A/N: Okay, now that I’ve finally updated my three lingering CB multichaptered stories, I have gone insane and decided to write yet ANOTHER one shot. I know…crazy. And as we speak I do not know if it will turn depressing o into crazy CB fluff….at this point we NEED fluff desperately to get through the siguiente few episodes of CB angst. Aww…poor Chuck! Poor Blair! *sighs* But perhaps my mind is sucking up the angry tension of the siguiente depressive episodes and exploding it in this simple 5-pager, if even I write for that long…or for that little. Lol. XD But anyways! I’m getting ahead of myself.
This story is dedicated to ‘Areyousure’ on fanpop o ‘YouSure’ on here! (ff.net) She got rampedly excited when my mind started brewing with ideas for that Victrola scene flash seen in the 2x14 promo. So, I apologize for taking so long with this…but I really have been super busy and updating other stories obviously. ;p
There are spoiler assumptions in here…and I’m not quite positive if they are supposed to occur in 2x14 o 2x15, but I am going to use them in this fic nonetheless. Blair is in some type of meeting with Yale mothers o something of the like…they are talking about Serena and so Blair bashes her and Lily, but when the ladies go on to bash Chuck, Blair cannot find it in herself to registrarse along, even with the insistence of her mother (not sure of that exact detail, but I am going to assume it was her mother). She gets infuriated por the pressure and stands up to leave, taking back the words she dicho about Lily & Serena, and announcing that Chuck needs her…and that these ladies clearly NEVER LEFT high school. There’s also another scene that I summarized in this fic…where when Blair goes to see Chuck at Victrola, one of the dancers stops her and comentarios on how impressive HER dance was the año before. ;p Those are the only spoilers I believe I have included in here….at least as a reference. ;p that tu should know about. ;)
*Remember: As always, I OWN NOTHING!!! All characters and scenes belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Serena told her not to come.
Said it would only destroy her if she saw him like this.
Whores draping over him.
Blair would hear none of it though.
“He was always like that, S. o don’t tu remember his commonly known label as notorious womanizer of the Upper East Side?” She tried to sound lighthearted, but could not block out the concerned look her best friend was shooting at her. The same look she had been giving her ever since Chuck had been returned por the services of an Uncle Jack Bass.
Blair tried to keep busy as Serena sighed, implementing even más concern and worry.
“It’s different now, B.”
She slowed her movements.
“It’s out of control.”
Blair looked up at her and smiled sadly. For a moment Serena thought she had made headway. “Could tu pass me my bag on the other side of my bed?” Blair pointed absentmindedly, trying to keep her mind away from the seriousness of the situation, until absolutely necessary. Serena’s head hung low as she retrieved the designer purse. Another failure.
It wasn’t as if Serena really knew firsthand how far gone Chuck really was. She had gone away with Aaron for the holidays, and since Chuck had pretty much disowned Lily, Eric and herself as family members, she hadn’t seen much of him. She’d heard from Blair though, and she’d known there were some things even the queen B was keeping to herself.
Blair didn’t have the energy to deny Serena’s words anymore. It didn’t matter that the words she was spewing out at her were the same ones she had told her only moments earlier, as her reason for leaving. Her only purpose in life lately had become saving Chuck Bass. She had sworn to him ‘I will stand por tu through anything’. She would not go back on her word. Not if her life depended on it.
Serena handed the bolso, monedero over gingerly and Blair slid it over her shoulder. She tried to ignore those pitying eyes boring into her from the towering blonde.
“Well, that should be everything then.” She avoided eye contact, pulling her hair in a rápido, swift ponytail and adjusting her lip gloss in the mirror just a few feet away.
“B, I beg of you,” Serena reached out to grab the brunette’s hand, but Blair pulled away in an instant. She turned to face her, perhaps allowing their eyes to meet for the first time in days.
“No Serena, no,” her voice broke, and she pursed her lips before continuing, “He needs me.”
The door shut behind her. There was nothing más she could do.
She stood just outside the familiar, yet long hace visited, burlesque club. Its entrance haunted her, begging for her to come inside, yet promising a fate worse than death if she listened to its pleas.
It didn’t look any different than it had before, and if she tried really hard she could picture the exact moment it happened in what seemed ages ago.
“Where’s Nate?” Disappointment was evident in his voice.
