A/N: This just came out of my over active brain. Its a future-fic, not really specifically any time, but it is after college after everyone is settled into their respective vocations and such. I wrote this before the Chair break up but after I heard there would be one. My last submission was sort of disastrus, but I'm sure none of you will review, calling me a slut. I hope. Try not to be too vicious.

Summary: They were done the moment she came back; the moment he followed her to her room from that party. They were done that first night in the limo when they made each other theirs. And they were never going back.

Disclaimer: Though I wished I could make Chuck and Blair do as I wish, it is not so and this is just the result of my love for them. I didn't realize I couldh've submitted this like two months ago but I didn't. Oh well. I'm submitting it now.

The second his shadow darkened her doorway, she knew it was all over. For one split second, she froze, letting the fear of his mere presence overcome her.


Then she went to rearranging her Dolce and Valentino in her walk-in closet. But she was trapped. Light wasn't filtering through the door the way it should have been and she had forgotten how intimidating his very silhouette could be.

It had been so long.

"Glad to be home?" his dark tone rasped. He was drinking more whiskey than usual in his early twenties. She didn't answer for a moment, just letting the fabric fall through her fingers.

"If this is what you would call a home," she responded. He wasn't going to ask. He knew how much it pained her to think it. He was thinking it too. How a hotel could feel more at home than her mother's cold penthouse. His hotel. It used to be their hotel. Not anymore.

"I thought you were engaged," he said.

"Not exactly," she said curtly.

"It fell through?" he asked, hoping that was just bland curiosity in his voice and not something else he felt happening to him again against his own will.

"It never happened."


Her hand stilled again as she searched for an answer.

"Only that of my own making."

"Interesting," he commented. He had now entered the closet fully and she still couldn't bring herself to look at him. "Wouldn't that be obvious without a ring?"

"My mother doesn't know the difference."


So there it was.

You always did it for the parent that would never notice.

He would know.

And she finally looked at him. He looked more... becoming. He looked powerful. It gave him more height; more strength. He was more powerful. He had absorbed all of his father's works now, including his own. Lily must have been proud.

His attire was more impressive while she was still in her society dresses with pearls and elbow length white gloves. Sans ring.

"You don't have to do this."

He was too close. He was always too close. After everything... she couldn't have him this close to her. It was too dangerous.

He was silent for a moment. "How's Humphrey?"

That caught her by surprise.


"I heard you were... friendly."

And finally she got her sense of humor back.

"Ew," she snorted. And there was that smirk that made her less intimidated. And it was breaking her heart all over again.

"So you're not."

"We're friends," she said hesitantly. She knew there was no love lost between those two. Even now. But friends was a light term for what they were. She preferred it that way.

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "It just sort of happened."

After we left each other.

It hung in the air as the two of them stared at each other.


"So you like him."

"I don't know," she said again.

"I don't understand what you're getting out of this relationship," he said. There was no relationship with other people anymore. Not for her and she was sure not for him.

"He listens to me," she answered.

"Serena doesn't do that?" he asked.

"Funnily enough," she said, "his intolerable yet quirky personality offsets my bitchy one."

"He calls you that?" he asked suspiciously.


"No," she said.

Only you called me that.

And it hung in the air.

You called me that with love.

But not anymore.

"You don't have to do this."

He was closer. Too close. Too too too too too close.

She wished he could ever stop breaking her heart.

"So I've heard," he responded with his usual snark. "But what is it that I'm doing?"

He knew what he was doing, but it didn't mean that he was trying to do it. He wasn't trying to get close to her again. But like a moth to a flame, she arrived back into his town in a whirlwind of fire and he had to be consumed by her. The way she was always consumed by him.

They were aligned and she had to tilt her head to look into his slanting eyes the way she didn't have to when she was in heels.

"Are you trying to make this more complicated?"

"No," he answered honestly.

"You don't have to be in here," she said. "You don't have to."

"I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do anymore."

"We're not supposed to fall in love again."

And those three words made the appearance that they were waiting to make ever since she walked back into his life.


