A/N: #1: I've decided to shorten my whole big thing before my chapters, because it's not necessary. LOL. #2: Sorry this chapter took a while, but I had to figure out where the story is going and actually outline it. This chapter was supposed to be longer, but it was taking forever to explain everything, so I cut it short of the origional. #3: This was finished on Saturday night, and right when I went to upload it the Login on FanFiction was down. But it's up now, so yay! :D #4: Um...enjoy? I'm not so sure about the writing of this chapter. I wasn't really inspired at all when I was writing this, so it was more of a struggle...okay, just read it.

The rays of sunlight streaming through Blair's bedroom window met her eyes as she woke in the morning, her long, smooth legs twisted in a pile of silk sheets. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she lazily turned towards the windows and let a hand drift to where Chuck's body had been lying the previous night. But when she reached out, she found nothing. Not the smooth skin of his muscled arms or the softness of his T-shirt. Not even the scent of the soft soap she'd smoothed onto his skin last night remained.

Blair's eyes opened wider at the realization that Chuck was gone, and she sat up in bed quickly, her hands shoving into the pillows where her head had been resting and pushing her upwards. Glancing in the direction of her marble bathroom, she saw neither a closed door nor heard any noise to indicate that Chuck was inside. Her bedroom door was securely shut, the glass knob glinting in the light from the windows. The sheets were pulled tight on his side, she noticed, as her eyes ran from the foot of the bed to the pillow on which he had relaxed his head.

A surge of panic rushed through Blair's veins as she stared the sheet of thick cream-colored paper, embossed with her name and covered with Chuck's messy handwriting. It was set directly in the center of the pillow, perfectly lined up against the ruffled trim and contrasting with the beige silk. She didn't want to look at it. She knew what that letter meant, what it meant that he had left. Last night didn't matter to him. Never to him, and always to her.

Against her better judgment, Blair's graceful fingers pulled the paper from its perch and let her eyes run across the jumble of words.

Blair,

I'm sorry for scaring you at Victrola last night and I'm sorry for making you feel like you had to take me home with you. I just want you to know that you shouldn't feel like you have to do that for me, and it's okay if you didn't mean what you said on the roof. I'll be fine if you want to get on with your life. I'm only holding you back. Staying away from each other for a while will be better for both of us.

Last night was a mistake, Blair. I shouldn't have let myself do that. I lost control, and I don't want you to have to deal with that anymore. I care about you; that's why I'm letting you go. I'll miss you. Thanks for everything.

Chuck

Blair felt as if her throat was closing. She choked on her sobs as salty tears trailed a path down her cheeks, sticking her eyelashes together and soaking the smooth locks of hair framing her face. She did not understand him. Every time she felt as if they was getting closer, she was getting closer, to knowing what was underneath that last layer of skin, he left. He left her every time.

She should have known when he opened himself up to her that it wouldn't last. It was a pattern, terrifying and trembling and angry and destructive; their love minus the softness that came in his rare smiles. Those smiles represented something that she guessed they'd never have again.

Crumbling the paper between her fingertips, Blair used all of her strength to whip it in the direction of the door. "Fuck you, Chuck Bass!" she screeched in an out-of-character burst of emotion. Salty tears stained her face, and she cried until her eyes were red and sore and her breaths were shaky and uncertain. She was sure he was proud now. He had finally succeeded in breaking her.

Turning over in bed, Blair fully intended to bury her head in a pile of pillows and tug her comforter over her mess of dark curls, not to emerge for an undetermined amount of hours. But before she could do so, something caught her eye. The date on her sleek silver alarm clock radio flashed out at her like a red alert. January twelfth. The date she'd triple-circled in purple on her calendar weeks ago, a date that was home to the event she had been fully planning on attending.

The reading of Bart's will was today. Chuck was sure to be absolutely miserable, especially with Jack Bass breathing down his neck about the amount he was going to inherit with the millions Bart had left behind. It wouldn't hurt to be there for him, would it?

