Chapter Eight: Poisoned Hearts

Funny you're the broken one, but I'm the only one who needed saving.

'Cause when you never see the light it's hard to know which one of us is caving.

Not really sure how to feel about it—Something in the way you move.

Makes me feel like I can't live without you.

It takes me all the way. I want you to stay, stay.

- Stay by Rihanna

:::

December 10th, 2007: The Briar House Assembly Hall

"Quite frankly, I'm appalled. We've opened this institution to you, the brightest students in the Northeastern region, as a second home. We've provided you with top-notch guidance, exemplary classes, five-star facilities—lounges, private rooms, a pool house." The headmistress cast them a pointed look, folding her hands tightly together atop the wooden podium in front of her. "But you've thrown it all back in our faces. And now one of our students, one of your colleagues, is strapped to a hospital bed in the ICU, clinging on for dear life because you thought it would be amusing to break into the pool after hours."

Blair swallowed as the headmistress reprimanded them, the huge assembly closing in around the small group sitting in the front row. There were sixteen of them there, lips pressed tightly together as they were lectured. Jenny was nearly trembling as her blue eyes widened with unshed tears. Diana stared down at her nails, picking off a stray piece of polish. Damien ran his fingers through his hair so hard that Blair thought he might yank it out. And Eric—Blair blinked, bile rising in her throat—Eric was sitting as far away from them as possible, his stare boring into the floor.

"Waldorf," Chuck whispered, making her jump in her seat. She felt his breath skim her ear as he continued, "If you don't breathe, you're going to pass out."

Blair shrugged him off, rolling her eyes as she pointedly let out a sharp breath. And then the headmistress continued, "I should expel you all."

Jenny let out a soft whimper as their heads snapped up to attention. Blair froze, her bones constricting into skin. And, for some reason, she reached out for Chuck, her fingers digging into his arm to the point of pain. Chuck raised an eyebrow, prepared to make a lecherous comment on how he knew she liked it rough, but—

The look on her face was one that Chuck had never seen before. She was petrified, her usually calm eyes brightening with wild fear. And from her lips escaped a word so low that only Chuck could hear it. "Yale." Chuck hesitated before he took her hand, prying her fingers from the sleeve of his blazer. Blair tensed when he dropped it back on her knee, and stayed there—his palm falling over the back of her hand, his fingers twining through hers. There was a pause, a misplaced anchor waiting for its ship to accept. And then she held on, squeezing his hand in the most bizarre moment she'd ever experienced. They refused to look at each other, eyes set only on the headmistress as she uttered her verdict.

"But the time, press, paperwork, and inconvenience of expelling sixteen students is not something that satisfies the esteem of this institution. Unfortunately, Ethan Merrick's parents have released a statement to the public, so we already have enough damage control on that front to worry about. Count yourselves lucky that the consequences of your actions won't be as severe as you deserve. You are to be on behavioral probation pending the end of the school year. And you will all be writing seven-hundred word letters of apology to the board of Briar House, excusing yourselves for your appalling behavior."

Blair relaxed, nearly slumping against Chuck in her relief. She released his hand, and he cleared his throat, sitting back in his seat comfortably now. They were dismissed with an impatient huff, trickling out in the hallway in a small cluster. Chuck stood at the center of their jagged little circle, his voice low as he leaned in. "Tonight, in the lounge," he said. "We'll discuss a plan of action and worry about how to make this thing go away. We're going to keep quiet about the booze, and we're going to stick to the same story."

"But we can't just…" Jenny trailed off when fifteen glares hit her like daggers. She quieted, glancing at Blair's disapproving frown.

"The same story," Blair repeated. The rest of them dispersed, Chuck jerking his head at Blair, motioning to the dark corner at the other end of the hall. Blair nodded, watching him go to wait for her, and then she looked back at the mousy little blonde in front of her. Jenny's face held every fear that Blair felt in the pit of her stomach. And, in the end, that was the only thing that stood between a queen and her court. There were those who were feared and others who were afraid of everything.

But then, maybe Blair had ended up being both.

"I had to lie to my father," Jenny said, her voice in a breathless panic. "Ethan might die. Eric won't speak to me or anyone else. I was drinking, and now I'm on probation. People are looking at me…whispering in the halls. Blair, you never told me—"

"I did tell you," Blair corrected, her voice as stern as an older sister's would be. "I warned you. If you want to be a part of this world, Jenny, you have to pay a price. When you're on the inside, you're untouchable. But people will talk, and jealousy is poison. They're going to want what you have, even if the diamonds are broken and the clasps don't work." Blair paused. "You just have to decide if all of this is worth it."

"All of this?" Jenny asked, biting her lip. "Getting wasted? Almost getting expelled?"

"Loyalty," Blair said. "It's the opposite of loneliness." Blair glanced at Chuck down the hall. "Don't make me regret everything I saw in you, J." Blair left her there, no longer able to keep her eyes from glistening, her lip from trembling. And when she reached the end of the hall, she fell into waiting arms, Chuck's cologne dancing in the air as he pressed her up against the corner.

