At first Serena stood where Chuck had left her in the middle of the room. Then with a deep sigh she looked away from where he had disappeared and instead looked over to her best friend still standing in the doorway.
“I am sorry B”, she a dit walking up to her, “I can’t believe he…listen… I am just gonna leave, there is no point talking to him when he is like this and despite everything I really need to tell my mom we found him. toi coming with me?”
Blair slowly turned her head and met her friend’s eyes, a blank expression on her face. And then she shook her head, still not saying a word.
“Okay”, Serena said, gently squeezing her Friends arm, “call me in a while?” And then she walked out of the room and headed for the elevator.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
She didn’t know how long she stood where Serena had left her, trying to sort through everything. She didn’t waste much energy on the fact that she had been looking for him at 1812 earlier that same jour without finding him there, about how worried she had been ou about where he had been and whit whom.
She stood there trying to come to grips with why seeing him drunk like that sent chills down her spine? She’d seen him drunk off his face many times before; as a matter of fact he was the first person she’d ever seen drunk in the first place.
She could still remember one time, the four of them must have been around fourteen and stopping at her place after a night out. Chuck had been a happy I-love-the-world-drunk for the night – for once carefree and impulsive – having a fantastic time while his less intoxicated Friends had all been exhausted. She could still picture Nate trying to drag Chuck into the elevator, struggling with one arm around his friend’s waist, while Chuck continued to try and get back into the penthouse, drunkenly persisting on making mac n’ cheese. Herself and Serena laughing so hard they had to sit down on the cold marble floor to prevent themselves from falling over – finding the idea of their friend even knowing how to boil water - ou actually eating mac n’ cheese in the first place - hilarious.
Nate had then finally managed to get his friend into the elevator and with the doors closing she and Serena had caught Chuck’s last slurry commentaire to Nate; “Come on, Nathaniel, who doesn’t like cheese?” Causing both her and Serena to collapse on the floor, tears running down their faces from laughing hysterically.
Naturally any mentioning of such a commentaire from Chuck basse, bass had been strictly banned from conversations, not to ever be brought up ever again. But still, those had been good times, she thought. It felt like a long time since she had seen a carefree, genuinely smiling – not smirking - Chuck
So it wasn’t that she hadn’t seen him in various states of drunk and disorderly. It was that she had never seen him like this she realized - never just drunk. Drunk and laughing with Nate, drunk and chatting up some aléatoire slut, drunk and heinous - sure, drunk and s’embrasser her... But never just drunk out of his mind with the same empty, dead expression that had been on his face on the jour of the funeral.
Disconnected.
She finally moved from the doorway, closing the door before heading for the bathroom where he had disappeared. What she saw when she entered the luxurious bathroom caused her cœur, coeur to swell. He was slouched over the toilet bowl, head resting on his arm, not as much as moving a muscle when she walked in.
“Chuck?” She called out, her voice sounding not quite like her. There was no answer, no movement. Was he ignoring her? She cleared her throat
“Hey, Bass?” Still not getting a response ou a reaction, she crouched down beside him, only to find him out cold.
Just great, she thought, contemplating the idea of trying to wake him up and deciding against it. He looked like he could need the rest. Even in his sleeping state he still looked tense - she could see the muscles in his jaw flexing and the frown on his forehead. She then considered moving him, but decided against that idea even quicker - she new exactly how heavy a not-fully-conscience-Chuck was, him having collapsed on haut, retour au début of her plus than once, if not in a plus pleasant situation. Not that she had been bothered about the weight then, but she figured it would be a different story this time. Weight lifting not really a pass time she usually indulged in.
So instead she left the bathroom and opted for the big fauteuil in his bedroom. Curling up in it, resting her head against the soft leather and closing her eyes. Relieved about finally knowing where he was she sat there in the dark room, and waited.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
When he woke up Chuck wasn’t quite sure where he was at first. The only thing familiar being the black nothingness in his chest, plus prominent now that some effect of the alcohol had wore off. I need a drink, he thought, his throat dry and a amer taste in his mouth. I need a drink right know. He slowly managed himself onto his feet and leaning against the sink he slowly filled a glass with water and emptied it within seconds. The cold water doing nothing to ease the feeling raging inside of him.
Room service, now.
