Chapter 8 of Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass

Author: Isabelle

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

A/N – My BETA, Tati, deserves an award because she BETAs super fast and never complains. Love her!

--

March 1, 2009

Hello, my dearest journal. When I found you today, I noticed a light layer of dust on your cover. I picked you up and carefully dusted you, inspecting what you were and knowing you with my own mind (not the confused one). You were quite a friend to me during those weeks of loneliness and of total lost.

So I felt I had abandoned you, like I had abandoned other things.

Lets see… Where did I leave off? Yes. I had been arrested, realized I loved Chuck Bass… And then I remembered.

It feels like a lifetime ago that I regained my memories.

All the time I was without them, I wanted them back so badly, it burned. When I acquired them, they still burned.

They took me to the hospital when I confessed I could remember, and it was Serena that held me until we got there because Chuck couldn't look at me and I recoiled at his touch. I remember it like it was yesterday.

The inept doctor was in Miami, so I got helped by another inept doctor. No concussions, no brain trauma. Sometimes memories just come back. Just like people.

When the doctor left, I noticed Chuck was not there.

"Where's Chuck?" I asked.

"He left." Nate was the one who responded.

And I was glad because I couldn't look at him right then.

I was kept overnight for observation, and Serena stayed with me.

"I'm sorry for everything," she told me, and I pressed my forehead to hers because despite, everything we were sisters and always would be.

"Me too," I replied.

She sneaked in some yogurt and bagels from Dean & Deluca at 5am since my stomach wouldn't stop growling. It was a good thing one of her mother's ex-husbands had been the owner of the chain. They still called her 'Rena,' and they let her in once they began the baking in the mornings.

The bagels were warm and creamy, and we sat on my bed, ignoring the disapproving looks from the nurses.

"Are you going to forgive him?" She asked me and I knew exactly who she's talking about.

"There's nothing to forgive," I told her after a while.

She looked at me questioningly.

"We've both hurt each other. I prefer a clean slate."

She nodded at this, and then I stole her pumpkin bagel.

--

I found her pretty quickly a few days later. She was sweeping the sad little shop and she paused when she saw me.

"Hey," she said, stopping the sweep and staring at me.

"Hi," I greeted her, looking around. "I wanted to say I was sorry."

Vanessa blinked at me, and then motioned to a seat.

"Latte?" She asked.

"Non-fat."

She smiled and nodded.

She placed two warm cups between us and sat down, staring at me.

"I didn't know," she confessed. "And I… Nate just turns me into this girl that I don't even recognize."

I stared at her as she held her cup strongly in her caramel hands. Her nails were painted neon green.

"I mean, I used to be this person in control. In charge. I knew what I was going to do, what I was going to say…"

I was staring at her because I suddenly saw myself in her. I knew what was like to lose that control, to not know where you stand because a man has also done that to me.

Only it's not Nate. It's Chuck.

"He's been here, you know," she said after we lapse into comfortable silence.

I gave her a questioning look because Chuck would never—

"Chuck," she finished. "He took some coffee and just stared at the window."

I thanked her for the coffee and invited her to the 'welcome back, Blair' party Serena was planning.

We're not friends. We're just ok with each other.

--

"I'm rather sad that these conversations are coming to an end," Dr. Fiore told me.

"Is that how it makes you feel?" I asked, smirking.

She smiled back.

"Yes. Yes it is."

She's not that bad. I did advise her to change her name if she's planning on re-marrying.

--

I found him finishing his run in the morning, and he paused when he saw me. Obviously stunned. Not even when we were going out would I be out in the park unless it was fashion week.

"You lost?" He asked, but there was a smile on his face.

I smiled back.

"No, actually. I came to find you," I told him.

He nodded. "Ok. Find me you did."

"Lets walk," I said, trying not to demand because I'm no one to usher him around anymore.

We walked for a bit, in silence as the park came alive around us – the smell of Christmas was in the air.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

I looked him over. "Lonely."

He nodded. "I guess no one can really understand."

I nodded. "I talked to Vanessa the other day."

He stopped, looking me over. "Blair—"

I smiled, holding up my hand. "Easy Archibald – it was all niceties."

He looked me over skeptically. Granted, I'm a bitch most of the time and he has no right to trust me. But this time, I was being honestly honest, and I guess he saw it because he relaxed a bit.

"She reminds me of… me. Of how… Chuck has changed me in a way… I can't explain it. Like you're doing to her what Chuck has done to me."

