand until she was bleeding all over him and crying and writhing and panting. His torture was so sweet and his love was so powerful.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Quotes belong to GG and corrections are of course my beta's, comewhatmay.x. There is also a large amount of Wuthering Heights references and quotes. It's awesome. You should read it.

Wuthering Heights

That one looks good.

Chuck and I played 'Wuthering Heights' in it.

At quite a young age, she had found herself reading the only work of Emily Bronte. While others were falling for the romanticism of Jane Austen, she found herself fascinated by the gothic world of the moor. For some unknown reason, the affinity for the story baffled her. She couldn't understand this uncharacteristic attraction in the same way she couldn't understand the questionable ethics of her blonde boyfriend, or why his best friend always seemed to have such an allure about him.

Then it made sense. She had kissed him in a limo and had felt his eyes penetrate her the way everything else did that night. It made sense then. Even through every belittling and snide remark, something about it just made sense.

"I shall not pity you, not I. You have killed me—and thriven on it, I think. You strong you are!"

2008.

"I'll try to be more succinct. You held a certain fascination...when you were beautiful, delicate, and untouched. Now you're like...one of the Arabians my father used to own. Rode hard and put away wet."

There had always been something between them that she couldn't understand until she was bleeding all over him and crying and writhing and panting. His torture was so sweet and his love was so powerful.

She reveled in it. He was the only one who could hold her up. He caressed her and ripped her to shreds and she couldn't let him go. He was the only one who had ever been truly inside of her. He was the only one who had looked at her in awe, touching her dark parts with such adoration and worship.

It had turned into too much, but she was she was aware of that the first night. She was losing her virginity to Chuck Bass and that was all there was to it.

There was no coming back from it.

She wasn't like his little playthings, who always wanted to come back for more. She was Blair Waldorf.

But he was Chuck Bass.

They just watched.

She let him slam her against walls.

She loved it too much.

"How many years do you mean to live after I am gone?...I wish I could hold you...till we were both dead!"

2010.

"You look beautiful."

Blair stepped out of her grand closet, sweeping the dark dress around her body.

He was staring. He was staring in that flattering way and she wanted to perish with him.

"That's not very period, Bass," Blair pointed out. She had the costume and they were supposed to be role-playing,

"You want me to say something period?" he smirked. She knew he could play just as well as she did.

And play he would.

"Say something romantic," she said softly.

"Is this romantic?" he asked. Her dress was dark and his demeanor was demonic.

"This is real."

"Yes," he said, so pleased with her answer that it didn't seem like a test. "It is."

"Say it."

"Do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you," Chuck whispered seriously. "Oh, God. It is unutterable. I cannot live without my life. I cannot live without my soul."

He knew his lines well.

They didn't seem like they were playing at all.

"I shouldn't care what you suffered. I care nothing for your sufferings. Why shouldn't you suffer? I do!"

2008.

"If you were going to tell Nate about us you would have done so in Monaco, but you don't want him to hate you. Game over."

"Game's not over until I say it is."

"Then have fun playing with yourself."

She took pleasure from it. He knew she did. He saw that strut and that smirk he had only ever seen in a mirror. They had always been cold and calculating. He hated it this way. He hated how she was so indifferent to him. He hated how it was so easy for her.

Like it had been for him before he had fallen into a manhole so treacherous he could never pull himself out again. What really frightened him was that he didn't want to. What really frightened him was that she was the apathetic one and he was the pathetic clinger.

He didn't understand it.

Even after his cruelty at the bar, he still watched her. He thought he would hate this fascination too, but the months moved and he felt something like a hurricane of butterflies beating against his stomach.

She looked pretty in pink.

Her kisses were soft and she was so feminine in that dress that he couldn't reconcile this girl on the dance floor at his father's wedding to the cold bitch who had walked up the steps as he flailed helplessly, blogging the only ammunition he had left.

"Three words. Eight letters."

It never occurred to him.

"Say it, and I'm yours."

It never occurred to him that she was suffering as he was. He hadn't thought that she wanted him as much as he wanted her until she was in her bed with his arm thrown over her waist. It was only then that he actually considered the possibility of winning her back.

"I..."

He choked. She had caught him off guard. He thought she was just thrown by her emotions the way he was. It didn't seem as though there could be something deeper.

He was empty of emotion. But he would be lying if he even pretended that this was something familiar. She wasn't like all the other girls. He loved her.

He couldn't even remember a time before her anymore.

And now it was alright. He had fought with that dark dress and the nineteenth century dialect was abandoned for moans and pleas.

She was still a tease. She still took pleasure in torturing him. She nipped at his skin and he couldn't gather his bearings. He never could with her.

