A/N: Hey everyone! Yes I am still alive and so is this story! I'm planning on reviving it and hopefully finishing it this year so fingers crossed. I hope you all enjoy this new chapter, and thanks for all the love while I was gone.

Midsummer Memories

With Blair in her freshly cleaned sundress, we find ourselves back on the streets of Verona, and I find myself being properly tour-guided along as Blair walks us through this little city as if she's been here before.

Lunch was what we said we'd do. And lunch is where she's taking me back at my hotel room we agreed to have pizza because who in their right mind comes to Italy and doesn't have pizza?

Blair wasn't initially keen on the suggestion, but when I explained that Verona is only a train ride away from Paris but an entire continent away from Brooklyn, she eventually gave in.

Although there was a compromise. Blair would take me to get pizza, but it had to be gourmet. I never even knew there was such a thing as gourmet pizza, but I agreed nevertheless.

After waking up from the most fulfilling sleep I'd had since Blair left, it felt like the emotional high the pair of us had been on was wearing off and we were both coming down hard.

I know this because as we walk past building after building, Blair gives me fact after fact. And it's not in her usual "superior knowledge" way. It's in her overcompensating, "if I don't speak, things will get awkward" way. I just nod each time she tells me something because I can't even get a word in before she starts babbling on about something else.

It's kinda funny, though. Less than a half-hour ago, we were wrapped in each other's arms.

But take away that slumber and exhaustion, or even all the adrenaline and excitement from seeing each other again, and suddenly her walls go back up, and maybe even mine too. That's probably why they say you should sleep on things.

But I'm thoroughly enjoying myself, though. I'm enjoying the way Blair babbles, even if it is to spare us from the embarrassment of the cheesy things we said not too long ago.

And I'm especially enjoying all the times when she turns towards me, and I have to quickly move my eyes onto whatever new touristy thing it is she was talking about, because I know she'll kill me if I don't pay attention to everything around us.

For the past few minutes I've even been wondering if I should take her hand in mine. I mean, we just slept in each other's arms right? So what is handholding to us?

But as soon as I close the space between us ever so slightly and let my pinky grace the side of her hand, finally mustering up some sort of courage, she squeals,

"We're here!"

I've never hated a pizza restaurant in my life. Until now.

We walk towards the restaurant's entrance and immediately we're met with a warm welcoming from one of the waiters. With unprecedented hospitality he places us at a table for two outside and sets our menus down before going off to seat another set of new customers who've come just after us.

My hatred for this place waivers instantly as the aroma of all kinds of heavenly ingredients linger through the air from the kitchen inside and enters my nose. I'm in love.

"Okay, so I already know what I'll be having..." Blair says as she looks over the menu, "...but since you're new here, let me give you a few recommendations."

My eyebrows furrow for a sec, "Oh, so you've been here before?"

"Mm-hmm." Blair nods nonchalantly, "God, their salmone is soo good. And they have this one chicken pizza with avocado and spinach which I usually take when I'm not in the mood for pepperoni. Oh, oh, I know it's boring but their Margherita is quite literally to die for. I've never tasted a Margherita pizza this good. Like ever."

I slump back into my seat, "Blair, how often do you come here?" I ask, a little shocked.

"Only once a month." She downplays.

"So you're actually in Italy quite a bit then?" Well, this explains Marco I guess. I knew she'd never just get with a stranger. But doesn't he stay all the way in Positano?

"You could say so."

"So what's it, your dad's got another property over here?" I intrude.

"No..." She says surprisingly casual, "...I just like coming here." Her eyes have stayed on this menu since we sat down. Yet, I'm certain she knows the whole menu off by heart already.

"So have you decided what you're gonna take?" She finally looks up at me.

"Yeah, I'll have the salmone."

"Good choice, Humphrey."

I can't help but wonder why Blair comes to this city so regularly. Is this also why I had seen her at that church earlier? A little bit of disappointment tinges my heart at the realisation that she wasn't, in fact, following me.

But if she wasn't following me, and her dad doesn't have any property here, and if Marco lives in Positano, then why does she come here so often? Maybe there isn't any real reason at all and she does just enjoy Verona.

But something about the way she just tried to play it off as if it's no big deal tells me it's definitely a big deal. There's something she's not telling me. And I know I shouldn't pry further because there's definitely an unsaid boundary between us.

