Title: oh how divine.
Summary: they break and burn and end (and then they go back through the pattern, again and again and again.) chuck\blair. drabble.
Authors Note: This will be depressing. If you read my stuff then you should know that by now and apparently I pissed off the entire CB fandom on twitter? Or a lot of the fandom? If anybody else has more information contact me please because my work isn't actually up for discussion unless I'm involved in that discussion.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
he doesn't know why he does it.
he takes the blade and runs it across his skin.
he runs it across his skin four more times.
(testing it out, he claims.)
it becomes a ritual.
smiles at nate, retreats to his room, picks up the blade.
and then he runs the blade across his skin.
(it doesn't hurt, he claims.)
she enters the empire on a thursday.
he laughs bitterly because it started on a thursday.
it started because of her.
(but it didn't really, he claims.)
he asks her to go away, nicely.
because he can't be mad at her.
this isn't her fault.
(it's really his or his fathers or his uncles, he claims.)
serena finds him in the bathroom.
the blade positioned above his wrist.
she shrieks and screams and calls an ambulance.
(he's never liked the blonde, he claims.)
she's the first one they allow to visit him.
he's sort of glad.
he's sort of pissed.
(but he's more happy than angry, he claims.)
nate visits him two weeks after serena found him.
he stands awkwardly in the doorway.
hands shoved in his pockets.
(chuck is thankful for the silence, he claims.)
she asks him late one night curled up beside him why he did it.
he doesn't know.
pain, hurt, denial, you, him, him, her.
(but he does know, he claims.)
and he slowly learns how to say her name again.
blair. blair. blair. blair.
and it was stupid to be mad at her.
(he played her worse, he claims.)
blair's fingers dance across his wrist.
she traces the scars.
one, two, three, four, five, six -
(and she lost count, he claims.)
erik ends up in the hospital.
an uncomfortable expression on his face,
and tears in his eyes.
(and he feels awful because erik has been there, done that, he claims.)
he gets moved to the ostroff center.
therapists question him, pens poised above dove white paper with perfectly black stenciled lines.
he smirks at the questions and brushes them off as nothing.
(it's not nothing, he claims.)
"why did you do it charles?"
and he's been rethinking this question over and over.
he still doesn't know.
(but he would love to know, he claims.)
when he gets out, he's treated to pitying looks.
serena. nate. erik. lily. rufus. arthur.
even the three brooklynites trio: dan, vanessa & jenny.
(only blair doesn't shoot him those looks full of pity, he claims.)
he buys them a townhouse on the upper east side.
presents her with the harry winston diamond.
she squeals, throws her arms around his neck and whispers yes, yes, yes! into his lips.
(and sometimes things go from bad to good to great, he claims.)
she lies against his chest, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she goes over florists.
and dates for the wedding.
and locations for the wedding.
(he laughs because she's too adorable not to love, he claims.)
they fight on a thursday, of all days.
he's forgotten what it's over.
he rolls her eyes as she punches him in the chest.
(and this is why it started because he was never good enough for her, he claims.)
they make up quickly and its all kisses and hugs and rose and petals and love.
she finds the blade stashed away in his closet.
and she cries until she can't breathe.
(and he's used it exactly twice since they moved in, he claims.)
she confronts him about it later that night.
he looks up at her with surprise, caught off guard.
"don't worry about it, b."
(he hates lying to her but he's stopped, he claims.)
it's a self destructive pattern.
fight. cut. fight. cut. make up. go clean. fight. cut.
he blames it on her.
(but it's him, it's all him, he claims.)
he calls off the engagement exactly one month before the wedding.
she deserves better, not some fuck up who would hurt her again.
(and it's harder than watching her leave with louis, he claims.)
she refuses to leave.
she refuses to give up on him.
she refuses to give up on them.
(she's the only one that's ever stayed, he claims.)
he promises and swears that he'll never do it again.
and she knows how tempting it is.
she used to self harm, just in a different way.
(and he thanks his lucky stars that he has her, he claims.)
they get married on a friday.
they did start on a friday after all.
in the back of a limo.
(and he loves fridays, he claims.)
it's a classy and simple affair.
once they had dreamed of having the biggest wedding possible.
but she had already done that with a prince.
(he thinks having a smaller wedding is better, he claims.)
but yet despite his promises the blade draws him back in.
glossy, gleaming, curved.
digging it into his skin, wincing in pain.
(the two of them had relieved every single one of their mistakes, he claims.)
she finds the new scars straight away.
she's memorized where all the old ones are.
she slaps him, leaving a red mark across his cheek.
(and he thanks her because she's the only one he doesn't treat him with pity, he claims.)
she forgives him.
he forgives her.
and the slowly help each other rebuild each other.
(the pain is always going to be there, the scars are always going to be there, he claims.)
"i love you blair,"
his fingers are gently threading through her hair.
her head is lying on his chest, her eyes locked on the screen.
(and he loves her as much as she loves audrey hepburn, he claims.)
she surprises him with the news on a friday.
it's their sixth month wedding anniversary.
and the fact he's going to be a father scares him.
(and he's terrified more than excited, he claims.)
the pressure becomes real as they go for check ups.
as blair's belly expands, as he feels a baby kick underneath his hand.
and it gets to much for him.
(so like a fool he retreats to the blade, he claims.)
and he smiles for the cameras.
and he looks at baby book names.
and paint samples for the nursery.
(but everything's moving so fast and he doesn't want to be bart, he claims.)
he decides to tell her everything.
because he finally knows why he did it.
and they're going to have a baby in a few weeks.
(he can't keep lying, not any more, he claims.)
and she cries her eyes out because she thought it was all over for good.
she blames herself, she always thought it was her fault.
louis this, louis that, we can't be together because of this, dan this, dan that, we can't be together because of that.
(but that's not the reason, he claims.)
it was everything that made him do it.
everything under the sun.
but most of all it was brought on by the pain he had caused everyone.
(because he thought he needed to hurt himself for payback, he claims.)
they welcome audrey into the world on a thursday.
she was born five minutes before a friday.
and she takes their breaths away.
(and he knows that this is the reason he didn't die, he claims.)
he doesn't touch the blade for years.
not until audrey is thirteen and stomping around the house and screaming that she hates him.
she screams about all the awful things he has done while she's been alive and it tears him apart.
(he knows he shouldn't but he does anyway, he claims.)
and it always taunts him.
he never has the strength to ever fully get rid of it.
and blair knows this.
(she knows that she'll sometimes resort to a finger down her throat, he claims.)
and both of them are screwed up beyond belief.
but they have each other.
and they have four children that need them more than anything.
(we'll have to tell them one day, he claims.)
and it never ends.
it never will end.
they break and burn and end.
(and they go back through the pattern, again and again and again.
A\N: I've been debating whether or not to post it. Personally I love it, fandom wise I'll most likely receive either hate or zero reviews. I could care less. Go to: thelightsof-paris dot tumblr dot com and look at the post labelled 'oh how divine' or tagged underneath it, if you want to know what this was all about.