"I know," he sighed. They were close now. Too close. Always too close. She could smell the faint presence of whiskey and he was once again seduced by her intoxicating scent that would never vanish from his life.

He could lean in. He could taste her like he was meant to. But that would lead to an abyss of other problems that he wasn't sure he could live through again.

"We promised each other," she murmured, aware of his close proximity. "Remember? We promised each other we weren't going to fall in love again."

"I think," he said hesitantly, "the key word was more. We weren't going to fall more in love with each other."

"And us meeting like this isn't helping," she said. "I can't care about you again."

"Can you tell me something?" he asked and she knew he was too close this time. This time they were touching and it was all wrong. "Did you miss me. Do... you miss me?"

She looked away but he tilted her chin to look into those wide and dark eyes of hers.

"I can't do this again."

"Because I missed you," he confessed.

"That's the problem."

"I know," he said huskily.

"It's hard for me to stay away from you," she said admittedly.

"Then don't."

"I can't have it end up like last time," she said. "I won't do it."

"We don't have to. We can just..."

She knew what he had come for. And she knew that she wanted it too.

"I can't have my heart broken again."

"It won't," he promised. She should have protested. She should have said that time apart, even though fruitless relationships that seemed more like flings were constant, was better than breaking apart again. But she couldn't stay away from him either.

And he felt the same way.

Maybe this was how it had to be.

Because his body was already flush against her and she took deep gasps of air for the milliseconds he would pull away. But he could never be apart from her for long. They couldn't be apart from each other anymore.

"You have to do something for me," she said as he trailed along her neck.

"Anything," he promised.

"You can't care about me," she said. He paused, looking at her steadily and she knew it was too late anyway. But she couldn't continue if she didn't hear the words.

He would have to lie to her.

"I can't be away from you," he said slowly, trying to find his way. "I can't do it."

"Just promise," she said. "It's the only way we can do this. Say you don't care about me."

It was the only way both of them would come out of it unscathed.

"I promise."

It was the one time she knew he was lying.

And it was the one time that she didn't care.

She let him push her down on the floor, hiking up her skirt. His hands were scorching but familiar and she knew that she was still in love with him. She never could have stopped. But she could keep it beneath the surface. If this was the only way to be with him without killing herself in the process, she would do it. She would pretend not to love him anymore.

Above the purring in the back of her throat and her name mumbled into her hair, the both of them couldn't hear the footsteps that approached the ostentatious sounds.

Dan Humphrey sighed with defeat as he saw Blair Waldorf screw her eyes shut from Chuck Bass's ministrations. He just hoped they knew what they were doing.

"What are you doing?"

Blair didn't know how Humphrey had sneaked into her room. Her hands were still shaking. She had forgotten the effect that he had on her.

"I assume you're aware that breaking and entering is a federal offense," Blair sighed, trying to steady herself after fleeing into her bathroom until she heard the reluctant retreat. She couldn't look at Chuck in the eyes afterward. She knew she would just break all over again.

"Blair," Dan stated.

"Remind me again if we're friends," Blair sneered, feeling the euphoria of post coital bliss seeping away from her. "Because I distinctly remember me hating you."

"And do you distinctly remember me having to take you to the ER?"

He watched her pause for a moment before turning her snide expression to him.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm just wondering what Chuck will do when he finds out."

"He's not going to," Blair answered abruptly. "And not that its any of your business, but he wouldn't care."


"Because I asked him not to," Blair said.

"If he is so indifferent to you," Dan said, "what were you just doing?" He watched Blair's lips curl in disgust but didn't stop to think about how he truly was an Upper East Sider now.

"I'm going to suspend my utter disgust for a moment," Blair said, "to remind you that its none of your business. It's just sex."

"And to him?" Dan asked.

"It's always just sex to him," Blair stated coldly.

"So I guess you just fell out of love with him."

"I don't understand why this matters at all to you," Blair said. "My private life is exactly that. Private."

"And what's going to happen when no one is there to pick you off the floor next time?" Dan asked.

