A/N: Here's the next part. This scene is the one where Chuck is in Blair's room. The story is very slightly changed from the show, meaning I added some stuff that could have easily happened. But Chuck's point of view starts out in his apartment. Please enjoy!
He stared at the fire. The way the flames danced. The looked so happy. So much more happy than he was. He'd thought finding out the secret would help. He would have an upper hand over Lily. But it made everything worse.
He had had his old self back for the shortest period of time; however, it was still slightly branded by this new version; one that was cold and unresponsive. He had smirked, telling Lily it would be absolutely terrible if this got out. He knew something that could and would destroy her.
At the same time it hurt him. His father knew this fact. It had destroyed him. Destroyed the family that he had worked so hard to build. Completely torn up what little feeling Chuck had felt growing on his heart and soul.
And then Chuck Bass thought of his cold, dead father's feelings. Despite the fact that he was deep in the ground, long gone from anyone's train of thought except his, he thought of his feelings. Had his father still been alive, he would've despised his son for doing this to Lily. For ruining her. Even if her behavior had warranted this, he would have been deemed unforgivable for eternity in his father's eyes.
He could feel his body regaining a sense of feeling. A sense of what was going on around him, how it affected him. He felt like it might get better, at some point.
Then something overwhelmed him. His father couldn't do a thing. He was dead.
My father, the high and mighty Bart Bass, is dead. He thought the words aloud to himself as he continued to be mesmerized by the orange glow in the fireplace.
"Dead," he whispered incredibly softly. It was the first time he had absorbed the thought. It killed him to do it. He still had the document in his hands. The document telling of Lily's terrible secret; her unforgivable indiscretion.
And so, Chuck lowered the now folded papers into the rising fire, watching with cold, fascinated eyes as the fire traveled up the papers. Just a few more inches and it would reach his hand. Travel up his arm merely seconds after that. His chest, containing his heart, would be next. If he just waited, it was the shortest amount of time, he could be back with his father.
No! The little boy yelled out in agony, the tears and sobs evident in his tone of desperation. Chuck stopped, looking at the yellowness and the black charred bits falling to the floor as the papers burned.
He thought back to her. To Blair. What she had said. How his reaction had been so terrible.
He then let his mind wander back to what Lily had told him. Her voice resounded in the dark depths of his brain: "Charles, I beg of you, please do not turn away from those who love you. They're the only chance any of us has..." She obviously didn't love him. None of them did.
Except Blair. She had said it. It was plainly apparent what he had to do. He didn't know why he was listening to the whore that had killed his father, but he was. He knew he had to go to the only one who did love him. The one who had told him, flat out, the words that slightly, silently, mended his heart. And then made it break again when he left.
The flames were creeping up even closer to his hand. Finally, still showing no emotion on his face, he dropped the papers into the ash tray. His mind reminded him again of how quick it could be. The flames were already climbing out of the small bin, beckoning him, crooking their evil little fingers at him.
His eyes focused on the nothingness ahead of him, both figuratively and literally. He thought of Blair once again. He felt like he needed her now more than ever. His conversation with Lily had confirmed that. It was the right thing to do.
Since when did Chuck Bass do the right thing?
But then again, he was no longer Chuck Bass. He was someone, quite possibly something, else entirely. He wasn't the same anymore, he wouldn't be unless there was some sort of drastic change. A brain altering, mood-altering operation, for instance. Though even with his endless supply of money streaming in, this seemed to be highly unlikely.
He was supposed to be tough getting through this; grieving in his own way. He couldn't, shouldn't, accept anyone's help in the matter. It was his fault. He needed to deal with it himself.
But he still ached for that comfort that she had promised him before. That she would stand by him. She would be there for him, no matter what.
But, still he thought of her. Her radiant face, her eyes filled with the same emotion that brushed past her lips in three beautifully breaking words. Pursing his lips, he finally knew what he must do.
And so, Chuck finally allowed himself to feel. He finally allowed himself to fully break. To tear straight down the middle, even though he had been preventing it for so long. He let his feet carry him to his new home; her. The place, the person, the aura that could help him. That would mend him and bring a happy man back. A man who did deserve Blair. Because he loved her.
He longed for her; needed her.
Blair stared at her mother and Cyrus through tear-stained eyes as they exchanged vows. She pictured her own wedding day, years off from now. Marrying a beautiful prince who looked dashing in every possible way. It scared her, this thought.