"You're okay?" Chuck murmured against her cheek, the concern tasting foreign on his tongue. Blair nodded, and he groaned in approval, kissing the little arch where her chin became the curve of her milky white neck. "And your mother?"

"Still in Singapore with her leech," Blair gasped. "I had Dorota impersonate her over the phone."

Chuck smirked. "Impressive, Waldorf."

"And Bart?"

"They're saving the worst for last, I suppose," Chuck said. As he spoke, he pressed her harder against the wall, his kisses growing more insistent. Blair's purse slipped from her shoulder and hit the floor. "It's the calm before the storm."

"Do you think he'll—"

"The last thing I want to talk about right now is my father," Chuck said. He pulled away, only to run a finger from her lips to her chin, from her chin to her collar. "Why don't we go elsewhere, and do something about the torturous amount of clothes you're wearing?"

"I have class," Blair argued, extricating herself from his grip. "And so do you." Chuck parted his lips to protest, but she silenced him. "Besides, I can't…" Blair took a breath to steady herself. "Eric despises me, and Ethan is in the hospital. And that's not something I can just force myself to forget."

Chuck held on to her for another second before letting her go. "By all means, Waldorf. You wouldn't want to screw up that perfect attendance record of yours."

"Chuck…"

"Go," he insisted, but there was no hostility in his voice. He offered her a half-hearted smile before smoothing out the pleats of her skirt, making sure to brush her bare thigh with his fingertips before sending her on her way. Before making her way over to the corner, Blair swept her hair over one shoulder and glanced back at him.

"Chuck, I wanted to tell you that—" Blair bit down on her lip, and her throat nearly closed in on itself. Chuck waited for her to go on, but she was already retracting, giving a small shake of her head, smiling softly. "Nothing. I'll see you in class." Chuck nodded, half-amused at seeing her so flustered when she walked away and fell back into the stream of students heading to class on the other side of the wall. When she was out of sight, he sank back against the wall, reaching into his blazer for the silver flask he always kept hidden there. Chuck cursed when he shook it, coming up empty.

"Looking for something?" Penelope stood before him, bright red lips curled up as she blocked his exit. Chuck eyed her for a moment, wondering what had possessed him to trail her along for so many months before Blair had arrived. Blair had everything that Penelope was barely on the cusp of—power, regal beauty, effortless charm.

"If I was," Chuck drawled apathetically, "it wouldn't be you."

"Oh, Chuck," Penelope pouted, sidling up beside him. "Have you already forgotten our time together?"

Chuck smirked at her, shifting away. "I'm erasing it from my mind as we speak."

Penelope frowned, her face clouding over in disappointment. But then she was smiling again, her hand adjusting the collar of his blazer. "She's thrown you off your game, you know. Such a shame that Blair Waldorf has turned you into a lovesick little boy."

Chuck tensed, then rolled his eyes. "Don't you have some other failed conquest to lust over?" Chuck straightened himself out and pushed away from the wall. "Your obsession with me has grown tiresome." They both jumped when Chuck's phone sounded in his pocket. He pulled it out, frowning when Bart's name lit up on the screen. He swallowed and shoved past Penelope. But before he could go, Penelope grabbed at his elbow, her nails digging in through his blazer.

"You think you're in control, but you're not, Chuck. The failed party, Ethan's accident…you're choosing her over everything you've worked so hard for." Penelope crept closer as his eyes flamed. "She's your kryptonite. She makes you weak." Chuck said nothing as he yanked his arm away from her, bringing the phone to his ear. Penelope smiled to herself, turning to follow after him, but she was stopped by a hand on her wrist.

"What is your fucking problem?" Diana laughed, incredulous. "Don't you get tired of being rejected?"

"That's no way to talk to an old friend," Penelope sniffed, adjusting a pin in her hair.

"It's a good thing you were never a friend, then," Diana smirked.

"And Blair is?" Penelope laughed. "Does she even have a clue about the little tragedy going on between you and Damien? I would have never let him go for that blonde knock-off. And you know that."

Diana laughed, blue eyes set on Penelope. "No, you would have screwed me over like you always do. What's going on between Damien and I is none of your business, so stay out of it. Stay out of all of our lives. You're done, Penelope."

"Fine," Penelope huffed. "But you should know that you've been dumped."

Diana rolled her eyes and sighed. "What are you talking about?"

Penelope smiled evenly. "I just saw Damien heading into the theater department with a bouquet of roses in his hands." She tilted her head in faux sympathy. "Looks like he finally made his choice, D."

:::

December 11th, 2007: The Briar Theatre

"I thought I'd find you here."

Jenny froze at the sound of Damien's voice. She held a pile of old repurposed costumes in her lap, and the tears that fell from her eyes stained the fabric in droplets. She quickly reached up to wipe the wetness from her face as Damien came around and set a bouquet of bright roses on the dusty wooden vanity before her. Jenny stared at them with hazy eyes, stopping herself from reaching out to stroke the petals. They had gone into town weeks ago, and Jenny had been enamored by the little rose shop there. And now here they were. But their charm was lost on her.

