Part Two: You Only Live Twice (An Interlude)
I want every single piece of you. I want your heaven and your oceans, too.
Treat me soft but touch me cruel. I wanna teach you things you never knew, baby.
Bring the floor up to my knees. Let me fall into your gravity.
Then kiss me back to life to see your body standing over me.
- I Miss You by Adele
"The way the boy and the girl loved each other was inconceivable."
Jenny straightened at the podium, cleared her throat. At the assembly hall, nearly every one of Briar's classes was sitting at attention. Of course, most were half-gazing at the text messages on their phones or chatting idly with those beside them. But a particular six were sitting front and center, eyes trained on the blonde and the sheet of paper in her hands.
It was a bold opening statement. She remembered clearly how much Professor Thoreau had disapproved. "Jennifer, please. I did not ask you to write some Harlequin romance. The assignment was to capture a powerful event, some random act of nature that altered your personal history forever."
Now, Jenny rolled her shoulders back, continued. She had.
"It was a happening: the way lightning kisses sand until it turns into glass, the way violent oceans seem to calm when they caress the shore. One moment, they were two opposing forces. The next, they were not. It was a happening. A coincidence. But, then again, was it? If one could go back to that date and time, right at the moment he called her name and she spun around—you could see recognition. It's the same flaw that Mother Nature allows itself. You know, how she leaves footprints so that you can see it wasn't such a sudden occurrence after all. How we never expect the storm, even though the sky had been preparing for it for a lifetime."
From the audience, Blair bowed her head. She was seated next to Diana, Chuck beside Damien, and Eric and Ethan in the middle like Switzerland amid war.
"There had been a build-up. Years upon years of it. So track the patterns, the glances, the nods, the smiles. Anything to prove that a love like that is nothing more than nature's fate. That in every scenario, every lifetime, every future, it would have happened exactly that way. A love like theirs was something that no one could ever come back from. Everything in the tornado's path changes. Everyone."
When Jenny looked up again, Chuck's seat was empty.
As was Blair's.
"It's inevitable."
:::
Ten Months Earlier
August 24th, 2008: Relais Borgo Santo Pietro
"Excuse my forwardness, but I noticed you at the bar. Are you here alone?"
Blair tensed at the voice (and the reminder), one finger toying with the rim of her glass as she nursed her drink. The villa's five-star garden restaurant was surprisingly empty, the last of its guests dwindling as summer came to a soft close. Her sole company was the glass of Prosecco in her hands, the coral sundress on her newly tanned figure, and the man making eyes at her right now.
She raised a brow. "Not that it's any of your business, but I am."
The man smiled, took it upon himself to creep closer. "Something I can undoubtedly help you with."
Blair smirked. "Who says that I want your help with that?"
"Well whoever it is that put that look in your eyes has left a diamond unattended. Would be a pity if someone came and…" He raked his gaze over her, and she licked her bottom lip. "Stole it away."
"Unfortunately, I'm not something that can be stolen," Blair bit back, the nape of her neck going flush. "Though you are right about him. A true…Basstard."
"Hm," the man mused, "then you don't mind my observing that you'll need more than the Prosecco to quench your insatiable thirst tonight."
Blair fought the smile starting on her lips. "And who exactly do you think you are?"
He leaned over, balancing with one hand on her knee, the shift parting her legs just slightly. He raked his gaze over her curls, her bright eyes, her lips bitten to a flush, and smiled.
"I'm Chuck Bass."
:::
Perhaps she had picked up some Italian during the summer away. Perhaps she was just speaking in ten million foreign tongues. Blair clung to the bedpost and arched her back, Chuck bowing to press his forehead against the hot skin between her shoulder blades. Perhaps he'd finally made her go mad.
It was incredible that they hadn't grown exhausted of spending every day of the summer exactly this way. Though the expansive resort was filled to the brim with rolling gardens, golf courses, flowing fountains, lush vines, aged wines, and scrumptious eateries, Chuck and Blair had seen very little of it since they landed in Tuscany and checked in, immediately holing themselves up in their private flat house, beginning on their extraordinary golden bedspread and ending on the wide hammock on their porch overlooking all of the countryside as he whispered terrible, wonderful things in her ear.
"I have to admit, your acting was impeccable," Chuck rasped as he grabbed hold of her curls—honey-soaked from the summer away—and thrust into her, "even I was jealous of myself." He angled her head back and scraped his teeth across her shoulder.
