This scene is later in Chuck and Blair's relationship when they're actually a couple.

Blair hated. Hated everyone and hated everything. She hated her mother for her judgmental ways, hated her for the way she stared as she attempted to eat her sandwich, hated her for the condescending look on her face as she told her that she would never fit into the clothes she got for the upcoming season, hated her for the smile that graced her face as she pushed her plate away, half of the sandwich still untouched. She hated the cook who let her waltz into the kitchen, not saying anything as she cut a slice of chocolate cake and leaned against the counter as she ate it. She hated Dorota for not being home, for leaving to run errands, hated her for not being there to tell her that her mother was being irrational, hated her for not telling her to finish her sandwich. She hated herself as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom, hated herself as she locked the bathroom door, hated herself as she purged her body of all the food she just ate, hated the tears that ran down her cheeks as she realized she failed again, failed like she always did. She hated herself for the ways her hands shook as she picked up her phone, hated how weak her voice sounded as the other line was finally picked up. "Chuck?" she said brokenly, her voice barely a whisper.

"Blair, what's wrong?" Chuck asked, his untied shoes forgotten. He had been preparing for a meeting at Bass Industries, almost ready to leave. Blair's soft voice caused his stomach to drop, as if someone had dropped lead weights into it.

"Ch-chuck, I need you," she said, trying to hold in her sobs. She would not let herself seem any weaker than she already felt. Even though she loved Chuck and he loved her, she was still uncomfortable showing her weak side sometimes; old habits die-hard. "I screwed up again."

"I'm coming right now," Chuck replied, grabbing his coat off his bed and making his way to the door.

"No, I want to get out of here. Can I come to the apartment?" she asked, her knees shaking slightly as she stood.

"Of course. I'll send the limo for you; it'll be there in ten minutes."

"Thank you Chuck," Blair said, leaning against the bathroom counter.


Chuck hated. He hated whoever had upset Blair enough to make her call him in that weak, broken voice. He hated that he had to wait for her to come to him instead of rushing over to her house. He hated the tearstains down Blair's cheeks, the sad look in her eyes, the watery smile that she gave him. Blair was his goddess and he wanted his goddess to always be happy, to laugh and smile and scheme with that brilliant mind of hers. He hated whoever had done this to her.

He pulled her into his arms as he saw her standing in his doorway, closing the door behind them. Her slim frame shook with silent sobs, her face buried against his chest. He led her over to his couch, rubbing her back and whispering words of comfort as she slowed her tears. Finally she stopped her tears, wiping her cheeks as she looked at him.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" he asked, kissing her knuckles gently. The words seemed to catch in Blair's throat as she looked at Chuck, his eyes filled with worry. Would he be disappointed in her? Would he think that she was weak, that she had lost her edge? She looked down at her lap, unable to focus on his eyes. "Blair," he said softly, stroking her cheekbones gently. The soft rumbling baritone of his voice soothed her as she leaned into his touch. "Please tell me what's wrong; let me help."

Blair swallowed, taking a deep breath. "I…I relapsed," she whispered, closing her eyes, unable to face him.

Chuck's eyes widened at her words, his stomach twisting into knots. 'Oh…shit.' Blair had been doing so much better recently; she hadn't purged in months. He knew an eating disorder didn't go away overnight; it took time, a day-by-day process. He would know; he consulted several specialists after he found out about her disorder. "Blair, what happened?" Chuck asked, forcing her to look at him.

The words came tumbling out, the entire story spilling out between them, leaving Chuck enraged at Eleanor. How could Eleanor treat Blair like that? How could she put down this beautiful, intelligent sitting before him, how could she make her feel as if she wasn't already perfect enough, how could she not see what her words were doing to her daughter. Chuck wanted nothing more than to burst into Eleanor's office and yell at her for being a complete idiot and endangering her daughter's health. He settled for pulling Blair into his lap, tucking her head under his chin.

"I'm so sorry," Blair whispered through her tears. "I-I tried so hard; I was doing so much better but I screwed up again. I failed again of course."

"Shut up Waldorf," he said, tightening his arms around her. "It's not your fault; your mother should have never said those things to you, should have never treated you that way. Then again Upper East Side parents never notice anything." He began rocking her slowly, rubbing her back gently. "You'll just have to start again. You're strong Blair; you're stronger than your disorder, you can beat this. And you'll have me by your side to help you if you need help okay? Everything's gonna be okay."

Blair nestled closer to Chuck, wrapping her arms around him. "Who knew Chuck Bass could be so caring?"

"You know, that's all that matters," he replied, kissing her head.

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