I wanna ask for direction
But I don't dare to disturb
I got a thing with affections, yeah
That's why I'm walking alone
Sunlight creeps in between the curtains
Lose the sheets, there's no time for sleep
I lie, I pretend till I'm almost certain
It's a beautiful world
Beautiful World by Carolina Liar
It wasn't sex, but it was, tragically, his first night with Georgina Sparks. And like his actual first time, Dan can't help thinking about it between his alphabetizing and genre-sorting and procrastinating. Romance and smut near the front, because it must be said that sex sells, but keep the trashier stuff out of stumbling distance. Mysteries and thrillers next to romance, because I want that way, Daniel, and you should be more worried about your writing than why my successful bookstore runs the way it does.
He isn't concerned over this bookstore—he just finds himself tiring of constantly sorting books with titles like A Blonde In Paris, and the sickly fluttering he feels in his stomach whenever he gives in and puts them in the back of the shelf, where he won't have to see them.
Dan is also, of course, worried about his own writing. He can't find it within himself to write anything, naturally. Each time he opens his laptop, the empty document and blinking cursor seem like pit and pendulum.
Mom came up to manage the gallery while Dad is on tour. Dan doesn't know when olive branches are ever not in season, but part of him resents it anyways. He doesn't want to, Jenny seems perfectly fine with it, but all he sees is a "Hey, sorry I abandoned you all of last year, came back after cheating on your father, and left again. So, to make it up, while your dad has abandoned you, I'll stay this time!"
Dan sighs to himself as he stops the book cart. Abandoned. He prefers to tell himself that he wasn't. That word resurrects last summer, three months of lovely blue skies and listless days, down one parent and mulling over last thanksgiving for the hundredth time. It drags the day Vanessa left back into view, the sinking sort of loss that corroded him for months afterwards. It even brought back that surreal blip at the start of the year when he realized Blair Waldorf had a third dimension. He shakes his head, frowns, and returns to sorting. Despite himself, he puts another Blonde In Paris further back than the others, where he won't have to look at it.
"Hey, Dan?" Jenny asks one day. He doesn't end up remembering which one it is, but she's sitting on the couch, reviewing a sketch. Or Dan thinks so. He can't see her.
Dan looks up from his painful, empty document. "Yeah?"
"What actually happened with Georgina? If… if that's okay to ask about."
"That's… not really on the menu, Jen."
Mom tells him that Olivia's interest isn't surprising. Dating Serena van der Woodsen had, apparently, put up a fat neon sign that Dan Humphrey actually had something to offer, because, well—what in the world would someone like Serena van der Woodsen have to do with him otherwise? Olivia smiles at him and Dan thinks of Serena's grandma: that the world isn't made for Serenas and Dans to stay together. No, the world is meant for the Serenas and Carters to have 2.5 kids and donate to charities with roots in Gilded Age monopolies. The Dans of the world? Well, Dan Humphrey will (probably) go on to nice, respectable career and fade into the great curbside of history with the rest of peons.
When Olivia does asks him out, he says:
"Oh. Um, I—I guess I haven't really thought of it. I mean, of course I have, you're really pretty, and uh, of course I haven't we haven't been… yes, I would love to go see a movie with you, Olivia. I would love to. Which one did you have in mind?"
She sees right through him, leaving Dan to another Friday night alone. Which he is completely fine with, for the record. Further, as he makes himself spaghetti, he can just about admit that it's probably for the best. He may not know Olivia terribly well, but she deserves better than a guy pining after someone else, just on principle, even if that girl is Serena van der Woodsen. How's that for a healthy response, eh?
The phone rings and as the water reaches a boil Dan realizes that he's made himself spaghetti for the first time in… a bit. He swallows as he picks up the phone.
"Hey, Dad."
"Hey son. How was your day?"
"It was uh, it was fine."
"Hey, hold on, I think I know this one! What's wrong, Dan?"
"Nothing. I'm just boiling pasta water right now."
A hum. "Girl trouble?"
Dan groans.
"Your mother mentioned a girl named Olivia in our last call. I'm guessing it didn't go well?"
Is there a word for being dumped before you even started dating? Dan suspects so, but he can't find it, so he sighs.
"She—that isn't going anywhere."
"I'm sorry to hear that Dan. She would have been lucky to have you."
(For those hours, however long it was, was Georgina lucky?)
"Yeah. Yeah, sure, that's cool. Just um—I have to take care of this pasta water. Before it boils over and I get burned. I'll call you back?"
Dan cuts off his dad's protests by hanging up, and studiously ignores the next two attempts to reach him. He used that time well, though: the spaghetti turned out great. Sauce was good, meatballs were good, and the pasta turned out just fine. Unfortunately for him, Mom and Jenny came through the door as he was plating for himself. Jenny made a beeline for her room, but Mom looked at him like he'd actually burnt something.
"Are you okay, Dan? Your father told me you were upset about that girl. Olivia, right?" She asks, setting down her bag on one of the island stools. Parents were frightening creatures that never should have escaped Jurassic Park.
Dan looks to his serviceable spaghetti, and then to his mother. Then past her, at the couch, where Serena had first straddled him. She'd been wearing a sparkling yellow top that day, but her laugh was golden. Sa—Georgina's chuckle when she straddled him was low, a little husky. It gave Dan a cold thrill. He turns around to face his pot of spaghetti.
"I'm fine. Do you want some, Mom?"
"Well, sure, Dan. But if something happened today…"
"Nothing happened. Things with Olivia just aren't going anywhere. That is the definition of nothing."
"Honey, to be honest, your tone doesn't sound like nothing," Mom says, materializing at his side. At least she sounds a little amused. "Honestly, it sounds little bit like denial, honey."
"I'm not." Dan tells her, "I'm not denying anything."
He isn't. It sucks, but he isn't upset about it. What is there to be upset about? It was nada in the end, and besides, after everything with Georgina, after the year he had, after he broke things off with Serena, this should not register on his Richter scale.
Mom says nothing for a moment, and then says, "You know, just because you're the one who initiated the breakup—that doesn't mean you don't have a right to be hurt by it, Dan."
"I know that Mom." Dan sighs, "Can we just… talk about something else?"
The spaghetti is only getting colder, Dan thinks, as Mom looks him over and gives a sigh of her own. Eventually, she says, "Okay.", but not before giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, like he was four years old.
(Dan needed it, honestly.)