"Will you forget me? Will you be happy when I am in the earth? Will you say twenty years hence, 'That's the grave of Catherine Earnshaw? I loved her long ago, and was wretched to lose her; but it is in the past."

2010.

"Do you love me?"

He had never been this intimate with a woman before. He had been sexual and physical. He was an animal at heart. He was wild. But with Blair, he was intimate. Their naked bodies were intertwined, his shoulder supporting her head, and he was content to just lay there.

For the first time in his life.

"What?"

He couldn't help his incredulity. It was a ludicrous question. He had said it every day, thought it every minute, felt it every second since that day in front of the limo with peonies and proclamations he would only ever give her.

He sat up.

"Do you love me?" Blair asked again.

"You know I do," he said. "I've said it-"

"I think I would be quite uncomfortable without you," she said diplomatically.

"Say it differently."

He needed to hear it.

"I know this isn't normal."

"Normal," Chuck repeated. "Is that what you want?"

"No," she said, her tone almost one of surprise. "I thought I knew what I wanted. But I want this. I want complete destruction. I want to suffer. I want to feel. I never want to be free of you."

The dress was at the edge of the bed and it was clear what was bringing this on.

She always over thought everything. Then again, so did he. Sometimes. He thought about it too. He thought about things no one should be thinking about at eighteen, especially Chuck Bass.

He was thinking eternity.

He just didn't know that she was thinking it as well.

"Do you love me?" she asked again. He leaned his forehead against hers, gripping her tightly.

"I love you."

No one said it the way he said it and that sentence would never have the same connotation ever again.

"I can't ever be apart from you."

It was frightening.

It was the truth.

"'I've loved many others since: my children are dearer to me than she was; and, in death, I shall not rejoice that I am going to her: I am sorry that I must leave them!' Will you say so, Heathcliff?"

2010.

It was wrong. No one understood it. That was why it was the way it was. He stared at her and she couldn't help but think of times when they quoted a book together. She then threw it in a box, afraid to ever look at again.

She knew it would make her feel loved in the way she knew that Chuck could only love her. She took gasping breaths and she missed him.

It was the truth.

"Will you say so, Heathcliff?"

He broke character. She paused and he looked at her with penetrating eyes that could belong to Heathcliff, but she knew belonged to her Chuck.

"I will never love anyone the way I love you," he promised.

"Chuck."

She wanted to sound annoyed, but she wasn't. This was exactly what she wanted to hear.

"I can't," he said. "I just can't."

"Chuck-" she blurted, feeling his approach, feeling the heightened emotion. She couldn't stop it.

"I will die with you."

His hands were hard on the sides of her face and she gripped his hair at the roots. He ripped away her dark dress, tearing at her tights.

She was at a loss of breath.

And she was truly loved.

"I shall not pity you, not I. You have killed me—and thriven on it, I think. You strong you are! How many years to you mean to live after I am gone?...I wish I could hold you...till we were both dead! I shouldn't care what you suffered. I care nothing for your sufferings. Why shouldn't you suffer? I do! Will you forget me? Will you be happy when I am in the earth? Will you say twenty years hence, 'That's the grave of Catherine Earnshaw? I loved her long ago, and was wretched to lose her; but it is in the past. I've loved many others since: my children are dearer to me than she was; and, in death, I shall not rejoice that I am going to her: I am sorry that I must leave them! Will you say so, Heathcliff?"

Courtship

Who starts a courtship during the day anyway?

Humans who venture out in light and aren't named Bass.

She was disoriented.

She had never woken up in a bed before without knowing where she was. But it was also true that Chuck Bass had never told her that he loved her before.

With the texture of silk sheets beneath her and the strong, familiar scent of scotch, there was no doubting exactly where she was.

The only time she had even come close to this was at age sixteen, having been offered the key to Chuck's suite to seduce his best friend.

The irony of it was that she lost her virginity to him.

Chuck Bass.

And now she was here.

Chuck Bass had told her that he loved her and now she was in a bed that she didn't recognize. But there was an arm thrown across her that she did recognize and judging from the fumbling in the dark, there was no doubt as to who it belonged to.

But it was dark. The last thing she remembered was the scorching heat of the sun and something she had never heard before; something she never thought that she would hear.

A little disorientation was acceptable for that.

"You sleep like the dead."

"I suppose the person I love is to blame for that."

She knew he would use that against her until the end of time. But those three words were worth it. He made it even clearer as he finally found her in the dark and his body rolled over hers. And she had to avert her face. She couldn't let him win so easily.

Even if he only acted like this when they were together. She could garner satisfaction from the fact that she knew he was different with her. He had never acted the way he did with her with any other girl. He said three words to her that he had never said in his life and he drew patterns across her palm absentmindedly the way he never knew he was capable of.

