ئەمەلىيەتتىكى يالغان
Blair realized in the moment it took for him to turn back to her that she desired for him to stay. Not the Queen but the girl beneath the crown. Now he was gazing at her once more and her whole being ached. Her hands were trembling slightly so she held the headband tighter. "Did you," Blair faltered under the tender sincerity she saw in his face and had to look down at her hands, "did you return Hazel's attention?"
"There was a moment. I had drunk too much and her manipulation almost worked. But none of it was honest."
She struggled to hear this, unsure if he was trying to hurt her or something else? The Queen grabbed ahold of a possible something else and Blair was able to lift her head once more. "Then she has deceived us both for her own gains?"
Chuck appeared to stand a little taller. "I've never sought her affections and have always stated my disinterest."
The Queen posited, "She won't see it coming if we take her down."
Chuck arched one eyebrow. "We? You want to scheme?"
Blair felt her heart quicken. After all, wasn't it their ultimate weakness: one another? "I think it would be the most successful route, don't you?"
Chuck let the idea hang between them in agonizing suspense before he gestured towards the sitting room. "Then, shall we?"
Blair went to walk past him but paused. With her head lowered slightly, she softly whispered, "Thank you."
In that moment, Blair yearned to know what he was feeling. Was his tangle of emotions the same as hers? Different? All he offered her was a simple nod off acknowledgement
So Blair lifted her head higher, that glimpse at their broken hearts fading away as a queen and her dark knight entered the sitting room to begin their scheming.
Victrola was vice with a pulse during the night. But as Chuck sat in a back corner booth watching rehearsals, he found a different sort of enjoyment in the hollowness cloaked in its luxurious trappings during daylight hours. He watched the dancers on stage as he swirled his tumbler of scotch, the choreographer barking orders and clapping out the beat. They'd been going on for awhile when Chuck watched one girl stumble and crash into another girl. The choreographer called break and yelled for another girl to practice a solo number.
The heavy bass line mimicked the rhythm of a heartbeat but was much too slow. It's staggering pulse was that of only half a heart. The lyrics began, the words familiar but Chuck didn't have a chance to place them before Hazel was sliding into the booth, pressing herself close against him. She gazed wide-eyed at the dancers standing around and the emptiness of the space and said something about how cool it was.
Chuck drained more of the scotch from its tumbler. "Thanks for coming to meet me."
She turned her attention back to him and flashed him an eager smile. "Of course! I said I was here for you, whatever you needed."
"You were right. It's lonely, going from…" he left the blank to be filled in unspoken, "to now, this. And she ended up with everything."
"No, she didn't. You have me."
He let her reply hang there, the low rumbling of bass twisting around the lyrics of the song, filling the silence.
You're feeling some affection that's too hard to convey
He looked over at her, sincerity painted on his face as the thrum of the music climbed. "Thank you, Hazel."
You'd better understand.
To my heart I must be true.
Her foolish happiness shone through her eyes. Suddenly, she was distracted and pulling her phone from her pocket. "Oh dear, it's already this late? I hadn't realized."
"What is it?" Chuck played at being concerned.
"The college mixer. It's at Blair's." Hazel rolled her eyes. "Apparently some pipe burst at the school and now it's being moved to her penthouse. Because that's fair."
She began to scoot out of the booth. He followed behind, standing close to her, his hand easily hanging near her handbag.
"You're leaving so soon?"
"If it were anything else I'd stay, but this is about college more than the Queen." Hazel apologized by running her hand along the lapel of his jacket. "But I can come back tonight."
Chuck stayed silent, letting her see it as sadness. It was no effort at all when she went to turn, for his hand to catch her bag, causing it to drop to the ground, its contents erupting and scattering on the hard floor. He helped her gather her things, the both of them dropping her things back into the cavernous tote.
Her things gathered once more they stood and Chuck watched her leave, returning her wave before she slipped through the doors.
The job done; the rest was up to Blair. Chuck's sullen demeanor disappeared and he glanced at his wristwatch. He had time. Time to change and time return to his own agenda.
You're the one that I want.
…One that I need.
—
The mixer was in full swing when Chuck entered the foyer at Blair's. The quiet penthouse they had spent their private spring break together in was now bustling with people. He spotted Nate with the rep who must have been from Dartmouth standing near the stairs where Blair had broken his heart. Serena was sharing Brown with a few of the minions by the chaise he had sat in while commanding Blair strip for him. The memories trailed behind him as Chuck ambled out onto the patio and found Blair balancing the Yale reps attention with playing hostess.
The caterers wove between guests with their trays and across the sea of vases full of fresh flowers, her eyes met his and he saw her pause. After all, he wasn't supposed to be here. He saw pink rise in her cheeks and her eyes flickered towards the spot on the balcony they had defiled. He knew her mind had to be racing in several directions and he simply enjoyed holding her attention for those brief moments. Chuck let that memory wash over him as he remembered pulling her body against his and gazing at the mess of their essences on the ground.
Parties here will never be quite as boring anymore.
If he were any other man, he would wonder if the memory was making her wet. But this was Blair and Chuck, and he knew she was. The satisfaction helped him to refocus on his mission. He was here to talk to reps from the west coast schools. So he put on his best façade as he asked about business schools and laughed at their stupid jokes about the weather compared to New York. He eventually spoke with Dartmouth and Columbia too, because if he were brutally honest, he still didn't have any real direction.
While Chuck was trying to casually up-sell Nate to the Dartmouth rep on the patio, when a disturbance unfolding in the foyer officially derailed the end of the mixer. By the time Chuck and Dartmouth rep came inside, a cop was already escorting out Hazel as another cop handed a visibly distraught Blair her red ruby heart ring. Serena wrapped herself around Blair in a hug, but just over the blonde's shoulder he caught Blair's eye. Another flawless scheme to add to their list of victories, Chuck allowed himself to share with her a small smile.