"Okay," Jenny says, "It's just that from what I've heard from Eric, Georgina did some—stuff."
"I'm fine, Jenny. Besides, isn't Eleanor Waldorf really breathing down your neck? That's why you're sketching, right?"
"I'm doing this for me," Jenny answers, approaching a huff, "and aren't you supposed to actually be writing?"
Dan can't help it. He chuckles, slightly. "You wound me."
"Who else will?" Jenny responds. Dan's laugh turns to vinegar the moment it comes out of his mouth.
The internship and his story finally died as senior year's shadow fell in earnest. The day before the semester began, Jay asked for his story and Dan had to admit he hadn't finished it. He only had half of it, and he knew it wasn't his best work. Under the author's cutting frown, he started to babble on about lacking inspiration and caffeinating himself to stay up so he can write and spaghetti, for some reason.
"Clearly, Mr. Humphrey, you weren't ready for this," Jay said. "This piece, what you've written of it, is everything your short story in The New Yorker wasn't. It's unfocused and confused and I'm not sure what your hang-ups with pasta are, but if you feel so strongly about it, I would ask yourself why, and then use it. Anything is grist for the mill."
Which is all to say that Dan had a very good reason to be sitting in his room, scrutinizing a box of Barilla spaghetti. A very good, very normal reason. It was a year past its best-by date, and dented in the center. Someone must've dropped it at some point, or something.
"Spaghetti again?" Jenny asked. Dan looked up at her, then back down to the box.
"I guess I could." He said. "I guess."
Jenny was squinting at him. "… Everything alright, Dan?"
Dan sat up a little straighter. "Yeah. I'm fine, Jen." His sister's mouth fell into a frown, and Dan couldn't help himself, "It doesn't really matter to me that my internship failed. I mean it's just one, right? Everyone gets writer's block from time to time. It doesn't mean I'm not ready to go anywhere. I still have time." Jenny quirked an eyebrow at him, and naturally, the frown became a slight grin. Dan wagged his head. "I'm fine, Jenny. And I won't be making spaghetti again. I'll just… make a sandwich, or something. Really, it doesn't even matter."
Dan flushed, and so retreated to his room, throwing out the box of pasta on his way. It hadn't helped anything. He laid down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling fan for a bit: it was moving so slowly that it looked more like it was being spurred by inertia, if anything. In time, he sighed heavily and sat up, opening his laptop. With a (small, very small, completely irrelevant) knot in his stomach, he re-read the half story he'd cobbled together the night before. It made him want to vomit. His typos were endless, fuck ups on fuck ups. It was about a geek with his nose so deep in his books that even when he somehow began a relationship with the captain of the cheer team, he lost sight of her completely. He'd stopped at the part where their relationship really began to falter.
He closed the laptop and sighed heavily, again. His mind was awash with the image of Olivia on the arm of some artiste named Aaron, who didn't even seem to be in high school, so what was he doing mucking around with a high-school-aged girl?
No, no, that wasn't his business. In fact, he didn't have any other business to worry about, because he only had one friend in the entire world, and she was being a roadie for his own dad. Dan ran a tired hand down his face, and lingered on his bed for a few more minutes before slinking out of his room to make himself that sandwich.
He was met, at the kitchen counter, by his mom. Again. She knit her eyebrows as she asked, "Is everything alright, Dan? Jenny said the internship didn't end how you wanted?"
Dan's jaw set as he said, firmly, "I'm fine, Mom."
She didn't buy it, of course. Mom gestured for him to follow her as she sat down in her armchair. Dan had thought of it as always having been there, until last summer when Mom didn't sit in it anymore, because she wasn't around anymore, and he wondered for the first time what the loft looked like without it there (even as he spent night after night reading in it, occasionally glancing out the window).
Dan sat on the couch. Mom scrutinized him, and the problem with a mom who was actually involved in raising you, Dan reflected, is that she knows you too well to not see through your crap.
"Dan," Mom said, "I know this summer has been hard on you. I can see it, honey. And I know you've always gotten on well on your own, but you can lean on people. Especially after your first break-up. I know you cared about Serena a lot," Dan nodded, but didn't offer her any words. Mom continued, as if she were gauging something, "Jenny also mentioned a girl named Georgina?"
Dan froze. He didn't want to, but his stupid body did. On the very couch he was sitting on, Georgina had straddled him and laughed, low and husky and Dan thought that he didn't want to hurt her in the rebound while she devoured his neck.
And you're sure that you're okay with this?
I… yes. I am. I want you, Sarah.
Georgina, silly.
"She's nothing," Dan found himself saying, "she was an asshole. She was blackmailing Serena. She lied to me—about who she was, about what she was, about everything, Mom. She only has the power I give her."
Mom's eyes widened, slightly. Dan exhaled, far more shakily than he liked.
"What do you mean?" Mom asked.
Dan's throat dried out. He opened his mouth, but words didn't come. They didn't even stutter. He couldn't speak because Georgina was kissing him again, just as well as Serena ever had—in fact, they tasted a little better, because Serena had cheated on him, and a tiny part of Dan hoped she would walk in and see it, hurt like he did. After each kiss, Georgina would bite his bottom lip and hold it between her teeth. Serena never did that, but Georgina had, and it felt so good. She pulled back for a moment, and he looked into her blue eyes, so starkly bright in daylight, now black as the night outside the loft.
Dan swallowed, then shook his head desperately. She'd lied to him. Georgiana had, Serena had, and Serena had because of Georgina, and it was Dan's own fault he was so gullible as to fall for her con. He gave in, it was him. And him breaking up with her—
—so you're just gonna go back to Serena like nothing happened and just… leave me all alone?
But he'd walked away from Georgina. Physically. He did it, it was strength, him ending it, and he walked straight into a summer of beautiful days trapped in a bookstore with his broken heart.
Mom put her hands on his shoulders, gentle but firm. Where was she last summer? Had she gone to Hudson and immediately begun cheating? Two months into her abandonment, Dan heard noises through the wall one night and checked on Jenny, only to find her sobbing over a broken seam that Mom could've helped her with, if Mom had been there. But she wasn't, and Dan didn't know the first thing about sewing, so he hugged her and said that it would all be okay somehow, even though he had stared out the window in her armchair the previous night, holding a copy of The Great Gatsby in shaking hands. But he'd walked away from Georgina, hadn't he?