Knowing there was a phone on the nightstand par his lit he left the bathroom and entered the dark bedroom. Sinking down on the lit he rested his head in his right hand while trying to locate the phone with the other – suddenly groaning out loud from the shots of pain rushing through his head as the room was lit up.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
Blair removed her hand from the lamp switch, looking over to his slouched profil sitting on the bed. His head buried in his hands, a muffled groan barely audible. One part of her ecstatic at the sight of him, one part worried wanting nothing else than to hold him close, one part simmering with anger thinking about the past couple of days. The worried part winning the battle between her emotions, she walked up to him and sat down suivant to him on the smooth satin of the bedspread covering the bed.
Chuck didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge her presence in any way. So she didn’t speak – she sat suivant to him in silence, her whole body aching to reach out and touch him. Her fingers eventually gave in and she slowly reached out touching the curls at the back of his head. Her cœur, coeur in her throat as he suddenly jolted and shot to his feet.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
He had known it was her as soon as the pain in his head eased off as his eyes slowly got used to the brightness of the room. Flashes of an angry Serena, Blair standing in the doorway, him being an cul, ass rushing through his head as he remembered what had happened earlier.
Why was she still here? A rush of panic shot through his insides, damnit, he needed that drink. When she sat down beside him he felt as if all oxygen went out of the room, he could sense her suivant to him, his skin tingling. Looking at her neither necessary nor possible he focused on breathing. One part of him angry with her for still being there, for not leaving. One part in pure panic, feeling as if tiny needles were pricking his insides causing the nothingness in his chest to grow bigger, darker. One part wanting nothing plus than to drown out every cohesive thought in his head. When he felt her fingers toughing the back of his head - the needles turning to spears, his breath stuck in his throat as he shot to his feet - the panic winning the battle of his emotions.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
She watched him as he threw himself in the direction of the nightstand, grabbing the phone.
“Room service? Scotch…” He was cut off as she hauled herself at the receiver, causing the phone to fall down on the floor and interrupting the call.
“Are toi out of toi mind?” She hissed, “what the hell do toi think toi are doing?! You’ve been passed out for two hours!”
“Whatever” his voice hoarse but still managing to sound slightly annoyed as he stood par the nightstand, eyes on the floor.
Drunk and annoyed
She forced herself to try and breathe calmly, anger starting to simmer inside of her, waiting for him to make the suivant move. To do something, say something, look at her. When he didn’t do any of those things, breathing calmly no longer helped.
“Where have toi been Chuck?” She asked him, anger in her voice now “Why didn’t toi tell me where toi were? Why didn’t toi tell your family where toi were? God, she sounded like a bitchy girlfriend, she thought, but she didn’t care. She wanted answers.
“I don’t have a family” He suddenly started to déplacer around the room, looking through clothes scattered across the room, checking the pockets of a veste with rushed movements.
There, she thought, a real, proper reaction. Even if what he was saying was so far off from reality.
“What about me?” she asked him, less anger in her voice, scared to ask not knowing what he’d answer. Sure he had to know he still had her? That he would always have her?
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
Where was it? He searched the room frantically, going through the clothes he had apparently scattered all over the bedroom. Where the hell were his veste and the bottle he had just remembered leaving in his pocket?
He could hear Blair’s question, it echoed in his head as he finally found the black veste par the dresser and pulled the bottle out of the pocket. He could feel her staring at him, the hairs at the back of his neck tingling, telling him she was waiting for him to respond. To answer her question. What about her? It was all about her, and nothing about her. He couldn’t stand having her around, a harsh reminder of everything as it had been. Before everything was destroyed.
Before he destroyed it all.
He took a swig from the bottle, hearing her say something but blocking it out and instead focusing on the burn in his throat as he swallowed. When he spoke his voice was cold.
“Just get out of my room”
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
At first she could hardly believe what she saw, why was the pockets of his 400$ veste filled with tiny liquor bottles? Then the words he spoke finally sunk in, a lump forming in her throat. Why, after all that they’d been through, did he insist on shutting her out?
“You can’t do this anymore Chuck. toi have to stop doing this to yourself” Her voice in total lack of anger now – pleading.
“Whatever, just get out of my room” He snapped, taking another swig from the bottle. Still with his back against her she could tell from looking at his shoulders and his back that he was starting to get angry.