"Oh," was all Jenny whispered. She avoided his eyes as she lifted the pile in her hands to a box in the corner. Damien frowned when she faced away from him, and he carefully spun her around. She was so tiny, so fragile when he held her waist and cupped her cheek in one hand. He touched the bit of skin just under her eye, feeling the dampness there.

"You were crying," Damien whispered.

"No, it's just…it's all of the dust," Jenny explained, shifting under his touch.

Damien shook his head, guiding her to sit back on one of the wooden chairs in the room. "I want you to tell me what's wrong."

Jenny glanced down at the ground. "Everything. Everything is wrong." She took a breath as another tear fell. "I was invisible for so long that…When people finally saw me, I lost who I was in order to keep that."

"But I see you," Damien pleaded. "I do." He reached up to tug a strand of hair from her cheek. "I see everything. The way your hair is always a little bit out of place, the way you help everyone before you even think about yourself, and…you know things about me, things that everyone else judges me for." He smiled the smile of a practiced charmer, of a boy who'd been Chuck Bass' friend for far too long. "You make me a better person, Jenny."

"But you love someone else," Jenny said. "I…I see that too. And next to Diana…This thing between the three of us will go on forever—"

"Jenny, don't."

"Unless one of us ends it," Jenny finished, her voice settling into an eerie calm.

"You're breaking up with me," Damien stated, his eyes widening in realization. "But Diana and I, we're history. I'll admit that I was confused, but I'm looking at you now, and I know that it's supposed to be you and I. We can be different together."

"But I don't want to be different," Jenny murmured. "I'm a girl from Brooklyn. I hate the taste of alcohol. And I'm never going to snort a drug like its nothing or run off to a summer house in Europe when I need an escape. You can't take parts of me and glue them to pieces of Diana. It's never going to stick."

"I don't understand." Damien's voice went hoarse at the rejection. "I'm choosing you. I want you."

"Then I'm sorry that you have nothing now," Jenny apologized, bowing her head. She nodded to herself before planting a final, departing kiss on Damien's lips, the lips of a boy who she had so desperately wanted to be her prince. And then she stepped away. "I'm sorry, but I'm lost right now. And I know that this isn't who I should be."

And then she left him standing alone in a room, the costume room, where disguises were meant to come off.

:::

December 12th, 2007: English 120, The Main Hall

"If we look at the themes in Hamlet compared to that of Shakespeare's comedies, we can see…"

Blair's eyes went vacant as she tapped her ballpoint on the edge of her desk, legs crossing and uncrossing as Mr. Higgins went on about books she'd already read cover-to-cover during her time at Constance. She watched the seat on her other side, imagining that blonde hair and an untucked shirt might materialize beside her, that Ethan would just suddenly be there again with a toothy grin, spewing out misquoted lines from that day's reading.

"…and really, even Shakespeare's work should be looked at for what it is. They are stories. Stories with summaries. Stories that end."

And across the room was another empty seat, right by the window, where a smug Mr. Darcy with James Dean's pout and Cary Grant's arrogance had once sat and challenged her to fall for him. Blair frowned at Chuck's absence, letting her pen drop with a hard snap. She was a fool. A fool who'd fallen so far that she was starting to forget what things were before Chuck Bass. So she shut her eyes in the middle of class and tried to remember. Nate, Serena, a finger down her throat, a slanted smile on her bitter lips. Suffocating in clouds of three hundred dollar perfume and crowds that only knew how to fear her.

"Miss Waldorf? Why don't you grace us with your attention?"

Blair's eyes flitted up and narrowed as they set on Mr. Higgins. She stifled an eye-roll as the lanky man straightened out his maroon sweater vest, calling the attention of the entire class to her. Blair eyed his squared sideburns as he continued, "Or do you lose your will to participate when it doesn't involve flirting with Mister Bass?" The class broke out in a flurry of snickers and whispers at his words. What a prick. She imagined that Higgins and Penelope would be a match made in heaven.

"How professional," Blair remarked, pursing her lips. "Is that how you got your MA? By stalking the lives of seventeen year olds?" Higgins parted his lips, his near-unibrow setting into an even straighter line. "Or are you just bitter because the English department didn't even bother to fit you into a real office?" Blair smirked, leaning forward in her seat. "Just so you know, your pathetic cubicle doesn't hide the hours you spend surfing soft-core porn on the internet. Let's hope that the headmistress doesn't catch wind of how you choose to spend your work hours." The class burst into full-on laughter as Mr. Higgins flushed a bright red. He glared at Blair, probably replaying her words in his head to calculate the weight of her accusation. She'd been bluffing, of course. Higgins just seemed like the type who wasted his time watching bleach blondes maul each other on the internet. And apparently, he was.

If only Chuck were here to see this.

"In-class assignment," Higgins finally said, appearing slightly dejected as he retreated behind his desk and shuffled a stack of blank papers. Blair rolled her eyes. "Write a short summary of Hamlet based on how it reflects your own life and experiences. Tell me what you think the tragedy is about." The man glanced up at Blair again before offering a noncommittal wave in the air. "In silence."