Mom tried to hug him, but Dan couldn't. He felt unclean. He jerked out of his mother's reach and fled to his room, locking the door behind him. The lights were off. He laid down on his bed again, staring aimlessly at the fan. As it finally slowed to a stop, tears began to burn in his eyes.
After such an ignominious end to summer, it was only natural that his first day back at school would be even worse—even if Dan didn't know it yet.
It was blithely sunny as he took the bus to school. Jenny gave him a searching look before they left, to which Dan smiled as wide as he could. Jenny didn't appear terribly convinced, and neither was Mom, apparently, because before they left she pulled him aside and said that she could say he was sick today, if he'd prefer it. Dan couldn't accept it, no matter how tempted he was.
Dan rubbed his face as the bus dropped him off a block before Constance-St. Billard's, and he was only slightly assaulted by the sight of its cliquey halls. Most people didn't take notice of him, which he was completely fine with. He was less fine with the students who looked at him as he had the mark of the beast, but Dan swallowed the resentment. He reminded himself that honestly, a day beginning with this much quiet really wasn't a big deal for him, it was normal, and that even if Serena was probably on the Met steps with Blair Waldorf and he would kind of kill even to be close to Blair if it meant being close to Serena again, he wouldn't. And hey, if he stayed away from Serena, that would also mean no Georgina, right? Distance. Distance would do him good.
He was the first person in his first period, AP literature with one Ms. Carr. She was sitting at her desk when he opened the door, and she was pretty. Not Serena-pretty, golden hair and golden laughs and golden smiles, but down to earth pretty. She smiled at him, said hi. She had a nice smile and kind, dark eyes. She looked young enough to pass as a student. Dan shook his head, gave a robotic reply to her hello, and beelined for a desk at the very back corner of the class, hyper-aware of Ms. Carr's eyes following him as he did. He swore she continued to glance at him as other students trickled in, but his paranoia was stopped dead by Serena gliding into the room.
Okay, she didn't glide. She never had, really, it's just that compared to himself, Dan thought she did. She wasn't an It-girl for nothing, and her hair tumbled down her shoulders and Dan prided himself on the idea wasn't like that but he thought of how he'd seen that skirt and those stockings before, in a puddle at her feet. Worse, he caught her eye, and he gave the same awkward wave he had in a cab a million years ago. Kill him right now, kill him with fire.
As Ms. Carr began class, he wasn't listening. He shoud've been, his grades were the only thing keeping him in this nepo-school, but his mind jumped back to last night, where after several tries, Mom gave up and got Jenny to help. Dan was crying in earnest when the divider between their rooms rose up, and the light from hers assaulted him. Dan turned over and away from it, away from Mom. He'd spent the summer shoving it all to the back of the shelf, where he didn't have to see it, for a good reason. He braced himself for his Mom to climb into his room and force a confrontation, but she didn't. Jenny climbed over the divide, sat down at the edge of the bed he'd turned toward, and took his hand. A moment later the divider closed again, letting the night fall on him again, and he cried there for lord knows how long, holding Jenny's hand as a lifeline.
Dan replayed other memories, too, ones he had poignantly not touched for three months, until Ms. Carr broke through his miserable reverie.
"Mr. Humphrey," she said, with ominous command over him only teachers can have, and in truly Pavlovian fashion, Dan's head snapped up.
"Uh, uhm, yeah. I'm here." He said. Some people laughed.
"Good," she said, with a slight smile, "I know first days back can be tough, but keep your chin up and pay attention, alright?"
"Yeah," Dan said, "Yes. Absolutely."
More giggles, or maybe he was just imagining things. Maybe Georgina had driven him crazy. Maybe he'd end up in a mental hospital in five years, haunted by blue eyes and a girl named Sarah who never was. Dan shook his head and forced himself to pay attention, taking superfluous notes on classroom policies and expectations. His face burned, just a bit, but he was focused again, and it was just one year, he reminded himself. Just one more year, and then off to university, where people like him were cool and headbands weren't crowns.
Dan was the first out of his seat when the bell rang, and so everyone saw Ms. Carr ask him to stay behind. Dan shoved down his dismay and sat back down, staring resolutely out of a window where Serena was nowhere in view until the room was empty.
"Mr. Humphrey," Ms. Carr said, and Dan's head snapped over to her again. Pavlov and his dog. "Breathe."
Dan did, but his confusion must've shown, because she said, "Dan, I know an anxious kid when I see one. Just take a breath."
And Dan did, again. Ms. Carr gestured for him to sit down at one of the desks, and took the one next to him. She looked a little too close to a student like that, fit into the desk a hair to snugly.
"I read your short story in the New Yorker, Mr. Humphrey," she said. "Daniel. Would you be comfortable with me calling you Daniel?"
"Uh… Dan works."
Ms. Carr smiled. "Dan. I came across your piece in the New Yorker last year. It was remarkable. You were the only high school student in there."
"Uhm," Dan shrugged. "Thanks."
Ms. Carr leaned forward at her desk. "Is Ms. Van der Woodsen going to be a distraction for you, Dan?"
"No," Dan said, with a lot more force than he expected. He quickly added, "I mean—not anymore than I'd be for her, which would be nothing. And if I do that's really my problem, right? So it doesn't really matter, anyways. She won't be a distraction for me, I won't be a distraction for her… it'll all be fine."
"I've read your transcript, Dan." Ms. Carr said. "You're one of the best students here—the only ones who beat you out probably bought their way to their A's. And I've also read Ms. Van der Woodsen's rap sheet… it's something to behold, even with her improvement last year." She had a really nice smile. "All of that to say that I know you're better than most of these kids, Dan, and you have high places to go, so long as you keep your head on straight. Does that all make sense, Dan?"
"I… guess," Dan said uneasily. "Don't you, uh, have other students coming?"
"My next period isn't for another hour," Ms. Carr said. "But you should get going. And don't worry," She swept to her feet as Dan's mouth opened, "I'll write you a hall pass. You don't have to worry about anything, Dan. Okay?"
Dan swallowed, although he didn't know why. He took his hall pass with a quiet thank you and rushed to second period, feeling as if he'd missed a chapter, again.
He and Serena end up trying things, again. It ends with Serena returning to her place as Queen Bee and him becoming Lonely Boy, for certain this time. No ifs, ands, or buts. It hurt, so much more than summer did. The best part? Serena ascends on the day Dad returns.