"You were there for me once," Blair rolled her eyes. "Great. Maybe I don't hate you as much as I did as an adolescent. Great. But telling Chuck will be one of the greatest mistakes of your life."

"Why is that?" Dan asked. "Because he still cares about you?"

"He said he didn't."

"And you believed him?"

"Why do you care?" Blair snapped.

"Because it should have been him to pick you up after your relapsed, not me," Dan stated. "It's been months. So what's stopping you from letting him help you?"

Months. It felt like eternities.

"Heartbreak," Blair answered.

It was the only answer she had anymore.

His clothes smelled of her. That was the first problem. She was a part of him. Had been since he could remember. She had embedded herself beneath his flesh and surged through his veins. He just couldn't shake her.

But this was for the best. This way no one got hurt. This way he could still be with her even if he wasn't. Even if she got married to some old money family and had the beautiful children, he would still possess a part of her. He would have to watch her go off but at least it wouldn't be as bad as before. Because now he knew he could never could on to her. But being near her in this way was enough.

For now.

"What are you doing here?"

He knew he smelled the insider in his penthouse.

"I came to see you," Humphrey said uneasily.

"I can't imagine why."

"You will," Dan said seriously. Chuck loosened the tie, ruffled by her hasty hands. He tried not to inhale too much. These clothes were going straight to the maid. It was too personal. And he just couldn't be personal with her right now. It hurt too much. Or it would if he admitted his feelings were just intensifying by being even near her. If that was even possible.

"As usual," Chuck sighed, "I am underwhelmed by your sense of urgency."

"Even if it was about Blair?"

He watched in satisfaction as Chuck paused, even if it was for a fraction of a second before he regained face.

"I'm out of that game," he said tersely.

"This is a game to you?" Dan asked. Chuck turned his suspicious eyes towards him.

"What are you saying?" he asked, his sneer making itself apparent and Dan realized he thought too soon.

"Listen, Chuck," Dan said uncomfortably, "whatever you're thinking..."

"Oh, it's not what I'm thinking that's the problem," Chuck replied. "Do you really think Blair would go for anyone like you?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Dan said hastily. "We're just friends."

"So I keep hearing."

"I thought you said you were out of that game."

"Who said it was Blair who told me?" Chuck asked quickly. Dan recognized that look in his eyes. He wished he didn't but Chuck looked in a way that worried him. He made his cat-like slink towards him. "Whatever you think you saw..."

"I saw you two having sex on the floor of her walk-in closet," Dan said bluntly. "You're just lucky it was me and not some Gossip Girl spy."

"It wouldn't matter anyway."

"Right," Dan replied. "Because you've stopped caring about her, right?"

Chuck's eyes sparked and Dan was glad he at least was getting a reaction now. Chuck was the sort of person who you could never tell who they were at face value. At least to Dan.

"You think making me the villain will win you the girl?" Chuck asked cruelly. His eyes were snapping with jealousy and Dan knew he could get to him. "At the risk of being forward, let me just tell you a secret. Blair has a type. And you're just not it."

"I told you," Dan said. "I'm just trying to look out for her. And not like that. I'm well aware of her type. Dark, brooding, dangerous with an alcohol problem."

"I'm flattered," Chuck drawled, "but you have no idea what you're talking about. What were you even doing in her room?"

There was that jealousy again and Dan knew he was doing the right thing.

"I was worried she had relapsed."

And then there was hurt in Chuck's eyes that came as a surprise. He knew he was right. He knew Chuck didn't like watching Blair struggle. But he had a feeling that wasn't the whole story.

"She would have told me," Chuck said hesitantly. "And why would she have told you at all?"

There it was.

He liked feeling that Blair deemed him special enough to make only him privy to this information.

"I thought you didn't care."

"I don't," Chuck said nonchalantly. "I just don't understand why you're coming to me."

"Because if she's relapsed--"

"Just stop right there," Chuck replied curtly. "Don't tell me."

"Don't tell you," Dan repeated.