She huffed, climbing out of the limo. “I think we just broke up—”
“What?” he asked, concerned, it seemed. Maybe just recovering from shock.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she turned away from him, and began her walk directly into the building, she’d only visited but two days ago. “I just wanna escape. That’s what this place is for, right?”
He hadn’t argued.
She blinked away a stray tear, ridding her face of the extra moisture with her right hand. With a new courage, and a confidence that blocked out the emotions attached to anterior memories, she stepped inside.
It was busier than she’d remembered. Instead of the five dancers that usually found themselves prancing about on stage, there were ten…maybe fifteen if she counted correctly. They were much más provocative too, flashing colores in every direction. So little clothes, one had to squint to make sure it was fabric and not paint on their newly wasted skin. The música blared to a numbing degree. There were más people, sometimes leaving hardly any room to walk. There were más drinks. It was place of fantasy. It was a world where tu could lose yourself and if tu really wanted to….never return to the life beyond those entry doors. o maybe she was imagining things. Maybe it was unrealistic to base everything off of one encounter that happened over a año ago.
“Do I know you?”
She was snapped out of her fantastical reverie, and looked at the scandalously looking dancer who had paused in front of her.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, confused.
“Yeah,” the dancer said. She spoke with certainty, and this made Blair even más amused, bringing her full attention to the woman who had clearly applied to much makeup to her dirty face. “Yeah, weren’t tu the school girl that did that little stripping act on stage? What was it, a año ago, now?”
Blair’s mouth dropped into a shocked smile. “Yeah, I guess it was.”
“Very impressive, I must say,” the dancer remarked. “Though maybe the headband was a bit much.”
Blair shifted momentarily. She might have taken insult to the headband remark. But she could not remember the last time she had worn one, and a compliment was a compliment. She would not take it to heart.
“Um…have tu happened to see Chuck bajo around?” she asked, focusing back on her intent at hand. She straightened her chaqueta out, smoothed out the wrinkles that were now very evident in her outer wear. Her lip gloss had paled, had gotten chapped in the wind. Her hair was nothing of the elegance she would have made it out to be before leaving the penthouse. A rápido, swift ponytail. That was all. She pulled her chaqueta closer around her.
“Yeah, he’s at his usual spot, up front,” the dancer said, placing a hand on her overly sized hip and walking away.
She nodded. Then paused in hesitation, más scared now than she had ever been. Yet with such a confidence she could not falter, even for the sake of her own emotional safety. She took one step and then another. Her movements were slow, but not calculated o precise o prepared. Just one foot in front of the other until she reached the front of the room. Then, she turned, spotting the extended sofa facing center stage. That was when she saw him.
It was like the scene unraveling from a horror movie. A nightmare she had never wished to experience in the waking light. There he sat, and her movements slowed. Two women. Absolute whores, she was sure of it. Provocative clothing. Cheap makeup, though it wasn’t like she was really sporting the best of facial appearances. They draped over him. Just like she had predicted, just like Serena had thrown back into her face.
She kept her eyes zoomed in on him and once she was directly in front, his head turned slowly and looked at her.
The two remained, completely lost in one another’s tragedy.
The women did not move, not because of the new tension, but simply in the essence of laziness that had been created for them in being around Chuck Bass. He hadn’t had women around him like this in a long while…not since Blair had come back from France. Not really, at least.
His eyes were glazed over. But a penetrating brown still emanated from them.
“Waldorf,” he slurred.
She stood still. Blinked. Once. Twice.
“Chuck,” she spoke. She was in no mood to be playing games. Not even for the sake of their entertaining wit.
Blair estola her gaze away from him and looked on skeptically at the pathetic excuses for human beings, lying at his side.
“If tu could excuse us, sluts,” she smiled brightly.
They looked at her in disgust, but when they tried to get up, Chuck put a possessive hand across their thighs and held them down. “No,” he said, never tearing his eyes away from Blair’s. “Whatever she has to say, she can say in front of all of us.”
Blair nearly bit her tongue in the fury and shock of what he had just suggested.
“It can’t be any worse than ‘I amor you’,” he spoke slyly.
She wouldn’t mostrar pain. Couldn’t. Shouldn’t mostrar how he was hurting her. And after a quick moment she refocused on her target.
