The garage was a display of opulent sports luxury cars, some of which belonged to Bart but were rarely driven, while others were Lily's, left to gather dust. It was like a motor museum filled with vehicles that most people could only dream of owning in several lifetimes. The scent of gasoline mixed with cleaning products hung in the air. Much like every corner of Lily's beach house, the garage was immaculate, every surface gleaming, in what was typically the dirtiest part of the house.
Chuck's sport motorcycle occupied a corner of the garage, almost inconspicuous amidst the grandiose vehicles. Not that the motorcycle was in any way inferior. The red Ducati stood boldly in its vibrant color, a symbol of Chuck's escape and freedom. It allowed him to feel the rush of the wind, the exhilaration of speed.
Chuck and Blair approached the two-wheeled machine, with Blair hesitating and following a few paces behind him. Her eyes darted around, as if she had never been in such a place. For someone accustomed to chauffeurs and being chauffeured everywhere, the prospect of a motorcycle was akin to stepping into an entirely alien world. However, that was about to change.
"I'm not getting on that," Blair declared after a few minutes of contemplative silence.
Chuck reached for the all-black helmet resting on the Ducati's seat and extended it toward Blair, expecting her to take it.
Blair vehemently shook her head. "No, no, no. Absolutely not."
"Don't be so high-maintenance."
"Pot calling the kettle black. I'm not ruining my hair with a helmet."
Acting on impulse rather than thought, he reached out to tousle her hair, but she quickly retreated from his touch.
"Don't you even dare."
Chuck couldn't help but smile at the look of absolute horror on Blair's face. "Come on, grab the helmet. It's as stylish as one of your designer hats."
"Don't insult my hairpieces like that." Blair retorted.
He gently nudged the helmet closer to her until she had no choice but to take it. Meanwhile, she scanned the garage, searching for her next excuse.
"Chuck, I'm wearing a dress," she pointed out.
Chuck burst into laughter at the obvious remark. "So?"
"It's going to get ruined." Blair wrinkled her nose in disapproval.
"There's no one here that cares," he assured her.
"I do! Blair Waldorf cannot be anything less than perfect, and that includes keeping this dress immaculate."
"Maybe it's time for her to try something different. Just trust me."
"Don't act like you wouldn't be annoyed if I tore apart one of those purple shirts you love so much," Blair countered with a playful challenge.
He would gladly let her.
Chuck's voice dropped to a sultry whisper, his desire thinly veiled in his tone. "I wouldn't dream of harming that exquisite dress of yours," he said, his eyes moving down her body, tracing every curve as her dress clung to her figure. "Unless, of course, you'd like me to."
"Ugh, get your mind out of the gutter."
His fingers ached to touch her, but he resisted the temptation, maintaining a respectful distance. As the air became more charged, Blair shifted her focus.
"I'm not getting on a damn bike. Look at it, it's dangerous. I'm sure you don't even have a permit…" Blair began to list all the potential risks and dangers of the highway as well as his supposed under qualification to handle it. She was relentless, but Chuck didn't care.
He had brought her there with a purpose, and if he knew one thing about Blair Waldorf was that she thrived on challenges and dares. To get her to step out of her comfort zone, all he needed to do was suggest she couldn't do something, and she'd prove him wrong. So, he continued to push, because Blair wanted to escape, and Chuck simply wanted to be with her.
"Have you stopped complaining already? We're not getting…" he paused from dramatic effect. "On this one."
Her cherry lips formed a big 'O'.
"You have more of them?"
"Yes, but—"
"I still can't believe you know how to ride a bike."
"There is plenty you don't know about me, Waldorf."
She shifted her expression, her eyes growing sadder.
"Don't worry, that means I can still surprise you." He touched her arm, signaling her to follow him.
Helmet in Blair's hand, they turned and approached a room to the left. Chuck swiftly input a code and pressed a button on the wall, the reassuring success sound signifying the door's readiness to open. With Blair closely in tow, he swung the door open. And there it was, his absolute favorite. While the red motorcycle might have been more expensive and extravagant, attracting the attention of all who beheld it, the one before them held a special place in his heart. The black cruiser, meticulously crafted from the ground up based on a Royal Enfield, had been entirely customized for him.
