Sorry for the delay! But I hope you enjoy this chapter! For some reason, every time I try to narrate using Chuck's point-of-view, it always turns out a little darker than expected. Tell me what you think!

Another day, he thought to himself, as he stared listlessly at the ceiling of his bedroom. He remembered a time when he used to love the dark walls of his suite and the mystery they exuded. He even liked the cunning lack of furniture in his apartment; it gave the impression that his life wasn't complicated, when, in fact, it was and has always been the complete opposite.

His interior designer called it minimalist, but Chuck knew that it was more than just that; it was a direct representation of his character. It was dark and empty and purposely uninviting, which was why Chuck was so immediately drawn to it.

However, as he glanced at his surroundings now, he could no longer seek that same comfort. They just reminded him of who he was, when he so achingly longed to be someone else, even for just a second.

He hated Chuck Bass. He hated the person inside of him. He hated the things he was capable of and all the pain he could so easily inflict on the people around him—if there were any left.

He chuckled darkly to himself. First, Blair and now, his company—the one piece of Bart that still remained. What was supposed to be a legacy was quickly turning into a dreadful joke that Chuck was sure his father left for him just to spite him one last time. He could practically hear Bart's scornful laugh echoing throughout his suite—the suite that had previously been so sacred to him; the suite that he had shared with Blair, the only person who understood its purpose just as much as he did.

But now, it was just an empty room to him. It was empty of the woman he loved and certainly, of the person he was supposed to be. He just wished it would all go away.

Chuck's thoughts were momentarily interrupted when he heard the elevator to his apartment sound. His heart skipped a beat, when he heard the click-clack sound that only a pair of women's heels could produce. Blair, he instantly thought, before scrambling from his bed to peer outside.

"Hey," Raina said with a suggestive glint in her eyes. Chuck's face immediately fell, and he couldn't decide whether to have her forcibly thrown out of his hotel or to physically break her into two right then and there.

"I don't know how much clearer I have to be in order for you and your father to finally understand. I don't want you or your filthy Thorpe money anywhere near my hotel and certainly, not near my company," Chuck snarled.

Much to his surprise, Raina remained perfectly calm.

"I'm actually not here to talk business," she said, flicking her long, dark hair away from her face.

"Then, why are you here?" Chuck spat out icily, growing increasingly impatient by the second.

"For a drink, of course."

Before Chuck could stop her, Raina swiftly moved towards the direction of his bar, already pulling out two glasses.

"Scotch on the rocks?" She asked, completely oblivious to his piercing glare.

"Fine," he finally said, before slumping onto one of his couches.

If he was going to have to talk to his rival, he might as well have a glass of scotch to calm him down. She handed him his glass, deliberately letting her long, bare legs brush against his knee. His eyes followed her every move as she sat not too far from him, giving them just enough space for him to smell her spicy and alluring perfume.

"Un Jardin Après Le Mousson?" He asked in perfect French, keeping his steady gaze at her. She furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Hermés. Your perfume," he drawled.

"Yes, how can you tell?" She asked, amazed that he could easily recognize her scent.

"Blair hated that perfume," Chuck said nonchalantly, suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia. He could almost smell the powdery scent of Blair's Chanel No.5.

Raina shot him an indignant look. "Well, she clearly has bad taste, then."

Chuck's eyes instantly inflamed. "Get out."

Raina looked back at him nervously, aware that she had hit some type of nerve.

"I-I…"

Chuck grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him. "Get. Out." He growled harshly against her ear.

Before he could say anything further, Raina clasped her hands around his neck and aggressively thrust her mouth into his.

His grip on her wrist instantly loosened in surprise, as her tongue dug deeper into his mouth. He was about to fumble with the buttons on her blouse, when it dawned on him that she tasted nothing like Blair, that she smelled nothing like her, and was nothing like her. Her skin suddenly felt too hot against him and her hair, too prickly.

Consumed by an overwhelming surge of guilt, he quickly pushed her off of him, starring daggers at the pair of swollen lips that had nearly pushed him over the edge just then.

"You want my company that much?" He spat out, unaware that tears were brimming in his eyes.

"Just…please, get out," he said weakly, no longer facing her.

Utterly humiliated, she quickly got up and grabbed her things before striding away.

Chuck guzzled down the rest of his scotch, hoping it would wash away the taste of Raina's mouth. He could still smell the scent of her perfume wafting in the air and suddenly just the mere thought of her presence made him nauseous.

When did things get so fucked up, Chuck thought to himself.

He could almost hear Blair's voice—that finality in her tone when she said she was done. Ever since that night, her words had been etched in his head for him to play over and over again.

It took him two years to tell Blair he loved her—two long arduous years of saying all the wrong things and hurting one other. Looking back at it, he wouldn't have done it any other way, Chuck thought fondly. Saying those three words and eight letters was the hardest thing Chuck ever had to do, because it meant having to give in to something he had no real control over.

Staring into Blair's eyes was like staring into his future, something he had never thought about before; and that's precisely what terrified him. He couldn't understand how one person could bring that much out of him.

Chuck blinked back the tears in his eyes, not allowing himself to look any more pathetic than he already did. He staggered towards his bar, reaching for the same bottle of scotch Raina had opened, and gulped down a generous amount.

He had always found some pleasure in the way it burned his throat—it made him feel something when the rest of his body was numb.

More importantly, it let him escape reality, even for just a little bit. It made thinking about Blair much less painful, and the mental images of her tear-stricken face, more bearable.

She had every right to say what she said, Chuck thought more solemnly. He, alone, ruined their relationship in more ways than one, thinking that they could somehow move past all the betrayal and deceit simply because they were Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck.

But no, he knew he had outdone himself this time. In typical Chuck Bass fashion, Chuck thought with a pained expression on his face.

He just missed her so much—so much that even a single whiff of a foreign scent could instantly bring her back to his thoughts; so much that even the feel of someone's else's skin against his could so easily make him ache for her.

Chuck realized then and there that what he truly longed for was Blair—not a new identity, not a new woman on his arm, but Blair, pure and simple; and he was willing to do anything to get her back into his life.

Chuck's eyes lit up in alarm when he heard his phone vibrate on the nightstand. He walked unsteadily towards his bedroom, trying to balance himself despite his intoxicated state.

He was already sure it would be a message from the office, probably from one of the board members in need of a signature or asking to do lunch.

But as he glanced at the message, Chuck suddenly felt all the color drain from his face.

Gossip Girl: Well, well, look what we have here! It appears D and B didn't get the memo about public displays of affection! This just proves that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. XOXO, Gossip Girl.