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Rooms Full of Strangers

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You do not always know what I am feeling.

Last night in the warm spring air while I was

blazing my tirade against someone who doesn't

interest

me, it was love for you that set me

afire,

and isn't it odd? for in rooms full of

strangers my most tender feelings

writhe and

bear the fruit of screaming. Put out your hand,

isn't there

an ashtray, suddenly, there? beside

the bed? And someone you love enters the room

and says wouldn't

you like the eggs a little

different today?

And when they arrive they are

just plain scrambled eggs and the warm weather

is holding.

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Frank O'Hara, For Grace, After a Party

She woke up in Serena's bed to see her best friend curled up beside her, where she had been for hours, running her fingers through Blair's chestnut hair and keeping watch over her as she slept.

"Good morning, B," Serena smiled. "Or, rather, good evening." Blair saw through the window, beyond Serena and the bed, that it was dark outside.

"What time is it?" she yawned.

"Seven-thirty," replied Serena. "You've been asleep since you got here this morning."

"So I've been sleeping for the better part of twenty-four hours," Blair realized.

"Well," said her friend, "judging from what you told us earlier today, it sounds like you needed it." She frowned worriedly.

"Where's Humphrey?" Blair asked.

"I just sent him to make you some tea." Blair nodded and reached down to pull the blankets up to her chin; in doing so she unintentionally revealed the bruising on one of her wrists. Serena glanced down at it and bit her lip.
"Blair, you need to tell me what happened," she implored. "Dan and I have been worried sick."

Blair sighed. "Wait until he gets back. I don't want to have to tell it twice."

"Okay," said Serena, leaning forward to kiss Blair's cheek. She hovered over Blair, her yellow hair falling around Blair's face like a curtain, sheltering her like a cocoon. It reminded her of the last time Serena had leaned over her in a similar way; that terrible night, after she fainted and awoke to see Serena's face, her pretty features marred by the same worried and frightened expression she wore now. Has nothing really changed for me since then? thought Blair sadly. I've tried so hard… She sighed.

"Is she awake?" came Dan's low voice from the doorway.

"Yes," said Blair, lifting herself up on her elbows.

"I made you some tea, if you want," said Dan softly, carrying the cup of tea and a saucer gingerly over to the bed.

"Thanks." She sipped at it slowly so it wouldn't burn her tongue.

"Sit down, Dan," said Serena, patting the spot next to her on the bed, and Dan complied. "Blair was just about to tell us what happened to her last night."

Blair sighed again. "I left the party to go to Chuck's apartment," she began, and tried not to notice when Dan and Serena exchanged a look.

"On my way there some guys started to follow me—they surrounded me, and I couldn't get away—" she paused; reliving the memory was difficult. She remembered the wild adrenaline rush, the sheer panic and terror she had experienced; she remembered the pain in her heart, galloping in her chest, as if about to burst.

Dan placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

"They dragged me into an alley. One of them pushed me up against a wall, and I banged my head on it and passed out," Blair continued in a mechanic voice. "And the next thing I remember is Chuck dragging me out of said alley and to the hospital."

Serena let out a gasp.

"So you see," said Blair, getting a grip on herself finally, "I'm perfectly alright and there's no reason for the two of you to look so horrified." She sipped her tea demurely. She was done with the pity party.

"So how do you know that…" Serena faltered. "That nothing happened?"

"I only have bruising on my arms, throat, etc. And the doctor did an examination." Blair saw that Serena and Dan didn't look any less worried. "Really, I'm fine," she added, slightly annoyed.

"How the hell did Chuck get involved in this?" asked Serena, astounded.

Blair shrugged. "I just told you everything that I know."

"Didn't you ask him?"

"No," replied Blair with some finality. "I didn't want to talk about it."

"But Chuck—" began Serena.

"I think she still doesn't want to talk about it," interrupted Dan. "I think that was a hint for us, Serena."

Blair nodded her head tartly in Dan's direction. Serena finally fell silent, pouting a little.

"We don't mean to cross-examine you," said Dan gently.

"Then don't," Blair returned.

"Sorry," said Serena, sounding like she didn't mean it. "We're worried."

"I'm fine," Blair stated once more. "And I'm tired of repeating that ad nauseum."

"Fine," snapped Serena. "Fine. You're fine."

"Yes," Blair stressed, rolling her eyes. "I am."

"Wonderful," Dan said, slightly amused. "We're all fine and dandy."

Both girls turned to glare at him.

Suddenly the sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs interrupted their inane conversation, and they all fell silent to see if it would ring again.

"No one else is home," said Dan after a few moments. "You should probably go see who it is."

Eventually Serena sighed and stood up.