“Well,” she shoved the girl farther down on the couch, so that she was sitting in between Chuck and the girl, “I’m sure there’s enough room here for all of us,” she looked up at Chuck adoringly. Sarcasm lighting up her features.
He rolled his eyes and sighed.
The girl Blair had pushed over got up and left then, having no desire to sit around for a teenage soap opera.
“What are tu doing here, Blair?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know…”
“I told tu not to come looking for me,” he snapped. His piercing gaze equaling her own determination.
She smirked, refusing to let it get serious so quickly. It was true, she was sick of the games. But if that was the only way he would interact with her, then she wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer, especially when he turned serious only segundos after the game had begun.
She lay a hand tenderly on his thigh brushing against her, and squeezed it. “You should know por now that I NEVER back down from a challenge,” her eyes twinkled. All of this depression she had been holding in, could always be released in a game of cat and ratón with this stubborn emo chuck.
He looked to her hand on his leg and pulled it off angrily. Then, he brought his sight back towards her. “Get out of my life, Blair.” He would not allow that fuego from her touch to take over him again. Not again. Never again.
She bit her lip, enticingly. “No can do,” she said, turning herself towards center stage and directing half her attention to the dancers making their way across it.
She heard him sigh aggravatingly, and smiled to herself.
“You know, I could do a much better job,” she said.
He paused in his sigh and looked at her.
“You know, I’ve got moves,” her eyes were glued to the dancers on stage.
“Really?” he asked, leaning forward, smiling wildly at the sudden change of topic. “Then why don’t tu get up there?”
She laughed. “No….I just dicho I have moves.” She was making a declaration, not an invitation.
“Come on…” he nudged her, “You’re ten times hotter than any of those girls.”
She shook her head. “I know what you’re doing, Bass.”
He stopped, and after a moment of realization she turned to look at him. “You really don’t think I’ll go up there,do you?” she prompted.
“I know tu won’t go up there,” he said, matter of factly.
She scoffed. “Guard my drink.”
He looked at her in surprise, but seemed to accept her actions, though fully expecting her to back down before she did anything as seductive as she was propositioning. She scooted off the sofá though and bounced up to the stage. There was no going back now.
“What? It’s true! One of the dancers even told me so when I got here,” she beamed proudly.
Chuck just stared at her in glowing state.
“Personally, I don’t know why tu didn’t hire me on the spot,” she leaned back into the couch.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
Finally, she turned to look at him, feeling the desired effect boring against the side of her face. He leaned in then, and she nearly jumped. This was hardly how she expected tonight to go.
When his mouth reached the edge of her ear, she was hardly holding herself together. Whether he was trying to o not, he was turning her on and the chills were driving her mad.
“Leave,” he spat.
After a moment’s recovery her lips slipped into a smug, satisfied, smirk. She turned to him, and leaned into his opposite ear.
“Make me,” she drawled seductively.
He looked at her, half in shock and half just plain pissed off after she had pulled away. He grumbled, then turned to his right where the other girl still sat, completely comfortable, but in a world of her own. It seemed she had consumed even más drugs and alchohol than he had! At least regarding that night.
He forced his mouth on her, and Blair watched as her body wrapped around him. She scoffed watching the two, and eventually cleared her throat, several times until the two pulled away. Chuck was glaring at her, his mouth dripping with spit. The girl he had just discarded was breathing desperately, trying to regain her strength…and her shock.
“Yes?” he inquired.
The smile plastered on Blair’s face could not be removed. She leaned in again, though not close enough to reach his ears. “Is that the best tu got?” she asked, innocently.
He huffed. His eyebrows narrowed and he pushed the girl off the sofá and away.
She made a sound as she landed on the floor. She looked up to him in shock, but he wouldn’t look at her, and so she made herself get up and stumbled across the room, and away from the two clawing animals.
“Ahhh, much better,” she sighed in contentment, as the sofá now only resided with the two of them.
He shook his head, and put a hand up to his face, now aware of his almost constant headache. Blair pulled out a Kleenex and handed it to him to wipe his chin. He just glared at her, and so, in a quick movement, before he could stop her, she wiped the drool from the bottom of his face. Then, she dropped it in his lap.
“Here, tu keep,” she said, zipping up the opening in her purse.
