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The sun smells like coconut scented shampoo and conditioner, loose glitter along mist-sprayed collarbones, sunscreen, and the discrete aroma wealth gives off. The sun smells expensive and lavish, but homey and warm, like sugar cookies baking in the kitchen and flour fights that follow soon after. The sun smells like life, vital and larger than, an enveloping scent that overwhelms everybody trapped within its presence.
The sun smells like Serena van der Woodsen.
Blair Waldorf has loved Serena van der Woodsen her whole life. It’s practically in her genetic code, written in fancy, flourishing script. Blair Waldorf loves Serena van der Woodsen. It’s carved on her bones, written in the stars. It’s a forever kind of love, the kind that drives Blair forward.
She’s not in love with Serena, though. That would be crossing a line. That would be unimaginable, inconceivable. It would be remarkable in every terrible sense of the word.
It would be outlandish to love Serena because she’s free, and wild, and utterly reckless. She parties and she’s fun and she’s alive, but there’s a white powder under her nose that Blair drags her to the bathroom to wipe away.
Serena laughs against Blair’s throat, after, her nose brushing Blair’s pounding pulse, and her heart resolutely does not flutter. “C’mon, B,” She giggles against Blair’s skin. Her mouth open with laughter, teeth straight and white and perfect. Her lips move against Blair’s neck, warmth puffing through with her breath. “Loosen up.”
“You’re loose enough for the both of us, van der Woodsen.” Blair says cooly, stomach curdling as Serena’s expression turns inward, hurt peeking out and hiding among the dying stars of euphoria in her eyes. “Besides,” Blair brushes her fingers along the bare skin of Serena’s arm, trailing up and down the length of her arm in a soothing pattern. “Someone has to play babysitter, and who better than Blair Waldorf.”
Serena moves backwards, her warmth fading from Blair’s arms. Her back is pressed against the cold sink behind her, blonde hair falling like a wave down her back. “There’s nobody better than Blair Waldorf.” Serena murmurs, eyes locked with Blair’s. “Not a single person can hold a candle to you, B.”
Blair’s heart stutters in her chest, stops and restarts erratically. The air hangs between them, heavy and stilted. It lingers there until Serena heads for the door, a “Coming, B?” tossed over her shoulder casually.
Blair follows after her, and she absolutely does not leave her heart in some dingy club’s bathroom. That would be ridiculous.
When they were seven, they carved their initials into a tree at the park. Their heads pressed together, giggling as their elbows brushed. Arm to arm, hip to hip. A closeness that is not replicable.
B + S = Forever.
If Blair ever fell in love with Serena, and she didn’t, this is where it happens.
Blonde hair and the park, their elbows bumping, bark beneath her fingertips.
This is where forever happens.
This is when it begins.
Blair keeps forever in her pocket, and she doesn’t pull it out to look at, but she feels it burning even hidden away.
It makes her smile sometimes.
But it doesn’t mean anything.
They share everything. Clothes, friends, beds, homes. Movie marathons and inside jokes.
The only thing Blair can’t ever bring herself to give is a boy. Nate, his gloved hand in hers, smiling sweetly, but watching Serena with a vaguely dazzled look. Serena is one of the seven wonders of the world, Blair’s known this her whole life.
But Serena is Blair’s seventh wonder, not his.
For the most part, Blair smiles thinly at the boys who cling to Serena’s orbit, hanging on to her elbow and trying to soak up her shin.
Any boy except Nate.
Anyone but Nate.
Sometimes, Blair wonders if it’s because she won’t know who to be jealous of. Serena who will hold his gloved hand or Nate who will bask in the glow of Serena van der Woodsen.
Blair doesn’t like to think about it that often.
Serena holds her hand at the movies, and Blair pretends it means nothing.
Serena abandons her, and Blair pretends it means nothing.
Her father leaves, with a man nonetheless, and Blair’s heart shatters.
Blair needs Serena, and she pretends it means nothing.
Until-
Until Serena comes back.
Serena comes back, smiling softly and apologetically before she flits off, light hair and starry eyes, and Blair’s heart bursts in her throat, pulse skyrocketing, and oh.
Blair loves Serena.
That’s nothing new.
Blair is in love with Serena.
That’s nothing new, either.
Blair knows that she’s in love with Serena.
This is why the sky is falling.
Blair wakes up in the middle of the night, fourteen years old, her hair falling across her pillow. Serena sleeps beside her, legs tangled with Blair’s, breathing softly. Her hair is strewn across the pillow artfully, her face serene and peaceful.
Blair looks at her, and thinks You are everything I have wanted. Belatedly, she adds to be.
Blair looks at her, and thinks This is the forever I want. You and me and an eternity to enjoy it.
Blair pretended it meant nothing to awaken next to Serena, the scent of coconut in the air, and her heart beating like a hummingbird’s.
She pretended for a very long time.
They kiss once, Serena’s glossy lips against Blair’s. The sweet taste of strawberry against cherry, Serena smiling into the kiss as Blair frames her face with her hands.
Blair thinks This is the forever I want.
Serena thinks This is what I’ve always wanted.
They don’t talk about it for a year.
Forever is a very long time.