A white helmet with a red stripe down its center dangled from one of the handlebars, its open front allowing the rider to feel the wind. The motorcycle looked very impressive, and Chuck couldn't help but swell with pride. Blair's smile was almost imperceptible.
"Where are we really going?"
"Does it matter?" Chuck replied in a soft voice, knowing that question didn't require an answer.
He grabbed the helmet and handed it to Blair, who now held both. With a swift movement, he removed the kickstand with his foot and began maneuvering the motorcycle out of the cramped storage room.
Once they were outside, Chuck pressed the button to open the main garage door and straddled the handcrafted cruiser, steadying it with his feet on the ground. He signaled Blair to pass him the black helmet and instructed her to put the other one on.
Blair scrutinized the helmet as if expecting it to transform magically.
"It doesn't bite."
"Are you sure?" She continued to study the helmet, her hands caressing its circular form. "Chuck, do I really have to?"
"Yes. I'm not negotiating that."
"Turn your head."
"What?"
"I don't want you looking at me as I put it on."
Chuck was about to protest, but he did as told. Blair was fraught with insecurities, and though he truly believed she had no reason to be, this wasn't about him. Not at all.
"You can look now," she said with a shaky voice.
She looked charming in her gray-blue dress and the white and red helmet. He couldn't fathom why she complained so much; she looked great in practically anything. Chuck placed his helmet in front of him and reached out to her. Blair moved closer, allowing him to secure the helmet with a satisfying click. Her eyes remained averted as he gently patted the top of her now helmeted head.
"You're going to pay for this."
"I can't wait. Hop on and hold tight," Chuck said, placing his hand on the vacant leather seat behind him, a mischievous smirk on his face.
"You wish," Blair huffed, her demeanor as dignified as ever.
With an air of determination, she balanced herself with one foot on the footrest and one hand on Chuck's shoulder as she swung one leg over the seat and hopped on. Chuck shifted to accommodate her, his shoulders tensing.
Once she was securely seated, Blair positioned herself as far away from Chuck as possible, but Chuck didn't say anything. No quick remark or innuendo. At that moment, the reality of the situation hit him. Here he was, as sober as he'd ever been, willingly revealing one of the most sacred parts of himself. What made this different was that he wasn't just showing it to Blair; he was sharing it with her, all in the name of friendship and the simple desire to make her happy. He couldn't quite understand why he felt this way, and the specter of his stoic father loomed, threatening to cast a shadow over them.
With a resolute shake of his head, Chuck refused to allow his father to spoil this particular moment. Bart had already ruined much of his life, but these quiet moments with Blair, where he could be unapologetically himself, were too precious to surrender. He was well aware that they would likely come with regret, and that ultimately he might end up hurting her. Nevertheless, he believed there would be ample time in the future to atone for his mistakes.
"Chuck!" Her high-pitched exclamation caught him off guard, nearly causing the black helmet to slip to the ground.
"What?" Chuck stammered.
"My dress."
"What happened?" His voice was notably calmer.
"Nothing! It's just... Everyone is going to see.. Well, everything."
He tried to sneak a peek, but Blair smacked his shoulder.
"Don't look."
He chuckled softly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Sorry," he whispered, his voice tinged with amusement. "Just move closer and stick to me."
"That was your plan all along, right?"
"You'll never know."
Chuck put on his helmet and ignited the motorcycle's engine, unleashing a powerful growl that reverberated through the garage. The vibrations under his feet mirrored the electric tension in the air. Startled by the sudden roar and the motorcycle's tantalizing instability, Blair inched closer and firmly gripped his shoulder, one hand still brushing the seat. Maybe, just maybe, if he could…
He let go of the clutch lever a bit abruptly, causing the motorcycle to surge forward, and a stifled gasp escaped Blair's lips. In response, her hands left their prior position and clung fervently to the fabric of his shirt on either side of his torso. Her body pressed hungrily against his, seeking the warmth and reassurance of his presence. As the fragrance of her perfume blended with the scent of gasoline in the air, her grip on his shirt slowly relaxed, and her hands found a new tempting resting place on his chest.
A feverish heat enveloped Chuck's chest, a broad smile stretched across his face. It felt better than he had ever imagined.
