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"Tell me, just how dangerous is second best?
You've settled for less and I'm sure you'll settle again."
~Taking Back Sunday "I'll Let You Live"
"What's wrong?" she asked softly, moving her hand to his shoulder softly to comfort him.
Chuck whipped around, glaring at her. He wished he had never come to her apartment now. Now he saw her, all of her. The perfection in her eyes had dulled and all he saw was her perfect little ruby lips, which he had kissed so many times, opening and spilling out her dinner, her dessert, and her soul. He cringed and, for the first time in months, he felt like something within him was dying. He felt as though Blair had killed herself in front of him. He felt like he had when Bart had died. The pain was unbearable. The perfection he had always seen in her, had always admired, was now marred and twisted. Blair drew back her hand swiftly and rocked back on the bed so she could maintain a safe distance from Chuck.
"What do you mean what's wrong?" Chuck snarled. Although he thought the perfection was gone, Chuck still felt Blair's hold on him, his love for her, the need for her. The need for her mind, her body, her soul. All of her. He put his head in hands again and breathed deeply, then looked up at Blair, wishing he could breathe her soul and her life back into her. "Everything's wrong! This is wrong. And apparently, I was wrong too." Chuck's voice lowered to a menacing level on the last part, threatening to kill. He had thought she was perfect. Chuck had never really been a very violent person, especially around Blair. He had always been careful and caring and delicate with her. But now he felt as thought he could rip something apart, throw something at a wall, anything to make this unbearable pain go away. Blair flinched at the pain in his voice that was concealed behind the anger and agony. She just stared at him, waiting until he maintained his composure.
"What do you mean?" Blair asked softly, wondering how she had got here.
That was it. Chuck lost all control of his mind and let his body take over. And then he was breaking things, anything he could reach. He threw glasses at the wall. A bottle of liqueur. A shoe. Then he threw himself at the wall and beat his fists into it, hoping he could break down those invisible walls that held Blair from letting him help her. All he wanted to do was help. But Chuck had never helped. He didn't know what to do. So he resorted to the one thing he knew: he got angry.
Chuck got up then strode around to her side of the bed, pushing open her bathroom door violently. "You think I don't know what you just did in there?" he asked her with pain in his voice. Blair stared at him blankly, still shocked by his sudden outbreak of anger. This side of Chuck scared her. He had never been rough with her, had never said a harsh word to her while they had been together. He had always been unnaturally and unusually nice to her, so unlike himself. She was secretly terrified of this side of him. She had always been afraid it would be too much for him one day and then, on that day, he would snap. And then it hit her. The throwing up. She gasped and started to plead with him.
"No," Blair said. "Chuck… That isn't what it actually looks like…it's…something different. I haven't done that in—" Blair cut off suddenly and put her hand over her mouth. She had definitely said too much in her relief. Chuck's eyes got huge as he turned around to face her. His worst fears had just been confirmed in those five words her lips had just formed. He tried hard not to think of what had also come out of those lips that night. In two strides he got on the bed and shook her shoulders.
"What did you do to yourself Blair?" he asked her gently, already knowing. When she didn't respond, he shook her harder and screamed it. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"
"I purged," Blair whispered, and she lowered her head to his chest. He shook her violently, then she seemed to collapse into him and she shook with sobs. He responded by trying to shake her to life. In doing so, he seemed to want to shake himself to life, for he had lost something. Chuck felt soulless and empty at the knowledge of Blair's sickness. As soon as she looked up at him, he blocked off his mind by making his eyes cold. Chuck didn't want Blair to see him falling apart like this over her. She couldn't care less anyway. She sniffed and looked up at the cold, angry eyes that were still there, guarding something.
"Why?" was his question for her. His voice was filled with pain. She just stared at him, but didn't say anything. She shook her head. He shook her again, but she pushed him off her. She couldn't tell him this now. That was personal and it would give him too much power over her. But he didn't shake her now; he held her at an arm's length and looked at her. She hung her head and he whispered, "Blair…"
She looked up to see his eyes unguarded and open. The pain in them was too much for her and she couldn't even think. And so she started talking.
"It all started when I was 14…" she began, the pain letting itself out. She began to recount the story of her bulimia. How it had gotten worse as she and Nate had hit a rough spot. Serena had come back and it had taken a worse dive until she had been hospitalized. Then she had regained her position and fought it off until she and Nate had broken up. Blair told Chuck all of this willingly, without a hint of pain in her voice. She was over this now. Over Nate and Serena and the thought of them together. The next part was harder though.
"What happened then?" Chuck whispered when Blair stopped.
"I…" Blair began. "That night…in the limo." She struggled for words as they both remembered then passion of that night. Her first time and she had lost it to him. "After that, it didn't happen again for a couple of weeks. I was…" Blair trailed off. This was getting too personal. Chuck lifted her chin and whispered, "You were what?"
"Happy," Blair whispered back, then pain visible in her eyes. The tears threatened to overflow, but she pushed them back. She didn't want to make Chuck angry again.