“You can’t push everyone away, push me away” She ignored the lump in her throat even as it grew bigger at the harsh tone in his voice
“I don’t want toi here! Just get out of my room!”
Drunk and angry
What if he was telling the truth? The thought crossed her mind and she felt as if she’d been slapped across the face. What if he actually didn’t want her there, didn’t want ‘someday’ anymore? Didn’t people say that toi prioritized differently after loosing someone close to you? What if his father’s death had changed his mind, his priorities? Her eyes filled up, the thought too horrible. But then she looked over to him, taking in the shape of his back as he stood leaning against the dresser, the tension in his shoulders. The slow movement as he breathed slowly in and out. And she refused to believe a single word. He was still Chuck, her Chuck, her someday. There was no way in hell she’d let him push her away.
“NO” she called out, marching up to him, hand on his shoulder forcing him to turn around.
He shrugged her hand of his shoulder, but remained turned in her direction, eyes still pierced on the floor he stood there in silence.
NO! Not ‘whatever’, and NO I won’t leave!” She continued impatiently, a streak of anger back in her voice. Praying that she knew him just as well as she thought she did, and that she wasn’t forcing something on herself that she didn’t wish for. That she wasn’t making a huge mistake, giving him an opportunity to reject her.
“Would toi look at me?!” She spat out, grabbing a hold of his chin, twisting his face, forcing him to look at her. When he finally met her gaze there was a hint of something in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite read. She took a breath, and then the rest of her words, the ones still echoing in her head came spilling out; “DON’T toi GET IT? I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU! I LO…”
“Don’t” Breaking free from her grip he stumbled back, turning his back against her and clasping his fingers around the edge of the dresser. She could almost see him shivering.
Drunk and scared
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
“Don’t say anything. Just go, Blair” His time to plead out to her. He tried to breathe, tried to stop feeling like he would burst at any second, tried to stop behaving like a deer caught in headlights. Get it together Bass, he thought, get toi shit together and get her out of here.
He barely had time to finish his thoughts, all of a sudden she was right par his side again, his breath stuck in his throat. Staring down on his hands; one clasping the dark wood of the dresser, the other hand around an empty crystal carafe. Closing his eyes, focusing solemnly on the cool surface of the glass he slowly exhaled and felt the rushes of panic loose intensity.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
She was on the verge of loosing her mind. She was sure of that. Why did he have to be so damn stubborn? He had been there for her so many times throughout the years, he had been there when Nate hadn’t, when Serena hadn’t. He had fixed her so many times she could hardly keep track, she thought, why was it that he was so determined to shut her out? She was so frustrated she felt like banging his head against the wall, knock some sense into him.
“Would toi stop telling me to leave”, she hissed. “WHY won’t toi just let me be here for you?” She grabbed his arm once more, her grip firmer this time, pulling him in her direction. But once again he was stronger than her, and he broke free. But as he did so, he looked up at here, panic in his eyes now.
“Because I can’t breathe when you’re around!” He spat out in return.
“What? But…why? What are toi talking about?” she stuttered, surprised par his words and the look in his eyes.
“Because…” he looked tortured as he Lost his words, closing his eyes.
“Because what, Chuck? She asked. She felt as if she was watching a burning fuse waiting for something to explode. And in that instant, he did.
“Because it HURTS!” He cried out and with his fingers still firmly gripping the crystal carafe he smashed it against the dresser. Immediately breaking it, sending millions of tiny pieces flying. The sound of glass breaking echoing in 1812.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
They both stood there – like two statues – frozen. He was the first to move, twisting his hand around, sending plus pieces of shattered glass to the floor as they fell off his shirt.
She must have screamed, ou was it only in her head? She could feel a burn in her throat, as if she had been screaming at the haut, retour au début of her lungs, but she wasn’t sure. She stood there paralyzed just watching him. Until she saw the tiny trickle of red appearing in the palm of his hand.
“Damnit, Chuck!” She cursed, grabbing him par the wrist and dragging him across the room. Pushing him down on the side of the bed. “Don’t move”, looking down on his hand she forces herself to calm down and not go into panic mode. It doesn’t look serious, as a matter of fact it looked like barely anything at all, keep it together, Waldorf.