What if her reason for coming here is something extremely private and personal? I can't just re-enter her life and expect her to tell me things so freely. Blair struggled to open up back then already. I can't imagine what it might be like for her now, especially after everything she's been through.

But that's also exactly why I really want to ask her about it. Blair's mother is abhorrent. She's controlling and manipulative and extremely abusive. So I wouldn't be surprised if Blair comes here to escape from her mother for a while. But what if the abuse has gotten worse? What if she really needs someone right now?

"So...what's it about this place that keeps you coming back?"

"I don't know..." She grabs hold of the salt shaker and starts fidgeting with it, "...it's addictive I think. Being here. A mind thing..." I'm so confused right now, "...enough about me though..." She deflects, "...why are you in Verona? I'm pretty sure I saw you last night at a club in Positano."

Shit. Now I'm the one being interrogated.

Please don't sweat. Please don't sweat. Please don't sweat.

"It's called being a tourist."

It's actually called being a hopeless sap who resorted to embarrassing measures to try and get over you. Like throwing an entire poetry collection at a dead man.

OH SHIT! My fucking poetry book! Okay. Okay. Be cool, Dan. Just be cool. It doesn't matter that two years worth of writing went down the drain for absolutely nothing. It doesn't matter that a stranger just threw it away as if it were all meaningless. It's fine. You're fine. I'm fine.

I'm not fine.

"Okay, fair point, Humphrey." Blair chuckles and I'm relieved she can't see that I'm having an internal meltdown right now, "Hey, are you okay?" Nevermind.

"No...I mean yeah, I just...I remembered something." I stumble.

"What, that you're allergic to cheese or something?" She quips.

Right now, I wish it were that, "Do the waiters usually take this long to come and take your order? Feels like we've been waiting for ages." My turn to deflect.

"It's only been five minutes..."

"Exactly! In the grand scheme of spending time with you, that's a lot of wasted time."

Blair laughs, "Come on, Humphrey. You're gonna have to do better than that. What's going on?" She puts down the salt shaker and grabs on my hands. Why do her fingers have to be so soft?

Okay. It's simple. I'm just going to confess why I came to Verona without mentioning the explicit part in which I assaulted a dead saint with my hopeless poetry book.

"Well, you see...I lied." I bite my teeth.

"Huh?" Blair's eyebrows furrow.

Before I can carry on though, the waiter comes to our table and asks us what we want. Blair tells him the order quickly and then turns back to me as soon as he's gone.

"Go on." She prompts.

"Okay, it was more a half-truth, since I am a tourist actually."

"Get to the point." Her eyes roll. I should stop liking that so much.

"I didn't come to Verona just to see the sights. I kinda...well I fully came here to...move on. From us. From you." I say.

Blair sits straight up in her seat and lets go of my hands, "Oh." Her face expressionless.

"Which was so clearly a dismal failure." I try to reassure her but it does nothing.

Her eyes go down and I can almost feel her fidgeting with her own fingers as her hands go beneath the table. But instantly my hands follow hers underneath the table and I grab hold of them as I lean forward slightly.

"Hey, look, I shouldn't of told you that..."

"No, it's okay." She looks up but still not at me, "I get it."

"For what it's worth, it didn't work." Second reassurance lucky?

All she does is nod. I guess not.

"It's just..."

"Yes?" I try to encourage her.

"I lied too."

My eyebrows furrow, "So you don't enjoy coming to Verona?"

She chuckles and my heart flutters, "Okay, a half-truth, I guess. I do enjoy it. But that's not why I come here."

"Oh. Then why do you come here?" I hold her hands in mine a little tighter.

Her eyes flicker downwards again, "Well, it sounds stupid but, I hardly had anything to remember you by. All I had was the book you got me. So to keep remembering you I tried coming to Verona as much as I could. Especially the San Zeno church. It's weird because that day at school when we fought about Romeo and Juliet, it wasn't exactly one of our best memories. But it was the closest thing to still having you with me in some way. I'm not really sure in what way but it's here whenever I come here. The memory of us. So yeah. I guess it was a bit much to hear that you came to forget about me in the same place I come to remember you." Blair frowns, and my heart sinks.

"Blair... I...uh...I didn't know, I'm sor-." I stutter.

"I'm so selfish." She interjects, taking her hands out of mine and shaking her head as if she's ashamed of herself.

"What?"

"I'm so relieved right now. And for what? Because you're not over me? Even though you should be. Because you haven't moved on? Even though you should have."