In that singular moment, with her arms coiled possessively around his chest and her thighs provocatively pressed against his, Chuck could have died a happy man. Concealing his ear-to-ear grin behind the helmet, he revved the engine once more, sending a surge of exhilaration coursing through both of them. Gently lifting his feet off the ground, they ventured out of the garage and onto the moonlit streets of the Hamptons.
With Blair nestled behind him on the motorcycle, Chuck could feel the tension that had clung to her throughout the day slowly melt away. The rigid lines on her face softened, and a serene smile began to grace her lips. As the bike hummed beneath them, the warm evening air played with her hair, tousling the meticulously styled waves.
Blair's body adapted to the rhythm of the ride with every twist and turn of the motorcycle. Her hands, previously clasped tightly in front of Chuck's chest, now gave her the space to lean back. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting the breeze caress her skin and whisk away her burdens, replacing them with a profound feeling of liberation. Chuck could sense every emotion she experienced.
Seated securely on the bike, Blair released her grip on him and extended her arms slightly, as if testing her newfound freedom.
Chuck couldn't recall a moment when he had seen Blair like this, completely letting go, forgetting about everything and everyone. The serenity on her face was a rare sight, and he would give anything to witness it every day of his life. Why was someone who seemingly had everything needed to be happy so goddamn miserable all the time? It was a question he could just as easily ask himself.
To maintain her balance, Blair's thighs tightened against his own.
She had no idea what she did to him.
He had to slow the bike briefly to prevent any mishaps, and she responded with laughter, like music in the night, filling the air as they navigated the streets without a specific destination in mind.
It sucked to accept that he would never be the one to bring her the happiness she needed. Blair was well beyond his reach, and he was acutely aware of it. She deserved an Archibald, someone seemingly perfect on paper, not a Bass, flawed in every sense. Blair was everything he desired, while he epitomized everything she despised. Chuck had pledged to himself on numerous occasions to avoid this perilous path, yet he continually faltered, letting down both himself and the esteemed Bass family name. He had tried to quell this desire, even attempting to kill it once and for all, but it persisted, a relentless presence. He could even admit that, at this very moment, with her on the back of his cherished motorcycle, it was stronger than ever. The contact of her thighs and the subtle touch of her hands served as a constant, torturous reminder that might drive him to madness. The most excruciating part was not merely knowing that she'd never see him the way she saw Nate, but the painful realization that even if she did, he would inevitably hurt her. And that was something he refused to do.
In that very moment, Blair closed the gap between their bodies, her arm draping over his neck, hand resting on the opposite shoulder, with her chin nestled upon it. There wasn't a single inch separating them, and Chuck's stubborn heart raced uncontrollably. Pleasure began to shift into pain, and he fought to maintain his composure, recognizing that the night was not about him or his unrequited feelings. He couldn't afford to let it show, and he hoped that his body would cooperate.
They rode on for another hour until Chuck finally brought the motorcycle to a halt in front of a nearby convenience store. He removed his helmet and turned to Blair. The wind had given her cheeks a rosy hue, and her lips appeared slightly parched. She was surely going to have a fight once she assessed the state of her hair, but her eyes sparkled with a blend of determination and exhilaration.
"Why are we stopping?" she pouted.
"Now you're enjoying it?" Chuck teased.
"I didn't say that."
"You don't have to. I know you loved the feel of holding onto me for over an hour."
"I… I didn't," Blair stuttered, her cheeks now a deeper shade of crimson. It was hard to determine whether the flush was a result of the ride or his words.
"Hey, you didn't hear me complaining."
"Chuck… Don't ruin it," she requested with a gentle tone. "Please."
Chuck nodded and removed the key, swinging his leg over the bike and securing it with the side stand. He should have known better than to tease her at that moment. While their ride might have provided a brief escape, it wouldn't solve everything. Healing would take time, a lot of it, but if anyone could do it, it was Blair.
As he moved to assist Blair in dismounting the motorcycle, she unclasped her helmet, allowing Chuck time to tend to the bike while she sorted out her hair. Blair fussed over her locks, attempting to rectify the tangle of curls.
"Don't say anything," she warned him.