"I told you that's its none of my concern."

"Even if you're not involved with her as you so claim, you're still friends. And you still care."

"If she's relapsed, then call Dr. Sherman. She'll take care of it. But don't involve me."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Dan asked quietly.

"Don't pull that on me," Chuck said icily. "Don't guilt me into something that has nothing to do with me. She wants me out of her life, she's got it."

"Is that really it, or are you just afraid you're going to get hurt again?" Dan asked.

"If you're quite finished with psycho analyzing me," Chuck replied, "I have to inform you that I have better things to do than be another sad character in one of your failed prose."

"And if Blair OD's tomorrow, are you going to convince yourself then that you couldn't have done anything to stop it?"

He watched in fascination as Chuck's face drain of color before he realized something was indeed very wrong.

"What did you just say?" Chuck asked with quiet danger.

"I told you," Dan said in confusion at Chuck's question, "she's relapsed and she needs help..."

"What are you talking about?" Chuck asked.

"What are you talking about?" Dan said. "You didn't seem that surprised when I said she relapsed."

"What is it?" Chuck asked, his voice still low and careful.


"What drug is it?" Chuck snapped, his careful articulation now full of the wrath that was reaching the surface. Dan grew uneasy, knowing even though Chuck didn't know what Blair's problem was, he still knew more than Dan did about her. Always had, always would.

"What is she addicted to?" Chuck asked with soft desperation.

He didn't wait for Dan to answer before he slammed the door behind him.

Blair stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror of The Hudson. She was sure Chuck hadn't bought this one. But she didn't know if she was caught up or not on events that had to do with him anymore. It wasn't like she was avoiding him after the ...adventure in her closet. And it wasn't like she was thinking about it constantly either. It wasn't like she wished they were together. For good.

Blair scrubbed her hands in the sink, sure she could still feel the heat of his presence consuming her. The attendant handed her a towel. She pulled her purse out as she was vaguely aware of Penelope Shafai-Astor next to her pulling out her prescription pills.

Attendants always looked the other way when it came to the drug use in the bathrooms. It was owned by their very own. And everyone was marrying up nowadays. Blair tried not to look envious as the girl she used to know. She wasn't jealous of the titles. She wished her life was as simple as money marrying bigger money. But she had said goodbye to that simplicity when she said goodbye to the Vanderbilt diamond. She didn't regret that decision. But she regretted many she made along the way to her present life.

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Penelope unscrew the child safety on the bottle. Blair sighed and laid her purse on the counter. Blair liked control. And when she first started, that's what she got. She was taking control of her life. She was taking care of her own feelings. She didn't have to feel horribly depressed anymore. All those feelings just floated away on a cloud of powder and illusions.

But here she was with all the other wives with their quiet desperation and it was very obvious to her that she now lived a life of something else. This didn't give her control anymore. Now, she as completely out of control. She didn't control it. It controled her.

Blair pulled out the small bag full of white powder. She felt Penelope's eyes now on her but she knew she wasn't being judged. She was being envied. She was about to dip her finger in the bag when she caught Penelope's eye. She held out the pills.


The silent exchange was obvious. Blair held out her hand as the pretty white pills fell into her hand and into her mouth. She heard Penelope inhale sharply and Blair took the bag back. She stuck her finger, taking a good amount of powder on her finger before letting it burn up her nasal passage. Blair blinked rapidly and looked at herself in the mirror again. She was floating now and she could deal with actually looking at herself. She wiped her nose, making sure no remnants clung to it.

"Get out."

The masculine voice echoed dangerously through the corners of the bathroom and Blair froze at the familiarity. Penelope looked over to Blair's still form, understanding that this wasn't for her. It was for Blair. She stowed the bottle as Blair shot her a pointed look as Penelope escaped.

She could hear his sauntering footsteps start to come around the corner as she wound the bag shut. Her hands were shaking as she hurriedly tried to find a place to hide it before dropping it in her purse. She heard four distinct footsteps.


And then he was in front of her.

