Chapter Twenty-two

Last Man Standing

''So plant your own gardens and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.''

It was somewhere around dawn when he dropped on bed; unconscious and fully clothed. Stench of cigarettes and alcohol filled the spacious, but empty bedroom. This room used to be glorious temple of vices and desires. Now, it was a Pandora's box; full of demons and haunting ghosts of the past.

Heavy drapes were drawn like a Berlin wall against tall windows, shielding from morning light and any sign of life. He groaned as someone's voice broke the drowsy state, dreamless sleep shattering to pieces.

''Chuck!'' The voice was now full on seething with rage and annoyance.

He willed himself with great effort to open his eyes, only to be met with spinning ceiling. To shield himself from any further intrusion, he flung his arm over lids, moaning.

Something heavy hit him in the chin and he flinched, the sudden movement waking him from the daze. Last night's debauchery still surged through his body, making him very close to throwing up all over his black sateen sheets.

He vaguely remembered Giovanni, his private Italian interior designer, of strongly suggesting he re-decorates his room. The suggestion was met with another strong counter-suggestion; that Giovanni goes and fucks himself.

Eventually, he succumbed to his artistic gay master-mind under one condition. That everything be changed, styled and textured, except the bed sheets.

''Wake up,'' His father ordered, hovering over his bed like a looming shadow. Bald looming shadow. Chuck recoiled at the thought of himself losing hair in 40s. Genetics was a bitch. ''Look how proud you're making me.''

''What's going on?'' He grumbled, rolling over and opening the newspapers that lay on his chest. The crunching sound of pages turning terrorized his hearing and he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose.

''Homeless heir,'' Chuck murmured disinterestedly, reading the colossal title. He admired his slumbering face in the picture for a moment, before he threw the papers on the floor and went back to the comforting lethargy. His stomach growled uncomfortably. The paparazzi caught him sleeping in his new car. He got new BMW and went to for a cruise to New Jersey. To see around what regular people did, how they lived.

New Jersey was boring, regular people even more so.

To make the evening more interesting, he pulled over by the sea and took a nap in the car. More like got knocked out by that Poland vodka his new maid snuck him.

''You idiot,'' His father snarled. ''Your mother's been calling me all morning! All morning she's been nagging me, asking if I kicked you out of the house!? If we had a fight?! Look what you've done!''

''I'll talk to her,'' He drawled lazily, turning back and slowly starting to snore again.

''They called me before publishing this,'' Bart provoked, not letting the matter go. ''I let them do it. I thought maybe you'll come to your senses. But look at you! You couldn't care less!''

Chuck sighed in annoyance and looked back squarely at his father, leaning on his elbows. ''Are you finished?''

There was a prolonged moment of silence, where only Bart's labored breathing could be heard. His eyes flashed dangerously. ''Are you fuckin' kidding me?''

Chuck slowly got up from the bed, looking his father straight in the eyes. ''Since when did great Bart Bass start to take page six seriously?''

Small twitch of the mouth proved the man with him was startled by the sudden opposition. He was put off, but only by a millisecond. ''Since I saw what state you're in at that picture!''

''And what state is that, precisely?'' Asked Chuck with contrasted tone of voice; very cool, very calm, very collected. The surface was smooth, but the matter underneath boiled with years of resentment and need for something greater than materialistic goods. Something greater than shallow conversations, offhand comments and unbearable small talk. Something he only got to find out recently. A tenderness that Blair had awoken. A need to be loved.

And was he shocked to see what had he been missing all of his pathetic life. Chuck was outraged to find closest people had cut him of that momentum; the only one he ever needed. His eyes narrowed as he spoke. ''Am I that different than you? What have you ever given me? Only my nickname; the heir. What else? What have you given me in my twenty years of life?''

''Look around yourself,'' Barked Bart, quite flabbergasted. He never exchanged more than few casual sentenced with his son. He was used to his boyish spite and arrogance that followed name of Bass. But this was not spite, this was not arrogance. This was a true feeling emitting from his very own offspring. The enigma that terrified Bart. ''Look at your life, your custom-made suits, look at your car that you were drunk in!''

''Is that all?'' Chuck fumbled for something in pocket. He fished out car keys and threw them in father's lap. ''There! I'll give you back everything you have given me!''

''Don't you dare be disrespectful! You won't get away with this show!''