All Dan wanted to do was retreat into the safety of his room and do nothing for the rest of his life. The truth of it, of everything, is that every time Serena had kissed him, he thought about Georgina. When they had a date at the loft again, and he made spaghetti for her again, and Jenny interrupted to grab some juice again (orange this time), all he could think about was the cocktail of betrayal and uncertainty and heartbroken lust he'd had with Georgina, when she was sitting across from him in the dark.
"Dan?" Serena had asked.
Dan? Can we just… sit for a minute?
"What? Uhm, yeah, sure."
The corners of Serena's mouth quirked up. "You were in your head again, Dan."
"Was I?: Dan shook his head. "Sorry. I've just have a lot on my mind."
A fond smile bloomed on Serena's face. "I know. You always do."
The shadows had cast everything in shadow but Georgina's face. She'd given one of the softest smiles he'd ever seen. She'd held his hand like he was made of glass.
I just want to make sure.. you aren't… lines and stuff—after my boyfriend, those things matter to me.
Serena reached for his hand. "I missed you so much, Dan. Paris and Blair were great, but I thought…" she smiled wistfully. "… I thought every day about how much better they would've been if you were there, with me. The Louvre and the Sienne, we could've gone backpacking around Europe—so much." She shook her head. "If only…"
On the couch, right next to them, on the couch where Dan had read Fitzgerald and Dickens and Austen for the first time, Georgina left hickeys on his neck, just high enough to worry about hiding. She'd guided his fingers inside her, and Dan used everything he'd learned with Serena, and he'd seen Georgina's mouth form an 'o'. Then she'd led him by his hand to his bedroom and stripped him so slowly, with a feline grin and something animal in her eyes. He liked it. He kind of didn't, but he liked it. He was breathing short and fast as she rid herself of her clothes (much more swiftly), and it as only when he was completely inside her that he told her he wanted to stop. And of course she did, and she told him after they were both dressed again: don't feel bad about that, Dan. Serena really hurt you, it's all so raw, I understand. I understand completely.
Dan shook his head. He shrugged weakly. "The past is the past, right?"
Serena had smiled and squeezed his hand. "Yeah."
A week later they were finished, and Dan was back down to nothing. As he trudged back into Constance for another glorious day between money and extreme privilege, he wasn't mad. Mostly. He felt the occasional pair of eyes following his back, as if it had Serena's name on it in fat neon letters, but that wasn't her fault.
He was the first to arrive in Ms. Carr's English once again, and he tried slink to the back of the room. But then Ms. Carr gave him a smile and wave, and god, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss any girl, to have her hold onto his arm and hold onto his hand just a little too tightly when Serena waltzed by them.
"Dan," she said. "are you alright?"
Dan snapped back to reality. Ms. Carr was studying him with a frown, and of course she'd been, because he was staring at her lips like a creep. Dan stammered an apology and retreated to his desk, wishing very much he could be swallowed by the linoleum. When class started properly, Dan was quiet as a field mouse (not that Constance would ever be caught with mice if it couldn't cover it up), doing exactly what he was told to and nothing more, hoping that when (if) lunch ever came, his usual haunts wouldn't be filled with snot-nosed nepobabies.
Of course, as the bell rang, Ms. Carr told him to stay back. Dan very much wanted to break a window and make the run for it, but she was his teacher, so he awkwardly sat back down in his desk, and it wasn't until everyone was gone and Dan felt very alone that Ms. Carr told him to get up. Dan hadn't ever had a crush on a teacher, and in comparison to everything he'd seen last year this was nothing, but he certainly didn't feel like nothing. Ms. Carr took one of the front row desks and Dan tried to choose one farther from her, but she insisted he sit right next to her.
"How was your weekend, Dan? Do anything fun?" Ms. Carr asked.
Dan shrugged, although it looked more like a squirm. "Not really. I just stayed home, I guess."
"I get the feeling." Ms. Carr nodded. "This city, it's great, but if you don't know anyone… it can be a little too quiet, if you ask me."
"Yeah, it uh, it can be. But why am I being held back?" Dan asked.
"Well, Dan," Ms. Carr said, smiling, "I have a TA position open for you. It would be my eighth period, so you might get home slightly later, but it would be extra credit." She leaned forward. "And it could help. The other faculty have told me you're interested in Yale?"
Dan blinked. None of his teachers had ever known anything about him. They didn't care. "I—yes, I am. And, uh, thanks Ms. Carr. I'll take it, yeah. And I suppose it could be good experience. I mean how many writers want end up as English teachers, right?"
There was a beat. Dan stuttered out an apology, but Ms. Carr's smile had already tightened. "Of course. Now go to your second period, Dan. Let me write you a hall pass."
With that, she swept to her feet again, and Dan couldn't help his eyes lingering on her hips as she did. He promptly looked down at his shoes, face burning, but when he looked back up Ms. Carr was still smiling.
When he and Jenny got home, Dad was there, as was Mom. She was leaving that day. One comes in, the other comes out. Circle of life or some shit. The loft smelled like waffle batter anyway. Jenny ran into Dad's arms, of course—her time in school had been going pretty well, thankfully—while Mom walked over to Dan and gave him another hug. Dan accepted it, reciprocated, but he couldn't help glancing at her armchair.
"For the last Humphrey family meal until Thanksgiving," Dad said, "Well, we were out of ingredients for lasanga, so your mom and I decided on breakfast."
Dad laughed at his joke, and Mom did, and Jenny smiled. Dan's mouth quirked slightly. Pleasant as Dad's waffles were, it couldn't break through the haze of his breakup and thinking about Georgina (a-fucking-gain) and, a newcomer to the ring, his swirling thoughts about Ms. Carr. She was obviously differently from the other students, but that didn't stop Dan's mind from wandering, and stepping into the shoes of teenage boys he never wanted to be.
Dad stepped forward and hugged him. Dan accepted and reciprocated, again, but this time he couldn't help his glances at the couch. When Dad pulled away, he said, "Hey, Jen, could you hang out in your room for a bit? Mom and I need to talk to Dan."
Jenny gave Dan a significant eyebrow raise, which he returned with the best shrug he could muster. Dan couldn't say no, they were his parents, so he was backed onto the couch. His parents took up folded arms across from him, although the lines on their faces were writ in concern, rather than anger.
