She gets the text at midnight.
Spotted: N saving Little J from herself. Then giving her a happy ending.
She doesn't read the rest, just looks at the picture. And then she's slamming her phone closed, picking up her bag, and calling a cab.
Nate POV
He's just finished putting Jenny to bed, her face relaxing with a peaceful smile, and he needs to get some air. He slips on his shoes and grabs the bag he has hidden underneath the material of his suitcase, cracks open the door, and sneaks out.
Serena is sitting in the hall way, her black heels beside her. He notices that her toes are painted a shade of blue, one he always associated with his eyes, and he likes to think that she did it for him. But he knows better.
She doesn't seem to notice him, her head remaining down and a buckle on her leather jacket is reflecting where the moon hits it. Her hair is down, cascading down her shoulders, blonde curls contrasting against the black of her jacket and the purple of her shirt.
He's startled when she laughs.
"What are you laughing at?" he asks, confused by this sudden, sad laughter pouring from her lips.
"I'm laughing at the situation. I'm laughing at me, at you, at Jenny, at all of this!" she gestures wildly with her arms, moving them around her to represent 'all of this'.
"What are you doing here, S?" he questions her, and he can just hear the concern in his voice, even though he should feel anything but. She's been ignoring him for the past two weeks, barely looking, never acknowledging him.
"I came to show you this," And at that she opens her phone, presses a few buttons and passes it to him. "It's you and Jenny. Everyone knows by now, Nate. And if they don't, they definitely will tomorrow."
He knows that this isn't the reason she's here, if she wanted to show him this, she could have just sent him the text rather than come all the way down to Brooklyn.
"What are you really doing here? A text isn't enough for you to come to Brooklyn, at midnight."
Her face is too stoic, to emotionless, that he has an idea why she's here. He sits down beside her, the space between them feeling painful, and when he places his hand upon hers, she rips it away from him as if a rat had just touched it, her face displaying this same reaction. She puts her hand in her lap.
"Don't you touch me. Don't sit here and act like you care. Don't act like you're not choosing Jenny." At this point she's no longer whispering, she's practically hissing.
"I'm not choosing anyone."
"And maybe that's it, Nate. You won't choose. You'll keep jumping from Blair to me to Vanessa to Jenny, and maybe I'm going to make you choose, because I won't let you do this to us. I won't let you break us again, and again, and again."
"I- I won't choose, S."
"Or maybe you just won't choose me."
And he tries to touch her, just put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs it off, scooting away.
"Serena."
"Go back inside Natie."
"Do you want me to call you a cab or a car?"
"No, I'm just going to sit here for a while."
So he gets up, goes back inside, changes into his pajamas and washes his face. He makes a glass of water, drinks it, and then looks out the door. She's still sitting there, in the exact spot he left her in, but her hair is covering her face, hiding her from him. And if she's crying he couldn't tell, none of her body moves, and for a minute he wonders if she turned into a beautiful statue but then he shakes his head and then walks to the couch.
She might sit there for an hour, maybe for the rest of the night, but he knows that, by morning, she'll be gone.
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