Chuck scowled. A show. That's what his father thought this was. Just another cry for attention, just another wail of mouth to be shut with silver spoon. He approached Bart, speaking quietly, his heart throbbing with pain that's been there for so long it became part of his being. ''You know what? When I was little...'' He inhaled deeply and looked his father in the eyes. ''Whenever I'd miss you, I'd grab a magazine to look at your pictures.''

''Mom used to give them to me because I would refuse to eat since you weren't there. Just because I missed you.''

He clenched his jaw, willing himself to go on. Maybe the only reason he was doing this is because of that Zubrowka in his blood. The wave turned to tsunami and the room was flooded with whirlwind of memories. ''That woman you cheated on mom with...''

''When did mom divorce you?'' He demanded, his voice slightly breaking. Chuck clenched his fists, raising his voice, ''When!?''

''Chuck...'' Bart whispered, looking at his son as if seeing him for the first time.

''Five!'' He spat, spreading his arms wide. ''I was five! We came back from the vacation you sent us to because it was Father's day. I wanted to come back!''

The ominous tension filled every crack and the corner. Air reeked of desperation and repressed thoughts, actions, words.

''I had a gift for you.'' Tears stung at the back of his eyes, but he continued, submersed in vividness and life of his emotions. Except for Blair, never had anyone come close to recognizing them, to admitting them, to loving them. Everyone always dismissed him as heartless playboy, reckless son, wild rich brat. ''Look, it's still here.''

He angrily walked across the room and pulled a handsome mahogany box out of the shelf. He shoved everything from the desk, glass breaking on the floor, and put it there. Kicking the lid aside, he pulled an old yellowed paper with a drawing. The rest of the box was filled with relics of the past.

The drawing was done with watercolors, by a carefree child hand. It depicted mother, father and a son. Sun shone upon them and they stood on layer of green grass. Chuck looked at it for a moment and quickly wiped a tear, before turning back to his father. ''Look what I made you! I wanted to give you this. I wanted a real family, like the one on the drawing. Everyone has a right to a family, right father?''

Bart looked at the paper with unreadable face. His mouth was still set in that grotesque twitch.

''If you only knew how happy I was! Until I opened the damn doors... How excited I was until mom saw you with that... With that...''

He remembered the one and only time he saw his mother cry and couldn't say anything anymore. Chuck shoved the paper in Bart's chest and sat back on his bed, staring at the wall, breathing heavily.

Bart stood frozen for few moments, his eyes drilling at the drawing. Slowly, he approached his son and put a hand on his shoulder in that unfamiliar, alien way. ''If you only knew what I had to do not to lose you.''

''I blamed myself for years,'' Chuck whispered with raspy voice, his eyes red. ''I wish I didn't mention Father's day. I wish I didn't draw that picture. I wish I never insisted on going back home early.''

He looked at the hand on his shoulder with knotted brows. You guys wouldn't get divorced, the thought floated around in the air.

''I tried...'' Bart spoke, his voice still hinting at that coldness that it always did. ''But your mother was difficult.''

''I did everything I could to get you back,'' He finally said, setting the paper down.

''Yeah,'' Chuck muttered, brushing father's hand off his shoulder. His father was a womanizer, a philander. All of Chuck's friends looked up to Bart, worshiping him as a God. But nobody asked if he was a good parent?

Because nobody cared. Nobody cared that Bart would rather spend his leisure time having sex with strangers than with his son.

After the divorce, Chuck needed a father. He didn't need a wing-man.

''But it wasn't enough.'' He got up and grabbed his phone, getting out the doors.

''Chuck,'' Bart called after him. ''Wait.''

''What's going on?'' An unfamiliar girl just slightly older than Chuck got out of Bart's room and intercepted Chuck's way. She was dressed in red, see-through lingerie.

Chuck looked at her in disgust and then at his father, as if proving a point. He looked at him and mentally threw sins of his past, present and future in his face.

I am the way I am because of you, Chuck's glare accused.

Bart glanced at the floor, unable to meet his son's eyes.

Chuck hailed a cab and drove straight to Nate's apartment. They didn't talk much. Nate understood everything without a single word being said. There was a mental bond between them that rarely two friends shared. Chuck took a shower and changed into fresh clothes. They drove together to class, talking about nothing that would matter in two minutes, two days or two decades.

Slumber and tiredness hung to the edge of his mind. The outburst today drained him mentally and he finally faced the truth. The terrible haunting truth that he was unloved by those that mattered the most.

''So you two are coming to class together now?'' Serena noticed brusquely as they exited the limo. Her stance was defensive, but the hurt in eyes was obvious.