Blair made an unintelligible noise and spread her legs further. "Trust me, Bass, you've certainly given me enough ammunition to feign being upset with you for the rest of our lives."
"Fuck, Blair."
"Now, now," Blair moaned, crawling forward until he slipped out of her, and they both shivered at the lack of contact. Her knees shook as she grabbed ahold of his shoulders and shoved him down onto the sheets. "Language, Bass." When she sank down onto him again, fingers curling into fists against his chest, they both sighed. "How can it feel this way every time?"
Chuck smoothed his fingers down her spine, brought her down to him. "Because I love you, Blair. Now let me show you how much."
:::
August 24th, 2008: Bass Industries, The Upper East Side
"Well, this just won't do."
The pictures were splayed out across Bart's desk, taken from the signature sketchy angles of a private investigator. Chuck and Blair kissing outside of a private jet emblazoned with the Bass name, Chuck and Blair stripping each other's clothes off outside of the door to their private villa, Blair barely dressed by the pool as she and Chuck downed what looked like artisanal shots. Chuck and Blair looking at each other with a passion so intense that it nearly leapt off photograph.
Bart and Eleanor shared looks of disgust, each with their own reason.
"They're children," Eleanor sighed. "They can't honestly think that this is good for them, gallivanting around halfway across the world, throwing their futures away for a summer in lust that could lead to unspeakable consequences…"
Bart did not share her twisted protectiveness. The sight of his only son young and in love coiled something awful inside of him—a resentment, an annoyance, a fall of pride. This was neither their brand nor his legacy. Weakness was weakness, and his sole heir was tossing his heart into the hands of someone else.
"Do you know that Blair has barely mentioned Yale since they began this…whatever they are? All for this…puppy love. I thought that sending Blair to Briar would help her, but it seems to have thrown her into the hands of something worse." Eleanor paused, scooting the photographs back into her purse. "No offense, Bart."
"None taken," Bart responded coldly. "But before you cause yourself anymore of those…frown lines, know that I have it taken care of."
He didn't know about Eleanor's sudden motherly instinct or what she planned to do with Blair and her future, but Bart knew the look in his son's eyes too well. He was a man with his fingers dug into the sand of a desert, finally spying an oasis in the horizon, finally cupping his hands to have a drink. After being lost so long, salvation brought too much power to a starving man. The only way to knock that pedestal down was to remind him that he was still in that desert.
To force himself to look at his own reflection. After all, puppets had no business holding onto their own strings.
Bart glanced up at Eleanor. "I made the call weeks ago. I'm just waiting for the right opportunity."
:::
August 24th, 2008: Relais Borgo Santo Pietro
In the midst of their tryst, the glass panel doors had blown open, stars raining all over their hot skin. Chuck had just emptied himself inside of her, and he was still shaking from the force of it, hand cupping her chin, face in her hair. They remained that way for a long time, trembling, trading sweet nothings, and empty profanities. When they finally drew apart, Chuck tucked Blair beneath his arm, and she sighed against his neck.
With the entire countryside offering them silence from the cellphone beeps, chatty crowds, and thick common rooms, this affair felt adult, felt like so much more than slipping his hand between her legs in the library or silencing her moans outside one of the dormitory halls. This felt real.
But in many ways, the Tuscan resort made them both nostalgic. Its vine-kissed brick walls, wide windows, and sprawling courtyards were a more sun-soaked version of the Briar House campus. Everywhere they went, memories of the year prior played like an old film reel, the Chuck and Blair of the past fighting here and faltering there. It brought out a fondness in the wicked duo that surpassed even an "I love you." But this was no place for stiff uniforms or strict curfews. In Tuscany, Blair was always a vision in red.
"That was…"
"There isn't a word in your little SAT index that would describe what that was, Waldorf."
Blair exhaled at the words, shut her eyes. "Speaking of, our summer of fantasy and frivolity seems to be coming to a close. Soon we'll be…back in stuffy classrooms with stuffy professors, preparing for university and God knows what will be threatening to dethrone us. Prepared, Bass?"
She glanced at Chuck, who had fallen awfully silent. The mere mention of the prior year was a pin in their summer bubble, the resounding pop eerily similar to the sound of Ethan slamming his head against pool tiles, Harrison chuckling with his crew of biffs, Penelope typing furiously on her phone, and Georgina slamming Blair with that awful wooden beam. They pretended it didn't haunt their every move. Pretended it didn't keep Blair awake at night, sobbing out at phantom pains as Chuck winced and traced unspoken words along her spine.
