Chapter Text
She chooses Chuck.
Dan already knows it before Serena waves her phone in front of him, but somehow, the written words make him nauseous and a lump builds up inside his throat fast; he swallows and swallows but breathing doesn't get easier.
"I don't know who you are anymore." He says, and the tears forming in Serena's eyes give him some sort of cruel satisfaction.
He doesn't remember how he gets out of the hotel and into the street, how he passes by stores and lights and signs and unlocks the door to the loft. The blur is calming to him, an escape from being trapped inside his own mind. That is where he spends the most of his time anyway, a locked cage with a strict guard that never lets him out.
A sudden urge builds up inside him, the idea to smash something passing through his head continuously. Anything she has ever touched seems like a good option, from the coffee mugs to his laptop. Audrey Hepburn, he thinks, laughing bitterly.
A bottle of beer turns into two, and then three; and when he's out of them, vodka is the obvious next choice.
Sometime along the drawn out night, his dad comes home. Dan tries to make out the words he is saying, yet it all appears to be a dream, a helping hand created by his own mind to drag him out of the mud. Only when familiar fingers run through his hair and the other man's arms wrap around his, he realises it is real. He is a kid with a scratched knee again.
"Not a good night for Humphrey men." the voice echoes through the room, through his tired soul.
------
The next days are surreal to him. The concerned looks Rufus gives him, the ones he himself shoots back at his dad. The not so disappointed Jenny telling him he is too good for 'that bitch' anyway. Consistent texts from Nate, starting as held back concern, soon turning into sheer dread. 'I'm calling Jenny.', the last one reads. It amuses Dan, how Nate thinks this will trigger him.
Serena apologizes in a long email. He finds it easy to blame her, torture her with words he knows how to use; with each dagger he puts inside her wounds, his own pain easing down a little. It's brutal while effective.
He doesn't hear from her. Unsubscribes from gossip girl, deletes her old texts, emails, photos. The irritating voice inside his head accuses him of being a coward, a ball-less teenager again, but he is mastering in not listening to it.
Whatever helps him through the pain is welcome.
He decides to go to Rome on his own, his closet getting emptier by each day, his suitcase fuller. The extra ticket keeps weighing on his soul; he has to get rid of it, maybe tear it, maybe burn it, maybe flush it down the toilet. Yet it sits on the kitchen counter, mocking him every minute. 'Alone and pathetic', it keeps screaming.
His dad says no to his offer. "I can't leave New York right now. Lily and I have a lot of unfinished business."
Dan stumbles through days. He for one never really cared about being alone, about not having someone to shower with sentiment. That was an upside to being a writer, he could pour it all through pages, lines, words. Yet his pen had dried, he couldn't even type a simple text.
Two days before his flight, he leaves the loft for the first time since the night at the hotel. The streets are swarming with people, all slowly changing into summer dresses and shorts, him on the other hand, wearing tight jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Warm is safer, he feels dead cold inside anyway.
He doesn't purposely endup in a neighborhood he might run into her, but when he does, he embraces it. A part of him wishes he can look into her eyes again and maybe make out an emotion in them. A hint of regret, an inkling she chose the wrong man. But he's finally learned what he's always been told; If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
A day before his flight, he winds up calling Nate back. "I'm fine, man. No need to open that door with my sister again."
Nate chuckles, his laugh as boyish as most of his other qualities. "You will leave for Rome then?"
Dan makes a confirming humming sound, knowing if he says the word, he might be lying.
The next morning he wakes up from a lucid nightmare. He's running after Blair, crying her name out, her not hearing him. Right before he gives up, she turns around and smiles coldly, spitefully. 'Brooklyn is too far away anyway.' she says.
An hour before he leaves with his bags, he is sitting on his bed, looking around the room and saying goodbye. Cedric's eyes are still judging, blaming him for all the mistakes it has witnessed him make. 'Do you feel that? It's like someone's watching us.'