His cold look brought her down to earth for a moment. All she knew is that she would die if he found out. She turned to the mirror, smoothing out her hair.

She still cared what he thought of her.

"The Ladies' Room, really, Chuck?" Blair asked lightly. "Although I don't know why I thought you had more class than that."

He didn't speak and Blair forced herself to meet his gaze in the mirror.

She shouldn't have.

"Where is it?" he asked shortly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied coolly.

"I'm giving you a chance, Blair," he said unsteadily. It was that hitch in his voice and she knew they were both done.

They were done the moment she came back; the moment he followed her to her room from that party. They were done that first night in the limo when they made each other theirs. And they were never going back.

But she just couldn't admit that she let herself fall even more deeply. She couldn't get caught in this barbed trap again.

He already had.

"A chance for what?" Blair laughed shortly.

She had forgotten how fast he was.

Her back was suddenly pinned against the sink, her wrists caught in his hands.

"Where is it?"

She stubbornly remained silent, staring coldly into his eyes. His grip grew lax but he didn't let go.

"How could you do this to me?" he asked softly this time. Her heart cracked more. She was surprised it didn't fall apart completely.

"Because it was always about you, right?" Blair asked with a sneer instead. This was better. Cold was better. This way he couldn't get underneath her skin like he always could. He couldn't thaw out her persona and armor and care about her. He just couldn't.

Before she could stop him he snatched her purse away.

"No," she said suddenly as he found it on top of her compact mirror. He threw her purse back on the counter, holding the bag in front of her face. She swallowed but refused to speak.

"How could you?" he asked again.

"How could I?" Blair snapped. "Look who's talking, you hypocrite. You have no right--"

"That's exactly the point, Blair," he said sharply. "You know I've done this and you know first hand how detrimental it is."

"Then why do you have to ask?"

"Say it," he commanded. "Just say it."

"No," Blair said again, roughly extricating herself from his grasp. "Just no. We promised each other we wouldn't do this."

"How couldn't you tell me?" he asked weakly. "You told Humphrey but you couldn't tell me? Even after everything?"

"I didn't tell him," Blair rolled her eyes. "He just walked in. And of course I couldn't tell you of all people."


"Don't, Chuck," she warned.

"Just say it," Chuck repeated. "Just say it."

"How is that going to help?"

"Then I'll know you still love me."

It was out in the open and she couldn't take it.

"It doesn't mean anything."

"It means everything," he told her.

"No," Blair said. "No, it doesn't. Because we promised each other. This won't work if we--"

"Care about each other?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "It just gives us more opportunity for hurt."

"You're hurting me now," Chuck said honestly. "And I can't watch you self destruct."

Blair closed her eyes as those words hit close to home.

"I know what its like," Chuck said.

"This isn't because I'm grieving, Chuck," she said bitterly. "I'm selfish and this is the only way I can cope."

"That wasn't what I was talking about," Chuck replied. "Gossip spreads fast and you know it. You think I don't drown my sorrows?"

"That's different."

"I used to be addicted to you," Chuck said. "But I had to give you up. So I had to have something to fill the void. And I know you feel the same way. We're the same."

"It doesn't matter," Blair said, trying to convince herself.

"It matters," he said. "Stop saying that. Stop saying that you don't need me like I need you."

"We've tried this before," Blair said. "And look how well that turned out."

"We'll try harder. We'll try again," Chuck said strongly.

"What makes you think this time will be any different?" Blair asked.

"Tell me that I'm just another one of them. Tell them I was just... some guy to you," Chuck stated. "Tell me I was just some Nate or Marcus... or Carter Baizen. Tell me you didn't feel anything when I was inside of you. Tell me you didn't feel everything."

Blair wanted to deny it. She had to. But that way he was looking at her... it was only a matter of time before she broke.

"Of course I do," she finally confessed. "Of course I feel everything."

She let him come to her this time. He put his hands on her shoulders, drawing her into him.

"Is this it?" she whispered into his jacket.

"This is it," he confirmed. "After five eternities apart, this is it."