"I was happy with you," Blair continued. "Then the cotillion and Nate—honestly it got worse then because I knew we weren't meant to be together anymore. I could still feel the insecurity when he looked at Serena and then me with two different sets of eyes. And it only got worse when he wasn't like you… And then we broke up for good and my mother got worried and I went to Serena, but she and I got in a fight over you, and I went to you and you—you-" Blair's tears overflowed. "You called me an Arabian. You made me feel useless. And I almost went to France, I almost ran because it was getting worse and I needed help. But then Serena was there and she convinced me to stay and fight. And I did, but I had lost my position, my crown. And after that, you and Nate couldn't stand to look at me because I was such a slut." Blair spat the last word and shut her eyes tight the image of Chuck's expression that night at the bar instantly shooting pains straight to her heart. "I couldn't even believe myself. And I tried to fight it for the first few months, but it continued. And then the wedding came and you looked at me like you cared and, for once, I didn't want to be anything other than what I was. I wanted to be me and I wanted to be with you. And then…" Chuck winced at the next memory. The helipad. "You left me. And I had to be sent to a hospital in France because my father couldn't help me control it. And it got very bad. Every night…."
The tears continued to roll down her face. She sobbed at the memory and covered her mouth to suppress it. "Every night I dreamed of you. And the dreams made me feel wanted again. Then I would wake up and you wouldn't be there and I felt useless and worthless all over again and…. I would need to do it again. But that time in the Hamptons when you didn't say it, I was hurt. I felt so useless. Like I was someone who could be used then thrown away. But then we played our games. We played and tortured each other until that night in Brooklyn, on the rooftop."
Chuck looked at her with sorrow. This was too much for him, yet not enough. He didn't want to hear all the reasons in her life that had made her do this to herself. He had been one of them and it killed him. But the anger had drained out of him and now it was replaced by self-loathing. He hated himself, loathed himself, for this. He had done many things to Blair, but this had to be the worst.
"And I wanted to say it. I did. But we couldn't. And it killed me. And we agreed to wait for the future, but I didn't want to wait and it was like you were cutting open my heart. And that last night before the accident…The Snowflake Ball. I felt like I might be happy just the way we were. But then it all spiraled down and you were gone. And I told you I loved you and you slammed the door right in my face. And you left me and you were gone for a month." Blair openly sobbed now and she leaned against his shirt, soaking it. "But then you were back and I helped you and I felt like I was helping…And it slowed for a while. And then you were sober and we were together and it stopped. But then, at the brunch when you called me your wife," Blair whispered, coming to the end of her story. "You made it sound like the dirtiest word in the world. And I couldn't help but thinking that maybe it was because of me. That it was my fault and that there was something wrong with me. And I couldn't accept your apology. And I needed to do it again. And again. And," Blair trailed off, "again."
She finished nothing short of sobbing into his dress shirt. Chuck held her for a long time and rubbed her back, telling her it was going to be OK until her breathing returned to normal. Blair breathed hard and heavy. She couldn't believe she had just confessed all those things to Chuck Bass. The boy she had known all her life. Second in everyone's eyes, even his father's. The boy with the signature scarf. The little boy who was lost. And who had grown up to be lost. The boy who had hurt her so many times. The boy she hated…and loved. Loved with all her heart. And yet it still hadn't been enough. It still wasn't enough.
"Blair," Chuck whispered. "I'm sorry that I made you do those things to yourself. I'm sorry other people made you do those things to yourself. But you need help. Right now." Blair shook her head, her eyes wide open in distress and fear. "It will all be private, I promise," Chuck said. But Blair shook her head and fought to get out of his grip. He struggled to hold her so that she could calm down.
"I don't want your help," Blair spit out at him. She needed him to stop pretending like he cared. If he did, maybe this would all be easier. Maybe she could go back to whatever normalcy her life had once held. And they could finish this game once and for all.
"CAN YOU STOP?" she screamed as she tried to get out of his vice-like grip. "IT'S DANGEROUS FOR THE BA-" In her rush of emotion, Blair had once again been careless with her words.
She stopped short and Chuck stared at her unmoving. His face registered pain, betrayal, anger, and defeat. And the most piercing of all his emotions, intense sorrow. Blair felt as though an arrow had hit her right through the heart. He jumped up off the bed and began pacing. He walked to Blair and placed his hand softly on her stomach. He closed his eyes and felt the heartbeat of that other soul. The one that he had no claim on, no matter how much he wanted it.
Finally, Chuck came to a stop. "I guess you just couldn't settle for second-best. I guess you never could," Chuck muttered. "You always wanted your knight in shining armor, and now you've got him. Congratulations. I hope it feels wonderful." Chuck's words hit Blair painfully. "Remember to congratulate Nathaniel for me, will you?" He strode to the door. Blair visibly saw the waves of pain rolling off of him. She gasped, things locking into place in her mind. He spun around, concern etched on his face.
Her face was contorted into a look of outrage and understanding. She ran to her desk and ripped out the letter, tearing it open within seconds. Chuck just stood there paralyzed. Blair read her letter that she had written earlier that same evening then let out a small gasp and crumpled to the floor. Chuck ran over to her as she began to cry again.
All along, she hadn't realized that she was doing what made her feel so sick at night. She couldn't believe she had even begun to think of giving up the child that now lay buried in the warmth of her stomach. Because she knew who the father was and no matter how hard she tried, she could never get rid of anything that reminded her of him. This was a living, breathing reminder of what they were, or what they had been only a month before.
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