When he still hadn't responded, Blair straightened instantly and shifted away.
"Of course, I can't speak for both of us. You are Chuck Bass and you don't need summer for the frivolity. I imagine you'll be returning to your old ways, tormenting me, wasting your life away with a flask and a—"
Chuck rolled his eyes and dragged Blair back across his chest. He knew what her sudden antagonistic rambling meant, a pleasure and curse of coming to know her somehow even better than he had before. She'd talk them back into 2007 if he let her.
"Relax, Waldorf. You spent the entire year rejecting my advances—"
Blair made a face. "And you spent the entire year advancing."
"Isn't that getting a little dull?" Chuck pinched her chin, and Blair narrowed her eyes. "I was merely reflecting on the horrors we faced last year. And how we faced them together." He shot her a jagged smile. "Just like we will this year. I love you, Blair. Now stop worrying, unless this is play for another game."
Blair bit her lip. Remnants of last year's million fall-outs still lived inside of her, but they pounded less loudly opposite the sound of Chuck's voice.
"I suppose…" Blair ran a finger down the center of Chuck's chest, "I'm going to need all of the help I can get with my application to Yale." She paused. "Not that I'm not already over qualified."
"Of course," Chuck smirked.
"But as you are the admissions officer," Blair grinned, "perhaps I can offer you a few supplementals."
"I can think of a few things that might sway me," Chuck murmured, grabbing hold of her waist. "But first, a nightcap. Join me in the cigar parlor?"
Blair wrinkled her nose. "And spend all morning washing my hair of smoke and debauchery?"
Chuck laughed. "Just debauchery then."
Blair gave him a perfunctory nod.
"Very well," Chuck replied, rolling out of bed to pull on his dress shirt and pants, looking handsomely disheveled in the only way Chuck would know how to. He was a scratch on a classic, a skew in the James Dean daydream. And what did that make her? Audrey Hepburn soaked in sin? Dining on diamonds and coated in liquor and cigarette smoke? Putting her faith in the one tale she couldn't guess the ending of.
Blair swallowed down the worry, all the overthinking, and smiled. "Try not to miss me too much, Bass."
Chuck grinned before slipping through the door. "Impossible."
:::
August 24th, 2008: Group Chat ( Blair, Diana, Damien, Eric, Ethan, Jenny, and UNKNOWN )
Damien: So the king and queen have come up for air.
Blair: Hilarious, Daalgard. We're just preparing for another swim…
Diana: Wow, so do not want to know the context.
Diana: We miss you, B. Come back to us.
Eric: Seconded.
Ethan: Thirded?
Damien: I mean, I guess… ;)
Blair: Fear not, my court. Your queen will be back soon enough. I'm sure that your delinquency has been misguided without me…
Diana: If by delinquency you mean watching Eric and Ethan consummate their lovely little relationship on every surface of our beach house, yes you most definitely need to put an end to it.
Ethan: No one likes a bitter single, D.
Diana: No one likes an exhibitionist, E.
Eric: Actually…
Blair: Enough. If I wanted to discuss fetishes, I'd have Bass join in on the conversation.
Damien: You guys can't see me, so I want to make sure that you know I just threw up in my mouth.
Blair: How is your quaint little voyage into the wild?
Damien: I'm in Maine, Blair.
Blair: Your point?
Damien: Good hash and better parties. What more could I ask for?
Blair: You never fail to astonish me with your depth, Daalgard. And…Little J?
Eric: …
Ethan: …
Diana: No one's heard from her all summer, B. I'm…starting to get a little worried.
Damien: Relax. She's just regrouping with her mom in Hudson. We're supposed to link up at the beach house this weekend, all of us. She'll tell us wtf is going on then.
Eric: Not all of us.
Blair: Fret not, Little E. We'll have just as apt of a reunion at Briar. I have some unattended Bassness to attend to in Tuscany first.
Ethan: How are things with the million dollar man anyway?
Diana: Saw your pics on Facebook, B. You look so happy.
Blair: Happy?
Blair: I'm better than ever.
:::
This was it. She was going to die.
Thick rope dug into her wrists, leaving marks like black and blue diamonds. The room she was in smelled of dust and wood chips, basement windows filtering in the sun like a spotlight, the walls an odd combination of exposed panels, the ones they'd had at the Merrick manor, and bramble roses, vines and tree branches stretching into the dank room like hands in the dark. She could hear laughter filling the room like awful music, the telltale cackle of Georgina Sparks…or Merrick spilling in and cutting like knives.