Blair sighed as she poised her pen over one page of her endless supply of Tiffany blue notebooks. She thought of Chuck as she stared at the painting on the cover of Hamlet. Eyes so dark that they seemed bottomless. And then her pen fell to the paper, needing only two lines to finish her assignment.

Hamlet is about a broken boy who descended into madness when he sacrificed his heart and lost his mind to avenge his father. Hamlet is about the girl who loved him so much that she followed him into the dark.

:::

Blair was the first out of class when the period was finally over. Freshmen looked on at her in hushed awe, and a few senior boys checked her out like they'd always done to Serena back at home. But none of it fazed her. Blair tied her hair into a loose bun hanging at the nape of her neck as she made her way back to Dexter Hall. Right as she was about to push through the dorm's doorway, she was stopped by a boy standing in her way.

"Damien," Blair said, her tone accusing. Though they happened to fall in the same circle, he was completely irrelevant to her—a background extra who she couldn't be bothered to befriend. "Would you mind contemplating your empty life goals elsewhere? You're in my way." To this, Damien rolled his eyes, sinking back a step.

"Look—"

"If you've come to appeal that long overdue split with Little J, don't bother wasting your time," Blair sighed, hitching her Chloe satchel higher on her shoulder. "It may be hard for you to fathom, but the rest of us couldn't care less about that sad excuse for a daytime soap opera."

"Right," Damien said, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. "Well, as heartwarming as this conversation is, I need your help." He let out a breath, grabbing her elbow to yank her around. Blair let out an annoyed huff as Damien led her down to the other end of the hall.

"What," Blair started, glancing down at his hand in warning, "would I possibly want to help you with?" She tugged away from him, but curiosity sparked her to follow. When Blair was safely behind him, Damien relented, releasing her from his grip when they ducked into the side stairwell of the main hall.

"It's Chuck," Damien explained. Blair lost her breath as they sprinted into the top floor of the boys' dormitories, where the stone balcony mirrored the other side of the building. Blair ignored the slew of guys around her who all perked up with interest at her presence. The balcony was nearly hidden away, tucked in an obscure entry, a doorway locked for construction. Blair halted in front of it, waiting for Damien to explain himself. "He just took off in the middle of class earlier all dark and pissed. There's this…bottle of vodka that we keep stashed in the back of the library, and now it's gone. We'd always talked about sneaking back here to smoke, so I thought—"

Before he could even finish, Blair was already sliding a bobby pin from her hair and slipping it into the lock, biting her lip as she jiggled it for a moment. Damien looked on with his arms crossed, eyes wide in awe. "You know how to pick a lock?"

Blair scoffed as the lock gave way and clicked open. "Don't look so surprised, Dalgaard."

"I mean, where did you even learn that? In between tea parties and etiquette classes?" Damien smirked, clearly finding himself way more clever than Blair thought him to be. She paused for a moment with her hand on the doorknob and shot him an impatient glare.

"I don't know, Damien. Why don't we discuss it over lunch sometime? Since you seem to think that we're best buddies now." Damien's smile dropped as Blair pushed the door open. She urgently scanned the balcony, letting out a gasp when she spotted the dark figure balanced on one of the balcony's railings, a bottle of Smirnoff slanted up into his waiting mouth. Blair shivered in her uniform against the coming winter night and took a hesitant step forward as Chuck swigged.

"Hey, man," Damien called, his voice breaking the eerie silence around them. "You've got to get down from there—" Damien's words broke off when Chuck stumbled, gripping the bottle, nearly slipping from the beam. Chuck's eyes were cold and dead when he stared back at them, and Blair whipped around in hushed anger.

"You idiot," Blair spat. "You don't scare someone standing on a ledge!" Damien shrugged his shoulders in apology, looking helpless as Blair turned back around. She walked over to Chuck, slowly but surely reaching her arms up. And he resisted, snatching his arm away when she grabbed for him.

"Why don't you join me, Waldorf?" He raised his eyebrows at her, lifting the bottle in his hands. "You always look like you need a drink." Chuck smirked, stretching his arms out to point at Damien. "What's this? Did you need to fill the void now that Ethan's gone? Did you need someone else to dangle in front of me?"

Of course, Blair ignored him, snatching the bottle away despite his murmured protests. She turned back and shoved the offending object at Damien. "Get rid of that and make sure that no one comes back here."

Damien nodded, finally appearing to take the situation seriously. "Okay." He paused, hesitating, watching Chuck watching them from his perch. And then his expression softened. "Are you going to be alright? I can…"

"I can handle Chuck," Blair cut in, meaning the words in more ways than one. "But thank you." Damien nodded, tucking the bottle into his blazer as he ducked back into the building. Blair took a steady breath before turning back to the boy who was suddenly everything and nothing to her. He regarded her carefully as she crossed her arms. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"You just wasted a good bottle of vodka."

"Chuck."