He stared at the object in his lap, and then turned to see Blair closing up her bag. It looked a little worn, and seguro to say clashed with her outfit tremendously. Not that the outfit itself really went together. But what he noticed most was how her hands were shaking. She may have put up a confident façade, but he could see her even through his own messed up sickness.
“Blair,” he spoke softly. The first time since she’d arrived. He laid a hand over her own, and squeezed it. Her movements stopped.
“Chuck, no,” she shook her head. But she wouldn’t release herself from his grip. She breathed in sharply when he scooted himself closer to her.
She almost let herself relax as he tickled the skin across her collarbone with his breath. She couldn’t mover though, and he could hardly do anything more. He didn’t want to feel emotions. He didn’t want to feel anything. But that was hardly possible with Blair Waldorf around. She was afraid to touch him. Afraid he’d snap. That she’d lose him even más than she already had.
“I need you…” he began.
And she hoped beyond everything else that that would be the end of his sentence.
“…to leave,” he finished. He was pleading. And she knew it was the most sincere thing he had ever requested of her. She turned to him, and smiled sadly.
“I’ll never leave you, Chuck. I made a promise.”
His eyes bore into hers, and she had to blink and turn her head away to keep from falling apart. She brought herself to the edge of the sofa and stood up slowly.
“But I do have to go right now,” she whispered, gathering up her bolso, monedero and tossing it delicately over her shoulder once more.
His eyes followed her every movement. It was as if for these few moments he could lose himself in her, and yet not feel chained por the world and the very real emotions that surrounded him during the aftermath of his father’s death.
In all truth, there was no place she would rather be, there was no place she had to be. But she could never stay with him along, always afraid of what to do o how to act, regardless if she had broken through the first layer of his hard shell.
Finally, she looked at him and saw that same lost boy she had seen sitting on her cama weeks ago. Then, he blinked and she saw in that instant how his façade had built back up. He looked at her skeptically, expecting her to leave as quickly as she had arrived. Her eyes lingered on his fallen form, and everything in her screamed at him to sit back down regardless of what he would say, o how he would react.
Baby steps. Baby steps. She kept telling herself. She couldn’t jump in all at once. It would destroy them both.
“Well, are tu going to leave?” he spat, venom shooting from his eyes. fuego laced in his words.
She nodded subtly, then cracked a wide grin. “But I’ll be back.”
He watched her as she walked away, noticing how her confident flaunt of a walk slowed and shrugged over once she thought she was out of his view. His thoughts overwhelmed him and he hated that feeling. He had forced anything logical o realistic o worth concerning to be pushed away from his tired mind, he had hoped forever.
“Because…I amor you.”
He quivered in the wind at those most desired words.
“Well, that’s too bad.”
And it really was. Because with those words always encircling the forefront of his mind, there was no way he would be able to keep up with this insanity. He would have to do something drastic to forget those words. To forget her. He could forget everything else, anything else that was dicho to him. But not those words. And not that girl. His corazón wouldn’t let him.
The dancers. The women. The booze. The drugs. They were all numbing to him. That was why he took them. To forget. Forget his dad, his life, his everything. But that girl. She penetrated through all of them…sooner o later.
Once outside, Blair found herself leaning against the dark building, letting out a desperate breath for oxygen. She breathed in and out slowly and when she had finally recovered, she stood up straight and began to head for the waiting car.
Part of her felt incomplete though. The tension was gone. The agonizing pain of finding what to say o how to act, it had left her. It would be gone for awhile, until she made the siguiente adventure into the life of Chuck Bass. But something was still missing. She turned to look back at Victrola before entering the vehicle. Yep. She’d left a part of her corazón in there. Again.
They tried to tempt him the rest of the night. Girls came and went por his inviting vicinity, but he wouldn’t allow any of them to sit near him. Even the dancers on stage were beginning to disgust him. He wanted Blair siguiente to him again. That was all. He wouldn’t call her back though. Wouldn’t text her. He wasn’t that desperate. And he didn’t need anyone. He just needed to be alone. To become nobody. To kill himself slowly through the pain of numbing processes.
But she WOULD be back. He knew she would. And he would wait for her. Because he knew she would save him.
A/N: I hope y’all liked it….and um, please review! ;p
I realize I did not really use the first spoiler…but haha. Now tu know a new spoiler! ;p hehe.