A/N: So I was watching 10 Things I Hate About You (again, surprise, surprise) and I couldn't help but think just how so much applied to Chair from Kat and Patrick. I was listening to Kat's speech and it just worked. So here's basically her speech converted into Chair awesomeness. But I had to make two adjustments. Obviously Blair doens't own a car so I just turned Kat's car into Chuck's limo. And Chuck doens't wear combat boots (that I have noticed) so the only noticeable item of his clothing was his scarf (and now suspenders, but I couldn't bear to make fun of them.) This is another monstosity of mine, though not as long as "Outside," so be grateful.
Summary: Being with him was like free falling so hard and fast you didn't know where you were until you were splattered all over the pavement. But the ride on the way down was transcendent. Rides with him were euphoric. And it was because of thoughts like that which made her keep her distance.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. All characters and past plot points go to the light of my life, Gossip Girl. The speech obviously goes to 10 Things I Hate About You and the genius of it.
I hate the way you talk to me
Anger. Anger coursing through her veins that would not cease. Not that she wanted it to. It wasn't fair. He wasn't saying the things he was supposed to be saying. He wasn't being polite or cordial. He wasn't treating her the way a lady was supposed to be treated. Then again, he wasn't treating her like his common whores either.
That wasn't a consolation. He was no gentleman, but maybe she was no lady. Her constant viewings of Gone With the Wind were really getting to her. Since when was the Civil War and some womanizing solicitor romantic. Or hot? Or sexy? Or just damn--
She was going to have to stop with that. At least Rhett loved Scarlett. What did Chuck Bass do? What did he say, for that matter?
But even when he was uttering his dirty poetry and sneering down at her, he commanded attention. Even when he was spearing her with verbal barbs, making her bleed through the flesh that he set aflame, she wanted to listen. She needed to listen. If she didn't, she had no idea what would happen.
He moved with his cat-like grace and she needed to be near him. She shouldn't. He was toxic and made her judgment impaired, but she needed to be near him anyway. Need was dangerous. Need meant that she didn't have a choice. And when she was with him, she just didn't.
She went to extreme lengths to stay away from him. It was safer that way. Being with him was like free falling so hard and fast you didn't know where you were until you were splattered all over the pavement. But the ride on the way down was transcendent. Rides with him were euphoric. And it was because of thoughts like that which made her keep her distance.
He didn't like that. She was well aware. That's why he would drunk dial her or corner her at parties, trying to make that green eyed and poisonous clawed monster stir from the deepest pit of her stomach to make an appearance so she would scratch some sluts' eyes out.
However, when she was successfully evading him was when he brought out the big guns. He sent her completely inappropriate texts. At the dinner table. He liked watching her face when she read them.
I need u squirming beneath me
Blair's jaw dropped in horror at what he deigned to send her. But she never gave him the satisfaction of looking his way. She was ignoring him. That was it.
"Is something wrong?" her mother asked from her side. Blair snapped her phone shut.
"Nothing," Blair said hastily. Her mother eyed her warily but returned to the dinner. It was the unwritten law of the Upper East Side that you didn't address anything.
It wasn't even two minutes when he sent another.
I need ur love scent all over me
Well wasn't he efficient. She couldn't help her lip curl in distaste. She snapped her phone with more angst than was necessary.
"Blair," her mother said reprovingly at the distraction. She looked at her mother, her eyes accidentally passing over Chuck's smug face.
Damn. This was where she knew things were going to get out of hand. It wasn't that long until her phone vibrated against her thigh again. She tried not to groan out in frustration. That would certainly cause her mother annoyance, not to mention give Chuck cause to smirk again. He always said that he loved that sound. Pig.
1 new message
Blair rolled her eyes but still couldn't resist easing her phone open again. She could feel his eyes burning into the side of her face.
Blair immediately jumped to her feet, not even bothering to read what other vulgar thing could have possibly entered his convoluted mind.
"Blair," her mother snapped.
"I'm just going to the bathroom," Blair said randomly, walking from the table not even looking at Chuck. She didn't need to. She already knew what sort of smug and lecherous expression had crossed his face.
Blair caught her breath on the balcony. She wasn't even going to make it to the bathroom. The fortunate things about bathrooms and just rooms in general was that there was a lock could lock. That way you wouldn't be accosted by your one weakness. The problem with him was that he never did what you wanted to. He always did the opposite just to spite you.
"You didn't read my message," he said roughly into her ear.
"Yes, I did," she replied instantly, merely on her impulse for him to be wrong and her to be right.
She let his seductive hands go to her bare shoulders and turn her into him. His liquid fire eyes burned her blood.
"Am not," she said petulantly, shrugging him away.
"I can tell you right now," he said, burying his nose in her sweet smelling hair, "what the message was." She tried to squirm away (maybe that was just what he wanted) but instead, she ended up angling her neck and his mouth found it like it was magnetized.
"Let's get out of here," he groaned into her ear. He was insatiable. They weren't even doing anything yet and she could already feel his arousal. It shook her back to reality. "I need your legs wrapped around me."
She shoved him away. "You can't talk to me like that."
"Why not?" he asked with amusement. He never treated her like everyone else did and it wasn't fair.
"Because," she stuttered.
"Because..." he drawled, trapping her against the railing, "you're Blair Waldorf?"
She scowled at him. "You're disgusting."
"That's why I'm the one who's here," Chuck said, "and no one else. You need me."
"According to your vulgar texts," Blair sneered, "you're the one who needs me."
"Admit it," he said, his lips grazing her ear sensually. "You love the attention I give you."
"I do not," she said again, shoving him. But whenever she protested like that, he knew she was lying.
"You just love putting your hands on me," he smirked, holding her palms to him where they lay on his chest, trying to push him away.