"Your mother tells me this summer was hard on you, son." Dad said. Dan, rather valiantly to his mind, resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Dad continued, "When you first said you didn't want to talk about what happened with Serena, I was alright with that. You wanted some time to process on your own, that's perfectly fine. But from what your mother is telling me, you didn't talk about it until a few days ago." Dad looked at him, and said earnestly, "We're worried, Dan. You are a special kid, and we've never seen you upset like this—in your senior year, no less."
Dan didn't intend to set his jaw, but he did. "I'm fine."
"Jenny said she'd never seen you like you were last month, sweetie," Mom said. "It scared her a bit. Especially how quiet you were. All you said, once, was that girl's name—Georgina."
Dan shook his head. "What? So I—I get shoved into therapy, or something? I'm not Chuck Bass, I don't need it."
He knew from the look his parents exchanged that he'd convinced them of nothing of the sort. Naturally. Mom said, "Dan, if this Georgina girl truly did what you said…" She pursed her lips for a few moments, thinking. "… I don't know what to call it, but it hurt you. And it's okay if you need help. I used my guidance counselors plenty when I was in college."
"That's not a therapist," Dan said. He immediately regretted it, because Dad's face darkened a bit.
"That is no way to talk to your mother," he snapped. He shook his head. "We love you, Dan. We only want you to be happy."
Dan stared at him for a space, thinking about how quickly he left, how his feelings for Serena's mom of all people broke their house for good (Dan knew it didn't, of course, but he felt like it). And he couldn't help himself, so he said, with no small amount of contempt, "That's why you left, then? Because you wanted to help me."
"That's enough, Dan."
"No," Dan rose to his feet. "It isn't. You"—he pointed at Mom—"left me and Jenny right before the summer started to go cheat on Dad in Hudson. And this summer, when I—this summer, Dad, you leave, and Mom comes back. Was that supposed to make me feel better? Was it?" His heart hammered. He saw himself being pulled by Georgina over to his room. He remembered looking at her milk-pale skin and swallowing, thickly, as he told himself that yes, they were going to fuck. Dan shook his head, sending the memory away, but Dad had stood up in front of him and puffed out his chest. It made Dan's insides coil in on themselves. He found himself spitting, "Fuck you. Go back on tour for another three months. Keep hoping that you'll ever be somebody again. You're kind of pathetic, y'know that?"
Dad's nostrils flared. Good. "Go to your room, Daniel. You're grounded for a week."
Dan couldn't help it—he laughed, high and loud.
"Two weeks."
"Go to your room, Danny." Mom said, softer. "Alright?"
Dan's laughter descended into hysteria as he walked back to his room. Grounded? As if anyone cared whether he lived at all? Now that he wasn't dating Serena, his fifteen minutes were over. He was a nobody on the curbside. His laughter carried him into his bed, but it faltered soon after he'd laid down.
And you are completely sure, Dan?
Yes. Please. I want it—I want you, Georgina.
He spent the rest of the night warding off tears.
As it turned out, the TA position was exactly what he needed. Almost. It wasn't perfect, but it helped a lot. Most of the underclassmen weren't all that enthusiastic about English, but there were a few that really seemed to enjoy it. A few of them read even more voraciously than he did, and that was definitely saying something. As well, Ms. Carr always had good things to say when class wrapped up, which… it meant more than he'd like to admit, honestly. Especially because his parents were serious about the therapy thing, and as was natural, he had it at 4:30 in the afternoon on Fridays.
"Counseling helped me when I was in college," Ms. Carr told him one day, "I may be over a line here, Dan, but I think this is a good idea."
Her gaze was kind, soft. Like mom's, but without an empty armchair. They were sitting in desks again, and for the first time in so long, Dan actually felt wanted. Just for being a TA, obviously, but nonetheless wanted.
"I guess so," he said. "it's just that girl trouble doesn't seem like it justifies therapy, y'know? And that's—that's basically what it is. Serena and that crazy girl Georgina… I never thought I'd date her, and I never thought dating her would ever lead to…" Dan sighed. "… but I guess figuring that out is the whole thing, isn't it? Because I can't do it with my parents, and despite the fact that Mom abandoned us last summer and my dad left this summer, they want to send me to someone else for the problems they gave me."
Ms. Carr nodded. "I understand that, Dan. But I do think this will be good for you. Not that I don't also understand your issues with your parents. Mine weren't the kindest, either."
"In what way?" Dan asked.
"Oh, it's not so special." Ms. Carr chuckled,and pushed some of her very shiny hair behind her ear. "They had certain ideas about how my life was supposed to go. I don't think they wanted me to do anything after I got my bachelor's degree aside from settling down and giving them grandchildren. I suppose, in their defense, if I continue at this pace with finding boyfriends, they might not see them." She shrugged. "But I didn't do all of that work for nothing, Dan. Don't let anybody try to hold you down from getting what you want, no matter how hard that process is."
"Thanks, Ms. Carr." Dan said. His teacher smiled and sent him off.
Before she did, she said, "You're a special kid, Dan. You have talent. Real, tangible talent. It might take the world some time to realize that, but you shouldn't forget it, alright?" which rattled around his head for the next week, alongside the way Ms. Carr's pencil skirts hugged her hips. But that, Dan told himself, was nothing to worry about, really.
Dad was serious about the grounding, apparently. For two weeks Dan either went straight home or to therapy and then straight home. He didn't see Vanessa at all. The most social contact he got was with Ms. Carr, which was pretty sad, but she seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, unlike his father. Dan hadn't ever meant his previous jabs, but they both knew his anger at him was very real, and that made nothing better. Dad was cold and Dan was more than happy to return his iciness. Especially after, two days into his punishment, he told Ms. Carr about it after her eighth period, she told him, "Well, that's fathers for you, right? They exist to screw you up. Either way, Dan, he'll be over it soon enough. And whatever you do, don't regret hurting his ego, or anything like that."
"I guess…"
"No, Dan, I mean it. Whatever your father thinks he's doing, he isn't. He's the responsible party here. Now, I need some help with these tests."
Jenny also disappeared, too, even as his grounding ended. And the more he learned of her antics, the less encouraged and more worried he was. Not that Jenny wanted to hear it, of course. Which—well, Dan could understand that. Eventually, he spoke to Ms. Carr about it.
"Of course you understand that," she said, "You're an understanding person, Dan. But I would leave Jenny to it. Support her where she lets you, basically."