"Come on, don't think like that..." I lean over and put my hands on her shoulders, "...please. It's...I don't know. Yeah, maybe moving on is healthier or whatever, but things happen for a reason too. And maybe not moving on was a good thing because now I'm here and, God, do I still feel like that same smitten 16-year old who couldn't take his eyes off of you. And even if I had moved on, I'm pretty sure seeing you would leave me undone all over again. It's just, that's just what you do to me. How I feel for you. I can't explain it. And you certainly shouldn't be blaming yourself for it."

She finally let's her eyes fall on mine and gives me a small smile full of warmth. She's the one to clasp us together again as she takes my hands away from her shoulders and intertwines them in her soft fingers. Her eyes then fall lovingly onto our holding hands. Apparently still so fascinated by the small gesture.

"Do you remember that letter you wrote me?" I ask.

She nods affirmatively.

"Yeah, and in it you asked me to find my smile again? Well, I've found it, Waldorf." I say as I look at her, and only her.

"And is that really such a good thing, Dan?" I can see the tears prickling beneath her eyes.

"Yes. Because this time my smile won't leave when you leave. It's gonna stay right here with me. And I'll be smiling for the rest of my life remembering how I had the best times of my life in the shortest, littlest moments with you. We don't have forever. We don't even have tomorrow. But we do have now. And I'll keep now in my heart, forever, Waldorf."

She looks up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks, but a small smile playing on her lips.

"Remind me to never wear mascara around you if I ever see you again." She giggles as she untangles our hands and uses a napkin to wipe the tears away quickly.

I chuckle and she carries on, "Thank you."

"For making you cry?" I joke.

"No..." She rolls her eyes, "...for cherishing me the way you do. You're one in a lifetime, Daniel Randolph Jonah Humphrey, and I'll never forget the way you make me feel."

Somehow this all feels like a preliminary goodbye. Even though we still have an entire night together to come. But I'm glad we're saying the things we are. For nothing is worse than love unspoken and feelings untold.

Blair raises from her seat and leans over to give me a soft, gentle kiss. One that feels airy and light and doesn't end too soon. One that feels like maybe we're doing things right this time.

She then pulls away and we smile stupidly at each other. The waiter comes a second after and we're both presented with our pizzas. Blair's pepperoni and mine salmon. Without much hesitation we both get to pulling a slice off our pizzas. My eyes close in utter delight as I take my first bite and Blair laughs at me for it.

"Good?" She teases.

"Amazing. My taste buds are in dreamland right now." I say with a mouthful.

A giggle leaves her as she offers me one of her own slices across the table, "Try mine." She then guides the slice right into my mouth.

My eyes roll back.

"Oh my god. What the hell are they using to cook back there?"

She smiles and then starts eating herself. Between the flavours in my mouth and the giggles throughout our lunch, I see a glimpse of true contentment. With Blair things feel like floating on clouds or sleeping on feathers. Who knew a love so simple could hold within its grasp a passion so lethal. Together, we are tender. Apart, we are disaster.

But not this time.

Following our lunch we walk beside each other once more through the busy Verona streets. The sunlight is Blair's forever companion, always accentuating the features on her face in such ethereal ways they seem nearly intangible. Always making her pale skin seem warm on my eyes, always unravelling the warmness in her smiles, always, always adorning her in ways I wish I could.

She told me she's taking me somewhere. But of course she didn't tell me the exact location.

The short hand is nearing the 4 on my watch when I look at it. Half our day has been spent. Less than half our day is left. I try my hardest not to let the tiny pinch of despair within me show itself on my face.

"You know, I hated you that day." Blair says out of the blue, interrupting the calm silence which sung between us.

"What? What day?" My eyebrows knit together.

"When you argued with me about 'Romeo and Juliet'."

"Oh." I laugh, "Why?"

"Because you won the argument..." She chuckles, "...and I think that was the only real argument we ever had."

"Yeah, I think it was. But I'd say It was more a debate, though." I kid.

"Sometimes I wish I had the courage Juliet had..." Blair's eyes fall to the ground, "...maybe things would've been different."

"Or maybe we'd both end up dead." I quip, more to keep the conversation light than anything else.

"Hey, I did say different didn't I? That's definitely different." She jokes in return and I chuckle as my nerves settle.

But I can see it in her sullen eyes, which hides behind a small smile, that she really still wants to talk about the us of two years ago. I'm not sure if it's because of regret or longing or even just for closure, but she wants to.