The tension between trio only seemed to increase. Nate scorned Serena, Chuck ignored her and Serena only wanted them to be like they used to before. Before Blair.

''I'm staying at Nate's for a while,'' Responded Chuck gloomily.

''Good for you,'' She muttered bitterly as they passed her without another glance. She stared at their retreating figure until they disappeared.

Blair sighed in frustration as the girl opposite chewed gum with open mouth. The sound grated her nerves. She kicked her heel against the tiles, Prada shoes that earned her part-time job at Millennium hotel still not used to her feet. They made them sore, her ankles aching with weight. Lounge room was bit more crowded than usual, but still desolate enough for tutoring.

''Let me repeat myself,'' She gritted through her teeth, pointing at the messy scribble. ''For the fifth time. What you did here with the equation and the diagram you drew in true Picasso style-''

''Thanks,'' She giggled, grinning like a fool.

''That wasn't a compliment. It doesn't match. It needs to match.''

Girl obnoxiously popped the bubble gum, her left eyebrow raised. ''Is it true that Chuck Bass wears his scarf to bed?''

Blair closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. She was very close to shoving the gum down her throat. ''What?''

''You know, is he as good as they say he is?''

Blair completely ignored the question and the wink it followed, frustration sizzling under the skin.

''See it like this. Equation is the sequin shirt you're wearing right now and diagram is hideous leopard skin tights you have on. Hell would have to freeze over, Donald Trump would win the elections and fetch would become a thing before it begins to match!''

''Ugh,'' The girl articulated, offended and slightly terrified of her crazy eyes. With upturned nose, she grabbed the notes and ran out of the room.

''This is the last time I'm tutoring morons for extra credit,'' Blair muttered, shoving Business Law book into her purse. Suddenly, her eye caught the devil himself. Chuck was sleeping in one of the booths, head rested against the wall, legs sprawled over the couch. Sure enough, his scarf hung on his neck.

Heart stuck in her throat and mellow warmth spread over her body.

He looked so peaceful.

But why was he sleeping in the middle of the day? What has been happening in his life? Was he okay?

Moments ticked by as she stared at fine lines of his face, secretly admiring them. He snapped his eyes open and their gazes met.

Blair quickly bent her head down and busied herself with notes in front, scribbling little waves to pretend she was writing something.

''Were you just watching me sleep?'' He asked with husky voice as he approached, sliding in seat next to her. Their thighs touched and she immediately scooted away from his body. ''That is kind of a turn on.''

''And you drooling is a turn off.''

Chuck moaned, biting his bottom lip. ''I love it when you talk dirty to me.''

''Go to hell, Chuck,'' She spat with the sweetest of her faux smiles. They shared a look between them than no great scientist or behavioral analyst could decipher. Flustered by his proximity, Blair picked up her notes and left the table. She secretly smirked at her little victory, but not for long. Every step brought a new wave of pain, Prada shoes cramping her feet. At one point, her ankle twisted and she fell, landing hard on the stair that led up to the ground floor.

''Are you okay?'' Chuck was instantly by her side, all playfulness gone.

''I don't know,'' She cried, holding her burning ankle. ''It hurts.''

''Let me take a look,'' He demanded, crouching next to her and tentatively caressing skin through the fabric of the stocking with his fingers. She hissed at the contact, half in pleasure and half in pain. Blair slapped his hand away.

''No, thanks Meredith Grey!''

''That's it,'' Chuck said firmly, his eyes determined. ''I'm taking you to the hospital.''

''What?''

Whatever else she had to say, died on her lips. He took her in his arms and carried her small, aching body through the campus towards outside gates.

''What are you doing!? Stop it!''

Her protests were fruitless. He ignored them and even went so far to roll his eyes when she threatened with murder. Disbelieving gapes of the fellow students followed their grand exit. He was making a scene, she knew it. He was making a declaration, but the gist of it escaped Blair.

''Chuck Bass, put me down! This instant!''

Their bodies were so close. His arms were strong, tightly holding her in place. She held his neck for support, furiously staring at his profile.

Out in the street, Chuck lowered her down to get her in the car.

''Absolutely not,'' She spat indignantly, but still held to his shoulder for support. ''I'm not going anywhere.''

''Blair,'' He held her jaw with his fingers. ''Get in. You're going to see a doctor.''

''I don't want to!'' She slapped away his hand.

He narrowed his eyes at her, enunciating every word with dangerous tone. ''Get. In.''