Dan looked up from the worksheets he'd been struggling to grade for completion. "Blair Waldorf drugged her. Drugged her. And what happens to Blair? Nothing. Jenny doesn't even stop! I'm…"
"Blair drugged her?" Ms. Carr asked, bewildered.
"I know!" Dan said furiously. "it's something Georgina would do."
"Georgina?"
Dan blinked. Oh, right. "Just this… girl. Serena's old friend. I've—I've mentioned her once or twice. She showed up at the end of last spring, did some crazy stuff to try and get revenge on her."
Revenge with him.
"Revenge?" Ms. Carr peered at him from her desk.
Dan sighed. "It's… a long story, Ms. Carr. I shouldn't bore you with it."
Ms. Carr was quiet for a moment. "Well, Dan, I wouldn't mind hearing it. So long as you're comfortable with telling it, of course."
And that was how Ms. Carr found out about Georgina. Dan didn't want to admit why he told her, exactly. But his eyes had been lingering on her legs, her lips, her hips for weeks by this point, and he didn't have any other friends. When he had finished telling the whole sordid tale, Ms. Carr, who took up a seat in the desk next to him while he spilled his guts out to her, took his hand in hers, and squeezed.
"Oh my god, Dan," She'd said. "I'm so sorry. What that girl did was terrible."
"I guess it was," Dan had said, scratching the back of his neck. "I haven't really talked about it—with anyone. Not even my mom. Vanessa was off doing her own thing, and Jenny is who knows where…"
"I'm always an open ear, Dan," Ms. Carr said earnestly. "I am. And I'm glad, for your sake, that you're out of this stuff. It isn't healthy for you."
"You think so?" Dan had asked.
Ms. Carr nodded firmly. "No girl is worth what Georgina did to you, Dan. Serena doesn't know what she lost."
Dan frowned. "I broke up with her, though."
"Even still. She's a surprisingly quick study, but don't think in a million years that she would've gotten to this point if she wasn't with you, Dan. You helped turn her life around, and she can't ever pay that back."
Dan didn't know how to answer that, or the swell of bristling pride he felt at her words. So he scratched his neck again and babbled a thank you.
Ms. Carr's words echoed in his mind over the next few days, only amplified when he learned that the artiste, Aaron, was somehow dating Serena now. If Dan had to glimpse another one of their goodbye kisses outside St. Jude's, he was pretty sure something inside him would boil over. What exactly he couldn't be certain, but jealousy burned when he saw Aaron swagger off in that stupid cardigan and beanie, as if he had the Midas touch, as if he owned that touch.
This was only complicated by Ms. Carr increasing his hours after he told her about Georgina. Instead of getting home at 5, it was now 6 or 7. She had him grading some of the freshmen essays now, not just worksheets, and involved him in lesson planning. A week into his increased hours, Dan asked if she would mind reading some of his rough drafts, and Ms. Carr said that she would be delighted. Dan smiled at her, and she smiled at him, and Dan had to look back down to his pile of worksheets before he started to think about how well her pencil skirt hugged her frame that day.
Yes, he had a crush on Ms. Carr. It was only natural, he supposed one moody midnight. It only made sense. Doomed to forever pine after the unobtainable girl long after his fifteen minutes were up, and his teacher, as well. Look, man, it wasn't his fault that her skirts were-were like that! Dan had sighed, beleaguered, and buried his face in his pillow.
"This piece is great, Dan," Ms. Carr told him in November, just before Thanksgiving. "it needs another pass for grammatical errors, but otherwise, I'm in love with it. You have an eye for lonely young writers, huh?"
She cocked an eyebrow at him. Dan valiantly fought the flush the assaulted his neck. "Thanks, Ms. Carr. It felt… it felt really good to finally finish. I'm half a mind to send it back to my internship, honestly."
"Another round of editing and you should, Dan." Ms. Carr said. "Really, I think this could be published."
"Like in the New Yorker?"
"Well, Mr. Humphrey," she adjusted the hem of her skirt, and Dan shamefully watched her, "I'm not sure about that. But you don't always need to think that big. Any literary magazine would be good for you right now."
"Right. Yeah, right, I'm being a little conceited," Dan nodded. He swallowed. "Right, yeah."
Then for a moment Dan thought he was going insane, because he swore Ms. Carr gave him a smile and bit her lip. Just for a moment, it passed as quickly as he obviously hallucinated it, but it was all he could think the entire way home, as well as when he took himself in his hand that night. He caught his breath after he finished, cheeks flushed and shame searing his stomach, staring at his feet, thoroughly defeated.
The next day, on his way to St. Jude's, he resolved to quit. It wasn't right to stay on as TA now, not after he'd… not after what he'd done. Dan wasn't Chuck Bass, he knew that Ms. Carr deserved better.
But when to tell her? And how? Despite his… enthusiasm, Dan had found the TA position surprisingly enjoyable. There were some freshmen that he liked seeing. It gave him some hope, lifted his spirits, to see other kids with talent like him, to see them improve, worksheet by worksheet, essay by essay. Ms. Carr wouldn't stop him from leaving if he insisted, he was certain of that, but how would he even broach the subject without degenerating into babbling excuses?
Dan spent the rest of the day writing the script he would follow in his mind, a task not made significantly easier by still having to TA Ms. Carr's classes, as she was looking very nice today. (Then again, she looked nice every day.) She asked him, between periods, about how editing on his short story was going, and Dan nearly choked on the air.
It wasn't until the very end of his time that day that Dan found the nerve. He cleared his throat and said, "Uh, Ms. Carr, I need to talk to you about something."
Ms. Carr finished writing an 83 on a student's King Lear essay. "Yes, Dan?"
"I… I'm not sure this is a good fit for me anymore." Ms. Carr raised an eyebrow. Dan continued, "Don't get me wrong, ma'am, I'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity. Really, I am. It's meant so much to me, but I can't continue it anymore. Some… stuff has come up. Personal stuff, that I'm not sure I can get out of if I don't back out of this. I'm sorry, but I have to leave."
Ms. Carr studied him for a moment, then her expression turned soft. She got up from her desk and drew the blinds down on the classroom door, locked it, then motioned for him to stand up. Pavlov and his dog, Dan answered her call. He knew he shouldn't, his heart began to jackhammer in his chest, but he did.
"Are you sure you want to leave, Daniel?" Ms. Carr asked.
"I… yes. I am." Dan said.