"Top three memories you have of us. Go!" I say abruptly.

If we're going to talk about the past, let's at least keep it as light as possible.

Blair's eyes flash towards mine almost instantly as her entire face lights up. Her mouth is wide in surprise but soon she regains her composure.

"ooh, okay, hold on..." She points out her index finger, "...no, I can't do it. We have so many good ones, Humphrey." She half-moans.

"Come on, just say whichever 3 that comes to mind."

"Okay...uhm, top 3 memories of us..." She puts her hand to her chin in faux ponder as her eyes look to the sky playfully, "...3 has to be when you recited that poem you wrote for me and I kissed you for the first time." She blushes.

I blush too, but secretly I'm wondering if that's 3, which other memories do we have that could be better than that one for her?

"And you? What's your 3rd best memory of us?" She looks at me hopefully.

And now I'm the one pondering, "Uhm...lemme think." I scratch my head jokingly and she chuckles, "...That night when I first saw you at your parent's old house and we waltzed. Well...you waltzed, I just copied whatever you were doing."

"Well, you are good at following my lead, Humphrey." Blair laughs, "But don't worry. You danced pretty well that night."

"Okay, so what's number 2?" I ask in genuine excitement to know what could possibly top our first kiss for her.

"Mmm..." Her lips pout and her cheeks round, "...it has to be the night you used the window cleaning lift to come and say sorry to me, and you were singing some punk rock song and it was so terrible..." She giggles, "...but you were singing your heart out and I still remember the tears in your eyes as you screamed the lyrics at me. Probably the most horrifying yet sweet moment I've ever experienced."

I have to laugh, "Come on, the song wasn't that bad."

"No, the song wasn't bad at all. It was your singing!" Blair bursts out laughing.

"Okay, okay..." My eyes roll, "...did it work though?"

"Yes." She smiles.

"And did you forgive me?"

"Yes"

"And did you kiss me afterwards?"

"Of course."

"Then I have nothing to be ashamed of. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat." I say proudly.

She chuckles, "Okay, your turn, Mr. Punk Rocker."

Now that I'm really thinking about all of this, our first kiss doesn't even make it in my top 3 memories of us.

"Uhmmm, I think it has to be that one Sunday you called me and said we were going out to get school stuff. That was a really cool day...but there was this one particular moment when we went to get food and you were laughing at something I said, but just as you were laughing, the sun shone on your face and I swear to you, I've never seen someone look so beautiful in my life. You were glowing."

"Humphreeey..." She covers her face with her hands shyly and playfully, "...Now I'm gonna look all like a tomato because you're making me blush!"

I laugh and when she feels less shy I say, "Moment of truth now, Waldorf. What's your number 1 memory of us?"

"Oh man..." She moans, "...can't you go first? I'm undecided."

"Nope. Lady's first." I kid.

"Oh, how chivalrous of you." She rolls her eyes, "Come on, pleaseee, Humphrey. Go. Go first. You can do it. I believe in you."

"Why are you so hesitant? You've been doing just fine." I chuckle.

"Because I really wanna know which memory for you was the best one. I feel like mine's too obvious." She frowns.

"Ahh, so you're not actually undecided then?"

"No..." She glares, "... now go!"

"Okay, I'll tell you what. Let's say both of ours at the same time."

"What? No. That's too messy. I won't hear you."

"Okay fine, guess I'll just be waiting for your answer then."

"Ugh, okay, but I'm counting us down." She glares again.

"No problem." I smile.

"Okay, on one. Three...two...ONE!"

"Our first date!" I say.

"Our first date!!!" Blair screams.

And almost instantly we both erupt into pure, joyful laughter.

"Eeeee!" Blair screeches, "I was so hoping that was your favourite memory as well."

"It had to be. That was the best night of my life." I look at Blair and she's already adoring me with loving eyes. How it is that the night before our breakup still remains in both of our hearts ever so endearingly just shows that every moment we've spent together has been a beautiful moment.

This must be the most unfair thing to happen to a couple in human history. Can't the Universe see that we're perfect for each other? That we're right for each other? There's so much love to give here. So much love to receive here.

"Come, we're almost there." Blair grabs on my hand, and without her even knowing, she stops me from relapsing into any anguish.

She pulls me along another fifty or so meters, and then finally she says, "And here we are! The house of Juliet." Blair beams.