"I'll be right back," she said, and Dan and Blair nodded.

"How are things between you and Chuck now, if I may ask?" inquired Dan tentatively once she had gone.

"Actually, you may not ask, Humphrey," said Blair in an irritated voice.

"That bad?"

Blair glared at him a moment, and then shrugged and gave up all pretense. "Awful, as usual."

"I thought you were angry with him and wanted revenge. Why did you go to his apartment last night?"

"I changed my mind. Anyway, weren't you going to stop cross-examining me?"

"Right. Sorry," said Dan. "I had to wait to say this until Serena was not present."

"Say what?" Blair's eyebrows arched dangerously.

The words came all rushing out the way they did whenever he got nervous: "I'm worried that if you try to get back with Chuck, or you start interacting with him again in any way, you might have another relapse, and I'm not sure your body can take it."

He quailed a bit at her expression when she heard this. "I'm sorry, but come on, you know this is a legitimate concern, and I care about you—"

Blair actually threw a pillow at him. "Shut up," she said furiously, "you low-class, slummy, know-it-all, pretentious, pig-headed, moronic Brooklynite." She spat out the last word like it was the worst insult she could think of.

Dan knew better than to be offended.

"I'm sorry, Blair," he offered. "I'm really sorry." She went ahead and glared at him anyway.

"I'm only saying it because I love you," he said. Her glare softened; he had never said this to her before.

Dan stammered on nervously: "you're my best friend, and I don't want you to get hurt, and Chuck hurts you."

Blair looked sad all of a sudden, and this made Dan pause.

"I could be happy, you know," she murmured softly, staring down at her blanket that she had pulled up to her chin. "If he were just capable of saying the same thing everyone else says so easily…"

"He might not be," said Dan softly.

"I know," said Blair. "Don't worry, I'm not going to relapse."

The two of them stopped talking when they heard the sound of footsteps—someone was climbing up the stairs.

The door swung open to reveal Serena, who was pinning up her blonde hair, a bobby pin stuck between her teeth, and looking perplexed.

"Funny," she said, using the pin to hold back a lock of hair. "There was no one at the door." She wiped the stray strands of hair from her face and sauntered over to the bed, where she took up her position next to Blair once more.

****

Nate did not understand why there was a young man carrying flowers—with his back turned to him—standing at Serena Van Der Woodsen's front door. A young man dressed in a beige coat, standing in front of a stretch limousine.

Wait a minute, thought Nate, speeding up. He practically jogged across the street in his haste to see who it was; he had a nagging, unpleasant idea at the back of his mind that just couldn't be true.

Once he was a few feet away, he knew that it was, in fact, true.

"Chuck?" He called incredulously. "Did you come here to give Serena flowers?"

"No," said Chuck calmly; he did not turn around but he evidently recognized his former best friend's voice and Nate could see that his shoulders had tensed underneath his coat.

"I came to give Blair flowers."

"How did you know Blair was here?" Nate stammered. "And why are you giving her flowers?" He could feel the blood rising to his cheeks in indignation.

"I know she's here because I brought her here," came Chuck's voice. He had leaned forward to ring the doorbell and still would not turn around.

"What?" asked Nate.

"I brought her here this morning," Chuck repeated.

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't really leave her alone in my room all day," Chuck said snappishly.

"Why would she have been in your room?"

Chuck felt that Nate was being deliberately obtuse and tried to bite back his anger.

"Because she spent the night in my room."

Chuck did not hear Nate reply to this and so continued to face the door, waiting for someone to come downstairs and open it for him. Suddenly he felt a crushing pain; someone had hit him from behind.

"Ow, fuck, Nate," he growled, doubling over.

Nate kicked him wherever he could as he lay in the ground, yelling at him incoherently in short bursts; "how—dare—you! If you touch her again I'll—you fuck off and leave her al—"

"That's enough!" barked a stronger, taller man from behind Nate, who pinned his arms to his sides so he wriggled helplessly like a fish. It was Chuck's chauffeur, who had stepped out of the limousine to help his boss.

"You son of a bitch!" Nate howled at Chuck impotently.

"If I let you go, you'd better run far away from this house, you got that?" the chauffeur said firmly, as his grasp on Nate's wrists tightened very painfully.

Nate gasped a little in pain and nodded. When he was finally released he spun around without another word and left, stomping off angrily and leaving Chuck huddled on the concrete sidewalk.

"Here, sir, let me give you a hand," said his employee, extending a hand that Chuck grasped. He helped him back into the limo, and on his way there Chuck angrily tossed the bouquet of flowers into the gutter. Once inside he simply said: "Drive." And within moments he was gone.