"You are as beautiful as ever," the compliment escaped Chuck's lips, his words seemingly bypassing her previous request. He picked up her helmet from the sidewalk, now holding them both in one hand.
Blair's gaze frantically swept her surroundings once she realized they were not in the upscale part of the Hamptons they typically frequented. They stood out in their designer clothes that cost a fortune, surrounded by pedestrians in cheap floral shirts, beach shorts and sandals. However, no one paid Chuck and Blair any mind.
Before Blair could voice her concerns, Chuck changed the subject. "When was the last time you had a proper meal?"
"This morning. Why do you ask?" Blair responded, distracted by the fashion crimes of the locals. "Ew. Is she really wearing flip-flops?"
"Since the cherries?"
She nodded, her hand smacking his stomach. "Look at those ripped jeans! I can practically see their entire leg. It's an abomination. Why do they even bother?"
Chuck couldn't help but laugh at her outrage.
"I'm not joking, Chuck. Why are you so casual about this? Since when did you become one of them? You're scaring me."
Chuck raised an eyebrow. "I'm simply having a little fun, Waldorf. I haven't gone all 'commoner' on you, don't worry. Leave the flip-flops to Humphrey; they suit him better."
"Don't even mention him."
"If you don't divert the subject," he urged, nodding toward the store. "Do you want something to eat?"
"No."
"It's been nearly fifteen hours."
"I'm fine."
She was certainly not fine, but Chuck didn't push further. For now.
"Well, I am hungry," he lied; he wasn't. He had dinner at the house before retiring to his room in what seemed like a peaceful and uneventful evening. Still, Chuck was willing to go into the dirty local store if it meant Blair would eat. "So, I'm going in. Are you coming?"
"You can't leave me here," she started following him inside. "They could assault me or something."
"Or something."
Though they were far from the Upper East Side or the extravagant beachfront mansions, they were not in a dangerous neighborhood by any means. Middle-class residents passed by, engrossed in their everyday lives and concerns.
When Blair reached his side, she grasped his arm and remained close as they navigated the store's narrow aisles. She could get lost, or something. The old woman at the cashier's desk peered at them and smiled warmly. Chuck deliberately ignored the beers and stronger alcoholic beverages that seemed to be calling his name, loud and clear. Instead, he chose a veggie sandwich, a fruit salad, and a bottle of water, fitting them inside their helmets as makeshift baskets. Not that Chuck was accustomed to grocery shopping, but paying was a familiar process. Money spoke a universal language.
Blair cast a quizzical glance at Chuck in response to his choice of food, and the cashier couldn't help but interject with a sweet, grandmotherly tone, "Young love, isn't it wonderful?"
"Oh, no, no," Chuck began to protest.
Blair, however, couldn't help but blush and glanced nervously at Chuck, who was equally taken aback.
The woman simply waved her hand dismissively and chuckled, "No need to deny it, my dears. It's written all over your faces."
Blair stammered as she distanced herself from Chuck. "We're just friends."
"Exactly, just friends," Chuck chimed in, trying to regain his composure.
But the cashier beamed at them, amused, and began ringing up their items with a knowing smile. "You can't fool an old lady like me."
Uncertain of how to respond, Chuck paid for their purchases and turned to leave the store, his cheeks flushed and an unsettling feeling in his gut.
As they exited, the woman called out, "Enjoy your evening. And remember, love is the greatest gift of all."
Chuck loosened the top button of his shirt, the heat of the night becoming more apparent, or at least that's what he told himself.
Resuming their journey, Chuck and Blair returned to the motorcycle, its engine roaring to life once more. They ventured through the unfamiliar streets, the distant memory of the cashier's nosy comment lingering in the night air. Chuck had offered to take Blair back to the beach house, but her fervent refusal had taken him by surprise. The old lady's remark had shifted the course of their evening, making it feel more real and unguarded, especially for him. However, Blair appeared unbothered, and Chuck was determined to follow her lead.
This time, Blair hadn't uttered a word about her hair or the state of her dress. With swift grace, she had mounted the bike and held onto him firmly. It was a sensation Chuck was beginning to get used to, and that both excited and unnerved him, more than he was willing to admit.
The distant sound of crashing waves beckoned them to the beach, its magnetic pull impossible to resist.