He can't pin down the exact moment he decides to type that text, and maybe he doesn't even try too hard. The writer in him wants to make it schmaltzy and long, his sensible part however, takes the lead and makes it short and to the point.
'We can still be friends. It'll take some time, but it doesn't have to be like this. Call me.'
Half an hour before he gets on the plane, there is still no response. So he stands up, walks to the nearest trash can and shreds the second ticket into pieces, throwing each piece away, along with a hopeful part of him.
The plane takes off with him in his seat, looking out the closed window.
'We can still be friends. It'll take some time, but it doesn't have to be like this. Call me.'
She reads the text the minute she gets it. And then she reads it again, and again, until she can hear his somehow croaky voice. Smell his earthy cologne. See his dark curls.
Chuck calls her name from upstairs and something shakes loose inside of her. A sort of happiness combined with unease, a hint of agony even.
She is getting whatever she has always wanted. The boy, the job, the life. But the hollow pit is still there, throbbing inside her stomach. The idea that it may be filled by Dan terrifies her, because he is gone and she has made a choice. A choice she has to stick to.
She deletes the text and calls back; "Coming babe."
------
The minute Serena drops her head down, Blair knows she is going to apologize. A light bite on her lower lip, a shaky deep breath and Serena confesses. About how history has repeated itself.
The anger Blair feels is horrifying to her, Because why should she care? She had been on her way to another man when this happened, apparently.
So she bites down the rage boiling inside her and shakes her head indifferently. "I don't care, S."
The blurry picture of Serena and Dan hunts her that night, lying next to Chuck, his breath on her bare shoulder. Is this what happiness feels like? She is mortified by the one answer that seems the most plausible.
The doubts will go away, they always do.
-------
Running her mother's company turns out to be much harder than she had anticipated. She is focused, hardworking, always carrying an impeccable plan, yet something seems to be missing. Like a dash of salt missing from a fantastic stew.
"You need to take more risks." Chuck says one night at dinner, giving her a reassuring smile that for a reason, disturbs her. She shakes her head no, enjoying the way his face suddenly crumples.
"Why not?" He asks, and Blair doesn't really have a reason other than that she just wanted to disagree with him.
She calls Dorota and orders dessert, avoiding Chuck's blue eyes that seem to be burning a hole through her.
That night Chuck is more aggressive in bed, trying to claim her body his, even if he can't have her mind.
------
Right about when Blair makes a bold decision in her work and talks herself into going through with it, a phone call is made and she hardly keeps herself from screaming Chuck's name when she hangs up.
"I. Am. Not. For. Sale. Chuck."
He doesn't try to explain or deny, simply walks towards her and closes the door to block the curious looks from his secretary.
Blair is too furious to give him a chance to come up with an explanation. "You think you can buy me?" More of a throw of a glove than a question.
The fake confused look he gives her is too familiar, taking her years back, the night she had accused him of selling her to his uncle.
"I'm not handing over my mother's-" she stops, shaking her head, "No, my company to you sorry excuse of a human. That empire is mine, Chuck. Not yours." She hisses, "Try to come to terms with it."
"They promised the buyer would be anonymous."
Her eyes burn suddenly. She blinks repeatedly, crying is not an option. Not in front of Chuck Bass, not when she has no one but herself to help protect her from him. It sets her spirit on fire, how she is devoted to a man she can never fully trust.
The trick is to stay far away enough to enjoy the heat, but not get herself burnt.
------
Calling someone she had hated for most of her young adult life turns out to be exceedingly more undemanding than she guessed. By the second beep, Jenny Humphrey picks up the phone and agrees to her offer without much hesitation. Both women seem aware of how their war is over and the solid peacefire set between them will not break easily.
Jenny pleads a few arrangements Blair has no difficulty setting up, so a date is specified and a virtual hand is shaken.
"How is Humphrey by the way?" Blair finds herself asking right before hanging up, and it rolls off her tongue much harder than she had anticipated.
Jenny, never making a conversation easy to have, retorts shortly, "Which one?"
