A/N: If Dair doesn't happen in season four, I will cut a bitch. Oh, and guys; I legit wrote this in like, eight minutes. All spelling errors are mine.
"Say it again."
It's after she's decided that she should simply stab Chuck in the eyes, in the throat, in the chest, watch him bleed and suffer for hurting her. Each gush of blood would only be further reconcilliation for her broken heart. He shouldn't be alive. He can't love. He can't love her, he can't love anyone else. How could she ever believe he could?
It's after that - that's when Blair ends up in Dan's dorm room.
And he's staring at her, uncertain and afraid and just so... so innocent. It makes her want to cry. It's different, she thinks; it's different because he's a legitimately nice guy. He's not like Nate, who only pretends to be nice for his family. He's not like Chuck, who was never nice in his lifetime, only put up a mask for her. He's not like anything. He's simply nice. He's a nice person.
And she's going to hurt him but she can't bring herself to tell him that.
"Say what?" And he's so nervous, his fingers wriggling into his pockets, his shoulders hunched. Usually he's never afraid of her - they are equals - but this time she's not herself, she's not anyone, just something he can't understand.
She's distracted, each nerve jumping with fire, each breath rapid and shallow. But, nevertheless: "What you said, at the wedding." She breathes in again - inhale, exhale - and closes her eyes. "Say it again."
He doesn't appear to know what she's saying. She continues to breathe. It's all she knows how to do. It's what each child is born knowing how to do - breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. It's subconscious. It's the most basic knowledge of being. So if she breathes, she knows she's alive, she knows her heart isn't quite broken because it's still beating.
She opens her eyes and he's a little closer to her, not by much, and he's a little relaxed, not by much.
"You deserve someone to make you happy." And he smiles at her, just a little, just enough, and she continues to breathe, inhaling the sweet air and exhaling her grief. But he doesn't appear to notice that she's trying so hard.
She laughs brokenly. "And who's going to do that?" She raises her eyes a hairbreadth to his, and they match, she notes - brown eyes against brown. Within a moment, she's sorry for everything she's ever said - he's a nice person, a nice guy, and she's been taking his psuedo-non-friendship for granted. Then, softly: "You?"
He doesn't lean down to kiss her. That's not what happens. Instead, he wraps his arms protectively around her frail body, enveloping her in a contented warmth. "I don't know," he answers honestly. And that's the thing - he's honest.
She closes her eyes and curls her arms around his neck, sighing with the pure, unadulterated pleasure of simplicity. "Good enough."