Right after she thought it, Blair's whole body tensed. She knew it was a bad idea. The crumpled stationary lying on her dark wood floor by the entrance to her room promised just as much. But she'd sworn that she would always be there, whenever he needed her, and regardless of what that letter said, that was a promise she intended to keep. She had always intended to keep it. Those words meant the world to her, as did he. Not going today would mean the things that she'd said to him never held significance; that they were things she would say again to someone else at some other time.

They weren't. He was the only one.

Shoving herself to the edge of her bed, Blair planted her bare feet on the floor, pushed her curls out of her eyes and marched purposefully to her closet. Once dressed and made-up, her hair hanging in perfect ringlets down her back, Blair grabbed her purse and slipped through the door.

She never was one to give up.

Chuck leaned back in his chair, inhaling a deep breath of the scent of thick thousand-dollars men's cologne and leather-bound books that swirled around the Bass Industries office. He felt as if he was separated from his body, looking on at this almost-eighteen-year-old ghost of his figure from somewhere up above. Chuck never would have thought that he would be here so soon, looking through hooded eyes at the man that was about to read of his father's final wishes and words. The thought made him feel lightheaded, dizzy and sick. Even while dragging in another deep breath that caused his chest to rise and fall under his starched blue dress shirt, the sensation that the ornately carved dark wood walls were closing on him refused to disappear.

"Now that we're all settled…" One of Bart's many lawyers cleared his throat and leaned forward in his own chair. "Let me express my deepest condolences."

Chuck barely managed to choke back the bile working its way up his throat at the feeling of hearing those words for the millionth time. Didn't people understand that they didn't make anything better? Hearing them was a constant reminder of why he was here, making it impossible to pretend that this was just an ordinary meeting on an ordinary day, after which he would go over to Nate's or Blair's or to Victrola for a drink with one of the glassy-eyed blondes he always used to enjoy pleasuring.

He only had a taste for brunettes now. One in particular, actually.

Even the slightest thought, mention or memory turned Chuck's stomach and brought tears to his eyes. He pushed all things about her to the back of his mind in an attempt to stop the pounding of his insistent headache.

"As Mrs. Bass is unable to be here today, her interests are to be represented by her consult." The lawyer gestured to a petite woman in the leather armchair next to his. Without even making the effort to shift his eyes in his direction, Chuck knew Jack, who was sitting eagerly in the chair next to his, was giving her straight, glossy blond hair and long legs a once-over. Chuck barely glanced her way. He was too busy fuming at yet another thing he was angry over: the fact that Lily was either off with Humphrey's father, her apparent "lover" who she still happened to be seeing, or simply didn't care to make an appearance. Chuck's brain, hungover and probably still addled by the enormous consumption of alcohol that had flooded his blood last night, was unable to figure which one would be worse.

"As for Mr. Bass's personal assets, those will be put into a trust which you, Charles, will inherit on your eighteenth birthday." As much as the thought of finally having full access to the Bass family's billions had excited Chuck in the past, right now it wasn't a cause for celebratory champagne or even a smile. There was too much else wrong in his life that wouldn't be fixed with even the biggest pile of green bills.

The lawyer slid a pair of reading glasses onto his nose and picked up a thick red leather folder, opening it to a crisp white sheet. Chuck could see that Jack was getting impatient as he leaned forward in his chair, drumming his fingers on his thighs. "And as for Bass Industries?" he asked rudely, tilting forward so far that for a moment Chuck was sure he was either going to lip-kiss the man or grab the file out of his hands.

The lawyer looked up at Jack with a hint of a barely-masked surprise. "Yes, I was just getting to that."

Jack smiled insincerely, resting his elbows on his knees and widening his eyes, as if even blinking would cause him to miss the verdict.