It scared her because the only person she could picture there, at the end of the aisle, was the man who had just denied her of any chance of that happening.
Chuck.
She felt her breathing become slightly more strained and heavy. She saw her mother turn to her, an expectant smile on her face. She returned the smile, however it was seconds late and she noticed the disappointment, clouded by worry, on dear Eleanor's face. She widened her smile, using her greatest efforts.
She watched through glassy eyes. She tried to be happy, she really did, but it was so difficult right now. This was the worse possible time in her life for a wedding, but that did not matter. All that mattered was her mother and Cyrus. Despite the suddenness of everything, this was their day.
She covered her eyes, regaining some of her sass, and gave a small, fairly realistic smile as Cyrus kissed her mother. Blair watched with cautious eyes as Cyrus tried to pop open the champagne. She backed away a little, not wanting to get her new dress sticky. She laughed and smiled, this time really getting absorbed into everything, as it popped and sprayed all over.
She could feel happiness starting to come back to her. She could and would have fun. For her mother's sake, but also for her own. She wouldn't let him rule her life.
"To the Waldorf-Roses!" Cyrus' voice was confident, booming as he lifted his glass to Eleanor's.
Dorota. She wasn't here. Just as Blair came to this realization, a voice was in her ear, worried and scared.
"Mister Chuck. He's in your room."
Chuck.
Blair fought the urge to shake her head. He had impeccable timing, right in the middle of her mother's wedding. This just wouldn't do. She was still pissed as hell at him. She would just have to waste her time going up to her room to tell him that.
She frowned and started up the stairs.
"Blair," was all that Chuck's rough, sandpaper voice could get out when Dorota answered the door. He looked at the plump woman through icy, hate-filled eyes. He couldn't allow this help to see his new vulnerability.
The woman, who had been smiling when she opened the door, instantly dropped her hand, her face falling at the same instant, and led him without a word up to Blair's bedroom.
She left him, saying she needed to retrieve Miss Blair from the wedding. He sat on her bed wordlessly, not giving the maid the satisfaction of a response.
As he sat there, he felt pathetic. Truly, unbearingly pathetic. Why had he done this? She was Blair, she wouldn't forgive.
Deranged. He felt deranged, too. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a decent, uninterrupted night's sleep. The last time he'd swallowed anything solid, besides the ice cubes in the glass that was always present in his hand.
He heard her, yet did not move. He could smell her scent, and he felt the now ever-present tears burning at the back of his eyes as all of his senses took her in. He willed the burning acid to return to where it had come from. It did, for the time being.
"What do you think you're doing here?" came her hard voice. He has known he wouldn't simply be let back in that easily. He just looked at her, not knowing what to do, the tears brimming his eyes with redness. He could feel his face and head shake as he looked at her beautiful eyes with his dismal ones. He watched as she stood there. She wouldn't comfort him, as he had thought.
He turned away from her, feeling the hot, salty fire burn a trail down his cheek. He stared at the floor, not allowing himself to blink. If he blinked, the fire would only burn faster, more continuously.
Not two moments later and she had glided over to him, her small, frail, warm, arms wrapping around his cold, unresponsive body. He did nothing at first. He needed to make sure that this was real.
Then he snuggled into her warm embrace as her head nuzzled his neck. He put the side of his face on her shoulder; his eyes were half-closed as his body took her in. Her arms wrapped around him and squeezed him tightly and he closed his eyes, letting the emotions fully win now, just in case they hadn't before. He felt the tears tumble down his face now, more hot and sticky than before, and he kept his eyes closed. He opened them, letting more tears fall freely. He realized he was blinking; this was an action he barely made anymore.
He basked in her silky skin as her head nuzzled deeper into his neck and she lightly kissed him. Her strong and confident hands met on his right shoulder, hugging him even more tightly to her. He let out a long breath, not quite a sigh, as he brought his hand blindly up to her feverish arm. It was comforting to him beyond belief. It made him feel slightly whole again.
She rocked him back and forth, trying to sooth him. He swayed with her on the bed, going backwards and then forwards to a slow, steady rhythm. His hand was pleading, it seemed, for hers as he stroked the top of it. Her other hand came up to lay on the top of his as the sweltering beads of fire came at a steadier pace.
He kept his eyes closed as they leaned back again. This time his weight was too much for Blair's body and they collapsed back onto the bed. He was halfway on top of her. She turned to look at him, but he kept his eyes tightly draped shut with his eyelids. He wouldn't let her see the pain anymore, he couldn't do that to her.