I look up and see a large entryway into a tunnel which Blair then pulls me through.

"Is that the famous balcony?" I ask ecstatically as we walk through the tunnel and into the courtyard of Juliet's house.

"Yes!"

"Unbelievable. Now I'm even more convinced that Romeo and Juliet were real people."

"Convinced?.." Blair scoffs sarcastically, "...A true Shakespearian knows with full conviction that they were most certainly real!"

"You've become quite the fan I see." I quip.

"And you've only yourself to blame for that. Should've just let me won the argument." She sticks her tongue out.

"Should've yeah." I chuckle.

Blair tugs my hand again and pulls us into the house. In spite of all the tourists, we still manage to run around the place, too excited to not miss anything, too impatient to really appreciate anything, and far too aware that our time is extremely limited.

The bottom floor gets boring quickly, so we scamper up the stairs and into Juliet's room where most of the other tourists are. Blair immediately goes to the two glass cabinets which hold mannequins wearing clothing that were worn by the actor's of the 1968 film. We then move swiftly to the bed which we admire for as long as about three seconds, and then finally go to find the balcony.

We find the balcony but there's already a few people on it so we're left waiting. But as we wait, Blair's thumb starts playing over the back of my hand as we hold hands, and the feeling feels so familiar yet so, so sorely missed. For a moment I second guess if I even believe myself anymore. If I truly think I'll be able to handle leaving her tomorrow.

But then she tugs on my hand and all thoughts diminish instantly.

We go onto the balcony and look out upon the courtyard. People below us are all putting eternity locks on some wall, or sticking gum onto the wall, or taking a picture with the statue of Juliet. I laugh internally because love seems like such a trivial thing when looked at from above, I guess. But from below, and from within, it is the mover of mountains. Or so it makes us feel.

"I have to tell you something, Humphrey." Blair turns to me, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Okay?" My eyebrows furrow.

"All of this is absolutely fake." She bites her teeth, "Juliet never actually stayed here, this house wasn't owned by the Capulet family, there was never ever a romance between the actual son and daughter of the two rival families who did live in Verona, and this balcony we're standing on was only built in the 20th Century using old 17th Century materials."

My heart breaks, "Seriously?"

She nods and gives me a puppy dog face, her bottom lip folding over.

"But I spoke to this Italian guy at the San Zeno and he was convinced they were real people." I protest.

"Yeah, welcome to Verona. Most of the locals speak of the story as if they believe it because it just adds to the believability of it all, which brings in more tourists."

"You're breaking my heart here, Blair Waldorf." I fake a frown.

"I'm sorry, Humphrey." She chuckles and then holds onto my arm with her free hand as she rests her head on my shoulder, "But just so you know, I never came to Verona because 'Romeo and Juliet' were real in any case. I came here because we were. And that means so much more."

Oh dear. Those words are going to be running through my head for the next six months, guaranteed. Why does she have to be so goddamn perfect? And why does she say all the things that make my heart flutter uncontrollably?

I turn towards her and put her arms around my neck. My hands cup her cheeks and our eyes dance as if they've been dancing for centuries. As if our love is as old as the skies. As if we've known each other since forever.

I sink down towards her. Her breath hitches as our noses grace, yet I wait, and I wait, and I wait, until finally she bites on her lip in anticipation, and then all by their own accord, our lips meet. Meant to be together.

No story, no fairytale, no epic romance novel, and not even the most tragic of tragedies, could amount to this. Could amount to Blair and I and everything we feel for each other. For it is here, on her lips, and on her smile, and in her eyes, and within her grasp, that I feel something so excruciatingly passionate and all-consuming, yet so incredibly liberating and uplifting, that there is not a word other than love that can adequately describe it. It can only be love. Real love.

"Ahem..." Someone behind us scratches their throat loudly, on purpose.

Blair and I both pull away from each other, cheeks red, lips redder, caught red handed. We turn to the person who just rudely interrupted our public display of affection and see it's a man with his wife and 3 kids. They're all toddlers. And they're all staring at us.

It takes everything in us to not burst out laughing.

"We're...so sorry, sir." I say as I grab Blair's hand.

The guy just glares at me, which really helps nobody in this situation because Blair and I still need to walk past this entire family. And they're blocking the whole entryway onto and off the balcony! But I pull Blair's hand nonetheless and the family ends up making the most awkward tunnel way for us to walk past.