Walking into the bathroom she searched the cabinets until she found some antiseptic and some band aids. When she returned to the bedroom she found him still sitting in the same exact position as she had left him, looking down on the tiny trickle of blood.
“Here”; she said, taking his hand in hers. Scrutinizing it she found three tiny cuts. Cleaning them as carefully as possible before putting a band aid on one that looked bigger than the other two.
When she finished she didn’t let go of his hand. Instead she gently stroked his arm, squeezing his fingers with her other hand – careful not to squeeze the band aid ou the other cuts.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
When he finally moves again, he tilts his head up and looks at her. His eyes brimming with tears he slides his hand around her neck and kisses her lips. At first she hesitates, confused, but then she starts s’embrasser him back. A warmth in the pit of her stomach, her body reacting the same way it always does when his lips are on hers. But now she can feel them trembling, not from lust but from pain - and she knows she can’t go on. She breaks of the kiss.
“Have sex with me…” he whispers, his voice trailing off. And she recognizes his words, he has a dit them once before in a different time, a different world. “…please”
He kisses her again – frenetically - she falls back on the bed, his body covering hers. She can feel his entire body trembling now and with her cœur, coeur aching for him she ends the Kiss once more.
“Please...” He is begging now. A single tear landing on her collarbone as he bows his head down. Drawing in a ragged breath. She kisses the haut, retour au début of his head tenderly.
It is almost as if she can hear something break inside of him as he finally gives in to the feelings he has been fighting for so long. As he finally allows himself to feel. Sobs shaking his body he on to her as if he was drowning, his grip on the verge of hurting as he cries
Her own eyes filling up she draws him closer. One arm around his waist, one hand clutched in his hair. Her cheek against his. Closer until she can hardly tell the difference between their bodies.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
She doesn’t know how much passes by, but slowly the sobs die off, his breathing evens out and he falls asleep. Exhausted from it all. His head resting on her arm – for once not the other way around – one arm across her frame, their legs entwined.
So she lays there, exhausted as well, but happy in the way she’s only when he is around. Running her fingers along his jaw line, through his hair, using her fingers to gently erase the frown still on his forehead even as he sleeps. Then she reaches across his sleeping form, pulling the covers of the lit over them, creating a cocoon to keep them safe. And then she falls asleep as well, listening to the sound of his breathing.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
“I am sorry B”, she a dit walking up to her, “I can’t believe he…listen… I am just gonna leave, there is no point talking to him when he is like this and despite everything I really need to tell my mom we found him. toi coming with me?”
Blair slowly turned her head and met her friend’s eyes, a blank expression on her face. And then she shook her head, still not saying a word.
“Okay”, Serena said, gently squeezing her Friends arm, “call me in a while?” And then she walked out of the room and headed for the elevator.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
She didn’t know how long she stood where Serena had left her, trying to sort through everything. She didn’t waste much energy on the fact that she had been looking for him at 1812 earlier that same jour without finding him there, about how worried she had been ou about where he had been and whit whom.
She stood there trying to come to grips with why seeing him drunk like that sent chills down her spine? She’d seen him drunk off his face many times before; as a matter of fact he was the first person she’d ever seen drunk in the first place.
She could still remember one time, the four of them must have been around fourteen and stopping at her place after a night out. Chuck had been a happy I-love-the-world-drunk for the night – for once carefree and impulsive – having a fantastic time while his less intoxicated Friends had all been exhausted. She could still picture Nate trying to drag Chuck into the elevator, struggling with one arm around his friend’s waist, while Chuck continued to try and get back into the penthouse, drunkenly persisting on making mac n’ cheese. Herself and Serena laughing so hard they had to sit down on the cold marble floor to prevent themselves from falling over – finding the idea of their friend even knowing how to boil water - ou actually eating mac n’ cheese in the first place - hilarious.
Nate had then finally managed to get his friend into the elevator and with the doors closing she and Serena had caught Chuck’s last slurry commentaire to Nate; “Come on, Nathaniel, who doesn’t like cheese?” Causing both her and Serena to collapse on the floor, tears running down their faces from laughing hysterically.