"Let go," she said. But she didn't try struggling away. Part of her didn't want him to let go.
"You can't fault me for your lack of self control," he sneered. "You're just mad because you can't resist me."
"Yes I can."
"Is that a challenge?" he asked. His favorite game. She knew she would lose. But if he were in her position (oh, God, he wanted to be) he wouldn't be the one who was winning either. Like his "vulgar" texts said, he just needed her. And he would have her, even if she had to pretend that she hated the way he talked to her.
"What do you want?" he asked tauntingly. "An apology?"
"I want you to leave me alone."
"No you don't."
No she didn't.
He took her hands anyway and started leading her away.
"I hate you," she reminded him.
"Fine," he sighed. "You hate me."
"Just so we're clear."
I hate how you cut your hair
Irritability. The one emotion she didn't expect to feel after coming back from Europe was irritability. It had been three months since she'd last seen him and he hadn't even cut his hair. It didn't matter that she found it incredibly sexy. It wasn't. He wasn't supposed to change when she was gone. When he didn't show, he was supposed to be pining for her. Instead, he was just smirking at her in that equally irritable neon orange (hot) sports jacket. He really knew how to get under her skin.
It was the calm before the storm. Marcus was gone and she knew this was exactly Chuck's chance. She could tell by the way his eyes scalded her from across the room. This was before something disastrous usually happened between them. But she had to remind herself. She hated him.
"No," she said simply.
"I didn't even say anything," was his raspy tone. She dug her nails into the wood of her vanity where he had cornered her. She hated how he could make her insides a disgusting, quivering mess. Not that she would ever show him.
"Fine," she said, annoyed that he even thought that he would catch her in a weak moment. "Let me clarify. 'No, I will not now, nor will I ever let you have sex with me.'"
"And why do I find that so difficult to believe?" he sneered.
"Because you're delusional," she purred. His defined eyebrows knitted in his own irritability.
"We'll see about that."
"You think that just because I'm not committed to a boyfriend anymore that I'll just jump back into bed with you?"
"I would like to point out how this holds precedence," he smirked. "As you so dutifully reminded me jumping back into bed with me would just be a repeat of history."
"History," she reminded him. "As in ancient and never going to happen."
"History is known to repeat itself."
She hit him where it hurt and he scowled again. She thought he would back off.
She was dead wrong.
She suddenly found her long locks wrapped severely around his fist and he savagely pulled her into his hot body. She squealed minutely in surprise, immediately hating herself for it and how it spurred that infuriating smirk of his.
She was completely at his mercy. Any minute he could so easily snap her neck. This would make anyone else succumb. This made Blair angry. For a little while more.
"Then tell me, lover," he seethed hotly into her ear, "why is it that I'm here and not your dear Nathaniel?"
"Its not my fault that you are completely obsessed with me and stalk me in my own room."
"Really?" he asked. "Then I suppose that also explains how you let me get this close. I'm the one who's making you purr for attention. Its always been that way. Always has, always will."
She meant it to come out as an insult. That was difficult to do when Chuck's mouth possessively claimed hers. It was difficult to sound affronted at all when he was making you moan at the same time.
And she hated him for it.
That didn't stop her hands from ascending his shoulders and curling at the back of his head. She suddenly gripped his hair and pulled him away from her. She shoved him away and began to walk away.
"And I was so close," he said with amusement. Maybe he didn't think he would claim her for real tonight, but he got quite far and he was quite impressed with himself. No one ever got that far with Blair Waldorf.
"You forget that I hate you," she said.
"You just keep telling yourself that."
I hate the way you drive my car
Ferocity. It was the only way she could stand against him. She let her emotions fester so she could out-bitch him. Even if it was over stupid things.
"Get in the car, Blair."
Blair stalked across the sidewalk, her expensive Louboutins alerting her presence.
"Get in the car."
God, she hated how he just commanded her. Like she was one of the women that he paid for so she would do whatever he ordered her to.
"Go away," she snapped.
"You don't want me to," he reminded her smarmily as his limo trailed behind her. His driver had perfected it to an art.
"Ugh," she snapped. "You are so infuriating. What the hell makes you think I want to get in your stupid limo?"
"Sh," he said mockingly. "It can hear you."
"I hate you, I don't want to see you, so just leave me alone."
"Normally, I would listen to your halfhearted attempts to make me feel inferior," Chuck replied, "but you and I both know that Victrola is one excuse that you can't negate. You want me. You want to get in my limo. And you want to do it now."
She groaned again, finally stopping. "I hate you and your stupid limo!" she cried, not being able to come up with a new one.
"If you're quite finished insulting it, I will have to remind you that you most definitely do not."
"Stop stalling, Bass," she sneered. "We had sex twice. Get over it."
The darkness suddenly clouded his features and she had to admit, it frightened her a little. But then she went back to being ferocious. Or at least, she hoped that was how he perceived her. It gave her more power. But that was something he refused to give her.
She was sure she hadn't crossed a line. It didn't matter. She knew it wasn't common for him to sleep with girls twice. But it was only twice. He had other whores to antagonize. So why the hell did he like doing it to her?
His voice had reached a tone that was very strange for her. He was dark and he was completely arousing. That wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to be turned on by someone like that. She wasn't supposed to be turned on by Chuck Bass at all. Then again, she wasn't supposed to be stripping on burlesque stages and shedding her virginity like a snake skin. And she definitely wasn't supposed to be liking it.
Wasn't that the point? Wasn't losing your virginity supposed to be scarring? But the pain was slight. He husked in her ear how he didn't want to hurt her. And he didn't. Like their anatomy was made for each other. And that just wasn't right. That implied that they were made for each other and that was downright terrifying.