"What is it?"

He could find thoughts even she didn't know she was hiding.

He was looking at her, he was scanning her, and she never thought it would be her who was uncomfortable because of feelings.

But it wasn't feelings at all. It was fear that the both of them always felt.

"This doesn't feel any different."

"Different," he repeated.

He could still pull it out of her.

"Being with you," she said quietly, knowing the offense he would take from it even before she said it.

"Me."

When he started repeating her words like that she knew she had damage control to administer.

"It feels like it always does," she said. "Like I'm going to wake up in the middle of the night to find a note on the cold and empty side of the bed."

"You can believe me this time."

No matter how many times he said it, she would never be more afraid of losing anyone than him.

"You know it's not the same," Chuck said. "I know those words mean something to you."

"They mean everything," she answered. "But this still doesn't feel like..."

"A courtship."

He could read her mind to an annoying degree. But he was smirking and she knew that unlike every other conversation they had had in the past year, this wasn't the end. This wasn't some frightening last goodbye.

This was a courtship.

"What are you doing?"

Blair sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest as she watched him dress.

She didn't like this feeling at all.

"I'm courting you."

"I got the flowers, thanks," she said dryly. But he was offering her a cordial arm with his gentlemanly smile and she knew that no matter what, nothing could change who they were when they were together.

"On a date," he amended.

"It's practically midnight," she informed him.

"We exerted ourselves during the day," he reminded her with his lascivious smirk.

"So you're going to court me during the night," Blair said. "That's rather a reversal of tradition."

She had already taken his hand.

It was better that way.

Don't Bother

Why are you whispering? If it's a seduction technique, don't bother.

She liked to pretend that she was a seasoned veteran. In the sense of time passing, she was. She had been dating since she was thirteen. But when it came to developing immunity to Chuck Bass, she really wasn't. All it took was a hand to her wrist at a party, or his arms around her in a blackout, and she knew she was powerless to stop him.

At the time, she had been so close. She let herself believe that he was her foreign boyfriend in a hot bedroom. His kisses were familiar, and most definitely not the pleasant ones she had been receiving for the past week.

It was an all-powerful tempest, and she knew he had planned out the entire night to the detail.

"Titles aside, a suit of armor makes for a cold bed fellow."

She didn't even have to question what he was referring to.

"Not that it's any of your business, but Marcus and I have an amazing sex life."

They always knew each other in such an intimate way.

Even before everything that had happened.

"Where does he put his hands?"

His breath was husky and dark, a technique she knew he had perfected since middle school.

She just never thought it would work on her.

"You are disgusting and I hate you."

"Then why are you still holding my hand?"

It was futile. Because even through her protestations and refusals, he would always find her in the dark—where no one else would care to venture.

It was always his attraction and she knew there was a reason why they were so connected. It wasn't that she was so weak for him that she couldn't help but keep going back to him, no matter what he did. It was that they always went back to each other eventually.

But that didn't mean she was going to give in to him—especially after what he did.

"Don't."

She always did that. She could always read his mind before he even had a chance to exact his plan. She was never like any other girl he had become acquainted with. She was superior and perfect in her deceiving manner.

It was almost worth getting rejected for.

"I wasn't doing anything," he smirked.

"You were about to," she taunted. "Just because Serena has yet again found herself in over her head doesn't change anything that happened between us."

Chuck always felt his face fall whenever she said things like that. He couldn't do anything to stop it. She made it sound like the end and that was something he couldn't accept. He could allow their very temporary separation so they could both heal themselves, but not when she made it sound as if it was really the end of them. He didn't know what to do.

Not that he could let her know that. He couldn't let them fall.

He put his mask back into place.

She still stepped away from him.

He couldn't blame her.

"I said don't, Chuck."

At least she was still calling him by his name. There was a time when she wouldn't even acknowledge his existence.

"You really think it's that easy," she said sadly. "You can't just pull me close and whisper in my ear. It isn't that simple any more."

"I'm not trying to seduce you."

"But you wish you could."

Her voice was still wistful and he wasn't even comforted by the fact she obviously still felt something for him. They would always feel something for each other. They would always feel everything for each other. But that wasn't enough for him. He needed her. He needed her beside him. And he wasn't going to give up on them.

"Don't bother," she sighed.

But in those two simple words, something occurred to him. It occurred to him as he spoke to the feeble blonde on the other end of the line.

No one should bother seducing him. He had his heart and soul focused on one thing only.

He still loved Blair.

No one else mattered and no one should even bother with him because of that sole fact.

And with those two words—whether she admitted it or not—he knew that Blair felt the same way.