"You really have no idea of the consequences of your actions, do you?"
Blair squinted into the dark, struggling against her bindings. "What are you talking about? You're supposed to be locked up in some…mental asylum in Connecticut."
"Wrong girl, B."
When Blair opened her eyes again, she found herself looking at her own reflection. Her ropes had come loose, her lips were painted red, and her hand was on her hip. Her vision was fuzzy, there were two of her, but they oddly felt like one.
The other Blair smiled. "Shockingly enough, your little Stockholm story isn't what you fear the most. It's me." When she bent forward, she was wearing something lacy in a color the real Blair would never wear. "I'm you with Chuck. I'm everything you thought you'd never be. I'd ask him for his approval, but it looks like he's a little tied up."
The real Blair spun around to find Chuck tied up in the chair she'd just been sitting in, blindfolded and mouth gagged. She tried to move, tried to save him, but she couldn't. Her feet were stuck to the ground they were planted on, her fingers frozen in position.
"I'm everything you gave up when you chose him. Can you count on that?"
The real Blair swallowed. "Of course I can."
"Choose wisely, B," the other Blair laughed. "Three words are still just words. A summer in Tuscany just hibernates the beast. Now, it's him or your heart. Decide."
Blair woke with a start, sitting up in bed so quickly that she was hit with a wave of nausea. The scent of air and perfume and earth returned, the canopy of their king bed cloaking her in safety, the countryside lit up by the dim morning sprawled out in front of her. She sighed with relief, waiting for her heart to slow as she regained her bearings.
"I just had the most awful…" Blair trailed off when she realized that she was speaking to a ghost, and when she reached her hand across the sheets, she'd come up with nothing. She'd fallen asleep chatting with her friends sometime around midnight, but she had no recollection of Chuck creeping in to rouse her (or arouse her) after that. And it was unlike Bass to wake up early if it wasn't for morning sex or an éclair at their doorstep. Blair narrowed her eyes, called out his name, but it was to no avail. The suite was empty, as was her heart.
"Choose wisely, B."
Blair frowned, rubbing her temples to ease her mind of the nightmare…both of them. When she glanced at the nightstand, his watch was still atop his wallet, accompanied by the cufflinks she'd gifted him. Her skin went hot.
"He's probably off looking for something to tempt me with," Blair whispered to herself, "or this is…foreplay." She slipped out of bed and busied herself with picking out a dress for the day, convincing herself that it was nothing more than a bit of scandal to keep her on her toes.
As the sun poured in, the cufflinks glinted from their place on the nightstand.
Blair swallowed.
"Can you count on that?"
:::
August 26th, 2008: Relais Borgo Santo Pietro
"What do you mean you haven't seen him?" Blair slammed her hands on the concierge's counter, startling the poor staff with her hysterics. "He's a young billionaire in the handful of has-beens staying at your subpar resort. Now is not the time for your incompetence. My boyfriend…" Blair paused, rolling her shoulders back and frowning at the admission as the confused staff watched on. "Chuck Bass is missing, and I refuse to believe that not a soul here is privy to his whereabouts."
"Signora—"
"Don't signora me. I demand that you locate Chuck Bass immediately. I don't care if some hermit in an average suite misses out on his room service and pay-per-view. Use all of your staff and find him." Just like he found me. "Immediately."
Blair's phone began to ring.
"Now if you'll excuse me," Blair huffed, escaping onto one of the balconies overlooking the long road into the resort. The sun was setting, and the sky was bursting into angry oranges, purples, and reds. Blair clutched at her chest as she answered the phone, knowing the feeling quite well. She let out a breath. "Hello, Mother."
"Blair," Eleanor sighed. "What could possibly be so urgent that you called me thirty times during the most important meeting of my career? Really, Blair. Your theatrics are that of a…"
"Mother," Blair spat, "Chuck is missing."
There was a long pause.
"He…didn't come back to our suite last night. And now it's two days later, and I haven't heard a word from him. No calls back, no messages left atop my pillow, no scheme…" Blair paused, setting a hand on her forehead. "Mother, he left his wallet, his cards, even his lucky flask behind. If I know Chuck Bass, I know that he wouldn't stray far without direct access to his liquor and his assets."
Eleanor sounded neither surprised nor interested. "Blair, it's been two days."