"Twenty-nine percent of the company will remain in the board's hands," he began, glancing over at Lily's blond consult to confirm his words. She nodded, a lock of smooth hair falling into her eyes. Neither Jack nor Chuck took notice as she pushed it back seductively, and Chuck's hands shook as the lawyer continued. "And a twenty percent stake in the company has been left to Lily Bass." He shut the folder with an air of completion, and Jack's eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his chiseled face.

"Okay, but that still leaves fifty-one perfect. That's the controlling interest." Jack looked nervous and forceful, but nothing could compare to the thudding of Chuck's heart, pounding perfectly in time with the pain in his head. Reaching up with a trembling hand, he smoothed it through his parted dark hair; wishing he was anywhere else other than here, but not yet having the closure to leave.

"To Charles." The lawyer stared straight at him, and Chuck felt like he was falling. He drew in a sharp intake of breath and barely managed to sputter his next word.

"What?"

Jack slammed his fist onto the table, causing everyone to jump and papers to scatter. "That's not possible!" he half-shouted. "Chuck isn't even eighteen!"

"He will be in four months," the lawyer responded calmly, restacking the sheets. Chuck watched his hands move rhythmically, distracting himself in an effort to slow his whirling mind. This was not happening. This couldn't be possible. Bart had never trusted him with anything, and now he was handing over the one thing that he had treasured his entire life, more than he'd even treasured Chuck, his only son. It made no sense. Yes, this had to be wrong.

Leaning over the table, Chuck snatched the will out of the lawyer's hands, staring at the typed words. Running his eyes down the page, he confirmed his worst nightmare and greatest triumph. 51% of Bass Industries to Charles Bartholomew Bass. He dropped the paper from shivering fingertips and fell back into his chair, his head spinning.

Jack was busy shoving back the chair and slamming his shoes onto the floor with an angry clacking noise. "I cannot believe this," he fumed under his breath. "That goddamn son of a bitch!" His words grew louder as he turned to stare at Chuck. "Go back to the apartment," he said harshly, forming the words with his mouth and his eyes.

Chuck felt as if he was trapped, and it was becoming even harder to breathe than it had been at the beginning of the meeting. He put a hand to his head and turned slowly, Jack's shouts slashing at what was left of his heart.

"Wait, Charles!" Lily's consult was holding a thick cream envelope in her hand, matching her French-manicured nails. Chuck turned back quickly, ready to grab the thing and run the hell out of there before Jack gave him his second black eye, but he stopped at her words. "Your father wanted us to give you this letter."

Chuck's breath caught in his throat and he choked on the air. "What?" he asked, his voice softer and raspier than it had been previously.

"A letter. From your father." The blonde's eyes widened with obvious pity at the grieving boy who had just lost his father, standing in front of her with a twist in his mouth and the worst combination of surprise and sadness in his eyes.

The death glares that Jack was firing from his eyes felt as if they were lasering into Chuck's cheekbones and tearing at his chest. The confusion and pain overwhelming him were so powerful that he didn't take the time to let the entire situation sink in. Instead, he snatched the letter from the women's hands and, with only a halfhearted nod in the lawyer's direction, hurled himself through the doors.

Blair's glossy cherry-red heel fidgeted on the carpeted floor, her slender back leaning up against a uncomfortable modern navy-and-silver chair. Her legs were crossed at the knee and her manicured fingernails tapped anxiously on the arm of the chair. Blair was not used to being told to "please wait here," so the secretary's request had served to both annoy the hell out of her and increase her nervousness quite a bit. She could hear voices from inside the office, hushed and business-like, and she wondered what was going on, what they were talking about…how he felt.

She wished more than anything that she could be sitting next to him in that moment, his hand cupped in hers as she comforted him. But that was just a fantasy. It always would be, because Chuck and Blair were more crash-and-burn. Self-destructive, self-loathing, narcissistic. The idea of him finding comfort in her light, familiar touch felt so far away, although he had done just that the previous night. Or so she had thought.