After what seemed like no time at all, he was moving against her with ease and she... well, she couldn't really remember what she was doing. She would have to believe him that "purring in his ear" was exactly what she was doing. She didn't know what that meant, but she was fairly certain it meant that she enjoyed her first time. It meant that she felt tight against him and there was no feeling like it in the world. She even liked it where his tongue--
He was staring at her expectantly now.
"Why don't you hang the charade, Waldorf?" he drawled. "Isn't it a little exhausting pretending that you don't absolutely thirst for me?"
"I don't... 'thirst' for anything," Blair said with distaste. "And what's so special about me? Don't you have some girls who don't know any better to harass?"
"Why would I when I have you?" he smirked. "And as for why you keep coming back for more, I'm fairly certain you can answer that for yourself."
"That wasn't my question."
"Fine," he grinned. "I'll tell you why you're different. You're like me."
Her first reaction was to throw something in his face and run away. But she knew that wouldn't exactly work because he was driving that stupid car and she was in her expensive heels.
But that was it, wasn't it? There was no one that Chuck Bass loved more than himself. But Blair knew better. It wasn't just that but because they understood each other. They could be each other around one another in a way that they could never with anyone else. That was why she was walking towards the limo. Not because she actually wanted him.
"Fine," she parried, opening the door as he slid over to make room for her. "You can give me a ride home."
"Blair," he said softly as she shut the door behind her. "Your house is right there."
She looked down the street and where her penthouse loomed.
Of course she knew.
Chuck smirked. There really was no one like her. He pulled her suddenly into his lap and she let him. Their hands were everywhere and for the first time, they didn't need an excuse to be with one another. They wanted each other. They cared for each other. They were damn well going to be with each other and no one could stop them.
Most definitely. Chuck groaned out in almost a pain laced yell, loudly in her hair as her violently painted nails reopened the claw marks that he was already wearing proudly on his back. He was definitely going to give her the ride of her life.
I hate it when you stare
Hatred. She hated him when he did that. She hated how it made her skin crawl. She hated how he knew it too. At this stage she was seriously regretting the things he had seen, the things that she had let him see and the things she had let him to do to her. Because now he was looking at her in that way that made her want to scream. It was also very flattering. Not that it mattered. They weren't together anymore, remember?
Serena looked over her shoulder and raised her fair eyebrows.
"Something you want to tell me?"
"Why would you think that?" Blair asked nonchalantly.
"Because," Serena said, "my demon spawn of a step-brother is really creeping me out. You should go over there."
"Excuse me?" Blair sneered. "Why would I do that?"
"You two need to work out your issues."
"Issues?" Blair repeated. "What issues? I'm issue free."
"Apparently you all are," Serena muttered under her breath.
"What?" Blair asked.
"Nothing," Serena replied quickly. "Its just going to be really awkward at the wedding if you two don't..."
"Hash it out and have mad hot sex in your bedroom?" Blair snapped.
"What? No!" Serena exclaimed. "That's not what I'm saying at all."
"Then you're saying nothing," Blair replied, "because there is no way in hell that I am ever talking to that Chuck Bass-tard ever again."
Good thing that Blair was a well accomplished liar.
He was going to have to stop that. He had the uncanny ability to corner her when no one else was around. She wasn't really sure if this was because he was embarrassed to be seen with her after the pregnancy debacle, or he just liked making her uncomfortable. As he smoothly eased his arm, ensnaring her from moving, she was going to have to go with the latter. She didn't know why this made her stomach jump, but it just did. Apparently he had forgiven her.
"Can I help you?" she asked icily.
"I was so wishing you would ask me that," Chuck leered. Blair rolled her eyes, adverting her face from his. But she secretly liked the way his gaze penetrated into the side of her face. But she wasn't supposed to. She never let on.
"I don't know who you think you're fooling," Chuck said coolly. Blair just eyed him coolly. "Its not a secret."
"Are you going to force me to ask what it is that you're talking about?" she asked. He leaned in and she had forgotten the effect that not only his eyes had on her, but his very breath.
"You miss me."
She instinctively pushed him away. "I do not."
"So that's the reason you flip your hair when you see me watching you or smooth your skirt?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied. "You're the one who shouldn't be stalking people."
"Its not a secret, Waldorf," he replied. "Its not a secret that I watch you just like everyone knows that you are still desperately attracted to me."
"You need to stop watching Cinemax," Blair sneered. "Because just so you know, accosting me in the middle of an alley isn't really a turn on."
"Are you saying that I have the potential to turn you on?"
"I'm saying I have the potential to maze you in the face."
"You wouldn't do that," he murmured into her ear. She pretended that she didn't just shiver violently even though it was a warm spring afternoon. "You adore me too much."
"Blair," he sighed like it was cute how she was so angry with him, "the sooner you admit it, the sooner we can get back to the activities we both enjoy in the back of my limo."
She couldn't help but ask. "Admit what?"
"You'll never have your... fill of me," he said, a lecherous smirk creeping on his face.
"You need to get a hobby," she replied.
"I have one," he replied. "Its watching you until you get too tired of this uniform and strip it off."
"Why don't you just stop stalking me?" she suggested.
"I don't stalk," he replied. He was about to take a step back before he thought better of it. "And I only do it because you want me to."
"What?" she asked incredulously. "I like it when you're creepy and stare at me?"
He smirked. "I do everything for you."
"You are deeply disturbed."
"This denial act is getting a little old," he said. "You like it when I do it, because the truth of it is, no one looks at you the way I do."
Blair's lip curled in distaste but she couldn't find it in herself to disagree. He knew her too well.