As they parked and stepped onto the moonlit shore, the balmy night air enveloped them. Blair's eyes met Chuck's, and for a moment, it seemed as though something unspoken hung between them.
"Would you like to have something to eat now?" Chuck finally broke the silence. He had consciously avoided this conversation for most of the night, trying to respect her need for escape, but he couldn't ignore her physical well-being any longer. That was rich for someone whose body was largely fueled by alcohol and drugs.
"I thought it was for you."
"I know you don't want anyone patronizing you, so I won't answer that. Don't act like a fool when you know damn well you're anything but that."
Blair crossed her arms defensively. "I don't want to eat. I told you, I'm fine."
"I'm amazed you're still on your feet right now."
"I said I'm fine." At that moment, her stomach growled, and she quickly put her hands on her belly to stifle the sound.
The hospital was not supposed to be the next destination on this trip.
"Blair, I heard you."
"What?"
"This afternoon."
"Who do you think you are? My mother? Clearly not, because she would be thrilled that her precious child was starving to keep her calorie count down, wouldn't she? 'Avoid this, steer clear of that, and for heaven's sake, no more of those. Keep that figure in line. That dress can't afford any extra baggage. And what's with that roll?'"
"I don't want us to fight. I'm just worried."
"Then stop worrying. I didn't ask you to." Blair dropped the paper bag that contained the food to the ground and quickly walked to an isolated spot on the beach, creating distance between them.
Chuck sighed. That went well.
Taking a deep breath, Chuck picked up the bag and approached Blair, his footsteps leaving imprints in the soft sand. She sat on the beach with her knees drawn up to her chest, gazing out at the dark expanse of the ocean. Though her hair was slightly tousled from the ride, it still looked impeccable.
Chuck settled down beside her, keeping a respectful distance. He didn't want to invade her space, but he wanted her to know he was there if she needed him.
"Blair," he began softly, "I understand you don't want to talk about it, and I won't push you. But you don't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you, whatever you need."
Blair remained silent, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon. Chuck couldn't help but feel a pang of powerlessness. He cared about her deeply, but he also knew the depths of her pride and independence.
After a while, she extended her hand to him, and Chuck, as if reading her mind, opened the sandwich and passed it to her. He mimicked her posture, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his arms on them, his head turning to face her. Blair took a small bite and then paused.
"Can you… not look at me while I eat?"
He smiled. "Of course."
Chuck turned around, his back now facing her side. He focused on the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore, letting her have her moment of privacy.
"Thank you," Blair said quietly.
"Anytime."
"Not just for this. For tonight."
"I'm really sorry about the way it ended up."
"It's not over yet."
Then, why did it feel like it was? Chuck couldn't shake the feeling that he had somehow irreparably damaged the serenity of the evening. He hadn't intended to be the cause of more pain, and yet, here they were. She had sought an escape, and she had trusted him to provide it but, as usual, he couldn't keep his mouth shut, ultimately dragging her demons back into the forefront. He questioned whether his intentions were genuinely driven by concern and selflessness, or if he was merely the same egoistical individual as always, unable to bear witness to her suffering for his own selfish reasons.
He lay down on the sand, the stars in the sky shining bright, and Blair joined him after finishing her food. She turned to him, her hand gently touching his arm.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft.
Chuck let out a heavy breath, looking up at the starry sky. "Why are you asking me that?"
"You know you also deserve to be happy, right?"
"That train left a long time ago." A melancholic smile touched Chuck's lips.
"You don't have to carry the burden of your father's mistakes forever."
"They're not just my father's mistakes. They're mine as well. I can't blame him for everything I choose to do. Some mistakes, some choices, they stick with you."
"You can't let them define your entire life. You have the power to change, to be different, to find happiness. That I know."
"Do you? What if I don't know how to be different? What if I'm too broken to change?"
"You're not broken. You've been through a lot, but that doesn't make you any less deserving of happiness. You have people who care about you, who want to see you happy."
He wasn't sure he believed that.
"I wish more than anything that you could see that for yourself, Blair."
"Let's both try."
With that, they lapsed into a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves and the company of each other soothing their troubled souls. In that moment, the beach became a sanctuary, a place where their shared pain and understanding forged a bond stronger than ever.