He didn't know the details of how Blair pulled off her half, only that she was satisfied to have Hazel caught for stealing from her. Blair wouldn't press charges; the sheer humiliation would be enough to knock Hazel back into line, assuming of course, that Hazel's parents wouldn't ship her off to a boarding school after this.
Chuck quietly slipped away from the dramatic atmosphere. As he waited for the elevator, he gazed at the wall where he had taken Blair that first evening of spring break and his heart imagined that he was slipping upstairs and into Blair's bed, to celebrate another successful item ticked off of her Yale checklist. But no. Instead, he stepped into the elevator and left those dreams behind him.
Chuck sought refuge in his one true friendship by spending the evening in a haze of smoke. Nate was chatty as he unwound, pulling them both through recollections of past adventures in an attempt to forget an afternoon of discomfort and performance. It helped Chuck make space between his recent encounters with Blair and what the hell he was supposed to do next. But then Monday came and he dragged himself out of bed, knowing that whatever the plan was to become, he needed to do this school thing at least somewhat adequately.
He barely made it to third period before he needed a break. A cold drink from the water fountain. Even better, he thought to splash some water on his face and went to his preferred restroom.
Chuck exhaled as he shoved the bathroom door open.
"What did you think you were doing!"
He nearly jumped as he turned towards the source of the sound—as though he didn't know by the voice alone. Even accounting for alternate realities, Chuck could never have imagined he'd find Blair there, waiting for him. He was quick to collect himself.
"Blair. Is there something you need?"
Her gaze was furious and it set his heart racing. He wasn't trained to fear her the way other mere mortals had been. After all, unwinding a tense Blair Waldorf had become a certain talent of his.
"What were you doing at the college mixer?"
The question properly irked him. "I didn't realize it would have any impact on you."
He watched as she clicked pieces of information together. "And you were with Nate. At the SATs. Weren't you?"
Chuck was careful to stare, uninterested, at the spot of wall above Blair's shoulder. She wasn't supposed to care. He wasn't prepared for this and he couldn't break. He couldn't. "And if I was? What is it to you?"
Because, wasn't that it? She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be thinking or feeling anything. Not about him.
He could see as she narrowed her eyes, something of this wasn't right to her either, and she was realizing it. And then, Chuck felt something in him shift. Not break. More like a slide to the side like a pocket door retreating into the wall.
It wasn't much of a step to take to close the distance between them. His hand pressed against the wall above her shoulder, that spot that he had been previously pinning his gaze to. His voice was low and teasing, and he felt his comfortable smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Is something wrong, Blair?"
She didn't crumble. No. It was a crack, severely cleaving her façade. "Why were they west coast schools?"
"Blair," he tilted his head as he reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, "what is there left for me? I have nothing."
Her cheeks were blushed in a glowing pink as she continued to stare squarely in the middle of his chest. Then again, she didn't have any choice with how he had her pinned to the wall. But at his statement, those furious brown eyes met his once more.
It was a spring rain discovering the well worn path of a dried up river. It was easy and natural—their nature, that drew his mouth to hers.
She wasn't stopping him. She wasn't pushing him away. He felt one of her hands start to slide up his chest. Chuck began to panic, holding his breath with the awful thought that she was going to push him away. But no, her hand slid behind his neck, her fingers grasping the back of his hair, her mouth now fully kissing him back.
Chuck breathed in her scent, his hands wrapped around her waist to pull her tight against him. The hunger of their kiss climbed higher as Blair held tight to him. He felt her chest heaving against his, her mouth opening his, and he drank in the desperate slide of her tongue against his.
She whimpered under his kisses and the press of his body. So she raised her leg, hooking it over his hip, causing her to hang even more from him. Open, pressing back against him, he felt the intense heat of her quickly seep through his mandatory khakis, the sensation welcome and familiar to his hardness. The strain, the friction quickly became maddening.
This madness.
If he opened his trousers, he would be able to feel—
Feel.
These feelings.
It tore through Chuck's lustful cloud of delusion.
These feelings that would lead to nowhere.
He groaned and with a hard pant, shoved himself away from her.
Blair was beautifully disheveled from his desire. Her furious glare had now taken on an edge of ice at his rejection.
A strangled laugh suddenly bubbled out of his mouth. "You of all people shouldn't ever need to ask me why."
He couldn't look at her another second and walked out of the restroom.
Chuck had shut his phone off before slipping back to class. If Blair tried to text him, he didn't want to see it.
Which was a mistake.
It all erupted in a surreal haze. By the time he got out of his head long enough to register the stares and the whispers from his classmates, he was suddenly being called to the office.
In the hallway, he turned his phone on. What was it now?
Chuck paused the video shortly after it started and rubbed his eyes.
It certainly wasn't the sex tape everyone wanted, but someone enjoyed filming him and Blair nearly having sex in the bathroom.
Fuck.
He laughed at that thought.
If only.
January 1, 2021
Ten years ago I published my first one-shot, so it only felt write to celebrate with an update. I've met so many amazing people all around the world because of this community and writing for it, some of those people I miss as they've wandered away into their real lives or other fandoms, while others have become dear friends. I'm grateful for everyone who has made this adventure so wonderful. I love writing and I can only wonder what adventures I will have in the next ten years? xoxo
Kisses to Anjum for our writing hangouts and feedback/edits!
Title is Uyghur for "A Practiced Lie", a line spoken in John Green's Anthropocene Reviewed Podcast on Auld Lang Syne. Language selection in this instance was to highlight the human rights crisis around the Uyghur/Uighur community in Western China.