It feels like the walk of shame as we walk through, and to make matters worse, there's other tourists inside that are looking at us as well. Did everyone just watch us make out on that balcony? Do people not have lives?

We finally move past all the extremely nosey tourists and almost sprint downstairs and back onto the street. Once we're far enough away, Blair let's loose.

"HUMPHREY! That was so embarrassing!" She says between her almost dying of laughter.

"Okay but seriously..." I can't stop laughing either, "...what did that guy expect bringing his kids to one of the most romantic tourist spots in Italy?"

"Right? The way he looked at us oh my god..." She chuckles, "...like he was so disappointed in us."

We take a few moments to catch our breaths again before Blair grabs on my hand to get us moving along. We basically walk back to the pizza restaurant, but Blair takes a detour just before the restaurant's street and brings us to the Verona arena.

We pay ten euros each for a ticket to go inside. Usually you'd get a tour guide during one of these things but Blair takes charge, showing me around every nook and cranny of this place. She also knows so much about everything within these circular walls. Explaining and detailing something after every twist and turn we make and take.

Once we're done in the Arena I check my watch again and the time is pushing onto seven o'clock already. There's that heart pinch again. But almost like she always knows, Blair brings me back to the present.

"Are you hungry?" She asks as we walk hand-in-hand.

"Mmm-not really, are you?" I reply.

"No, I'm still full from that pizza earlier, which I for one, can't believe I finished. Usually after two slices I'm ready to throw up...".

She stops speaking instantly.

My face twists, "Throw up? Why would?.."

I try to say something at least, but my stunned stuttering is cut off by Blair letting go of my hand and hugging herself closed. She freezes on the spot, her eyes off of mine and somewhere far away.

"Hey, look, don't worry about it..." I move closer towards her but she steps back. Shit.

"Look, I'll forget I heard that, Blair. I swear..." I put my hand out for her, but keep my feet planted in place, "...If you don't wanna talk about it, it's okay. I understand. Let's just...come, we can go get some dessert or whatever. Literally, whatever you want. Just take my hand and we can forget about it."

It takes a moment; a long moment in which she looked so far away from here, seemed as though her soul had left her body, the life had left her eyes; before she finally finds my eyes again.

She then looks down at the hand I have holding out for her, and after a second's worth of hesitation, she takes it in her own once again. Phew.

I squeeze her hand reassuringly before tugging her along to go and find a bakery. The walk is silent as I search the shops around us. It stays silent when I find a bakery not far away from where we were. It continues to be silent when we enter the bakery.

And the only noise that filters through my ears is that of the waiter at the door who showed us inside and seated us, the chatter of the other customers, the distant clattering of the bakers baking in the kitchen, and the tranquil music playing inside.

The waiter gives us a menu each and goes off to see to other orders. I peek at Blair to see how she's holding up. Her hands are tucked underneath her thighs as her eyes wander over the menu's front page. She's not flipping through the menu and she still hasn't said a word yet. She's just staring blankly at the menu.

The waiter comes back to our table and asks for our order, which causes Blair's eyes to flicker up immediately. I glance at her and she seems a little startled.

"Uhm, I'll have a slice of chocolate cake and she'll have a slice of apple pie, please." I tell the waiter.

He writes the order down and as he does that, Blair looks at me with surprised eyes.

"Anything to drink?" The waiter interrupts.

"Two lattes, please." I say again.

"Okay." The waiter takes our menus and walks off.

It doesn't take too long until our desserts are served and all throughout our short wait, Blair still doesn't say a thing. I'm trying my best not to think of possible scenarios for why she said what she said earlier. But if someone tells you that they regularly vomit after they eat, it sort of narrows the options down for you tremendously.

But I won't push her to say anything right now because clearly she doesn't want to say anything.

Reassuringly though, the tiniest of grins falls carelessly on her face as she munches on her apple pie. A tiny grin that sends my heart through the sky.

The silence becomes rather comfortable as we finish our deserts and sip on our lattes until they reach the bottom of the cup. When we're done, the waiter brings the bill, I pay for it, and then we make our way back into the street.

As we step outside, we're brushed by a gentle breeze and kissed by a summer sunset painting the clouds a pretty pink. There's a park with a fountain in the middle of it just across the street, so I take Blair's hand in mine and we go towards it. And to my relief, she squeezes my hand in return, tying a knot with our fingers as we walk.

