Lining Normal

Chapter 1 : Anniversary without Bass

Blair's POV

And so, it began the drought of my life. Sipping through my wine in Bass' apartment, though no Bass was near to be found. It should be our 3rd anniversary, but not even leather Prada was sent to me. Or those quirky Jimmy Choo's on our first one. Chocolates, flowers, diamonds, none was sent to say he was sorry for being late. I looked up to the clock and sighed. It was almost midnight. The day was almost off. Dorota was still patiently sitting by in the kitchen waiting for orders. I was still sparring on that Mr. Charles Bass Junior would just burst into the room, with all the things that a Waldorf need in his hands, himself.

"Miss Blair, I don't think Mister Chuck is coming," Dorota perched from the kitchen. I silenced myself to not agree with her. I was angry, furious, and mostly, broken hearted. We were not like we used to be. He was the soar of the company he built and I am… I am… I sighed. I am Blair Waldorf, Eleanor Rose's (yes, she changed her fucking name) daughter and an NYU student. That was it. I was not the trophy girlfriend indeed for Chuck Bass. I was becoming more and more ordinary by day beside him.

I used to be confident that I am Blair Waldorf, I am the highest in throne, I am the royalty of New York, but NYU just suck in everything that was royalty about me. I was so bland in there. Even with the finest Gucci and the most incredible Louis Vuitton they were so suited in GAP and Wal Mart that it bland my shinning roulette too. Ah, I should have persuaded more on Yale!

And those students, those awful students! Don't they care not to stare like I'm some kind of bitch! Do they have no respect?! I was handling everything pretty well and I am no Vanessa Abrams, hell no I am a hippie chick. Why do they like her more?! It's a school with majority Dan Humphreys too. They set all my confidence level down; they set me becoming a whining bitch. I hate NYU!

Dong!

The huge clock sprained its 12 o'clock sound. Or was it just me that it sounded so sad. I looked at the door; it was still standing still, no Bass.

"Miss Blair," Dorota was scared in looking at my face.

"Just pile up the food for the trash," I sipped my last wine and pull my purse. "You can go home after that."

"Where are you going Miss Blair?" Dorota looked at me now, and she could see my face was soulless. I was not angry nor was I sad, I was empty.

"I'll be taking a walk," and before she stopped me, I was gone. I walked through the lift, still hoping for that Bass to come in, but no Bass was in sight. I walked towards the exit, still no Bass.

The night was cold and it was very calm, as if someone asked the busy New York to be quiet for once. I walked through the pavement, realizing every pair of eyes was on me. Oh yeah, I am still in my glitzy yellow dress. Made it special for tonight but seems like this baby was for another audience, strangers. Thus, I shivered a bit, I forgot my coat. I rubbed my arms for warmness. Then the night gives a soar breeze which definitely forced me to enter the first restaurant I see (thankfully a nearly decent one). It was surprisingly filled with guest for this late of the night.

"Hello," I heard a voice of male behind me; some bearded guy flashed his very unflattering smile to me. "I see you're alone here, miss. How about I give you some company?"

I was disgusted. I was about to say every forceful curse I could to him but a sound from the microphone broke off.

"Patrick, you know you're married now, right?" I looked back, there was a man holding the microphone on stage with his guitar. He had his hood up and underneath was a rather unruly chocolate hair. His face was rather cute but the stubble I don't agree. But the eyes were rather fascinating. Even one inch of movement could change his blue eyes to green; and the other way round.

"John you better don't rummage my charms on this young lady here," the loathed Patrick yelled behind me. But Patrick laughed after that, which surprised me. The guy with the guitar called John also laughed.

I feel someone pulling me afterwards; a petite blond with somehow squinty eyes with aprons on. She smiled and gave this weird signs with her hands.

"Urm, she said sorry about Patrick," I looked up again on the stage, the guy John was seated on a high chair while ready to strum his guitar. "And please take a seat, she'll bring the menu."

I was quite embarrassed when people stared. This was not the kind of attention I wanted. But people quickly turned their heads away towards the stage when John started strumming his guitar.

"You might know this song by the way, it's my favourite," he strummed the guitar again and I realized I recognized the song. Jeff Buckley's Last Goodbye.

This is our last goodbye
I hate to feel the love between us die
But it's over
Just hear this and then I'll go
you gave me more to live for,
more than you'll ever know.

This is our last embrace,
must I dream and always see your face
why can't we overcome this wall
Baby, maybe it is just because I didn't know you at all.
Kiss me, please, kiss me
but kiss me out of desire, babe, and not consolation
you know, it makes me so angry 'cause I know that in time
I'll only make you cry, this is our last goodbye.

Did you say "no, this can't happen to me,"
and did you rush to the phone to call?
Was there a voice unkind in the back of your mind saying,
"maybe... you didn't know him at all."
Well, the bells out in the church tower chime
burning clues into this heart of mine
thinking so hard on her soft eyes and the memory

His voice, it was no Jeff Buckley. But it was his own soulful extent in the song. As if he was singing it for someone. He drags every note into perfect pitch. He gasped every air when he sings as if it was his last breathe. He summoned his eyes into deep feelings. The song was perfectly sung. I was deeply connected to every word he strum in melody, as if I was connected to him.

It didn't collapse to me that the blonde girl bring the menu 3 minutes ago. She was standing there smiling, as if she always seen circumstances like this. I was still out of words when I realized I was gaping stupidly at John's performance.

The blonde girl waved the menu at me. I spoke, realizing something. "I'm not hungry, and I really need to go." I stood up and walked out of the restaurant. I could feel the petite girl's eyes following me until I was out of her sight.

I was walking and without notice, I was in Park Avenue. The park at night was strangely terrifying, but I was not leaving. In fact, I've stayed. John's voice was still haunting me, especially the words "Was there a voice unkind in the back of your mind saying, maybe... you didn't know him at all." It somehow struck to me how Chuck and I were cased in our engagements. I don't know him anymore. Without notice, I dropped to my knees and shed all my tears that I have coveted in my chest, feelings that were fighting to go out. I was crying for my life, a real cry for my pity self.

This is my first time writing a Gossip Girl Fanfiction. I always wanted to know if Blair Waldorf was capable to be normal and I guess when she entered NYU, anything is a possibility. But if she was still having a relationship with Chuck there was no way my 'normal Blair' could happen so this fiction will not be about Chuck and Blair (though I love them in Gossip Girl!). The pairing of this fiction will be Blair and a new character I created which is John Garner, also an NYU student who likes to keeps a low profile and play on open mics. When I was writing the story, my image of John was sort of Robert Pattinson-esque and I thought he was my perfect John. So I hope you guys like it and reviews are welcomed warmly.