I had long since resigned myself to feeling nothing.

For years the only things I was comfortable feeling were physical pleasure and emotional numbness.

And that was fine.

Until you crawled across that limo and those damned butterflies changed everything.

I saw you with him in the courtyard. I saw you leave with him at cotillion.

And I wish that I felt nothing.

But the only thing I feel is jealousy and hurt.

But I leave; convince myself it was a momentary lapse in judgment.

And that was fine.

Until you came to my father's wedding and those damned butterflies were still there.

We said we'd try, "go slow." We wanted to try everything because this was real.

But I wasn't used to emotion and the only things I'd ever felt were fleeting. 'What if I messed it up?' 'What if we failed?'

So I let you go. Left you, would probably be more important.

And that was fine.

Until you stepped off the Jitney.

I saw your heart on his arm and I wished I felt nothing.

As I walked away, I didn't feel butterflies anymore. Nor did I feel relief at their removal. Instead, I felt something new, something different. It felt a lot like regret and that changed everything.

I asked you not to go-to stay with me.

You said "three words, eight letters" would change everything. The only thing I could feel was fear. So I went with what I had always known about feelings.


You walked away.

And that was fine.

Yet you're all I could see. I could still taste you on my lips as if it were moments ago. It was all my mind could think about.

So I blame it on the only kind of feeling I've ever really had, the physical.

I convince myself that I need the fulfillment that only you can bring. When the moment comes, I know it's not just physical. It's not just butterflies either.

And though you're willing to settle, I'm not.

Because now I want those three words, eight letters to change everything.

But you don't say it.

I don't say it.

And it's not fine anymore.

My father dies.

I feel nothing.


Nothing because that place in my body, where feelings are supposed to come from, feels like it's crushed. Destroyed. Dead.

And that's me. Crushed. Destroyed. Dead.

Until you say those three words, eight letters.

And they change everything.

Everything that was crushed and destroyed hurts so much more. Three words, eight letters, breathed life into the dead parts of me.

And all I feel is the overwhelming hurt of loss and death.

So I don't say it back.

And it's not fine.

But what is anymore?

I come back because I'm lost and alone and I can't find anything out there that makes me feel less lost and less alone. And then I realize-it's because you're not there.

You're here.

So I come back, hoping that things will be fine.

But they're not.

I screw up. I say things I don't mean and I hurt you in cruel ways.

And it's not fine.

But I can't remember the last time it was.

Time goes on, passing slowly as I learn to accept that I've always felt more than butterflies for you. So I wait.

Until I'm finally ready. Ready to tell you those eight words.

But you're not ready anymore.

And you're not fine because Yale is no longer in the cards.

As much as I want to, I can't say them because you're you, and I'm me. When I say it, I want it to be to the you that belongs with me. So I wait.

And so it seems you're back with him. I feel all those same feelings as before: rage, jealousy, and a new one, hope. Hope that he can be what you need. That he can give you what you so desperately want. That he will finally give you more than nothing.

So I try to let you go. I want you to be happy with him because you deserve to be happy.

And if it's not with me, it'll be fine.

I do everything in my power to make it fine.

I try to step back and give you everything you've every wanted-your fairytale.

And while everything is perfect, it still isn't fine and you break up with him at prom.

I feel a million things but hope is still prevalent. This time hope for me, hope for us.

And those three words, eight letters finally get to change our world.

It's perfection.

It is glorious and everything I thought it would be; more even.

And I can't ever imagine running from it. Can't imagine wanting anything else in life. This is it. This is everything.

But I should have known perfection wouldn't last-couldn't last for a boy so used to nothing.

I had everything I had ever wanted.

And so I gambled. I thought it would be fine.

Worst thing I've ever done, darkest thought I've ever had. You promised the three words would last.

That it would be fine.

I was apparently naïve because I believed that-that it would be fine. I honestly did.

Until you walked in the door and I saw your eyes.

And it was everything but fine.

This was different and I realized that from now on, it may never be fine again.