Blair was surprised when he jumped down from the beam to join her on the cold cement of the balcony. Chuck turned, elbows resting in the place where he once stood. He faced away from her, watching as lights flickered on and illuminated the campus. She stood beside him, and she could only see shadows on his face, darkness crawling over his sharp jaw—but then again, it was always shadows with Chuck.

"Do you know what the headlines said this morning?" Chuck smirked, a bitter grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hazing goes fatal in the hands of Bass billionaire's exiled son."

"Your father—"

"I think he'd want me dead if murder wasn't bad press," Chuck said, his voice only wavering once. "He wants me gone the minute I graduate." He choked out a laugh. "If I graduate. Off the grid, excommunicated from the Bass name. Some other Briar, some other hidden place for castaways."

"But you can explain to him that it wasn't only you there," Blair pleaded, her small hand resting on the arch of his shoulder. "We'll scheme and plot or…He'll have to give you a second chance to—"

"Don't you get it?" Chuck spat, his voice raising, a boom across the balcony. "There are no second chances with my father." Down below them, a few sophomores heading inside for curfew looked up to find the source of the noise but saw nothing. Beside him, Blair was shaken, and she recoiled, pulling her hand away. Chuck looked at her, his eyes softening as he calmed himself down, as he swallowed down red-hot anger. "Look, I'm sorry." Blair nodded, eyes cast down. "I am…exactly who my father said I was."

Blair shook her head, unwilling to argue her point again. "We should go inside. You need to sober up…I need to get back before the headmistress finds an excuse to expel both of us."

Chuck nodded, his gaze distant when she guided him back to the doorway. "Of course." His tone was almost mocking as they stumbled through the entry, passing rows of closed doors before they came to Chuck's familiar one. "Because that would be the end of the world."

Blair rolled her eyes, pushing him into his room. She closed the door behind them and pushed him again until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed and he clumsily sat in front of her. Chuck closed his eyes as Blair's fingers combed through his hair, rubbing his scalp with gentle fingertips as Dorota had done to relax her after a test or a takedown in elementary school. She marveled at the way he sighed in contentment, nodding into her touch. She leaned forward, laid herself bare as she whispered, "Let me help you, Chuck."

He opened his eyes in the same second, only hesitating to look at her face, her lips, before his hands reached out to pull her onto his lap. Blair spread her legs and straddled him, knees digging into his duvet. Chuck groaned as he shoved her skirt up, pushed her panties aside, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her bare ass as she wrapped herself around him. She kissed him feverishly and desperately until she had to come up for air, and his head was suddenly tucked under her chin. He shoved her white Oxford open, breaking a button to reveal her pale pink bra, the sliver of sweet cleavage underneath.

"You…" Chuck breathed, his finger tracing the edge of the fabric, mesmerized by the flush hiding beneath it. "You're flawless." He said the words as he had just a week before, tilting her chin down, forcing her to watch him as he unhooked her bra, trapping her wrists before he pulled it off all together. The air hit her breasts, and she felt nervous under his scrutiny. Blair went in for another kiss, but Chuck held her still, wrists bound by his heavy hands. And then he dipped his head lower, his tongue tracing the underside of her breast, suckling the skin with skilled lips.

"Chuck," Blair moaned. "Please."

It was too much for him, this moment. The things he felt for her were heady, all-consuming, façade-shattering. He pulled a rosy nipple between his teeth and reveled in Blair's sharp cry as her hips searched for his, grinding down when his hand fondled her neglected breast.

"Tell me what you want, Blair."

"I want you," Blair admitted, her voice breaking on the confession. "Even the cracked, insufferable, twisted parts of you. You and I…" She trailed off, lashes batting, cheeks glowing pink, just daring him to finish her sentence. She looked like a doll. And it was then that he realized how easily porcelain broke—how easily everything broke in his hands. He thought of Ethan, bloody and unconscious on the pool house floor. He thought of that wretched Penelope's words. She's your kryptonite.

He looked up at her and no longer saw the queen she tried so hard to be. Blair's eyes glowed with more love than he knew what to do with, and her hands touched him like she was promising forever. And here she was, willing to lose their stupid bet to give him everything she had. Chuck swallowed, feeling dizzy as she reached up to hold his face in her hands.

There were things he wanted to tell her. Things under his skin that he wanted to show her—nightmares and tragedies that had burdened him since he was only a little boy. But Chuck knew that they would break her, drag her into Hell with him. He wanted this Blair—his Blair, if only for a moment—looking at him just this way. Untainted. So he buried his heart deep, swallowed his words down, and broke himself instead. His eyes flickered black, and he shoved her away—giving her a surface wound to avoid a scar that would run too deep.

He was letting her go before he could even have her.

"Chuck…" Blair murmured, wrapping her arms around herself as he turned away from her. She looked so vulnerable as she stood before him, one black knee-high falling around her ankle, her shirt unbuttoned to her navel. He pried his gaze from the sight.

"You see, that was always your problem, Waldorf," Chuck said coldly. "You tried to convince yourself that you could handle this." He forced a smile, unhooking the buttons at his wrists. "But you're just like all of the rest. It's a shame really, that the queen of Briar is just another schoolgirl with a pathetic crush."