When we get to the fountain we find a bench to sit on and watch the water shoot up and fall back down into the pool below. The pink sky above reflects onto the fountain below and the shooting water looks like diamonds sparkling gracefully through the air. I turn to Blair and find her eyes looking up at the summer clouds.

But she's barely even sitting on the bench though as her hands clutch around the seat's edge beneath her and her shoulders pull together, as if she's guarding herself.

It's been almost an hour since she's said anything and I'd be lying if I said wasn't worried. But there's nothing else I can do other than just be patient with her.

So I slump back into the bench, just using this time I have to admire how her soft features warms me more than the summer sun, and how her beauty exceeds that of the day breaking before us.

"How'd you know I'd eat the apple pie?" Blair murmurs out of the blue, her voice hardly audible.

"Sorry?"

"I was trying to figure out when I ever told you that apple pie was my favourite dessert but I can't remember if I did, so now I'm wondering, how did you know to get me that?" She says more clearly now, her eyes still up on the clouds though.

"Oh..." I chuckle and lean forward a little, "...I didn't know it was your favourite but I remember you saying something about it being a family tradition to have apple pie on thanksgiving I think. So yeah."

"Oh..." She smiles small, "...you're a good listener."

"I try my best." I smile back.

"Do you think you could lend me your ear once more...please?" She asks gently.

"Yeah, of course." I reply eagerly as I lean a little forward again.

As her eyes finally descend from the clouds and land on the ground, her hands also leave her sides and come together for her fingers to fidget with each other.

"So...you already know that my mother's never been the easiest on me. And well...in my family we always have these balls and pageants and stuff like that...so being able to fit into your dress or be light on your feet, those are things expected in my family. And the first time I became conscious of it was when I was 13 and my mom told me my cheeks were becoming 'too round'. It was the first time she ever commented on my body, but hardly the last. I was so young though, so I think a part of my innocence never took it to heart.

But the breaking point came when my dad pulled me to the side at my aunt's wedding one year and told me to keep my tummy tucked because after we ate I was looking 'a little too bloated' in my dress. All I remember after he said that was me running to the bathroom and just crying my eyes out. And that's when everything changed.

I stopped eating for days after the wedding, taking the hunger pangs away by eating ice blocks and forcing cotton balls down my throat. I chewed on gum just to give my body the sensation of eating. And when I couldn't take it anymore I made myself a slice of toast and ended up eating the whole loaf. I vomited everything out afterwards. I tried not to think about it but it happened after I ate a few times after. And on the times that it didn't happen, I'd go look in the mirror to see if my tummy was still flat. If my cheeks were still shaped. If my waist was still slim. I probably weighed myself twice a day during that time. But after two months I got so sick one day that I can't even remember how I got myself to the family doctor. But I did...and that's when I found out I was bulimic...I was 15, Dan." Tears gush out of Blair's eyes.

Instantly I pull her into me and try my best to console her. She buries her face into my chest and it's taking everything within me to stop myself from crying as well. After a moment, she snuffles and pulls herself away. Her eyes still can't look at me. I grab her hand though and squeeze it. She lets me.

"What did your parents say when they found out?" I ask.

"They don't know. I went alone and I had to bribe the doctor with these diamond earrings I had to not say anything to my parents..." Blair turns to me abruptly, her eyes looking into mine worriedly, "...nobody knows about this, Dan. Please, don't tell anyone." She begs, her voice broken and despairing.

"Blair...I...how did you deal with all of this? All by yourself? For so long?"

Her body softens ever so slightly, her shoulders fall ever so lightly, and she goes back to fidgeting with her fingers,

"In all honesty...I haven't dealt with it. I just live with it, I guess."

"Blair..." My eyes widen as my eyebrows furrow, the creases in my face filled with nothing but concern, "...have you gone to a therapist?"

"No." She says.

"Have you considered going?"

"...No."

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"Because?"

"Because I can't be fixed, Dan! Because I'm fucked up! Because I fuck up! Because it doesn't matter how many calories I lose or pills I pop or doctors I see, I'll always be fucking sick!..." Blair's face falls mercilessly into her hands, the tears streaming through her fingers, her cries paling through my heart.

My arms wrap around her immediately. If I could take her pain and make it all mine and mine alone, I would. But all I can offer is this lousy hug.

How am I supposed to leave her tomorrow after this? After finding out that she's been hurting for so long? And all she needs right now is just for someone to be there for her.

...