"I make you feel desired and wanted," he continued, pressing his body uncomfortably against her. But she liked it all too much. "No one does that for you. No one except me. We'll never be done with each other."
"How about now?" Blair asked, sliding from his grasp and walking down the sidewalk.
"We'll just see how long it lasts," he replied.
He was right considering in the next 24 hours, he would wind up in her bed yet again.
I hate your big dumb combat boots
Crossness. He always had a sort of radar to know when she was cross. And to know when he could push her limits. He liked it. She got cross and then bitchy... and then he got what he wanted. She seethed as she watched him torment her. She rose from the courtyard table quickly and went to catch her breath by the stone wall. Sometimes, she just couldn't take this.
His voice was deep and husky. The way it was after certain activities. And that made her sick. She shouldn't care. They really hadn't defined what they were. Sure, she wasn't really pushing him away anymore. When he tailed her in his limo she complied with his vulgar statements whispered on the leather, but this was in no way an monogamous relationship. And "relationship" was a light term of what they were.
He could flirt with whoever the hell he wanted to.
"Don't I wish to hell that you hadn't," she retorted.
"I thought we were past this, Waldorf," Chuck sighed. "We both know that you can't get enough of me. Why the charade?"
"No charade," Blair replied. "Maybe I'm just tired of you."
"Impossible," Chuck said slowly. But his tone made her smile. He was actually wondering whether to believe her or not.
"Or maybe..." he said slitherly, "you saw me with that freshman."
Blair scowled. "Do whatever you want in your free time. Or who. It doesn't matter to me."
"Really?" he asked, unconvinced. "I think you'd care if it was you."
"If it was me you were molesting in front of the school?" she asked doubtfully. "Don't make me gag."
"We were just talking," he said suspiciously. She always kept him on his toes. He never knew what mood she would be in. Sultry and seductive or a complete bitch. Either way, it was hot as hell.
"I'm sure that was all it was," she replied coolly, "with you draping your stupid scarf around her."
"So that's what this is about," Chuck said triumphantly, having finally figured her out. She was so mysterious. And that was also a turn-on.
"Your scarf?" Blair asked snidely. "I'll just be the one to break this to you, Chuck. Your scarf doesn't have the impact that you think it does. In fact, it really doesn't have a page on Spotted dedicated to it."
"No..." he said, liking how she was getting defensive. "You're jealous."
"Jealous?" Blair asked. "Please. You forget who you're talking to."
"So do you," he smirked.
She glared. He was such a jerk sometimes.
"You don't want me to be with other women."
"And how would you know?" Blair spat. "Maybe I'm just trying to save the little bitch who doesn't know any better? What if she doesn't know you're practically a warehouse for STD's?"
"I don't think so."
"And why the hell not?" Blair demanded, angry that he was seeing right through her.
"Because you're with me," he smirked.
"You're not with me," she replied. "You're not with anyone. So just--"
Chuck crushed his lips to her, causing her speech to cease immediately.
"What if I want to be?"
Blair just stared incredulously.
"Your scarf is hideous," she said before turning on her hell.
"I'll see you tonight, then," Chuck called after her smugly.
And the way you read my mind
Fury. He infuriated her. That was it. He licked his lips obscenely in her direction and she realized that maybe she knew what he was thinking at the same time. He was disgusting. She turned her head away from his insane flirtatiousness with whatever fake blonde it was this week. She was positive he did it on purpose. Just because he had somehow gained dominance by forcing her into saying that she loved him more than he did, he thought he had some control over her.
He was probably right, but that just made her all the more furious. Maybe if this was one of their games she wouldn't mind so much. Maybe if they were role playing or something; him being the cheating bastard and she being the scorned woman. But he was doing this to purposely hurt her. She was sure of it.
So she burst out of the doors of the Hampton's house and into the back garden. And she found herself in the exact place that had caused her to cry over him again. The grove was behind Cece's estate where almost exactly a year ago where Chuck asked if she felt about "James" (AKA, cheating and incestuous Lord Brit Marcus) as she did Nate. She said she did because she thought it would cause him some sort of reaction. Maybe she just wanted to hurt him too. Instead, he just told her that he would see her at school. She was glad that his plans changed almost immediately.
She felt his heat behind her in the dark. His hands went to her waist. She put hers on his to shove him away. Instead, lightning quick, he pressed her against the tree, pinning her so she couldn't move.
"This is categorized as assault," she informed him in annoyance.
"Not if you love your assailant," he taunted. God, she hated the emotional blackmail of telling someone you loved them. Especially a Chuck Bass.
"What if I hate you?"
"You don't hate me," he said smarmily. She was sure that he was slightly drunk. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. She hated how it was sexy.
"Don't tell me what I think."
"You think I'm sexy."
"Stop it," she commanded.
"We were just talking," he said softly into her ear.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I read you like a book, Waldorf," he said articulately, despite the fact that she was sure he was coming onto her so hard in the outdoors like this was because of his slight inebriation.
"You are amazingly self assured."
She didn't like the pride in his voice either.
"I am not."
God she wanted him.
"So the hitting on random women in front of me is just... for sport?"
"Blair," he breathed. She could definitely smell the scotch now.
"Or is it that you're so drunk that you thought it would be a good idea."
"I'm not drunk," he replied. "I'm buzzed. And do you know why?"
"No," she replied. "I'm not the one who tells you what you think."
"I'm drunk because for the first time, you refused limo sex."
"I did not," Blair replied indignantly, ignoring his affirmation of his inebriation. He laughed softly into her hair. She decided that maybe she didn't hate him so much anymore.
"See?" he asked. "You've already forgiven me. I know you."
She tried to wriggle away but he held steadfast.
"And I know you want me," Chuck murmured. "And I know you miss me."
