I feel like I haven't delivered any really romantic proposals yet. This one doesn't quite hit the mark but it's better then the two previous installments. Also a little a dark. I'll try to work on that too.

Prompt 3

Pain

He always looks sweeter when he sleeps. His lips soft and hair mussed. His face is relaxed. No sneers or smirks or furtive glances. In this state of vulnerability he is peaceful. On the cusp of a new day and the infinite possibilities it provides.

It almost makes her stay. Almost. But her cell phone is blinking ominously on the nightstand and the sun is rising. She doesn't have possibilities, she has responsibilities.

And none of them involve this boy. Despite what she may have whispered when she stumbled onto his doorstep last night. Drunk on expensive champagne and the success of an important meeting with a potential client.

He didn't make her work for it. Didn't insult or distract. Just pressed her up against a wall and kissed her back hard. She'd smiled against his mouth and closed her eyes. So happy that it was easy. Or that he was.

Dress is slipped into place. Hair pinned up. She can't find her underwear, but she deserves that. She's not supposed to be here. And she should have known it last night too. She has a man she's been debating about calling her boyfriend, and she vaguely remembers some sort of long legged Amazon whose claiming Chuck as her own this week as well.

Any silly things she whispered as they stumbled through his dark penthouse will be blamed on alcohol. Any thoughts of life changing mornings and altered circumstances shrugged off as her own weakness for romanticism. She wants the happy ending but never receives it. And nothing has changed from the dusk she rode in on to the dawn that's chasing her out.

Finally she's presentable. Hand on the doorknob she sends one last look to the bed she's just vacated. And brown bedroom eyes lock on hers, filled with questions she's never been able to answer. She walks through the door and closes it quickly, separates them before she says something she regrets. As usual, the pain returns with near blinding ferocity.

It isn't like it's supposed to be. But nothing has been lately.

She's good at her job. Great even. Serena was never suited for a career as a publicist. Her blonde, beautiful best friend is too naive to understand the mechanics of creating intrigue. A woman born into fame can never grasp how to generate it.

But Blair knows. As a girl whose worked for everything she's earned, who struggled to keep up with peers who had more money, more power, and easier circumstances she can flawlessly command a spotlight, grab eyes, and steal hearts. She was a conquering Queen, and is now more then willing to share her secrets. For a profit of course.

Images are her business. And there's no way she can taint her own by getting involved with a Bass again. She's been down that road, numerous times, and each implosion was worse then the last. She can't afford to lose anything in the flames anymore.

Her heels click on the tile floor as she approaches her office, she worked her way to corner with a view naturally. Her secretary, Amy, hands her a coffee and reminds her that it's Serena's twenty seventh birthday today. Amy's already sent flowers and a card but when Serena called to say thank you she reminded the woman to tell Blair she's expected at the party Lilly's hosting tonight.

Except that Blair has a client meeting tonight, as Amy so helpfully points out. It's not her most important client, or even one that's highly profitable. But she prides herself on never having canceled a meeting. A streak she doesn't intend to break.

Serena will be disappointed. But Blair will make it up to her eventually. She'll send more flowers. This time with a handwritten card.

She spends the rest of the day checking press releases and making calls. She also has another doctor's appointment on her lunch break. And her quack of a physician is still unable to identify the ever present pain in her stomach. It doesn't go away when she eats or when she fasts. It is there when she wakes up and when she goes to sleep. She doesn't have cancer or ulcers or any of the other countless maladies she's been tested for.

She just hurts.

She's shrugging into her coat and grabbing her purse at dusk when Holly Henning walks into her office, clutching an ominous paper box filled with pictures and pens.

Holly also comes from a prominent Manhattan family but is three years older then Blair. Who had been Holly's assistant for a year before being promoted. The two women had never been particularly close but Blair's still shocked that Holly's apparently been fired. She was always the one to watch.

"What happened?" Blair asks in what she hopes is a tone that projects sympathy yet detachment. She is not in the mood to be a shoulder for a sobbing coworker. Especially wearing her new, just shipped from Milan pea coat.

"I quit," Holly answers back with a smile, "my boyfriend's getting relocated for his job. It's in France and I'm going with him. Just wanted to say goodbye before I left."

For a minute she wants to laugh. Or at least expects Holly to. The announcement is so absurd that Blair genuinely assumes it's a joke. But there's nothing but sincerity in her now ex coworker's eyes. And she can't help it. It's genuine curiosity when she blurts, "Why?"

Holly blinks, and Blair quickly adds, "I just mean you have a great job, a great apartment, and you're on the fast track at the company. It's not like you're married. Why would you want to leave?"

For a moment Holly doesn't respond but then a bright, serene smile lights up her face, "I used to be just like you. And that is word for word what I would said in the same situation. I loved my job. Loved that people knew me when I walked into a room. That they whispered about me, were maybe even a little afraid of me. And for awhile that was enough. But then I started to get this ache, when I would see couples holding hands, kissing on street corners, a mom with her daughter. I would sit in my bed all alone in the middle of the night, and just ache. With Logan that doesn't happen anymore. He fixed the part of me that hurt. So yeah I have a nice apartment, a great job, and he's not my husband. But I love him, I want him in my life and to me that's more important then where I work or what people think of me."