Naturally any mentioning of such a commentaire from Chuck basse, bass had been strictly banned from conversations, not to ever be brought up ever again. But still, those had been good times, she thought. It felt like a long time since she had seen a carefree, genuinely smiling – not smirking - Chuck
So it wasn’t that she hadn’t seen him in various states of drunk and disorderly. It was that she had never seen him like this she realized - never just drunk. Drunk and laughing with Nate, drunk and chatting up some aléatoire slut, drunk and heinous - sure, drunk and s’embrasser her... But never just drunk out of his mind with the same empty, dead expression that had been on his face on the jour of the funeral.
Disconnected.
She finally moved from the doorway, closing the door before heading for the bathroom where he had disappeared. What she saw when she entered the luxurious bathroom caused her cœur, coeur to swell. He was slouched over the toilet bowl, head resting on his arm, not as much as moving a muscle when she walked in.
“Chuck?” She called out, her voice sounding not quite like her. There was no answer, no movement. Was he ignoring her? She cleared her throat
“Hey, Bass?” Still not getting a response ou a reaction, she crouched down beside him, only to find him out cold.
Just great, she thought, contemplating the idea of trying to wake him up and deciding against it. He looked like he could need the rest. Even in his sleeping state he still looked tense - she could see the muscles in his jaw flexing and the frown on his forehead. She then considered moving him, but decided against that idea even quicker - she new exactly how heavy a not-fully-conscience-Chuck was, him having collapsed on haut, retour au début of her plus than once, if not in a plus pleasant situation. Not that she had been bothered about the weight then, but she figured it would be a different story this time. Weight lifting not really a pass time she usually indulged in.
So instead she left the bathroom and opted for the big fauteuil in his bedroom. Curling up in it, resting her head against the soft leather and closing her eyes. Relieved about finally knowing where he was she sat there in the dark room, and waited.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
When he woke up Chuck wasn’t quite sure where he was at first. The only thing familiar being the black nothingness in his chest, plus prominent now that some effect of the alcohol had wore off. I need a drink, he thought, his throat dry and a amer taste in his mouth. I need a drink right know. He slowly managed himself onto his feet and leaning against the sink he slowly filled a glass with water and emptied it within seconds. The cold water doing nothing to ease the feeling raging inside of him.
Room service, now.
Knowing there was a phone on the nightstand par his lit he left the bathroom and entered the dark bedroom. Sinking down on the lit he rested his head in his right hand while trying to locate the phone with the other – suddenly groaning out loud from the shots of pain rushing through his head as the room was lit up.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
Blair removed her hand from the lamp switch, looking over to his slouched profil sitting on the bed. His head buried in his hands, a muffled groan barely audible. One part of her ecstatic at the sight of him, one part worried wanting nothing else than to hold him close, one part simmering with anger thinking about the past couple of days. The worried part winning the battle between her emotions, she walked up to him and sat down suivant to him on the smooth satin of the bedspread covering the bed.
Chuck didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge her presence in any way. So she didn’t speak – she sat suivant to him in silence, her whole body aching to reach out and touch him. Her fingers eventually gave in and she slowly reached out touching the curls at the back of his head. Her cœur, coeur in her throat as he suddenly jolted and shot to his feet.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
He had known it was her as soon as the pain in his head eased off as his eyes slowly got used to the brightness of the room. Flashes of an angry Serena, Blair standing in the doorway, him being an cul, ass rushing through his head as he remembered what had happened earlier.
Why was she still here? A rush of panic shot through his insides, damnit, he needed that drink. When she sat down beside him he felt as if all oxygen went out of the room, he could sense her suivant to him, his skin tingling. Looking at her neither necessary nor possible he focused on breathing. One part of him angry with her for still being there, for not leaving. One part in pure panic, feeling as if tiny needles were pricking his insides causing the nothingness in his chest to grow bigger, darker. One part wanting nothing plus than to drown out every cohesive thought in his head. When he felt her fingers toughing the back of his head - the needles turning to spears, his breath stuck in his throat as he shot to his feet - the panic winning the battle of his emotions.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
She watched him as he threw himself in the direction of the nightstand, grabbing the phone.
“Room service? Scotch…” He was cut off as she hauled herself at the receiver, causing the phone to fall down on the floor and interrupting the call.
“Are toi out of toi mind?” She hissed, “what the hell do toi think toi are doing?! You’ve been passed out for two hours!”
“Whatever” his voice hoarse but still managing to sound slightly annoyed as he stood par the nightstand, eyes on the floor.