But I couldn't give up, not until I was certain I had done everything in my power because without you, I knew I was nothing. Nothing.

There was really only one thing to do. You were everything and I wanted you forever. I hoped you felt the same way so I waited. But you never came and I was broken again.




So I sank back to who I was before you. into a man who hid behind the physical.

And I knew it wasn't fine but what else did I have?

Until you walked off that elevator and I felt hope and fear in equal measure.

You'd forgiven me and I thought I'd get everything I had ever dreamed of.




All I felt were nerves, butterflies: flying, fluttering, thrashing.

And it was almost fine.

Until he interrupted and it wasn't fine anymore-instead it was over.




I ran. Ran from you and all my mistakes. Or better yet, my mistake, because there was really only one worth running from.

There is hearth ache and heartbreak.

And the year passes in a blur.

I'm so unlike myself it isn't even funny. No one seems to notice that but you.

And I guess it's fine, because you were the only one that ever really saw me anyway.

We played a game. There were no three words, eight letters spoken. Only glances held too long and caresses that lingered. It was you and me again but it wasn't forever.

And it wasn't in the realm of fine.

And even when I have no intention of hurting you, I still do. It's what I do. I hurt you. I hurt you so bad that you run to another's arms.

I watched, thinking that it would end like always, with you in my arms. This was you and me we were talking about, so I was fine while you played out your fairytale.

Until I saw you and you said those words.

That it was you and him.


And I no longer knew what the word fine meant because it didn't exist.

You were gone. Lost. I felt rage and I hurt.

And I hurt you.

I hurt myself, too.

And I had almost settled for the life of regret. I had begun to see how I deserved it, which was fine.

Until I got your call and I ran to save you. Because to me it's the way it's always been.




And you were fine and that was the closest to fine I thought I'd ever be.

Until you told me I was still the first. It was passion, lust, three words, eight letters. But yet it was mixed with something I couldn't quite name-something that felt like goodbye.

You told me what you wanted.




And God did I want it.

But I also wanted something else.




And I wasn't sure I could give that to you anymore.

And that wasn't fine.

So I let you go.

Seeing you with him makes me feel nothing. The wedding invitation makes me feel nothing.

Nothing. A vast emptiness. A lack of love. A lack of fulfillment. A lack of everything.

I feel nothing.

And that's just fine.

Until you say those words.

Two words.

Eight letters.

"It's Louis'. "

They changed everything.

And I wished for the nothing because now there are images.

Your hair.

My eyes.

Your nose.

My lips.

Melded together as one being.





But it'll never be.

The baby will have your hair.

His eyes.

Your lips.





And I die inside because the hope that had managed to linger is now dashed on the rocks.

The dreams I'd had of children.


With two words and eight letters, you sealed my fate because I would never have a child without you and now you belonged to someone else.

And we go on like everything is fine, like it hadn't always been written to be another way.




And so we pretend we know the song or that it's ok if we rewrite it as we go. We dance around the subject and each other.

Until you call.

You ask if I could love another man's child but I know what you're really asking. And it's really crazy, because the most honest answer would be, "How could I not love your child?" But I want you to be happy and I'm still not sure that you can be with me. So even though every part of me is screaming that I'll love the baby till the ends of the earth, I tell you what I think is best.

And I can hear that you're not fine.

But I reassure myself that it will be and almost convince myself it's true.

Until he gets involved.

And I can't lie anymore, can't pretend that it's fine. Of course I'll love your baby because it's yours and you're mine.


So I tell you.

And it's more than fine. It's more than anything I've ever felt before.

It's joy.

It's relief.

It's hope.

It's love.




Until the car crashes and the air is split with your sorrowful scream.

But I don't hear it.

All I hear is nothing.


A/N: Let me know what you think. I've never written any GG but felt compelled to write this awhile ago and it just kept growing. I don't have a beta and I really can't read it over many more times. I have started a second part that is from Blair's POV so there is a possibility for that if people are interested. Plus, if you're interested in betaing, let me know because I have a few stories collecting dust and my new year's resolution is to actually put some of them out there.