She kissed his forehead and then his eyelids and he felt himself slowly become aware. He opened his eyes now and looked at her. She had shifted him slightly and they were turned to face each other.
Now there were tears in her eyes. He had put them there. Much as he had tried to keep him unfeeling, just there as a steady, comforting rock in his life. A constant person that would always love him. Even though he had promised just to do this once, when the tears were present in her eyes, he let more trickle down his face and he could feel what he had feared most.
Love.
It was strange, it imploded on his heart as he gazed at her. She made him feel safe. A small, sexist part of him, part of the old him, rather, wondered why it was her doing this to him. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? But, he shoved that out of his mind as their bodies came closer together, her arms interlocking on his waist.
She had never seen that look in his eyes. She'd always thought that the look he had worn, one of a helpless, desperate man, was one that only came up in movies, that wasn't real. That what he had felt wasn't real. It was simply an act to get her back, and she wouldn't allow it.
Beneath all of the helplessness and fear, though, was sincerity. Chuck finally needed her. She was the only one that knew this, she was sure, but he did. And he would only let her in.
He was finally coming to her so she could help him, make him feel better. She would make the problems go away, if only for a brief time.
So she had, with only a brief tenth of a second of hesitation, gone to the bed and sat next to him, comforting him.
He was slightly stiff at first, staying in the same position as before. She melded her body to his more, and his body loosened. It became somewhat like putty captured in her embrace.
She rocked their bodies, now seemingly entwined together like vines in ivy on the side of an old building, back and forth. Blair let him know that she would stay here for as long as it took through that one, simple gesture.
A hot bead of water slipped down onto her soft arm and she buried her face deeper into his neck, kissing it lightly. She then felt his surprisingly warm hand grasp her arm. It seemed so needy, so frantic as it seared a path up her arm. And as his hand found the top of hers, caressing it, she heard him sigh. Whether it was a breath of relief or a sign of defeat, she didn't know. But she didn't care.
She'd done her job. She had loved him, told him that he was the only one for her. The only person in the world that would ever make her complete.
And now Blair Waldorf had comforted the at one time stone-cold Chuck that now rested in her arms.
She moved her other hand on top of their clasped ones, and felt everything take a tumble. His weight gave out, making him lead-like as he fell on top of her.
She stifled a gasp at his collapse, knowing it would make things so much worse in his mind. She moved slightly and moved his body at the same time. She turned them both so they were facing each other. For a moment she thought he was asleep. This thought flew out of her mind when she saw his bloodshot, puffy, red-rimmed eyes staring back at her.
She felt her own tears trickle into her irises. She saw the pain in his eyes. He must have felt terrible at invoking these feelings on her. She wished she could say something, anything, to make it better. To make him believe she was okay, that it wasn't his fault at all. But she knew that the great man who had come to her bedroom that night, who had tumbled into her arms, needed not one word from her right now.
She knew all Chuck needed was her there. Physically there. He needed proof that he could touch that he wasn't as terrible as he'd though. And she would give that to him. Not because she was masochistic, not because she was a pitying creature.
Because she loved him.
This thought rang in her mind as her arms interlocked around his waist, their eyes staying locked on one another. She was sure he was just as afraid as she that she would disappear within an instant of his eyes shifting.
She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, looking into each other's eyes, memorizing each other's features. But soon, she felt her eyes start to droop, and she blinked for the first time in such a long time.
When she opened her eyes she was happy to see that Chuck was still there, in her arms. His eyes looked tired, also. This caused her to assume that it was very late, and they had been in the same position for longer than she had thought.
Blair found him very easy to manipulate as she maneuvered his limp body around so he was turned towards the window and lying parallel to the length of the bed. When she thought it was safe to leave him, if only for a few moments, she got up and turned off the light in her bedroom.
She crawled back into bed and stared at the back of his head. She watched as his head turned around and he looked at her, fear and regret clouding his eyes. His body still shook with remnants of sobs she was sure would never leave her mind. She pulled his head toward hers and kissed his forehead for the second time that night.
Blair wrapped her arms tighter around him and heard his muffled cry as he screamed out into the pillow. She would stay with him through this. She knew better than anyone what it was like. How he must have felt when the lights turned off. When the illumination of the room had gone away, it was like he could finally completely let go.
