A/N: For them crazy bitches on Gossip Girl Insider.

You knock on the door tentatively (because it's almost blasphemy that he'd let you in). The loft is warm, and it's refreshing, because the air outside was too cold, too stark. His gaze rakes over you (and you're not the least bit upset that you're wet and your curls are frumpy, even though you should be). He flusters a little and you blink right back at him, because you won't let your guard down, not once.

Instead of like in your favorite chick flicks, he gaps his mouth a little and says, "Blair?" (Like it's a funny thing, to see you there. Maybe it is. You think, maybe I should laugh, but his eyes are sober.)

"Humphrey." Your voice is dark and cold, and maybe that's what makes his eyebrows raise a bit. Maybe that's what makes him press his lips together, gaze traveling you dubiously, arms stilled on the door frame. And maybe it's the earnest look in your eyes when he cocks his head to the side and tells you that you can come in. (Maybe it's the kindness in his gaze that makes you hesitate.)

But you enter, and like every chick flick you've ever watched, there is a foreshadow. The loft is empty. It's past midnight. It's expected, it's unexpected, it's instinctive, it's new - and all at once, you can't bring yourself to care that your best friend still loves him and you're out of his league, because maybe he cares.

There is small-talk, but it's careless, and finally you convince him to tell you more about his family (because there's no one else to turn to, and Chuck Bass is an asshole who doesn't want you anymore, and can't see why anyone else would.)

You think, Cedric isn't the worst dirty secret, and then you wonder how you got into his room. And things happen. (You want to run away, run, just keep running, until your feet ache and your chest heaves and you forgot why you wanted to run. You want to run away until there's no point anymore, keep running. But running away is hard when it feels like home.)

The morning after, you're gone, and there's no letter in your wake, or an explanation. There shouldn't be. (Because just like you told Chuck, it was a silly mistake.)

Although, you wonder when he'll realize that Cedric is gone.

His name is Daniel Cornelius Waldorf. Your father says, you're secret is safe, and Roman hugs you wordlessly. (There's nothing to say, you remind yourself.) You love Harold even more, because he understands. Because Roman and I have always wanted to adopt, and the look in his eyes says he'll take care of your baby.

Maybe he'll be a writer, you wonder. Maybe years from now, when Roman and Harold convince the world that Danny was adopted, he'll grow up to be a writer. You wonder if maybe he'll have his father's eyes and his mother's personality, and yet still you wonder if that would be a deadly combination. (Somewhere, deep down, you smile, because it's just a funny thought.)

And Serena asks where were you?, and he fidgets by her side, because he wants to escape, and you want to escape. And you shrug. You tell the whole world that daddy missed me, and they brush it off. It's not a big deal, you tell yourself.

Years from now, when Danny Cornelius Waldorf (you like the name Danny, no matter what Roman decides to call him) runs up to you and gives you a hug, he doesn't say mommy. But for a second, you think, maybe that's okay. Years from now, you look down at Danny Waldorf (who got his mother's eyes and his father's personality, and who's carrying Cedric by his ragged arm) and you don't run away. It feels home.

But when you return back to New York, the other Daniel is waiting for you, and you return to make the same silly mistake you made when you were seventeen.

Only this time, the morning after, you're still there, and the first thing you say is, "I've been living a lie, Humphrey."

He listens, and maybe it's because he cares. Because he always cared.