Blair froze. "What?"

"What don't you understand?" Chuck scoffed. "You've lost, and I won."

"You've won...?" Blair echoed, shaking her head. Her features grew grim as realization washed over her. "This is still a game to you. I thought…"

"Thought what? That I'd be some devil you could redeem?" Chuck rasped, staring at the wall. "You were an innocent dabbling in the dark side, and I indulged your fantasy while it interested me." He braced himself for the blow, pinching his own skin where she couldn't see until he drew blood. "But I'm bored now. And I don't screw girls who've made the mistake of falling in love with me. It tends to send the wrong message."

Nausea hit Blair with full force as she swayed on her feet, reached up with shaky hands to button her shirt again. She felt cheap and the air felt dirty—everything was just so wrong now. She refused to look at him when she spoke again. "You're lying." Blair pursed her lips. "You're being cruel because you think that's who you're supposed to be." She narrowed her eyes. "You think that being heartless is the only way to survive."

"By all means," Chuck retorted, denying the truth, the fact that she knew him much too well. "Tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better."

"Stop it," Blair hissed. "I know you. I know what you are inside. I know that you're afraid because—"

"I'm not afraid."

"—because you think it's going to fall apart. But I'm not your mother, Chuck. That's not going to—"

"Don't," Chuck spat, getting up from the bed to level with her. Blair gasped at his proximity and stumbled backwards, holding the wall for support. "Don't act like we have some sort of bond now. Don't tell me what I feel." Chuck trembled, his fingers curling into tight fists. "And don't think you know anything about my mother just because yours doesn't give a shit about you."

Crash.

Collision.

Impact.

The emotion drained from Blair's face, save for a single tear that rolled down her cheek. Blair gasped when she caught it, and Chuck's eyes widened when he came back to Earth, replayed the reality of what had just taken place. "Fuck." Regret washed over him like it never had before. "Wait. Wait, I—"

"No."

"Blair, please. I didn't mean…"

"No. You were right," Blair said, her tone dead of any emotion. "You and I are nothing alike." Blair pushed him away, reaching down to shove her sock up her leg. "But at least I have a heart. I would never want to be empty inside."

"Blair, I'm sorry," Chuck pleaded as she whipped around, going for the door. "I fucked up. I'm fucked up, and I'm still drunk." She felt him close to her, felt his breath on her neck, but she wouldn't turn around.

"You don't get drunk, Chuck."

And then Chuck's hands were on her waist, and he was pulling her back, and Blair was resisting, and she thought that she might burst into tears if he didn't let her go right then. But still, he begged, "Just stay." His voice dropped and shook, his grip tightened. "I need you to stay."

"Why?"

For the first time in his life, Chuck was at a loss for words. "I...Because I..."

But Blair was already shaking her head, already imagining herself gone—far away from there. She yanked her arms away and reached for the doorknob. "Thank you."

Chuck swallowed. "For what?"

"For this," Blair whispered. "What you said…it was all true. Falling in love with you would have been a huge mistake."

:::

December 14th, 2007: Dexter Hall Dormitories

The following Saturday began with knocks so loud that they sounded like thunder.

Before that, Diana had been curled up next to Blair on her bed, boxes of macaroons and trashy magazines spilling over Blair's thick comforter. Across from them, Jenny caught a flying bottle of Pellegrino Limoncello from Diana's throw and offered her friend a soft smile. The girls all had their eyes trained on Gregory Peck as he drove Audrey Hepburn across Italian city streets in Roman Holiday. Audrey's laughter boomed from the television and filled the room.

"I like this one," Diana said, her mouth full of a chocolat citron vert as she detangled Blair's silky curls with a barrel brush. The other brunette closed her eyes, comforted by the friendly gesture. "It has a depressing ending. I don't think I can stomach another romantic ballad playing as two star-crossed lovers kiss in the rain." Diana rolled her eyes, a fake gag surfacing from her throat. She laughed when Blair threw a chocolate wrapper over her shoulder and at Diana's head.

"The ending of Tiffany's is cinematic genius," Blair practically growled, kicking her rosy-slippered feet up.

Diana and Jenny laughed at Blair's disgruntled expression, exchanging a relieved expression. On the previous night, the room had been over-crowded with broken hearts. Jenny and Diana both silently understood that they had both lost—that they were free of Damien now. And Blair had felt an ache in her chest so deep that she kept checking for a real scar on her skin. Because the pain was too real to only be inside of her. She had shown up back at her dorms late at night, greeting a frightened Jenny with eyes full of tears. And despite their argument earlier that week, Jenny let Blair cry in front of her, empty, silent sobs. She'd never seen Blair cry before, and she never wanted to again.

It had only taken Diana ten minutes to show up at their dorm room with frozen yogurt nicked from the cafeteria when Jenny called. And there they were, holding onto Audrey's life because theirs were falling to pieces. And, for a moment, it was going to be okay. Until the knocking started, killing their comfortable quietness with a desperation.