"So what are you waiting for?" she asked. "Go find some ho to bang."
"Why," he asked, "when I can have you right here? Right now."
"Please," Blair scoffed while secretly she wondered what it would be like. They had sex in high class restaurants and moving vehicles but never really anywhere outdoors...
"You want it, Waldorf," he slurred slightly.
"You're drunk," she reminded him.
"I'm drunk on you," he replied. "And remember, the best times of our life was when we were drunk."
"I wasn't thinking of..."
"Of the first time you threw yourself on me in the back of my limo?" he asked. "God, you were so hot."
His mouth covered hers possessively and he was totally right. Maybe this would make up for the fact that she maybe sort of did refuse limo sex. Only because she was sure he was flirting with that bitch on purpose.
"Make it up to me," he breathed into her mouth. "You need me."
"But do you need me?" she asked.
"Always," he groaned. She felt the bark dig into her back and she decided right then and there it was the most erotic thing she had ever felt.
"You're not thinking of her, are you?"
It was a loaded question, but Chuck Bass always pulled through.
"Who?" he asked, bearing her down on the lush grass in the middle of the grove. This was dangerous. This was hot. She needed him now.
"That slut you were talking to," she said between heated kisses. He pulled away.
"Did it get your attention?"
He quickly shrugged out of his jacket. She was high off the adrenaline and realized that she really didn't care if they were found. She would in the morning when Chuck would leer at her and throw it in her face that he could get her to do anything, but for now, she just needed him to love her.
"I love you," he husked truthfully.
Maybe she didn't hate him so much.
I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme
Craze. She was seeing red. Right now, she was just angry. But she wasn't crazed. Not yet. Even when he sneered down at her calling her things she never thought he was capable of. She didn't know why she let herself think she was his exception. She was just another distraction in the sex life of Chuck Bass. He was never with a woman for very long. She should have known what he actually thought of her. For now, she had only the potential. But she knew it was coming.
Blair stumbled out of the bar. For the first time, she couldn't feel his eyes burning into her back as she gasped for breath on the street. She was in a haze by the time she reached the penthouse. She had never been this way before. She had never thought of running like Serena after someone had broken her heart. Chuck was different. He was always different.
She exhaled relief in her mother's lap. She could leave. But that didn't stop her from shaking. She was utterly heartbroken. She couldn't feel craze racing through her veins, making her a soldier of self destruction. She couldn't let her mother see that in her.
She dropped her purse in her room as she stumbled towards her bathroom. She looked in the mirror. For several minutes, she just stared. Of course she looked... rode hard and put away wet. Her face was streaked with tears and black make-up, her eyes rimmed with red.
Her tears suddenly stopped. She wasn't heartbroken anymore. She was just numb. She hated for what he had resorted her to. She hated so much--
Without warning, she bent over and vomited in the sink. Just the at the thought of him. The thought of him having his way with all the others girls the way he made her feel for him. Just the thought of what he had done to her-- and she vomited again.
She didn't know what it was. Without him, she felt empty. At least when she was with Nate, he was always in the back of her mind. It could have been the fact that his kisses weren't as passionate or his touch didn't caress her in the way that she needed it to. But Chuck was always there, staring at her from afar. The evil part of her wanted him to come up with some equally evil plan to make her come back to him. She couldn't do it herself. She could never leave Nate. But Chuck ignited something in her that she could never understand. She wanted him to beat out Nate. She wanted him to look at her again.
But tonight was a wholly other thing. When he finally looked at her again, all she saw was darkness. He took a piece of her with him. He took all of her with him and she just couldn't see anything else. So if he took all of her insides with him, what was that in the sink?
She flicked on the faucet and she knew the only thing that she could do. It would be her salvation while it was slowly destroying her inside. Just like he was. She closed her eyes in disgust as she bent over the porcelain bowl and forced her fingers down her throat.
She didn't want him anymore. She couldn't let herself. The water drowned out her retching but she knew her mother could hear the pipes. She punished him by punishing herself. Because nothing could be more disgusting than watching what she had eaten that day floating in front of her face. She couldn't be any more disgusting and it was a wonder how he could even stand to look at her anymore.
I don't want you anymore. And I can't see why anyone else would.
Oh, that's right. He couldn't.
I hate it. I hate it how you're always right
Ire. She hated him. That way he looked at her, they way he spoke to her. She just hated everything about him at this point. It wasn't fair. What right did he have? He went gallivanting off after some hooker nanny and now he was back? After everything she had done for him? It just wasn't right.
She could play the game too. It was what was so attractive about them, wasn't it? But he wouldn't leave. Even when she threw verbal barbs at him he still wore that infuriating smirk.
You and Nate? Isn't that a bit "been there, done that?"
He knew. She hated it when he knew. There were those who wouldn't overreact when they saw her with Nate in the morning. This wasn't the case. He a sixth sense when it came to that. He just knew. When it came to her, he just knew.
Friends. Makes total sense. There's no spark between you two. Never was.
That made her snap. But when she thought back on it, he was so-- no. He wasn't. There had to have been spark. Even 7th graders have spark when they first go out. At least, she thought that was spark. Though in comparison, things did seem lacking. He was looking at her in that probing way that was just waiting for her to crack. She wouldn't let him have the satisfaction.
A rusty hammer and an icy nail.
She wished she didn't have to look at his mouth when he said things like that. She had to be with Nate right now. She just had to. Just because after everything Chuck decided this would be the perfect opportunity to play with her again, didn't mean she had to submit to him. As much as she wanted it, it just wasn't the time. It couldn't be. She was too scared, too vulnerable. If he was so smart, she didn't know how he couldn't see that when he could very well read her mind.
