A/N: I'm always proud when I end up writing a short one because I'm prone to write grandly long one-shots. This is sort of based on the spoilers that I've heard, but it's also wishful thinking, I guess. This is one of the ones that I write that doesn't have a lot of plot except for at the end. It just explains some things... I don't know, I really like it. If the season ended up like this-- that would be sweet.

Disclaimer: If I owned GG (which I don't) maybe they would listen to the suggestions I have on the plot (CHAIR).


Ever since that one scene in the elevator, I knew she hated me. Not enough for destruction, but enough to cut me from her life completely. I try to convince myself that feelings that she professed for me don't just go away, but what the hell do I know about it?

I know she cries behind closed doors. I don't know why. She would never cry over me, I'm sure. I know it has something to do with Serena, though. I'm not that dense. I'm not as dense as that blonde air headed toker who she calls a boyfriend, again.

I feel like it's a year and half ago, watching the same mistakes but again, not being able to do anything about it.

We used to be better. I would be better for her; really, I would. She just won't see me. She said that she couldn't watch me self destruct. Well, she won't; not anymore. I'm done and I'm ready for her now.

The problem with us is the timing. When one is ready, the other is not. That's how I found that she was back with my best friend. Way to kick me when I'm down.

Nate doesn't understand. You can only understand ugliness when you're staring at your own imperfections. Mr. Perfect is beautiful and someone ugly is just another person on the street.

I know why she's crying, now. It makes sense. It's not because of me, or Nate. Maybe it's a combination. But she can't even talk to me like she used to. She is so evasive of me that she calls Georgina for help. She can't even ask me like she used to with hidden innuendos and evil smirks.

I hate Georgina. If Georgina had the chance, she would stab Blair in the back and everyone knows it. But Blair isn't one to do something just because everyone tells her to. She knows how to take care of it.

Georgina's a psycho bitch. Literally. Yeah, I took her virginity, whatever. I don't give a shit that she took mine. She's a psycho bitch. And not in the cute and breathtaking way that Blair captures my senses.

Georgina would literally follow me around after that awkward day. She thought we were in love or something. I've only been in love once and I know I never will be again.

I'm pretty sure I'm what turned her into the partier we all detest. That's what scares me about Blair. This whole "love" thing is throwing me. I don't want Blair and me to end up hating each other—I love her too damn much.

There it is. I fucking love her and she will never know. Stupid pride. I hate me pride. My pride was what unites me with my Blair. I love my pride.

I don't want me and Blair to end up like my own parents. A cold hearted bastard and an absent wife.

I don't want me and Blair to end up like my surrogate mother, the serial marrier. I don't want me and Blair to end up like her's, the one who twisted Blair's self esteem until it resembled a finger sticking itself down a slender throat.

I don't want to end up like Nathaniel's. Cold robots in constant denial. I just want to be us. Chuck and Blair. Blair and Chuck.

So she's in league with Georgina and that scares the shit out of me. That's when I have this premonition. I know that she's hiding it from Nate. I know she's hiding from Nate. It's the same problem over again. She's afraid to show him the real beauty underneath.

Nate doesn't understand the need for retaliation. He's clueless, moral, and laid back. He's the opposite of us. She knows that if he finds out, he won't forgive her, even if it is for Serena's sake. Destruction has always made him uncomfortable. He can't understand what it's like. His parents fucking love him. What the hell is that like? I know Blair and I would like to know.

She knows he'll leave her and that fucking scares her. He's safe. What would it come to if something that is so safe and easy backfires?

I don't blame her for getting back with him. I'm surprised she doesn't burn my effigy after what I've done to her. That's where Nate comes in. I want her to be happy. But I'm also a selfish, narcissistic, egocentric bastard. I want it all. I want her to be happy. I want her to be happy with me.

So I'm always there, always watching, waiting for my moment. I don't do what I used to do. I don't plant traps for Nate to fall in. I don't leer, smirk, or throw perverted innuendos at her. I'm just there.

I watch after her, protect her. If someone blasts about her on Gossip Girl, they find drugs in their locker that the administration happens to find. Convenient, isn't it?

She doesn't know it, but I would risk being in the proximity of Georgina's whore perimeter just to help her, to brush against her, to be with her.

I want her so bad it hurts. Those butterflies have turned to razors in my stomach. They keep their wings and fly into my chest, raking at my heart until it bleeds. Love has ruined my life and saved it. It's hurt me more times than my bastard of a father has. It's saved me from jumping off buildings.

I'm not patient, but I can wait. I will stand through all the cute eyes and make outs in front of the school. I'll do what I have to. I will wait for her.

I'll wait until she realizes that there's a point where you can live through a life of fake boredom or you can go for it. You can go through the pain and be truly happy.

You can stand the pain for the true moments when you know that you can simply read each other's minds. I've been there, I know. I don't know when I became a philosopher. It must have come in the package with the butterflies.

So I don't barge in when I hear her crying in the bathroom. I smile pleasantly at her fake sugar smiles at him. I'm okay with it, because I know her better. And I know that day is coming.

Love is overrated, I say.

Love is nonexistent, she replies.

That's not what I meant.

It's what I said, she says with sobriety, as if she has reached an epiphany.

And I said that love was overrated, not that it didn't exist, I try to communicate to her. She has to understand that even though Nathaniel might not appreciate her for everything that she is, I sure as hell do.

You really think that love is overrated, she asks, trying to convince herself that she hasn't been fooling herself all these years.

Most of the time, I say reluctantly. This wasn't the time I was planning on telling her this.

Is it ever worth it, she pleads.

You're asking the wrong person, I say honestly.

Then, when's the one time that it is worth it, she looks at me in the eyes for the first time.

Now. I take her hand. I know she's worth it. I just hope that I am.