Drunk and annoyed
She forced herself to try and breathe calmly, anger starting to simmer inside of her, waiting for him to make the suivant move. To do something, say something, look at her. When he didn’t do any of those things, breathing calmly no longer helped.
“Where have toi been Chuck?” She asked him, anger in her voice now “Why didn’t toi tell me where toi were? Why didn’t toi tell your family where toi were? God, she sounded like a bitchy girlfriend, she thought, but she didn’t care. She wanted answers.
“I don’t have a family” He suddenly started to déplacer around the room, looking through clothes scattered across the room, checking the pockets of a veste with rushed movements.
There, she thought, a real, proper reaction. Even if what he was saying was so far off from reality.
“What about me?” she asked him, less anger in her voice, scared to ask not knowing what he’d answer. Sure he had to know he still had her? That he would always have her?
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
Where was it? He searched the room frantically, going through the clothes he had apparently scattered all over the bedroom. Where the hell were his veste and the bottle he had just remembered leaving in his pocket?
He could hear Blair’s question, it echoed in his head as he finally found the black veste par the dresser and pulled the bottle out of the pocket. He could feel her staring at him, the hairs at the back of his neck tingling, telling him she was waiting for him to respond. To answer her question. What about her? It was all about her, and nothing about her. He couldn’t stand having her around, a harsh reminder of everything as it had been. Before everything was destroyed.
Before he destroyed it all.
He took a swig from the bottle, hearing her say something but blocking it out and instead focusing on the burn in his throat as he swallowed. When he spoke his voice was cold.
“Just get out of my room”
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
At first she could hardly believe what she saw, why was the pockets of his 400$ veste filled with tiny liquor bottles? Then the words he spoke finally sunk in, a lump forming in her throat. Why, after all that they’d been through, did he insist on shutting her out?
“You can’t do this anymore Chuck. toi have to stop doing this to yourself” Her voice in total lack of anger now – pleading.
“Whatever, just get out of my room” He snapped, taking another swig from the bottle. Still with his back against her she could tell from looking at his shoulders and his back that he was starting to get angry.
“You can’t push everyone away, push me away” She ignored the lump in her throat even as it grew bigger at the harsh tone in his voice
“I don’t want toi here! Just get out of my room!”
Drunk and angry
What if he was telling the truth? The thought crossed her mind and she felt as if she’d been slapped across the face. What if he actually didn’t want her there, didn’t want ‘someday’ anymore? Didn’t people say that toi prioritized differently after loosing someone close to you? What if his father’s death had changed his mind, his priorities? Her eyes filled up, the thought too horrible. But then she looked over to him, taking in the shape of his back as he stood leaning against the dresser, the tension in his shoulders. The slow movement as he breathed slowly in and out. And she refused to believe a single word. He was still Chuck, her Chuck, her someday. There was no way in hell she’d let him push her away.
“NO” she called out, marching up to him, hand on his shoulder forcing him to turn around.
He shrugged her hand of his shoulder, but remained turned in her direction, eyes still pierced on the floor he stood there in silence.
NO! Not ‘whatever’, and NO I won’t leave!” She continued impatiently, a streak of anger back in her voice. Praying that she knew him just as well as she thought she did, and that she wasn’t forcing something on herself that she didn’t wish for. That she wasn’t making a huge mistake, giving him an opportunity to reject her.
“Would toi look at me?!” She spat out, grabbing a hold of his chin, twisting his face, forcing him to look at her. When he finally met her gaze there was a hint of something in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite read. She took a breath, and then the rest of her words, the ones still echoing in her head came spilling out; “DON’T toi GET IT? I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU! I LO…”
“Don’t” Breaking free from her grip he stumbled back, turning his back against her and clasping his fingers around the edge of the dresser. She could almost see him shivering.
Drunk and scared
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
“Don’t say anything. Just go, Blair” His time to plead out to her. He tried to breathe, tried to stop feeling like he would burst at any second, tried to stop behaving like a deer caught in headlights. Get it together Bass, he thought, get toi shit together and get her out of here.