Nate was safe. Nate was easy. Nate wasn't gloriously euphoric or emotionally inducing, but this was what she needed right now.
Nate and I had... have plenty of spark. Better than that: fireworks.
That was us.
That was the moment that she knew he had beaten her. He was the only one who could be so shrewd, so completely... him, that he could just see right through it. And looking at him in that purely seductive and penetrating way that he inspired, she knew it too.
She could remember exactly what he was talking about. And she finally had to admit that to herself. They had the most passionate relationship that even made sense. He scalded her flesh, boiled her blood. At most, she and Nate came at a light simmer... in middle school. But she didn't need spark right now. She needed comfort. And if she wasn't so afraid of what Chuck was talking about, she would have slammed him right up against her own locker that very instant.
It was so obvious. They always had chemistry. Even before everything had fallen apart. And after. Even before he ever touched her. His leering eyes and their verbal jousts. It was always them.
That was when they were in back rooms at parties and moving vehicles where they couldn't keep their hands off each other. He breathed life into her and she never forgot it. She never would. But that didn't mean she didn't have to pretend. She would make him believe that she didn't need him anymore. But then again, that didn't mean that he would go away either.
He stripped away her society flesh and made passion to the soul underneath. But that was what made him all the more dangerous. He could hurt her like no one else could and she couldn't allow that. Not now. Not yet.
Even as she was walking away, she knew something that he knew all along. He was always right.
I hate it when you lie
Rage. Looking at him in that room made her aware of one male driven fact based logic. He was Chuck Bass. He liked screwing women. He would never be for her alone. Maybe if she was anyone different, his expression might even be a little amusing. Sitting amongst the half clothed hookers with pills and powder in front of the board. He had no idea it was coming... even though he should have. Jack set him up. Blair just wished that she hadn't set herself up.
She felt his eyes burning into her back. She would let the board take care of him. Because she just couldn't do it anymore. But they just followed her out. Then Chuck had the tact to sneer at her, blaming her for everything. She knew it was how he coped. She knew him too well for that. But the way his angry eyes seared into her, cutting her to pieces wasn't just something she could handle. So she didn't.
She promised him she would always be there. But she couldn't be there when he didn't want her to be. She couldn't be there when he was screwing strippers and getting high with his old uncle. Not when he sent her texts full of lies. She couldn't watch him self destruct any longer. It would surely kill her.
When he produced the bouquet of peonies, wrapped in carefully selected purple, her poorly taped heart shattered once again. It was the look in his eyes. The ones that not hours ago looked angry and defiant now looked lost and broken. Like he needed her. She knew this was true. He did need her. But she couldn't care for him all the time. She was taking care of him for so long she didn't remember what it was like to need someone for herself.
When it came down to it, she couldn't be enough when he was dying inside. Either he would let her care for him or he wouldn't. She couldn't know if the next day he would come out swinging again and hurt her all the more.
When it came down to it, there was one undeniable fact. She wasn't strong enough. She thought she could be, but she just wasn't. She read his text and she believed him. But seeing was believing and when she saw him with those stick thin whores, she believed that he could lie to her too easily.
I hate it when you make me laugh
Maddening. How the hell did he end up in her bed anyway? He was just looking at her like she was something delectable to eat. She wouldn't be surprised if he leaned over to smell her like he used to do. In the way that would make her...
No. that wasn't what this was about. They were here to help Serena. And that was that.
"Keep staring, Waldorf," he smirked. "I never get tired of it."
"Keep flattering yourself, Bass," she mocked, "you're the only one who will."
Then his lips curled in what could be construed as a smile. Not a smirk, but a smile he only reserved for her. No one else was blessed enough to see it in the light of day. She thought she would never see it again. She wished she hadn't. Then she wouldn't feel the need to return it.
"Admit it," he sighed, stretching out languidly across her bed. She curled her lips back in what looked like an intimidating sneer. He knew she just was covering the fact that she didn't absolutely hate that he was back in her bed again. "You like me here."
"What are you still doing here, Bass?" she asked instead. "Georgina's as good as done. You're free to go."
"Not quite, Waldorf," he said, fluidly rising from his position to stand by her. She scowled.
"And what makes you think that I'm dying to be in your presence?" he questioned lightly. "If you haven't happened to notice, I have many other prospects."
"And if you didn't happen to notice, I have developed many new and interesting ways yo get you out of here."
"I'd love a demonstration," he leaned in suggestively.
Then it happened. She hadn't wanted it to but she could feel it bubbling in the back of her throat. She hadn't done it in so long. Surely not after he sneered down at her and basically called her a whore. But he always understood her. He knew what made her look. He knew what she liked, what she didn't. He knew how to make her cry in an instant. He always held that capability, no matter how much it hurt her.
He knew how to make her laugh.
It was even more inconvenient than when he swore at her, yelled, and made tears well behind her eyes that she refused to let fall.
His eyes actually looked surprised, but a happy and satisfied smile graced his features.
He liked it when she laughed.
It was the dark humor in her that no one had ever touched. Her laughter was usually tight and fake. He knew how to spot this easily. He relished the fact that with one well placed innuendo or suggestion, he could make that corner of her mouth flip as she tried to cover her true smile. He liked it better than her society mask.
Blair distanced her self, looking away at his expression. She knew what he was thinking and there was no way she was going to let it happen. She couldn't let herself fall for him. When she was with him, she got stupid. Caring for Chuck Bass made her stupid. Nevertheless, she hated how he was well aware that mere attention from him could melt her clothes right off her body. It was unfair that he was exploiting that. She had no powers over him. She didn't make fluttering erupt in his stomach at the mere whiff of her perfume or his insides churn as he watched her from afar with his best friend. She didn't inspire anything in him. That's why this wasn't fair.