Her father. Serena. The divorce. Her condition that reared its ugly head at the worst times. She knew what this was like. And she knew that if someone had been there with her, with their arms wrapped around her, whispering "I love you" into her ear over and over, she would have made it through.
She wasn't completely sure about Chuck. One of the things she loved about him was his unpredictability. Yet, at the same time, she hated it.
She watched her love as he turned around in her arms. She lifted her limbs off of him for a moment so he could get situated. She heard his sobs still, though they were quieting quickly and steadily. She looked at his back and rubbed it gently, her hands reluctant. Eventually, his sobs gave way to shallow breathing. She knew he was asleep.
Blair watched Chuck sleep for what seemed like nearly days, but when she realized how long it had been, she noticed it was still dark outside. She felt her own eyelids fall over her eyes as she wrapped her arm protectively around him, his body spooned unwillingly to hers. His legs were splayed out, his back right next to her chest.
And she let her world go dark as sleep overcame her. All that mattered was that Chuck, her love, her life, was in her arms. The rest would be dealt with later. His well being, his presence was all that would be thought about. She would make sure she was there, no matter what. All that mattered was him. And with that thought, she felt herself become fully immersed in her dreamland.
(A/N: I'm not going all the way back to the beginning for this part. This is the part where Chuck leaves, what's going on in his mind as he does so. I figure I kind of got his feelings down with Blair's POV.)
Chuck woke up, his eyes unwillingly opening to a slightly gray sky. This meant that it had been at least three hours, maybe more. He looked at his chest, only to notice her delicate hand still there, lying limp, with her fingers splayed across him. They were curled slightly, as if she were trying to dig her nails into him to keep him there.
He wanted to smirk, but couldn't find it in himself.
He knew what he had to do now.
She didn't need this. She deserved better. He intended to tell her that. Well, maybe not necessarily tell... He sat up in her bed; he had needed to literally pry her hand off of him. He stared out the window, his back slouching as he looked out, deep in thought.
He knew what he had to do.
He got up, and he went to her desk. Many a time in her bedroom told him that she kept a box full of delicately floral stationary in the top left drawer of her elegant mahogany desk. He opened the door as quietly as possible, his dark, brooding eyes on her the whole time, making sure she didn't wake.
Chuck felt around blindly for the box and when he got it out, he ran his fingers over the top. Blair C. Waldorf, it read in the most loopy, expensive script. No time for sentimentality, Bass. Chuck dragged a pen out of the ivory cup atop the hutch on her desk and uncapped it.
He looked back at her one last time before leaning down and thinking, pen poised over paper. He finally wrote down what he thought would seem the least troubling to her. His head was strangely clear now, as if the tears had helped to cleanse him. Well, maybe not the tears... perhaps her arm around him, consoling him even when he thought it was no longer possible.
When he finished, he gently lay the beautifully crisp eggshell-colored paper on the pillow next to her, which was now mussed from where he had dozed. He stared at her for a moment more before he dragged her navy blue silk comforter, which had been folded down, up around her thin, frail body.
He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger so he could keep the taste of her sweet skin in his mouth for as long as it took. Then he walked out, refusing to look behind him as he shut the door.
He knew what he had to do.
Blair rose from her slumber with a start, feeling as if something was off. She felt around first, fully expecting that Chuck would still be there, possibly awake now. But, all she came in contact with was the unsatisfying swish of the silk of her sheets. She looked around her. The comforter had been drawn up around her body, and- she heaved a sigh when she realized. He'd left. For good. There was a note.
I'm sorry for everything.
You deserve much better.
Don't come looking for me.
-Chuck
She felt her world crumble as she shook her head. Like hell she wouldn't look for him. He knew that. He had to have known that. She wouldn't give up; she was a Waldorf for God's sake.
She felt a tear slide down her face as she held the last bit of him she had. A letter. That was all he had left behind. Her love, her life.
She felt a raging fire build inside of her at the fact that he could just leave so easily. The fire was instantly replaced by hurt. How could he do this to her?
How?
And so, Blair felt herself crumble, completely, and Chuck wasn't there to pick up the pieces of her as she had been for him. He'd hurt her. And so she felt herself disintegrate.
A/N: Extremely long, I know. I'm sorry! I'm also sorry it took so long. I've been re-reading and fixing for days, every time I convinced myself it still wasn't good enough. Even now I'm not so sure. But I've finished. I hope you guys liked this little twoshot. It was fun to write. Please review! I love them dearly! Possibly more than Chuck Bass, poor tortured soul...