"Dan."
The name hangs in the air around her, like a forbidden word, a dirty language not meant to be used by children.
"Fine. Doesn't say hi."
Fucking Humphrey family. Never tiptoeing around harsh words.
------
By the next three months, her company's sales triple and she manages to buy another store; this one, much to everyone's surprise, located in Brooklyn.
That night, over a plate of Pollo Saltado, Chuck interrogates her thoroughly. "Why Brooklyn?"
She puts a small piece of beef in her mouth, washing it down with a sip of wine. "Why not?" she replies back, mockingly.
"Can they even appreciate fine art such as yours?"
She doesn't know what pushes her into saying the words she does; maybe seeing the young blonde that morning, bent over a table, cursing under her breath has brought on too many memories of the girl's brother. "I knew one that could, more than all of you combined."
Chuck's glare is demanding, like all the times she leaves him waiting for a more displeasing word to come out her mouth, so he can be rageful at her for a proper reason.
"How is Humphrey by the way?" he challenges her, a pucker lightly forming between his eyebrows.
She takes another bite and smiles sweetly. "None of them say hi."
"Hi." He says, ignoring the clock on his nightstand showing 3:32 a.m.
"Have you eaten, son?"
With a look at the remainders of the take out on his kitchen table, Dan wets his lips and mutters a drowsy 'yes'.
Their conversation carries out for more than 15 minutes before Dan gets to asking about Jenny. "How's she doing? Happy she's back?"
"Couldn't be happier. And couldn't be more conspicuous about it." the man replies, laughing, "Lily and I can't stand her some days. It's 'Blair this, Blair that' more than we can tolerate."
He regrets taking a moment longer than necessary to react, since predictably, his dad reads into it.
"Sorry, son. Didn't mean to remind you of her."
He chuckles, shaking his head. "It's not a dirty word, dad. You can say her name."
And maybe remind is a wrong word to use, considering she never leaves his mind.
------
Nate keeps him posted about things he thinks are safe. His newly blossomed relationship with Serena. Details on how Lily cried when Rufus proposed again. Bart Bass missing, no one caring where he is. Jenny's face on Waldorf Designs magazine with the title 'youngest designer of the month'. Eric returning to live with Jenny in the loft. The newest store opened only a block from his former home, filled with clothes Jenny has designed.
"What?" Dan asks, astonished.
From the way a heavy silence lingers between them, He knows Nate has slipped the story out unwillingly and is striving to get it to pass by.
"You haven't heard? It's not that big of a deal really, I'll tell you later-"
"Talk already." Dan demands, decisively.
So Nate explains, discreetly picking the plainest words and shortest sentences possible. Dan pays an unusual amount of attention to all of it, absorbing every word in but trying to leave any sentiment out.
A flicker of hope is lit somewhere inside his home-sick heart, heat creeping on his sun kissed skin. However, he has gotten a flair for swallowing down the lumps forming in his throat, be they sad or happy ones.
"Huh. A terrible waste of her money, I assume." He hurls back.
Nate sighs, wearily. "That's what Chuck said."
Dan's high pitched snigger catches him off guard. "I guess Blair Waldorf has a type after all."
------
On a tedious evening, he finds himself ordering a beer, listening to an Italian jazz song. It sits well with him, the bitter yet fresh taste of the liquid filling his mouth, and the sharp song numbing his ears.
Girls come and go around him, some offering to buy him a drink, some slipping a small piece of paper in front of him, some simply giving him a flirtatious smile. The only one that stands out is the one that asks him a question he has been asking himself for some time now.
"Why so broody?"
Long black curls. Her forehead covered with bangs. Full crimson lips. Multiple earrings on her pierced ears. A smile that shows all of her white teeth.
He half laughs, half frowns. "You speak english. That's refreshing."
The girl smiles and speaks again, a hint of an accent revealing itself, "But I'm from Prague. Sorry."