Ms. Carr reached for his face. When Serena had done this, she had liked squishing his cheeks up to form a smile. Georgina had at first only ghosted her fingertips over his face, making him shudder, before firmly cupping his jaw and turning his head up toward her. Ms. Carr put hands on either side of his face and held on, tight. Dan swallowed.
"Do you want to leave, Dan?" she asked, softly.
You… don't want to?
"No," Dan said quietly, shamefully.
I… yeah. Yes, I'm sure. I shouldn't—we shouldn't—
Ms. Carr kissed him, and that was that.
Well, Dan, if that's what you really want… you know I won't argue with you. I'd never.
I know, Georgina. You're not. Thanks… thank you for understanding.
Of course I understand, silly.
I can, um, set up the couch for you. We should have some extra blankets here somewhere—
Actually, Dan… would it be alright if I slept in your bed? I'd feel safe there.
… yeah. Yeah, of course. No problem.
Somehow, Dan got out of bed the next day.
Nothing felt real.
The smell of waffles was lurid. It made Dan want to vomit. He'd had sex in a classroom—a classroom! Where countless students passed by day after day, one he'd been in himself in Sophomore year—and he tried to remind himself that he only had a few days until Thanksgiving break, but disgust and guilt dug their claws in deep.
It was as if someone had drawn up a barrier between him and everybody else, invisible but very, very tangible. He couldn't eat his breakfast. It stood between him and his father at breakfast and him and the other subway riders and him and the other students he passed in the halls. Dan didn't know how he felt about it, but then again, he didn't know how he would feel about anything ever again.
His heart began an anxious sort of leaping as he shuffled ever closer to his first period, to Ms. Carr. He had no idea of what he was supposed to say. He wanted to apologize, but then part of him wanted to bend her over her desk and be straddled by her on his couch or in his bed, and then a smaller part of him pointed out how revolting he was being. It wasn't a cocktail that Dan could swallow, so it clogged up his windpipe as he made a beeline for his desk, and kept him quiet for the rest of class.
He didn't take any notes. He didn't pay any attention to what was said. It was agony being stuck in the back, agony. He'd been putty in Ms. Carr's hands the evening before, and here they were, teacher and student again. It wasn't right. It shouldn't've happened. He was disgusting for even doing it. He should never have trusted Georgina and he should never have done that with Ms. Carr but here he was anyways. He'd had nothing, nothing but wallflowering for his entire life before last year, but now. Now now now now.
Fuck. He was going crazy, wasn't he?
At some point the bell rang, but Dan didn't hear it. He saw his fellow classmates get up and after looking at her desk to see her rather definitively focused on sorting some papers, Dan joined the rest of the herd. Serena waved at him, a friendly, normal wave, but Dan couldn't raise his hand up to return the favor. He could barely stand as it was.
He wondered where Jenny was around lunchtime. He hoped she wasn't doing whatever the hell had gotten him in this situation. He hoped, desperately, that she was okay.
Eventually eighth period came around, and for the first time since he started Dan spent as much of the period as he could sitting on a stool in the corner, and mercifully, Ms. Carr was okay with that. Some of the freshmen noticed, the ones that had somehow grown to like him, and one of them asked him if he was okay. He shrugged off the student's question and told him to wrap up his worksheets, alright? Don't worry about me.
It was after everyone else had gone that she made her move.
After once again pulling down the blinds of the door, she crossed the room and kissed him fiercely. Her hands were holding his face again, and Dan didn't reciprocate. He wrenched himself back, gawking at her.
"I…" he croaked. "… I can't. I can't…"
Ms. Carr's eyes flashed. "Yes, Dan, you can. You always could, it's not your fault that nobody else can see you."
Dan opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Ms. Carr cooed and kissed him again, intense and fervent. Her tongue eventually pried his lips open and after that, this whole thing might've been wrong but he gorged on it anyways. Ms. Carr pawed at him, grabbed at his shoulders and hair, scratched and pulled. Dan's hands did their own wandering, in time, and when he finally pulled back for a moment, he gave a breathless, "Okay."
"Okay?" Ms. Carr cocked her head.
"Yeah," Dan said, quietly. "I'm okay with this."
Ms. Carr peered at him intently, before kissing him again, and again, and again. And as his own shame and arousal burned, Dan answered her in kind, and for the second time in 48 hours, they fucked in Ms. Carr's classroom.
Dan would barely remember Thanksgiving. Naturally, because his father had started boning Lily Bass, they were having Thanksgiving in Serena's family penthouse. It had a giant Prada logo on one of the first walls he could see, and Dan couldn't've come up with a better metaphor, honestly.
Not that he was trying much. He'd been consumed by Ms. Carr, the way she kissed him, her heat, the whispers of "Good, Dan, good boy." That he couldn't quite stomach, but spurned him on anyways. She asked him to meet her at a coffee shop during Thanksgiving break, so they could talk on neutral ground, lay down some parameters, boundaries. Dan agreed, of course, he didn't feel as if he could do much else now aside from follow her lead. Even as Thanksgiving went up in flames, Dan was too deep in his own thoughts to truly notice.
The days waiting to see Ms. Carr again were too slow, but they eventually passed, second by second. He got out of bed and spent far too long comparing different plaid button downs (why did he have so many?!) before finally settling on a nice gray one that made him look a little bit older, and was in the same shade as many of Ms. Carr's blouses. He reflected as he sat down for breakfast half an hour later than normal that he hadn't done anything like that since his first dates with Serena, which soured his mood. The sky gradually clouded over as the clock hands sluggishly ticked toward 1 PM.
Dan arrived at the coffee shop thirty minutes early. Ms. Carr was already there. Her eyes almost immediately zeroed in on him, and she smiled, waving him over with one flick of her wrist.
Dan slipped past the line of people at the counter and sat down awkwardly. Ms. Carr was smiling, all teeth. Her eyes warm, inviting, accepting.
"I'm glad you could make it on time, Dan." She laughed.
"Well, uh, better safe than sorry, right?"
Ms. Carr's smile widened, somehow. "Of course, Dan. You've already got my last boyfriend beat—never showed up on time to a single date, I swear."
Dan chuckled, uneasy. Boyfriend? Was that what he was? His teacher's boyfriend? No, that didn't sound right. His stomach tightened, and he cast a furtive look around the coffee shop. But Ms. Carr reached across the table for one of his hands and surrounded it in two of her own. "Nobody's watching, Dan. Not that there's anything to watch, of course."
