A/N: Last chapter! As everyone knows, tonights the premiere of the new episode, so I've finished this. Its just a drabble (that I hope isn't too hard to get through) because I didn't know how else to end it. I hope its to everyone's satisfaction. Chair 3.
Summary: They waded through the painful wreckage of destructive relationships and pulled through. So they lay wrapped up in each other and go over the same things in their heads. They are perfect because they are just so wrong.
Disclaimer: I don't own GG or Chair would be just this easy.
We are evil. Pure and simple. It's taken us this long to figure out where we fit. How we piece together. When we could find each other again. Apparently its in the dark closet of one best friend and step sister. And when we walk out of that closet, we ignore the astonished glances and murderous glares. We're used to it. Always have been. Always will be. We're evil. And that is that.
She goes off to college. She's in The Village now. He works hard in his father's business. The empire his father created and he brings to new heights. Friendships are restored. The blondes of perfection find each other like no one knew it would have happened in the first place. The ones from Brooklyn finally realize the obviousness of the situation. She came back from Vermont for him and it took them this long.
Everyone is married off to each other except for the two who were together since the beginning. They don't care. This is them. It was always them. No one noticed it, though. They didn't even notice it. She was too involved in her stupid perfect boyfriend while he was enamored with bedding every female on the eastern seaboard. But it had always been them.
Serena was too drunk to notice. Nate was too oblivious to notice. They delved into the darkness of the Upper East Side. He helped her bring down anyone who even slightly wronged her. They shared an innocent friendship by the people most likely not to be innocent at all.
They were the ones who actually understood each other. He was friends with Nate so the golden boy could live vicariously through him. He was friends with Nate because there was no one else. It was a business realtionship. It was innocent by the one person who could not be called so.
She was friends with Serena purely because of heredity. Their mothers were friends and that was that. But it was a good thing too, or they probably wouldn't have crossed paths.
Their home lives mirrored each other. He had a dead mother and an absent father. She had an absent father and a dead relationship with her mother. Nate couldn't understand how one well placed comment about weight could drive her to the bottle behind her mother's liquor cabient.
Bart had such high expectations and maybe loved too much. It was his mother that he loved, and he could never let go of that. He was always being let down by expectations as she was by her own mother's. So when Serena was drunk and Nate was oblivious, they found each other once again.
She would wrinkle her nose at his scotch and he would smirk at her prim and proper posture before they unraveled. That was how it began. That was how it is.
He would protect her secrets when no one thought she had any. He would pick her off the bathroom floor where her entire soul had shattered to pieces and slowly, carefully, cautiously try and find a way for his heat to sear her back together to make her stronger than she was before.
She would protect his pride when no one thought he had the right to have any. She would join him in his suite after a perfectly placed verbal blow from his malevolent father. She wouldn't turn her nose up at his decanter of scotch this time but drink it with him.
They would stay together in these weakened moments when Serena had run of to "boarding school" and Nate was as dull as ever. She would stay with him, not even bothering to threaten if he tried anything, just as well as he didn't bother placing a well crafted perverted comment.
So they made each other stronger with the heat that everyone thought was darkness. Soon more inebriation came along with the return of the golden goddess and the defeat of the golden couple.
Inebriation paired with burlesque clubs and leather interiors of the backseat of limos caused a reason for falling harder than anyone ever could have imagined. And so the story goes. They hurt each other with barbed insutls that were really created to protect the walls around their hearts.
He gets scared. He abandons, flees, and jumps jets to Bangkok while his even more twisted uncle takes advantage of what could only belong to one person.
She hurts herself and others with her domination while he leaves snide remarks circled by his whores and his liquor. And that's how they end up where they are. She graduates from The Village while he finds himself dominated by the work week. But no one dominates him. He makes up the rules as he goes along and dominates the system himself. He creates the system along side of an empire. He is the most powerful man in the state.
They find themselves in a sea of deception and manipulation, but not towards each other. They smile wicked smirks while they watch the downfall of everyone around them and they are free and flying.
It isn't perfect. He is the Devil and can't help himself. She is the Queen and must have control. They fight. Glasses are thrown as well as gauntlets. But when they come together again, their bodies are one, and it makes it all worth it.
It makes the hateful glares and jealous looks all worth it because they know they are better. It isn't because he's self absorbed (he is) and she's a bitch (she is.) They know they are past holding hands and going to movie theaters. So they have heated embraces and make out in those theaters, just to show society that they are above and beyond that.
She's working for her mother while he gets to do whatever he wants because he owns the damn company. They can do whatever they want because they've dominated everything else. They could elope. They could move away. They could have a society wedding (though that would destroy everything that they stand for.) Eleanor hates him, though Cyrus loves him, while Lily has always loved her.
He thought the passion would fade but they are just as tempestuous as ever. She throws things that shatter while he just throws lecherous comments. And once again, the alcohol comes out and they find themselves heaving on silken sheets. He was a fool to think this would ever die. She was a fool to ever believe him.
Its this exact simple fact based logic that holds them together. There's no one out there like them. They are two of a kind. Soulmates-- maybe. Destined-- probably. Written in the stars-- most definately. They are hated for their beauty and wit, but also because, again, they are just better.
They only see the beauty in each other that no one else can. No one sees the struggling boy who drinks too much, wanting desperately for his father's approval who just can't give it anymore. No one sees the lost girl who surrenders to the weakness of insecurity and wants desperately for her mother to love her as much as her best friend but just can't. They see each other. The tight facades and the smirking debauchery.
They understand this about each other and they love each other for what everyone else can't see. They are each other's weaknesses and they can never let each other go. It took a lifetimes for them to find each other. They were so wrapped up in pride and cold masks. But they saw through to the real them.
That's why they lasted when no one else could. They waded through the painful wreckage of destructive relationships and pulled through. So they lay wrapped up in each other and go over the same things in their heads. They are perfect because they are just so wrong.
"We're not good people," she muses in the darkness.
"I'm okay with that," he smirks back.
"I never said I wasn't," she replies with his same tone.
"We're two of a kind," he agrees.
"I'm glad," she breathes onto his already hot skin.
Evil makes two of us.