"Blair, I need to talk to you."

Blair's eyes widened, her heart halting before running a sprint in her chest. "Chuck." Diana's hand flitted across the comforter and grabbed for Blair's. A Tiffany blue manicure intertwining with pale pink.

"I know that you're there. I need to talk to you."

Blair looked at the two girls, forcing herself not to seem as helpless as she felt. She poised herself to get up, but it was Jenny who moved first, Blair's promise of loyalty pitching her forward. "It's okay. I'll get it." She opened the door an inch to reveal a rumpled Chuck Bass, his dress shirt partially untucked, his tie a loosened noose around his neck. He went to push the door open, his eyes unfocused on the blonde in front of him, but Jenny carefully stood in his way. "Chuck, I…I think you should go."

"I don't take orders from underclassmen," Chuck drawled.

"Look, you need to go," Jenny said, daring herself to raise her voice. "You really hurt Blair, and…"

"No one understands what we have," Chuck hissed, his hand coming down on the wall beside their door. He ducked his head to level with her, empty eyes set on innocent ones. "Especially not you. So excuse me if I don't intend on taking love advice from someone who was in a fake relationship."

Jenny paused, weighing his words. "What…what are you talking about?"

Chuck shook his head, growing impatient. "I'm saying that your dearest Damien went after you as an experiment. I needed to catch Blair alone, and Dalgaard wanted to see how far he could go in distracting you. You were a project."

"No…" Jenny shook her head, stumbling back. "You're lying." Just then, the door swung open, and Diana ushered Jenny aside, setting angry eyes on Chuck.

"You need to leave," Diana demanded. "Like, now. You've caused enough damage. Why don't you go find Damien and wallow with him?"

"That's rich," Chuck retorted. "Go on and try to play the hero, but I'm the one doing her a favor. She should know exactly what she is to all of you. In fact, I'll do her another one right now." Chuck stepped forward, glancing at Jenny. "Why don't you ask your friend what she was doing over Thanksgiving break?" Chuck smirked. "Or rather, whom."

Diana's eyes widened. "Chuck, don't."

"Because Diana here hurt you more than I ever will," Chuck said. "When she slept with your boyfriend." Diana hung her head as his words set in, hiding her face in her hands as Jenny's lips fell open. Chuck swallowed down the guilt of his admission, his heart jumping when Blair appeared at the door, finally calling her attention. But before he could speak, he felt a sharp pain on his face, his head snapping to the side when Blair reached out and slapped him.

"Go," Blair said. "Now."

"Not until you forgive me," Chuck said, clearing his throat, holding his face with a shaking hand. "What we had—I want it back. We can still get it back." He looked like a madman as he clutched her arms with desperate hands, holding them to her sides. "You and I are magnetic. Our pull is undeniable. I know that you can feel it."

"You don't get it," Blair said, shaking her head. "All I wanted to do was be there, and you pushed me away. You pushed everyone away." Blair bowed her head. "I don't think you know how to love anything, so you destroy instead. That's all…that's the only thing you know how to do." The words weren't vicious but honest, but they hit Chuck all the same. He released her and took a step back, his eyes glistening as Blair stared back at him, saying only one thing before she shut the door. "Goodbye, Chuck."

Blair exhaled once she heard his retreating footsteps. But when she turned around, she was thrust into another disaster, unfolding right before her eyes.

"Tell me that he was lying, Diana," Jenny whispered. "Tell me that you Damien never actually…" Her voice went nearly silent as the unspoken words dropped between them. "That it was only feelings or…"

Diana's heart dropped. "I'm so sorry, Jenny." Blair watched as tears poured from her eyes, and she suddenly wished that they were both gone, that she could weather the aftermath of Chuck's storm on her own. She craved her bedroom back at home, craved superficial catfights with fake friends and boyfriends whose love only skated on the surface. When things were real, the stakes were that much higher. Blair didn't know that being a friend could hurt this much.

"How could you?" Jenny said. "You pretended we were friends."

"We are," Diana insisted. "We are. Things just got so complicated. Damien and I…everything between us was there long before we were friends."

"I want you to get out," Jenny said, storming over to whip open the door. "This is my room, too, and I want you to leave."

"Jenny…"

"Diana, get out."

The brunette swallowed, turning to Blair. "Blair, I…" Blair stared back at her, her heart splitting as she realized what Diana was asking of her. It was her turn to play the queen, to overrule Jenny's orders, to fix this. But as she looked at the blonde, she could only recognize the broken girl she'd been at the Sheperd wedding.

Blair, just hear us out.

Nate and I—

It just happened.

It was all a mistake.

Blair shook her head, willing the memories away when she turned back to Diana and said, "I think you should go."

:::

December 15th, 2007: The Student Lounge, The Main Hall

Hello? …Ha, gotcha! This is Ethan, and I'm having too much fun to answer the phone right now. So leave something rad, and I'll get back to you.

Eric swallowed, imagining the boy who was not really his boyfriend strapped to a hospital bed, eyelids purple and closed shut as IVs and drugs ran through his half-dead system. The farthest thing from fun.