He wasn't giving up. There was a threat in his eyes. There was no fighting him. She bit her cheek and sighed in defeat. With his help, Blair got in the cab.

There she was, lying on the comfortable private hospital bed in sterilized room with fake plants, as if she was a rich coma patient. Bass family had a private suite here (what a shocker) along with mini bar and a huge plasma TV that played cowboy movies. She snatched the remote control and turned off the TV, irritated by the sound of gunfire.

''I was watching that,'' Chuck accused, cup of coffee in his hands. She was sure he spiked it with something. He turned to look at her, his usually sleek hair messy and unbearably sexy.

''You're crazy,'' Blair sulked, crossing hands over her chest in defiance. She was wasting her time here because of him, missing important classes. The worst thing of all, she was in enclosed space with Chuck and it made her fidget, twitch and gag all at once.

Very slowly, he approached the bed, looking right into the depths of her soul. ''You're the one driving me crazy.''

She threw him one of her infamous glares and looked away. ''Stupid.''

Chuck sighed, setting the cup down and leaned into her. He put an arm on the pillow over her head and as she looked back at him, their noses almost touched. The effect was immediate. His warmth spread from his body, transfixing her in spot. All she could do was stare at his onyx eyes and get lost in the power they emitted.

''Do you know what's really stupid?'' She inhaled his minty breath as he spoke and her head spun.

''Things that happened to us are stupid,'' He whispered, gently brushing away her hair. ''Things that we do are stupid.''

''You leaving me was stupid,'' He finally uttered the words with closed eyes, grazing his nose across her cheek. Her heart pounded, skin melting under his touch. He leaned back slightly to look at her and she fluttered her eyelashes, dazed and wanting more.

''Why did you leave me?'' He asked so softly she barely heard him. There was pain in his eyes and all she wanted to do was relieve him of it. Her soul ached for his soul, her heart beating for his heart.

Unable to resist him, trapped under his spell, Blair parted her mouth and leaned in, pressing her hot lips to his. Chuck wasted no time in responding back. They barely kissed when doctor entered. As if waking up from a trance, she pulled away immediately.

''Good day,'' He greeted, walking in while staring at the sheet in hands. Nurse trailed in after and Blair noticed the way she eyed Chuck.

The devil himself cleared his throat and leaned away from her bed.

''So you tripped on the stairs, young lady?''

''Yes,'' She affirmed, sensing the cold absence of his warmth. ''I was running away from him.''

The doctor looked at Chuck with raised eyebrows.

''She couldn't resist my charm,'' He smoothly explained, cocking his head and looking at the nurse. ''Fight or flee, if you know what I mean.''

Blair elbowed him hard in the ribs and he suppressed a groan. She pursed her lips, ignoring nurse who giggled like an idiot.

''I'll move your foot from left to right,'' Doctor declared and she yelped in pain as he did. Her hand grasped Chuck's as if it had a mind of it's own. Their fingers intertwined and she felt him squeeze. The movement eased the pain and she felt herself relaxing. He protectively put a hand around her shoulders.

Nurse's grin fell and Blair bit down a smile.

''It hurts?'' Doctor asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of nose. ''That's alright.''

Blair couldn't agree with him more.

After bandaging the foot and prescribing some painkillers, they wheeled her to the taxi as if she lost both of her legs and an arm.

''I could get used to being wheeled around,'' She had her hands relaxed on both handles, as if sitting on a throne. ''Like a small, practical carriage.''

Chuck pushed her wheelchair with smirk on his face, whistling a happy tune. ''I stole stethoscope from that doctor so we can role play.''

''What?'' She blurted, her cheeks tinged with blush.

''Don't worry, I'll wait until you get better. I'm not that sadistic.''

''You're heinous,'' She rolled her eyes, fed up with the day and mix of her emotions. Chuck helped her up from the wheelchair, gingerly holding her elbow and ushered her in the awaiting taxi. They drove in silence, each of them contemplating what just happened. Chuck was alighted with hope. Blair was crushed with it.

Her chest was full of butterflies of ecstasy. She kissed him. It was a small, ghost of a kiss but it brought on so much of what she thought was slumbering. They were talking to each other. They were joking. They were acting like nothing happened in the past month.

Except, everything happened and it couldn't be erased. Cloud settled low over her brow.

''Do you mind if I stop by to get a gas?'' driver asked, looking at them in rear view mirror.

''Not at all,'' Chuck responded with some note of relief.

They were left alone.