He barely had time to finish his thoughts, all of a sudden she was right par his side again, his breath stuck in his throat. Staring down on his hands; one clasping the dark wood of the dresser, the other hand around an empty crystal carafe. Closing his eyes, focusing solemnly on the cool surface of the glass he slowly exhaled and felt the rushes of panic loose intensity.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
She was on the verge of loosing her mind. She was sure of that. Why did he have to be so damn stubborn? He had been there for her so many times throughout the years, he had been there when Nate hadn’t, when Serena hadn’t. He had fixed her so many times she could hardly keep track, she thought, why was it that he was so determined to shut her out? She was so frustrated she felt like banging his head against the wall, knock some sense into him.
“Would toi stop telling me to leave”, she hissed. “WHY won’t toi just let me be here for you?” She grabbed his arm once more, her grip firmer this time, pulling him in her direction. But once again he was stronger than her, and he broke free. But as he did so, he looked up at here, panic in his eyes now.
“Because I can’t breathe when you’re around!” He spat out in return.
“What? But…why? What are toi talking about?” she stuttered, surprised par his words and the look in his eyes.
“Because…” he looked tortured as he Lost his words, closing his eyes.
“Because what, Chuck? She asked. She felt as if she was watching a burning fuse waiting for something to explode. And in that instant, he did.
“Because it HURTS!” He cried out and with his fingers still firmly gripping the crystal carafe he smashed it against the dresser. Immediately breaking it, sending millions of tiny pieces flying. The sound of glass breaking echoing in 1812.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
They both stood there – like two statues – frozen. He was the first to move, twisting his hand around, sending plus pieces of shattered glass to the floor as they fell off his shirt.
She must have screamed, ou was it only in her head? She could feel a burn in her throat, as if she had been screaming at the haut, retour au début of her lungs, but she wasn’t sure. She stood there paralyzed just watching him. Until she saw the tiny trickle of red appearing in the palm of his hand.
“Damnit, Chuck!” She cursed, grabbing him par the wrist and dragging him across the room. Pushing him down on the side of the bed. “Don’t move”, looking down on his hand she forces herself to calm down and not go into panic mode. It doesn’t look serious, as a matter of fact it looked like barely anything at all, keep it together, Waldorf.
Walking into the bathroom she searched the cabinets until she found some antiseptic and some band aids. When she returned to the bedroom she found him still sitting in the same exact position as she had left him, looking down on the tiny trickle of blood.
“Here”; she said, taking his hand in hers. Scrutinizing it she found three tiny cuts. Cleaning them as carefully as possible before putting a band aid on one that looked bigger than the other two.
When she finished she didn’t let go of his hand. Instead she gently stroked his arm, squeezing his fingers with her other hand – careful not to squeeze the band aid ou the other cuts.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
When he finally moves again, he tilts his head up and looks at her. His eyes brimming with tears he slides his hand around her neck and kisses her lips. At first she hesitates, confused, but then she starts s’embrasser him back. A warmth in the pit of her stomach, her body reacting the same way it always does when his lips are on hers. But now she can feel them trembling, not from lust but from pain - and she knows she can’t go on. She breaks of the kiss.
“Have sex with me…” he whispers, his voice trailing off. And she recognizes his words, he has a dit them once before in a different time, a different world. “…please”
He kisses her again – frenetically - she falls back on the bed, his body covering hers. She can feel his entire body trembling now and with her cœur, coeur aching for him she ends the Kiss once more.
“Please...” He is begging now. A single tear landing on her collarbone as he bows his head down. Drawing in a ragged breath. She kisses the haut, retour au début of his head tenderly.
It is almost as if she can hear something break inside of him as he finally gives in to the feelings he has been fighting for so long. As he finally allows himself to feel. Sobs shaking his body he on to her as if he was drowning, his grip on the verge of hurting as he cries
Her own eyes filling up she draws him closer. One arm around his waist, one hand clutched in his hair. Her cheek against his. Closer until she can hardly tell the difference between their bodies.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
She doesn’t know how much passes by, but slowly the sobs die off, his breathing evens out and he falls asleep. Exhausted from it all. His head resting on her arm – for once not the other way around – one arm across her frame, their legs entwined.
So she lays there, exhausted as well, but happy in the way she’s only when he is around. Running her fingers along his jaw line, through his hair, using her fingers to gently erase the frown still on his forehead even as he sleeps. Then she reaches across his sleeping form, pulling the covers of the lit over them, creating a cocoon to keep them safe. And then she falls asleep as well, listening to the sound of his breathing.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