"It's been forty-eight hours!" Blair shook her head in disbelief. "This isn't New York. He's not…caught in traffic or attending to his father. We're on vacation. This is his suite. He has nowhere else to go."
"Did you ever stop to think, Blair, that perhaps Chuck found something more interesting and followed it home as dogs do?"
Blair recoiled as if she'd just been slapped in the face. "Chuck would never do that."
She hated how unsure of it she sounded.
"You sound so much like me, Blair," Eleanor whispered with slight pity. "I believe I said that about your father right before he booked the plane ticket."
"You don't know Chuck."
"Perhaps you don't either," Eleanor replied. "And perhaps it's all for the best, Blair. With Chuck out…doing whatever it is that he's doing, you can stop playing the games of a lost little girl and refocus on your future like the woman I know you are. I'm sending a plane for you so that you can stop in city before you return to Briar. You and I have a few things to discuss, and I'm hoping that Charles Bass will not be a part of that conversation."
"Mother…please." Blair swallowed her pride, lifted her chin. "I'm asking for your help."
"And I'm giving it to you, Blair," Eleanor said. "I expect that you'll be on that plane."
:::
August 27th, 2008: Relais Borgo Santo Pietro
"Oh, B…"
Somehow, her friend's voice held the same comfort of a box of macaroons or Audrey film on a dark day. Blair curled up atop her comforter, sinking into one of Chuck's shirts for warmth and let the buzz of the phone line lull her into a less manic state. It was odd, this sensation, reaching out from the dark and finding comfort rather than judgment or betrayal. A year ago, she was watching her best friend lift her dress to steady herself atop her boyfriend's lap.
Now, that position had a different name, a different face.
And Blair was allowing herself to be weak in a pair of hands that would never drop her.
"Diana," Blair whispered, "I'm afraid."
"B," Diana whispered back, "we're going to find him. Our friendship is one of the most important things to all of us. I…was devastated when I thought I'd lost you. But we didn't give up. And we won't give up on Chuck. Despite…the joy I would get from a little Bass reprieve."
For the first time since he'd been gone, Blair smiled.
"And Little J? She has an odd and…unsettling ability to get through to Chuck. Put her on the phone."
Diana was silent for a moment. "Blair…Jenny never showed up to the beach house. She texted us some lame excuse about her father visiting and a pot roast, or whatever. Eric, Ethan, and Damien are here, but—"
"Miss Waldorf, please open up."
Blair startled, leaping for the suite's door as her worry for Jenny lingered. There were more knocks, and she forced herself to put her friend drama aside for the moment. "Diana, we'll discuss a Little J revival when I'm back in New York. I think…I might have an update on Chuck."
"Good luck, B."
Blair hesitated before swinging open the door, frazzled to the point of fresh tears stinging her eyes, her wrap dress slipping off one shoulder to reveal a slight sunburn and the bra underneath.
And there Chuck was.
Accompanied by the resort's security. "I believe this belongs to you, Miss Waldorf. We found him stumbling into the resort in this…state, harassing our staff and threatening our officers. We did well to remember that his father is a valuable patron of ours, but I can't say that the feeling will last."
Blair barely registered the words, or her boyfriend's current state, as she pulled him into a hug.
"I have it," she whispered as they stumbled inside, leaving the irritated officer on their porch. "I have him."
"Blair," Chuck slurred into her neck. His breath smelled rancid, like liquor and things too sinful to be named. Blair woke up then, had been so wrapped up in her relief, that she hadn't taken in what had truly been returned to her. To say that Chuck Bass was intoxicated would be an understatement. His shirt was mostly unbuttoned, his pants frayed at the ends. There was a fresh cut on the side of his face, and when Blair touched it, it sprung blood. He couldn't look at her, not with his bloodshot, puffy eyes, and current state of delirium. He was a blind man, muttering under his breath, clinging onto her for balance. On his arms were the telltale signs of injections, bruises blossoming around them, nose bloodied, and fists clenched.
On his chest, there were lipstick stains.
Bite marks.
Blair let out a ragged breath, unable to stop the tears. "You couldn't help yourself, could you?"
Chuck frowned, tried to make sense of what she was saying. "I don't…Blair…I…"
"I knew you would do something like this. I should have known that after the game was done, after the play was over, you'd lose interest and screw me over."