She skirted around him, careful not to brush any part of him that would cause the eruption of his most overpowering personality traits. She took her seat on her bed, pulling herself up on the headboard.
"I would love to join you," he grinned. "Thanks for inviting me."
"How about 'no,' Bass," Blair cut him off before he got any ideas that already weren't circulating in his mind.
"Doesn't ring a bell."
"Floor," she indicated. "If you, as you claim, still have information that's worth my time."
"You're banishing me to the floor?" Chuck asked, aghast, but still accomadating her even if it wasn't in the exact way he wanted. But he was still in her presence. That was enough. For now.
"You can't be banished when you never had the privilege in the first place," she smiled sweetly.
"Oh, I had the privilege," Chuck said in his low tone. "I had many privileges when it came to that delightful bed of yours."
"Are you asking to get kicked out?"
"You'd miss me," Chuck shrugged, settling himself against her dresser.
"I highly doubt it."
"Do want to hear what I have to say or not?" he asked.
"Fine," she replied. "But you're staying on the floor."
Chuck wasn't about to mention how it was highly unlikely that he was stay on the floor for long unless she was the one who joined him. She was aware of this as well. Not that she would clue him into that.
So when she felt his body curl comfortably and familiarly against hers, she pretended not to notice in the dead of night. She was relieved. She would pretend to be angry in the morning.
Even worse when you make me cry
Wrath. Wrath made her cry 12 times. She had counted it. Or at least 12 significant times. She didn't even want to think of how many real times he inspired tears in the back of her eyes.
Just laying there, she could count how many times he had made her cry. Nate didn't even compare. Sure, she cried when she found out he cheated and maybe that time that she sort of almost had sex with him in Chuck's room (she was just realizing how telling that was about her denial) but that was pretty much it. It didn't even constitute as the same category.
It didn't even come close to Arabian horses and missed love proclamations. It didn't even compare to see him walk out of her room, not sure if the future would ever come or the countless numbers of times when he ran from her, purposely hurt her with biting words like wife, making it seem ugly, or seeing him spiral more and more into the self destruction that she couldn't bear to watch. The worst of all was when he told her all of the lies and gossip was for nothing. When she was sure that he was walking out of her life for good.
But come to think of it, it always felt like that. He always inspired the fear in her that she would surely die this time. And that's what it was. He made her cry more than anyone. But that seemed to make it all worth it. That he could find her weakness by just looking in her eyes and ruthlessly tear her heart out with even a second thought.
12 times seemed a lot but she was sure that some of them weren't even his fault. It was just her. Maybe it was always her fault. If she hadn't left him at the first sign of trouble, maybe he wouldn't have sneered at her need for him and dismissed her so quickly. He wouldn't look at her with those cold and emotionless eyes of his and called her a race horse put out to pasture. Rode hard and put away wet.
That one hurt the most, she thought. It was the first time anyone had ever treated her like that. It was the first time she realized that anyone could. And most of all, it was the first time he hurt her so much, she thought she would surely die.
But it wasn't the last.
The next two times were practically the same. They didn't hurt as much, but it was still jarring. Simple words like I'll see you at school instilled in her desperation. Maybe she really wouldn't ever see him again. But even worse was his inability to express the feelings she so desperately needed. She thought that maybe if she stayed a little longer or just waited he could choke out what she needed. But she couldn't wait for him. Not if he wouldn't oblige her with the same thing.
She cried twice in one night the next time. He was just standing there, demanding something that he couldn't even give and it wasn't fair. She went to Tuscany and he was making it about him. Her sheer inability to express anything if she wasn't guaranteed the same hurt her. He looked at her with his bottomless eyes and she couldn't see the end. She couldn't see them together and maybe that joke to Serena about jumping off the roof in Brooklyn wasn't so funny anymore.
He could make her emote so easily by not even hurting her. If he was willing to wait for the future, maybe she would be able to. But that last kiss and the way his hand dropped from hers made her sure that it would never happen.
Things could change in an instant. One minute they were trying to be civil and the next he was taking her hand and leading her across the dance floor. He danced so close she could smell the faint scent of scotch that seemed to always permeate his breath with fire.
And then it was gone. Then she was standing in front of that limo, saying the things that she never could and having it thrown in her face. And he just walked away like it was nothing. That's too bad hurt almost as much now you're like one of the Arabians my father used to own. She couldn't even think of how he ended that sentence.
He didn't even have to be there to make her die inside. All she had to hear were the words I love you said from another human to another and she broke down in her step-father's arms. She would never hear those words. Not from him. Not from anyone who mattered.
Even when he came back to her arms, he couldn't stay for very long. That note was something he thought would help her but really it tore her apart. If he didn't leave it, maybe she could pretend that he really did want her and he just left for business. She could have deluded herself. She cried anyway.
She couldn't bear to watch him. It wasn't even the fact that those sluts were clinging to him or him watching the burlesque dancers. It was the deadness. His eyes used to glimmer just for her and now he sneered at the very night that she gave herself to him.
Words that she always thought were light cut her deep. Wife wasn't something she wanted to be anymore. She didn't want to see him with his powder, pills, and hookers. She didn't want to admit she got played by the uncle that scarred her internally. And yet, her soul's twin always came back. He always new peonies were her favorite. He always remembered what Nate could not. She couldn't even look at him as she said the words I'm done. She knew she would surely forgive him. She would let him embrace her and whisper sinful endearments in her ear. But she didn't want to cry anymore. Still, as she couldn't look at him, they still fell. She couldn't do a thing to stop them.