He was still looking as confused as ever. I let out a breath.

"You've got a good girl there, Nate. Don't waste it," I nodded at him.

We walked for a while longer when he stopped. "Look, he's my best friend, and I'm supposed to be on his side anyway, but… He's miserable without you. Always has been."

I didn't dare look at him because I liked the snow and was slightly fascinated by the bits of it left on the side of the walkway.

"During the entire summer, while you were with Marcus, while you two had your little battle – he was just miserable," He continued even though I wanted him to stop and keep going at the same time. "You've got a good guy there, Blair. Don't waste it."

I finally smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

"I'll see you later, Archibald."

And we went our own separate ways.

--

You may be wondering by now why Chuck and I are not together? Why we're not talking when it seems like the entire universe is conspiring to get us back together. Well, that's when it gets complicated.

At the hospital, he left because he knew I wasn't comfortable with him around. When I woke after my bagel binge with Serena, there was a bouquet of flowers by my bedside. The card read;

Blair,

Find me when you're ready.

Love always,

Chuck

This time I didn't crumble the card, I didn't throw it across the room. This time I kissed it and held it in my hand all the way home.

Find me when you're ready. How does a girl know when she's ready to face what could possibly be the rest of her life?

I once thought memories were the soul of a person. The more memories you had, the more you grew up. The more you knew. I gained my memories all in a moment. I felt… silly and child-like. My behavior towards Nate, Vanessa, Serena, and even Chuck was just silly.

A silly little girl. I felt ashamed, so I had to clear everything up before I could go any further.

I was grateful we were out of school so that I didn't have to see him everyday, see in his eyes the constant question 'Are you ready?'

Are you ready, Blair Waldorf? Are you ready?

Being ready to be with Chuck meant to fully grow up. To embark on an adult relationship where silly and petty attacks were not permitted.

I thought I had that with Nate, but it was just silly Blair playing house. There would be no playing this time. This time it would be for real.

For real, for real. I would end up Mrs. Bass. Have his kids, be partners in every way.

Was I ready? I was only eighteen. Can one be really ready?

My mother married my father at the age of 19. Upper East Siders tended to marry early, and it was more often than not an arranged situation. If I had been with Nate, we would already be engaged and making plans to marry the moment we finished college.

My party was coming closer and closer, and I knew he would be there. The party was for December 23rd, Christmas themed and full of color.

Strangely enough, we were all here. No fancy holiday vacations, no far off places. Just here. In good old New York for the holidays.

--

"What are you going to wear?" Serena asked me and I brought out the planned dress. She gasped. "I love it!" She nodded, coming to touch it.

We cooed and ahhed over the decorations when my stylist arrived, and then Serena leaft to get ready herself. While my hair was getting done, I got this immense chill down my spine as I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

And a smile plastered itself on my face. My make-up artist became annoyed because I couldn't control it.

"Honey, you must be in love," He joked, clicking his tongue.

"I sure am." And I was sighing like an uncontrolled idiot.

"Does he know?" He asked.

"He's finding out tonight," I confessed.

He raised his bleached brow. "Water-proof mascara, then."

He understands me so well.

--

Serena did me proud and the party was already a huge success by the time I arrived. I had people fawning all over my new Dolce dress. I smiled graciously, nodding at everyone, never being one to pass up an opportunity to shine.

That was when his eyes found me, and I knew it because at that instant, all the hairs on my neck stood to attention.

I slowly turned and looked at him. He was lounging, hands in pockets, dressed in ivory, and looking as temping as ever. We matched. His eyes were black ebony as he waited for my move.

I took a deep breath because this was it. This was my heroine moment. The one I had dreamt of since I was little. The one that lives are made of.

I began walking towards him and stopped just when we were able to speak to each other without shouting over the music. Which was pretty close.

"Waldorf," he nodded, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Chuck," I replied, and he shifted.

"Merry Christmas," He said softly. His eyes were lightening before mine. Turning a soft greenish-brown.

We stared at each other; the world was a bland mess around us, because it was just us. Just Chuck and I, and that was alright. It was rather perfect, actually.

"You said you loved me," I began.

He blinked.

"When I woke. You said you loved me."

He pushed himself off the wall and now I felt his breath on me because we were so very close to each other.

"I did."

"Do you still mean it?" I asked.

He didn't answer, he simply touched my hair softly and nodded. That was enough.

"Then I'm ready," I replied.