As the voicemail's low beep sounded, Eric cleared his throat, leaving his tenth message in the past five days. "Hey, it's me. So, you missed our trig test today. I'm sure that you're heartbroken over that." An empty laugh. "My, um, my lesson plan is still open and waiting for you when you come back. And then, of course, there was no one to go on about football while I was trying to study, so I sat down and watched the game just for you. Your favorite team won by five, I think. They got a goal or a basket or...whatever it is. And I…" Eric hung his head, his hand raking through his blonde hair. "And I miss you more than I've ever missed anything." He swallowed, covering his eyes with one hand. "I was falling in love with you, okay? I was falling in love with you, so you don't get to go away. You don't get to leave now." Eric coughed back tears as he held the phone to his ear. "Because if you don't wake up, I'm going to spend my entire life wondering what it would have been like to have you love me back."

Blair watched as Eric said goodbye, and she pretended not to hear as he hung up the phone. She smoothed out her simple white dress, tugged at the sleek ponytail in her hair before she went to join him on the window seat in the student lounge. He glanced up when she sat beside him.

"Hi," Blair murmured.

"You look like crap," Eric replied, looking at the faint dark circles on her usually lineless skin. Blair looked up, her eyes widening before she let out a surprised little laugh.

"I suppose I deserve that." Blair glanced down, toying with the silver bracelet dangling around her thin wrist. "Eric, I'm so…"

"Don't say it," Eric interrupted. "It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault." Eric swallowed. "He has a drinking problem, and none of us could save him in time." Blair nodded, staring down at her hands.

"Are you going to see him?"

"I don't think I can stomach introducing myself to his parents as his trig tutor," Eric laughed. "It's probably better if I just wait here." They sat in silence for a moment, staring at the browning leaves outside. Blair let out a small breath when Eric wrapped his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her to him. "I heard about what happened in the girls' dorms with Chuck."

"Oh," Blair said, her hair spilling over, draping across Eric's chest. He was shorter than her, so she had to duck to rest her head on his shoulder.

They sat that way, their inexplicable bond needing no words until Eric spoke again. "I could give you a list of queens who've fallen in love and still ruled," Eric whispered into her hair. "And you'd be on it." Blair squeezed her eyes shut as he spoke. "You're going to be okay, Blair. You're the strongest person I know."

"I don't know what to do," Blair admitted. "I always know what to do, and now he's...He's making me feel like I'm going insane."

"Well, we both know that has nothing to do with Chuck," Eric joked, wincing when Blair elbowed his side. But she laughed anyway, shaking her head. "I promise you that you're going to put it all back together. That's what you do. You did it for my sister, you did it for Jenny, and you're going to do it for yourself." He glanced at his watch and reluctantly pulled away from her. "I have to go to class. Here—" Eric surfaced with a leather-bound book that Blair recognized immediately. "Chuck actually told me to give this to you." Blair frowned as Eric went to class. She looked down at The Art of War in her hands, her fingers tracing over the worn spine. She fumed, thinking that Chuck had stolen her book. But when she opened the front cover, the writing on its front page was not that of her late grandmother's.

"Oh my God."

My Dearest Boy,

I have not seen you, and yet I already know that you are going to be the most beautiful thing I leave behind on this earth. I can feel myself fading away, and they tell me that these breaths are my last, but I know that I am holding on for you. You are exactly what I was always meant to bring into the world, and I love you. I will love you always.

With that love, I hope you become a great man. This will break your father, so you'll have to do it on your own. One day, something will force your heart open, someone will take your hand, and you will love the way I know you can. I am sorry that you will not wake up to my eyes. I am sorry that I am inevitably taking a piece of your heart with me. I am sorry that this is all I could give you. Just don't forget that there is love inside of you. Never forget that.

Your Mother,

Evelyn Bass

Blair gasped when the ink smudged with one of her own salty tears. She wiped it away carefully as the book shook in her hands. She gasped for breath, looking up at the window to steady herself. And that was when she saw Chuck himself, standing in the courtyard as his limo driver loaded two leather bags into his trunk. It felt like Chuck was looking directly at her as he stood on the cobblestones, even though she was so far up that he couldn't possibly see her. She held the book to her chest, remembering his words on that late night in the library. Chuck Bass doesn't get exiled without a point of escape. I have him on hand for emergencies.

And then he was gone, ducking into the limo, disappearing into the night.

Taking her heart with him.

Author's Note: A big thank you to a special friend who recommended using Stay by Rihanna for this story. It was so fitting, and it pointed me in the right direction. Another thank you to her for helping me flesh out the timeline of this story. I've decided to stick with Wires until Chuck and Blair graduate from Briar, which will make this project a lengthy one! Anyway, thank you guys so much for the remarkable support I've gotten. Your reviews are amazing, and you guys are awesome motivators. I'm sorry if I broke your hearts a bit with this chapter. D: I still want to know what you guys think about this turn in the story and what you think is coming. See you soon!