It was occurring to her how easy it was for him. Just for him to look and never react. He would look upon her depression and show no emotion. She used to be able to do that. But not with him. Never with him. She wanted him so badly. She could never fool herself. She knew she would never really move on with Nate, but Chuck just made it that much harder for her to accept. She wanted to be with him. She wanted things to be right. But as the tears fell of her vulnerability, he just lied right to her face. He told her it was a game. She knew deep down that it really wasn't. She walked away anyway.
It was a circle. It was the last time before everything seemed to fall together. She held his face in her hands and begged him to be hers. She wouldn't be weak. She wouldn't make up excuses. But he put his hands on hers and pushed them away. He watched her lip tremble and she was sure she caught something in his own eye glimmer. But just like that, it was gone. It ceased to exist just like his consuming passion for her. He told her it was for nothing and she let herself die once again.
She watched him walk away from her so many times and every time, she was sure it was for good. Every time she died inside, she was sure there was no point or even capability for resurrection. But he always picked her pieces that had shattered all over the floor because of him and painstakingly and carefully set her back together. He held her hand when she was shaky and held her close when she was unsure. He kissed away her pain and turned fear into pleasure. He could manipulate her in the best ways possible and even the worse. And even when he made her cry, he had the uncanny ability to turn it into effortless laughter.
I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call
Choler. It was everything and it was hard. Seeing him again was the hardest thing she ever had to do. She knew it was coming. She had spent three months mentally preparing but as he stood there in front of her with that knowing smirk and the flowers that adorned her arm, she felt like she was breaking all over again he was so beautiful. The most beautiful person she had ever seen.
Nate had always been pretty and Serena had this light air about her, but Chuck was just perfect. His chiseled jaw pulled back into that leer as his slanting eyes glittered with mischief. She should have been mad at him. She should have hated him. But she really loved him. She loved him more than anything.
She had to realize it at the worst possible time. He was in itch in her heart, a niggling in the back of her brain. He was something that was bothering her and she had no idea why.
It was an epiphany that both broke her heart and made her realize how stupid she had been. It was the day that he she knew without a doubt he was not coming. She hated herself. It was the day she relapsed and the day she promised herself she was going to be strong. She cried for six days straight. Then she wiped her tears and picked up the phone.
Serena's voice was wary and Blair didn't need confirmation.
"If he's in the room with you," Blair said, "don't say anything."
"He's not," Serena said quietly.
"Good," Blair replied. "Because I love him and I am never going to forgive him."
"Blair," Serena said.
"Don't tell him the first part," Blair decided, knowing she wouldn't be able to bear the emotional ammunition it would give him. "Just tell him I will never forgive him for what he did to me. Revenge will be all the more sweet when I completely destroy him."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Serena said with uncertainty. "If you really feel like that..."
"Than this will be the closure I need," Blair said. "Its simple."
"What if he feels the same way?"
"He doesn't," Blair said simply. "If he did, he wouldn't be such a coward and would have come and told me himself. But as fate would have it, that's not what will happen. This is for the best. This makes me stronger for when the right person comes along."
"If that's your decision."
She was wrong. She had gone to painful lengths to find the perfect fake boyfriend and parade him in front of her father so everyone know that this was it. She knew that she would eventually have to face the boy who she had let deeper inside of her than she promised herself she would let any man ever go (and that was not a euphamism. Okay, it was a little bit of a euphimism.)
She still wasn't ready. All she could think of when she stepped off of that bus was how much she would rather have traveled in a limo but more importantly how she was in denial when she thought she didn't have to love him. She had to. It was just a matter of physics. Maybe if he actually picked up a phone and she could have heard his stupid husky voice instead of letting it seduce her in the middle of a blackout, she would have been fine.
But as fate would have it, her fate was with him. She hated him all the more. But she loved him.
But most of all, I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all
Furor. It was the things that consumed her. It was the little things. Those things in the back of her mind that told her that she should hate him for it...but she really didn't. It was the way he spoke to her, his personal style. His stupid limo and stupid leer. His lies and the way he read her mind. How he was always right, even when he was making her laugh or cry. She hated how he wasn't the sort of person to call and she didn't care. Every time he screwed up, she just held him close, breathing in the scent that she would never forget.
He would be gone for days and would swear that she hated him. But every time he would walk through that door, she forgot all of that hatred... because it was never there to begin with. She wanted to. She wanted to hate him so badly after everything he had done. But he would stumble towards her arms, smelling faintly (or strongly, it just depended) of scotch and he would settle in her arms like he was meant to be there the entire time.
He would kiss her and she would forget how to work the zipper on her skirt, let alone why she was so mad at him. He would be sweeter and sweeter with her and she would scream even louder. He would nuzzle her affectionately. He would be her Chuck. The person that no one else could ever see. Only her. He was only him for her and she would press her face into his neck.
He would breath in her scent and always whisper the words that she knew were already true, but wanted to hear anyway.
She would stroke his hair lovingly and press her lips to his fiercely again.
His relieved grin got her every time. He should know that she would always forgive him. Its just what they did. They would always find each other again because this was it. They were it. Together.
Maybe their passion would consume them one day but Blair couldn't help but think how worth it this would be. How it was worth his angry words and biting sneers. He was her soul's mate and all of that hurt and the games were just worth it.
She let him stare at her and stroke away all of the doubt that clouded her mind. All of the insecurities and self loathing would just drift away by the power of his eyes.
He didn't say it a lot. She knew she said it more than him. She would say it and he would just smirk knowingly, like she didn't have to tell him. He just knew. He was Chuck Bass. He knew everything. But then he would say it in the dark of the night or when she would sneer at some girl she just destroyed. He would say it when she needed convincing. He would say it, looking deep into her eyes, catching her off guard from the post orgasmic haze and she knew that without a doubt, it would always be true.
"I love you."
It wasn't hate at all. It was just them.