All of a sudden, the dark door to the office banged open, and a distressed-looking Chuck rushed out. An envelope was clutched in his clammy palms and he was slightly out of breath, like he'd been doing sprints up and down the length of the room. Blair automatically stood, yet leaned awkwardly against the side of the chair as her eyes tracked his movements, tracing them into patterns of being.

She memorized every inch of him; polished shoes to disheveled hair, clenched fists to wet eyes. He wore a red silk tie with his blue dress shirt, the ensemble covered by a gray jacket and complimented by gray wool slacks. There was a strange look in his eyes: curious yet uncertain, violently angry but terrifyingly upset. All Blair wanted in that moment was to be able to talk to him, to sit down and speak for real, for him to part his lips and tell her what he was really thinking. This guessing game: the analyzing, the suspecting, the perceptions, was taking a toll on her exhausted mind. She was sure she couldn't do this anymore and that she shouldn't, but her heart wouldn't let go of him.

The heavy door slammed on the wall to the right of it as he threw it open, the carvings sure to dent or scratch the butter-yellow paint. But Chuck didn't give a shit. He had to get out of there, now. Preferably to somewhere far, far away, although he would settle for Victrola and his favorite spot on the couch, armed with scotch on the rocks and a curvy exotic dancer.

But before Chuck could make it much further, he saw the last thing he wanted to see. Make that the last person he ever expectedto see here.

Her. Her. Blair Waldorf was standing in front of him, balancing against a chair in her stilettos, looking unbelievably sexy in a slim black pencil skirt and gray tights. There was something so beautiful about her in that moment, something sobering and frightening and blinding and sensuous. It was like a dream he'd only let himself indulge in during their happiest moments, a dream that someday he'd be here in this same building, sitting behind a giant mahogany desk just like his father's. And there would be Blair, perched on the edge of his leather chair, dressed in those perfectly conservative clothes that made him want to rip them off. They would steal kisses in between sections of paperwork, and afterwards they'd go out for drinks and finish the night tangled in the silk sheets of their bed, coated in a silky sheen of sweat and sex.

It was safe to say that sometimes he dreamed that he would make her his wife.

Well, not safe. Because as that very girl, that very beautiful women, stood in front of him right then, he felt nothing but pain. A relationship couldn't be build of games and manipulations and lies. There was no future for them in the least.

Chuck's head pounded harder and the room spun him into a fit of dizziness, causing him to unconsciously clutch back at the door, his knees buckling. He was sure he couldn't do this anymore and that he shouldn't, but his heart wouldn't let go of her.

And there they stood. Two lovers lonely, two lovers lost. Two lovers angry, two lovers cursed. Two lovers loving through the excruciating sorrow, the constant jabs to the heart. Two lovers needing to decide: stay or go. Leave or remain. Exit the premises or enter the unknown.

Two lovers with a choice.

Chuck's eyes connected with Blair's, the passion and fire in them sending jolts down her spine. She was almost sure; this was it, this was the moment. But he tipped his chin towards the ground. Lowered it and moved forward, his head down as he walked slowly to the elevator, stepping inside, turning and meeting her eyes for one last lingering look. The pure misery lingering in his irises struck her heart, and she felt her entire body seemingly deflate as the doors slid closed.

Two lovers who love together and apart. Two lovers whose desires are never dissolved or broken, not cracked or tarnished. Two lovers who could be separated by mountains and oceans and deserts and miles of highway or fractured sidewalk and still feel the fire of each other's touches.

Two lovers who have, once again, made their choice.

A/N: Not really a cliffhanger this time, but if the next chapter pans out right, there will be a huge one that will basically be the climax of the story. Thank you so much for reading. I love that people are still following this story despite my mediocre writing. :P Thanks to reviewers from last time: malfoyie456, chair4eva, fizliz23, bookworm455, Princess Persephone, bluestriker666, princetongirl, TheCutie and Kimberly Ramone. Please keep reading and reviewing! Love you guys :)