Blair stares entrapped as Holly glances down self-consciously, "But maybe you're different. Maybe this can be enough." And then Holly takes a deep breath and remembers herself, a sad smile falling on her lips, "It's been a pleasure to work with you Blair. You were an amazing addition to the staff."

Then she walks out, apple red hair flying in the draft of the hallway. And Blair stands in the middle of her office dumbstruck. The dull pain in her stomach finally identified.

She aches.

She feels a little like she's losing her religion.

It's the middle of November and she's walking aimlessly around New York. She's five minutes late to a meeting she should have canceled an hour ago. And Serena's birthday bash is most likely just beginning. Her phone keeps vibrating in her coat pocket but her legs went numb half an hour ago so she barely feels it.

She promised herself years ago, when she was sobbing over yet another breakup, that she would be better in the future. Learn to remain impervious to the always impending destruction. She searched for armor, for a shield to keep him at bay. To protect her from herself.

And she succeeded. Immersed herself in networking and power mongering. She had never been successful at personal relationships. The notion of self sacrifice, of selflessness had never held appeal. She had loved and been loved, but there were limits, constraints. Obstacles that always seemed impenetrable at the time.

Darkness has fallen and the city has been to glow. She wants to get lost in the crowd but has never had that luxury. She knows where she is. New York City is as familiar as her own reflection. And she can't lose herself despite the overwhelming urge to disconnect.

There is no escape. She knows the right answer. She closes her eyes, coming to the only decision she could have. Without looking she heads towards her destination. The thud of her heart a welcome distraction from the pain in her chest.

Serena beams when Blair shows up two hours late to her birthday party. The blonde breaks away from her conversation to run over to her best friend and wrap her in a tight hug, whispering thank yous and good to see yous. It's been two weeks since they've seen each other, and the realization stings like tears in her eyes. She clings to Serena for too long but then wanders off after only a murmured apology. She's searching, running on probably false faith and a misguided assumption about his notion of family.

She's about to give up hope. To drown her sorrows in strong liquor instead of with a strong willed boy. But then she finds him, like always. He's sitting outside Serena's bedroom on the patio with a predictable glass of scotch. They're taking on the frigid winter night together. He's alone. Thank God. She doesn't know if her pride could handle a run in with his model of the week.

She left her coat at the elevator so she doesn't join him. Only opens the door and sticks her head out, self preservation trumping vanity. The noise from the party below nearly muffles her voice as she whispers, "Come in and talk to me?"

It's a request not an order, but he's stubborn just the same, "You didn't want to talk this morning."

She rolls her eyes, but tonight she's the one that's sorry so she relents, "I didn't then. I do now. Come inside," a breath, and then, "Please."

He saunters in like it's some sort of burden. But it's a blessing, because all too soon they are on opposite sides of the room and he's looking at her expectantly. She remember he can't read her mind, and the prospect of telling him how she feels is maddening. How can she express the barrage of emotion she herself can't even begin understand?

It's never been easy. But nothing worth having is ever simple to earn. She takes a deep breath and tries, "Do you remember Serena's accident? When we sat in that hospital hallway and I told you that you were strong. That feeling wasn't a weakness?"

He's cast in shadow, but she can see him clearly, every single inch. "I do," he answers evenly, he wonders if she can tell he's holding his breath.

"I'm a hypocrite," she states calmly, wringing her hands as she continues, "Completely and totally. I said that to you and then made the same exact mistakes. I hid in work. I avoided the people I love because I thought that it would make me better, give me an edge. I fooled myself into thinking I was building myself a life. But I'm all alone. And I don't want to be. Pushing you away doesn't make me strong. It just makes me hurt."

He doesn't smile. But his arms are tight against her waist and that's all the reassurance she needs. They could have been standing there for hours. She has no perception of time. It comes to a screeching halt only after he pulls the small, velvet box from his pocket and places it in her palm.

She is silent. Couldn't form words if she tried. It's his turn. "I've had that for a long time," is all he can manage.

"Yes," she says a split second later. Staring up at him, flush with gratitude. Falling is always so much easier when there's someone there to catch you.

His eyes widen almost imperceptibly but then he smirks and it's as smooth as ever, "I thought you were going to take some convincing."

She shrugs out of his grasp, all too willing to play this game. "That's fine," she concludes, taking a seat on the bed behind her and smiling up at him expectantly, "Convince me."

When he gets on his knee all notions of sport retreat. This is hardly a game, it's forever she's playing with now. His voice is soft, his eyes dreamy when he begins obligingly, "You're beautiful and smart and deceptively kind. I want you in my life. Now. Always. We're stronger together then we'll ever be apart. And I love you. Now. Always. Only you."

She doesn't know when she started to cry. Just that her tears drip on his hands when he whispers the finale, as vulnerable and peaceful as he was this morning, "Marry me?"

She smiles, bowing her head so they're eye level, she kisses him once and then whispers decisively, "Yes."

When he slips the ring on her finger it is a moment years in the making. And she feels feather light, in a body that is much too content to ever again feel the ache of longing. There is no more talk of wanting to be lost.

She is finally found.

Thanks to TriGemini, QueenBee10, caitlinc1991, 88Mary88, thegoodgossipgirl, City Lights Agleam, AquarianAir, Comet Tail, Temp02, and zayasXamong. Because reviews are always super exciting to find in my inbox.