"Blair," Chuck slurred, "you seem to be confused. We spent the summer screwing, not…"
Blair slapped him, right across the face, with all that she had, and it all came rushing back. Junior year, locking eyes with him on the first day, the boil of blood beneath her skin, the game of give and take, more giving than taking, then more taking than giving, their first kiss, their enemies circling them like wolves to human sacrifice. The wanting, the waiting, the hurting. The leaving. The small part of her heart that knew Chuck Bass would always disappoint her, no matter how much of what they were was on the line. They had come to this, just start all over again. And he was making a joke about it.
"How dare you?" Blair hissed. "After everything that happened with Georgina. After all the hell that we went through together. I thought…I'd never have to feel that fear again. But this is all a game to you. Like it always is. I'm becoming a woman, putting aside my entire future, just to be toyed with by a little boy with drugs and women for toys."
"Blair," Chuck groaned, seeming to come to some of his senses—hurt, confusion, and pain coloring his hard features. "Blair, I don't know what happened to me."
She pursed her lips, took more steps back. "I think it's pretty clear."
"Blair, you have to believe me," Chuck rasped, grabbing one of her arms, but it was more out of necessity than compassion.
"Don't play dumb, Chuck. That's the one thing you're bad at because I know that you're not. The only thing I believe is that you are still the same Chuck Bass that got sent to Briar. And that you've gone out of your way to prove to me that there's nothing for me here."
Chuck dropped to his knees, too lost and pained to stay on his feet. For a moment, Blair ached to help him up, her hands instinctively twitching to reach for him. But she stopped herself, catching the hickeys lining the nape of his neck like a new tattoo.
He peered up at her. "After all that we've been through, Blair, you're going to leave me?"
"Yes," Blair whispered, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Just like you left me."
:::
A note from your narrator:
Summer's end. A time when the light sets on all of our distractions, revealing them for exactly what they are: temporary. We can shine the sun on anything and call it forever, but never forget that night is always knocking. And even the nicest stories need a solid ending.
Whether it be a prince in a foreign land like Chuck Bass, taking turns dialing a lost girlfriend's number, dreaming of hands in the dark, and wincing at the scars he now has no memories of; Jenny Humphrey hiding out in Hudson with a new habit as bad as a bitter pill; Damien Dalgaard pining so desperately that he's looking more like his mentor with every passing day…
A surprising couple: Diana and Ethan locking lips for a reason you'll never guess, and Eric van der Woodsen with the light knocked out of his eyes.
A true villain, Bart Bass, wiring over a payment to a mysterious woman in Italy before leaving a message for his dearest son: "Chuck, this is what you are. You can't help yourself. So let me help you. I think I know exactly what you need."
So many others waiting to take our tarnished golden ones down…
And Blair Waldorf, boarding a flight back to her kingdom. Which one? We'll just have to see how this plays out.
If you thought we were done here, you don't know Briar. It's going to be an interesting school year. Our delinquents are all grown up.
And they're going out with a bang.
:::
August 28th, 2008: Flight 189 Galileo Galilei to John F. Kennedy Airport
Blair curled into her cashmere blanket as rain splattered on the plane's window and the glow of the television monitor lit the drops like a broken kaleidoscope. She couldn't look at herself, not with her face bloated and awful from crying for hours in the suite she'd had to stay in before her mother made the arrangements for her to return to New York.
On the screen, in Rome, Princess Ann was bidding her own farewell.
"I have to leave you now. I'm going to that corner there and turn. You must stay in the car and drive away. Promise not to watch me go beyond the corner. Just drive away and leave me as I leave you."
"All right," said Joe Bradley.
"I don't know how to say goodbye. I can't think of any words."
"Don't try," he replied.
Blair hit pause, forced herself to look away.
There, in the distance, were the sparkling lights of the city, like diamond push pins on a dark grid map of New York City—beyond them, the rolling forests, academy tops like spires on a castle tower.
The plane braced for landing.
But why did it feel like she was leaving home?
Author's Note: So, I promised myself I wouldn't make this emotional. But would it really be me if I didn't? After recent events and the current state of our country, I decided to take a reprieve from a lot of hurt and sit down to watch my favorite show from the beginning. Yesterday, I finished, cried, and then sat down to write. If this isn't a testament to how much this show (and this couple) means to me, I don't what is. Thank you Gossip Girl, thank you fandom, and thank you Chuck and Blair for always getting me through the hardest times in my life. It's on my bucket list to finish Wires, the story that inspired me to make writing my career, and I fully intend to check it off.
As Gossip Girl would say, guard your feels. The bitch is back. xoxo, N