"Right." Dan smiled nervously. "Yeah."
"There isn't anything either of us have to be ashamed of, Dan. You're eighteen, aren't you?"
Dan swallowed. "Um… yes. I turned 18 in October."
"Exactly," Ms. Carr said. "And I'm certainly of age. So we're fine, Dan. Breathe. Can you breathe for me?"
Dan would've died for her, but he supposed he could breathe, too. Once he was calmer, she said, "I want you, Dan."
"I…"
"And I know you are interested in me, as well. But we need some ground rules first, like I mentioned before." Dan nodded.
"We can't be… involved, in my classroom." She said carefully. "It isn't a good idea." Dan nodded, a little too eagerly. "If and when we are involved, Dan, it needs to be in a safe place."
"Of course."
"As far as everyone else is concerned, we are just as we appear to be. You are my TA and I am just an English teacher." Ms. Carr squeezed his hand. "We know better, of course, but they can't know. We can't get caught, Dan."
Dan nodded again, and as Ms. Carr laid out their rules and precautions over the next hour, his throat only grew drier.
Being with Ms. Carr was dizzying. It gave him the sort of thrill that leered. She touched with soft hands and enough fervor for the both of them. Where Dan squeezed once, she grabbed thrice over. Where Serena was deft, Ms. Carr was desperate. She kissed him with a passion Dan hadn't seen since Serena, but Ms. Carr's kisses were more insistent, almost needy and cloying, but they made it obvious he was wanted.
The rest of Dan's world slowly fell away over the next few months. Being with Ms. Carr was also the kind of terrifying that left him sweating in his bed at three in the morning. His parents would probably explode if they found out about this. Nobody would look at him the same way ever again. Sure, some of his male peers would definitely cheer him on—Chuck would have something truly witty to say about it—but what would colleges think? What would Dad think? What would Mom think? What would Jenny think? She'd probably tell him to get out of it, some days he nearly convinced himself to get out of it, but inevitably, his body gave out at 4 AM and school came the next and with it, Ms. Carr.
It was only when they were together, when his lust overwhelmed him, that he was able to escape his worries. Some days it didn't, and he sat there, not quite limp as she put her hands all over him, and those were the worst days.
But, somehow, he got out of bed. He kept getting out of bed. Day in and day out, he kissed Ms. Carr back and did his homework and went on dates with Ms. Carr and kept everything Ms. Carr a secret. He wanted to be there when Jenny spiraled out of control, he really did, but Ms. Carr had a date night planned for them on the night when everything went to shit and all he could muster up to say to his father was, "I, uh… I'm sorry."
It was after Jenny had finally settled down (somewhat) that things finally broke. Once can only fight the Upper East Side so much, until it inevitably gets you, and someone got a picture of him and Ms. Carr on Gossip Girl one night and that was that.
"Well, Dan?" his father asked. "is it true?"
"No." Dan lied, automatically.
Dad stared at him for a torturously long moment, until he sighed heavily and left the loft to go talk to the school about this and "Save your reputation, son. You need to get into Yale, and Yale won't like this at all. But I've got this, don't worry."
Dan let him go, not quite limp yet again, and sat down on the couch, staring into space. At some point, Mom called him, and he only picked up out of habit.
"Dan? Oh, Dan. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." Dan said. There was a beat until his mother spoke again.
"I'm coming down, Daniel. Your father just told me—I never thought—Oh, honey we are going to sue that fucking school into oblivion. She won't get away with this."
"What?"
"I am so sorry this happened to you. You did nothing to deserve it. You'll get out of this and go to Yale and honey, this will all be okay."
"What's going to be okay?"
"Dan…"
"Nothing is even wrong," Dan found himself saying, quite forcefully, "Everything is fine. There's nothing between me and Ms. Carr!"
But there was. The school investigated, and with their resources, they found more than enough evidence. Mom cried and his father couldn't quite look at him and Jenny didn't seem to know what to do with him, but Dan knew she was worried, too.
Mom was serious about the lawsuit. Deadly serious. But when Headmistress Queller said, with some hesitation, "We could… we don't need to make a show of it. We could reach a settlement, if Mr. Humphrey is amenable."
"How dare you!" Mom had shouted, with fury Dan had never seen before. It scared him. "You should be ashamed of yourself for even asking! I'll send this place up in flames for what it did! What you, headmistress, let happen under your own roof!"
Headmistress Queller was quiet for a long moment, before schooling her face and, albeit somewhat weakly, reiterating herself.
Dan accepted.
Dan never saw Ms. Carr again. All he knows is that she was stripped of her position, her teaching license, and that three weeks after accepting the school's settlement he was interviewed by a prosecutor and had to repeat, several times, that he didn't—couldn't—take the stand against her.
Mom stayed in the loft for the rest of the summer. He was very firmly sent back to his therapist, but he spent most of his sessions complaining about his parents. The more distance he got, the more he wanted to forget, because he couldn't put his guilt into words. He just wanted to move on, especially after it turned out that with the settlement money, he could afford Yale. His parents insisted on NYU, to keep him close.
"You still don't see what she did, Daniel." His father said. "I'm sorry, but until you admit what she did was… was wrong, that nothing is your fault, you're staying close, and where you can still see your therapist. It's non-negotiable."
Dan didn't, so everybody stayed close to him during the summer. Mom, Dad, Jenny, Vanessa. Jenny in particular seemed at a loss for what to do, but fairly often she said she wanted to spend time with him, that amounted to long silences where she held his hand and Dan stared into his lap. Vanessa wanted to hang out practically every day, even cried a few times when he told her that he didn't care about it. That it was—it was nothing, in the end. Just like Georgina.
But it wasn't. Dan knew he was guilty this time. He knew full well what he'd done and what the consequences would be and there was no con, no trick. It was all on him. Dan was sure of it.
When he saw Georgina in the campus bookstore, and she offered him a spot at her party, he accepted. And after a few drinks, and swirling thoughts of her on his couch, her in his bed, he spent his second night with Georgina Sparks.
This a cross-posting from my ao3 account. It took some time to write (the scenes where Ms. Carr assaults Dan were particularly difficult at times), so any favorites will certainly make my day. Although I would also love it if you to tell me what you think! I don't bite :)
(The song choice was intentional, by the way. Thanks to 1x18!)