And it was a soft moment. For all the hard that Chuck and I could be, this was genuinely soft.

"You said…" He licked his lips. "You said that if I said it… Then you'd be mine."

I smiled because, at times, he was like a child that needed reassurance. I pulled his head down, and I was drowning in his scent. So masculine, so mysterious, and 100 percent mine.

"I was always yours, Bass."

And then we kissed. Like those kisses I told you about before? The ones that make me feel like I'm in a movie set, and there's music playing in the background as the party continues, undisturbed. In my mind, we were kissing under mistletoe and the credits were slowly rolling as we continued to be lost in each other.

When we finally pull back, I looked up and smiled. Because we were under mistletoe and it felt like I was made to be in this man's arms.

"What?" He asked, smiling slightly as we swayed to the boy-band music.

"You kissed me under the mistletoe," I pointed out, and he looked up. I studied his throat and decided to kiss it because it was pale and inviting, and it was all mine. He held me closer.

"So we did," He agreed.

We danced a bit, and then he took me out to the balcony and we stared at the full moon. He had never been this very romantic with me, and I couldn't help but love him all the more for it. Because I knew we'd get tired of the romance and have sex in some little risqué corner any minute, but for right now – the appetizer that I was living was rather perfect.

So you understand, dear diary, why I stopped writing in you. There's only a few pages left to you, anyways, and I wanted a chance to write how it ended; how this crazy Chuck & Blair story ended. The fact is that I don't want it to end.

I want to write "…" at the end and make it be alright.

Because endings should be beginnings. The best stories are told as such.

And every girl should be her own heroine in her own right. I wasn't a heroine before, was I? Chasing after a man who didn't want me? Putting up petty fights with my best friend? Resenting my body and my mother? I feel much more heroic now. I feel accomplished.

We (Chuck & I) came back from a trip to Tuscany yesterday. My skin is tan is glowing, and he's slightly pink and exhausted. He's asleep on my bed right now, and I want to finish you off so I can go lay on top of him.

So I just wanted to thank you. For listening, for never judging, and for always knowing how the story was going to end/begin. But you let me do it, you let me say it and let me find my own way, which I really appreciate because you really are quite pretty.

I want to leave you with wise words, but my thoughts have just been interrupted by a loud snore coming from the man asleep on my bed.

What the hell – every heroine needs a silly moment.

Chuck & Blair 4 Ever.

--

I closed my journal and stared at it. Stared at the little butterflies dancing on the camel-colored leather. I smiled.

Hopefully one day, you'll remember.

That was what was written on the front flap. I took my journal with me and lay next to Chuck, waking him up. He mumbled a bit, and I kissed his pink cheek. He fell asleep in the sun and looked like a lobster.

"What's this?" He asked, looking at the journal.

"You gave it to me, remember?" I told him, handing him the book.

He recognized it. "Did you ever use it?"

I smirked as he opened it. "I finished it."

His eyes brows raise. "Did you?"

I nod.

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"Because…" I touched his hand. "It's better than a pin. It's my heart in words."

He put the book down and pulled me in. We fell asleep, journal on his chest, my leg over his hip and his nose in my hair.

Dear life. I love this man and he loves me.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate ,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

--

The end

A/N – Thank you so very much for all those of you who took time out to leave a review and let me know that you enjoyed the story. I really appreciate it. Below is a preview of the next series I will begin working on this week.


Preview for my next series:

Title: Castaways

Summary: Before they kissed, before the night at Victrola, they were going to meet Nate at St. Croix. That is, before their plane crashed, and they were left the only two survivors on an island with no other inhabitants.

"We have to build a fire." She said, eyeing the sticks on the floor.

He shifted next to her and she cursed. Out of all the men to be stranded with, she had to be stranded with Chuck Bass! Chuck Bass, who hadn't done a day of labor in his spoiled life!

"And how do you suppose we do that?" He sneered.

She sighed, exasperated. "Don't you like rub the sticks together or something?"

"I guess. I'm not the National Geographic guy, you know."

"Oh, I know," she snapped.

"Ok. We can do this." He rubbed his palms over his pants. "Stick rubbing."

She watched as he kneeled and grabbed two sticks, beginning a pathetic imitation of stick rubbing. He suddenly dropped them, howling and standing up.

"What?" She asked, confused.

"I got a splinter!" He explained, suckling on his thumb.

"Oh, my God. We're going to die," she said, eyes wide.