Silence was filled with whispers of the past that reverberated across stained glass, brown worn-out leather and their bodies. Blair pointedly stared out the window, determined to ignore whatever he had to say. She sensed him leaning in, his warmth and the musky perfume lulling her into sweet haze. He was a temptation that she had to resist, under any cost.

''I've missed you,'' He quietly said, his breath tingling the spot on her neck. All playfulness gone, he was serious and longing filled his voice. She shut her eyes, fighting with the urge to turn back and kiss him again. He was practically begging for it, leaning his chin on her shoulder. Blair forced herself to replay the past and the burden of the lies spilled over her soul, drowning every promise of a good life.

He deserved better. She wasn't going to lie to him anymore. The lies would leave a scar forever. Rejected kiss would be like a bite of a mosquito. He'd get over her soon and find someone else, however blindingly painful that fact was.

''Chuck,'' she forced herself to say calmly, fingers digging into her skin. She hated doing this. She hated rejecting him when every fiber of her being ached for him. ''It's over.''

''What is over?'' His voice was soft and smooth, like a silk - with just a touch of vulnerability. ''Love?''

And here he was, putting target on his chest and arrow in her hands. Daring him to hurt him or to love him. She gulped down before answering,

''There was never love involved,'' She declared with finality, still staring out the window. It would be easier for him if he thought she didn't love him. Because what justification she could give him for her lies? They had built a dream upon the pile of lies and deceits.

The silence was painful. She looked out for a driver to come back, but the man seemed to take ages.

''I don't believe you,'' Chuck coldly said and she could hear the sound of walls going up. This was the reaction of her action. Without any other word, he got out of the cab and walked away.

Blair finally released a breath she didn't know she was holding. A driver finally came back and she slid into the numbness that grew like a moss around her body when Chuck was gone.

''C'mon man,'' Nate implored his best friend while butting up his blue shirt that matched his eyes. ''I've been begging you for two hours. Let's go out.''

''I'm not going,'' Chuck drawled, not taking his eye off the screen. He sat on the couch, dejectedly flipping through channels.

''I can't believe I have to beg Chuck Bass to go out. This is unheard of!''

''You can go alone.''

''Alone?'' Nate repeated dumbfounded. ''Are you serious?''

''Don't insist,'' His best friend warned and the topic was closed like that.

Nate sensed something else had happened, something worse than a fight with Bart. Chuck didn't open the subject, so he didn't press. Blond man shrugged his shoulders, muttered something incoherent and grabbed his keys.

Chuck heaved a sigh as Nate left and filled up a glass of scotch, last bottle drained. Nate seriously needed to re-supply his stack of alcohol. How cruel of him to leave him here without a drop of this replenishing liquor?

His father called today to ask him to go back home. Chuck was surprised, to say the least, and said he'd think about it. Of'course he'd come back, but his bedroom was currently a vortex of painful memories which he wished to avoid at all cost.

Blair kissed him today and it was like a drop of water after centuries of thirst. He thought they set things right. It felt so good to talk to her, to playfully bicker. But it had all been a dream that evaporated with a flick of her fickle wrist.

But still, it happened and he found comfort in that.

He shuffled Nate's DVD collection in boredom. It was terrible. All sappy movies and terrible horrors. He flung himself back on couch and started his best friend's laptop.

It required password for access.

Chuck rubbed his hands together. This should be easy.

ILOVEMYHAIR

Wrong.

He scratched his chin, thinking.

LACROSSESQUADUES

Wrong.

BLONDBOYSRULE

Wrong.

He groaned in frustration when an idea occurred to him.

SERENATE4EVER

Correct.

Chuck shook his head in second-hand embarrassment. Display turned on and a picture of Serena, Nate and him colored the screen. It seemed Nate really did miss Serena, despite the cold shoulder he was giving her these days. A folder named Forbidden immediately caught his attention and he silently snickered. Finally, Nate's porn. Chuck was beginning to think he was irreparably vanilla. Maybe he had some spicy home-made videos.

Chuck clicked on the icon. There was only one video there. He started it.

Surprisingly, there was no porn. The movie started with Serena dancing, flashing her brilliant smile. She hung on someone's arm and he recognized himself.

Did he always look this brooding when sober?

They were in Tropic and Chuck realized this was Nate's movie project for that ridiculous subject. He relaxed and watched it, overcome with sudden burst of nostalgia.

Nate came back to his flat, freshly purchased bottle of scotch in hands. He never seriously wanted to go out without his best friend, especially since he seemed to be in one of his worse moods.

''I got the goods,'' Nate cheered as he walked into an empty living room. ''Chuck?''

There was no answer. He noticed half-finished glass of scotch on the table. Something must have happened. Chuck never let a drop of this amber liquid go to waste. Blond man approached the couch and saw his laptop on. Dread coursed through his body as all of his nightmares came to life. The movie was paused on the scene when Serena drugged Blair.

Chuck must have watched it. Nate cursed, dropping bottle on the table and running to his car.

He tried to reach Serena's phone, but to no avail. Tires screeched to a halt in front of Wan Der Woodsen house. His heart constricted at her crying form, kneeling down and clutching Chuck's hand. It was cold outside and she was in a skimpy dress. She must have been getting ready to go out. He froze at the desperation in her voice.

''I beg you,'' She sobbed convulsively, pulling Chuck's hand as he tried to shake her off. ''Forgive me! Don't go! I'll apologize to Blair!''

''Serena,'' Chuck snarled, snatching his hand from her grasp. His eyes were feral, looking at her in disgust. ''Stay away from me! Stay away from Blair!''

''Chuck, please!'' The fallen figure sobbed, her mascara smeared all the way across her cheeks. ''I'll do anything you say! Don't leave me too!''

Something in Nate cracked and he jumped to her aid, helping her up from the floor. She trembled in his arms, screaming for Chuck as he walked away.

Nate brushed her tears and she looked at him, her face turning thoughtful. ''You did this...'' She murmured, leaning away. ''This is all your fault.''

''Serena,'' He spoke softly, his brows knotted. He felt like shit. If he wasn't hung up to spiting his grandfather and taking up that project, this would have never happened. Now she thought he showed the movie to Chuck. He would never be that angry to hurt her, how could she not see that?

''I hate you, Nate!'' She screamed, pushing him away. Fury in her eyes chilled him to the bone. ''I hate you!''

He watched her run back into the house, sobbing and slamming the doors behind her. His fingers were still wet with her tears. His chest ached, but the damage had been done. With a great effort, he turned away from the building and ran to save what could be saved. ''Chuck, wait!''

Chuck turned around, that wild look still in his eyes. ''I saw everything! That drug... it was Serena's trap. Blair didn't do anything.''

''Once again, she didn't do anything.'' He pulled on his hair and shut his eyes. It hit him then, this gigantic flaw in his character, the dark side of the moon that faced darkness and eclipsed every light. His inability to trust someone. He repeatedly doubted Blair, had been unjust to her and cut her off at the first opportunity.

''But of'course,'' He glanced at his best friend, eyes darkening dangerously. ''You already know this. You taped this. It was on your laptop.'''

Nate looked down on the floor, his face plagued by wretchedness. ''I couldn't tell you anything. I couldn't. ''

''Of'course you couldn't,'' he angrily shoved him hard and Nate let him. ''Because of Serena! You were protecting her!''

''What about me?'' Chuck grabbed lapels of his coat and yelled into his face. ''What about the stuff I did to Blair?''

''I'm sorry, Chuck,'' Nate said, his voice breaking. His eyes pooled with tears as the realization that he hurt everyone hit him. He hurt Blair, he hurt Chuck. He damaged their relationship. He couldn't even help himself. He'd do it all over again, just to protect Serena. The thought was a damned poison. ''I'm so sorry. I fucked up everything.''

The regret in his best friend's voice got to misery in his broken heart and they interlaced together. Nate loved Serena, just like he loved Blair. Would he do the same if the Blair was a culprit? Wave of emotions once again flooded his body and Chuck suddenly buried his head in Nate's shoulder. The pain was unbearable. He couldn't take it anymore. It ate him from inside out.

''I didn't want to hurt anyone,'' Nate hugged him back after a small surprised pause. ''I swear.''

''I know,'' Responded Chuck, nodding. He was tired of people hurting him, hurting each other. He was tired of fighting. ''I know.''

Two best friends embraced each other; sharing pain, sharing love.

A/N: We are at the crossroad. There are 2 paths... And it is up to you to choose.

Do we wrap this up soon OOOOOOOOOOOR do we make a whole book or two out of this?! And believe me, I have so many plots and scenes in my sleeve. Very unpredictable and intense (and also A LOT of Chair everything; angst, fluff, proposals AHEM). Anyway, let me know your opinion in review :)

Hugs and Kisses and Paycheck Bonuses !