The smile on his lips widnes, the small dimple on his cheek appearing for the first time in a while. He points his head to the barattander and mutters something barely audible. Short after, a bottle of beer is sitting in front of her, sweating on the wooden counter. She leans closer to him, breathing close to his ear.
"So, do you come with a name?"
Dan is now full on laughing, not having met anyone asking this many questions in a bar without sounding tacky. "You ask too many questions;" he says, "and I'm Dan."
She takes a sip of her beer and licks her lips. "Good to meet you, broody Dan. I'm Hasti."
He gazes at her knowing smile and smirks. "I guess your introduction is usually followed by a question?"
"It means 'life'." She explains, chewing on a piece of lemon, her face puckering up, "It's Persian."
He shakes his head, running a hand through his wild black curls. "You just get more and more interesting."
The night is still young.
------
Life doesn't get easier for him, it only gets more worth living. There is light, music, dance, scents of different spicy foods, and words, words spilling out of his head and into his pen wherever he goes, whatever he does. So he savours it, breathes the air he doesn't remember ever being so thin.
They dance badly under pouring rain, eat suspiciously greasy pizzas, give a 20 euro bill to a kid playing guitar on a shadowy corner. She even kisses him in front of Colosseum, smelling of Bellini, all sweet and fruity.
"You rarely make the first move, do you?"
He laughs, stunned, and takes a step back. "That obvious?"
Her chuckle is music like. "No wonder it's been so long since you've gotten some action." She states, a blaming expression on her face.
"Oh! For someone who English is her second language, you sure know your fair share of idioms."
She puts both her hands on his shoulders, climbing him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You never take a risk, do you?" She smiles widely, "Live boldly for a little. That's what I do."
He grins, tugging at a black lock resting on her forhead. "So this is your idea of living boldly? Kissing strangers under flickering street lights in the middle of the night?"
Her eyes shine with mischief. "We won't be strangers for long."
With a faint feeling of nostalgia running through him, Dan spins her around, both of them shrieking into the cold night.
------
"You are genuinely enjoying yourself there, aren't you?" Jenny asks, carpingly.
Dan removes a dirty plate from under his feet, before nearly stumbling on it, swearing under his breath. "Try and sound a bit more dejected, chance your arm." He says, shooing the dog he for some reason has agreed to watch for a couple of days.
Jenny's voice is somewhat lost through loud noises in the background, noises he can't quite make out.
"What the hell is that?"
He is responded with a shaky laugh, cut short by a loud chime. "Eric and I are playing a game in your room - well, his room I guess, I don't really know anymore." She stammers, "Eric do NOT do that! Hey! I said-"
He interupts her, pressing his chapped lips together, "You do know that I'm still coming back, right? Don't make a mess in my room."
"Do I know that?" She challenges him, a hint of hostility easily recognizable in her voice, "Because you were supposed to get back 5 months ago! I mean, dad even;" she pauses, shushing Eric, "He even planned a welcome back party for you! And you didn't really bother to call and say you're not returning. We sat there for hours, Dan! Hours ."
"What?" He gasps, his jaw slacked.
She sighs, breathing deeply through her nose. "Just, tell me why you're still there, alright?"
He buries his face in one hand and exhales loudly. "I've been writing." He explains, faltering involuntarily, "And I have a sort - well, a sort of a muse thing going on here."
"Muse?" She snorts.
"Yes. Yes. Is that so bad? Am I crazy for doing this?"
Jenny's voice audibly softens, "No. You're not. Just, try and come home, Dan. Alright?" She pauses, "We miss you."
"My book is almost done, and she's leaving soon, so - so I'll probably be back in no time." He declares, dryly.
"You're going to run after her and proclaim your love, right? I hear it in your voice." She says, mockingly.
"Fuck off, Jennifer."
The dog barks in protest.
------
His dad almost tries to spin him around when they hug, but eventually settles for a forceful path on his back.
"You're so tan!" Serena exclaims, nudging his shoulder.
"Yeah well, I'm more of a catch than ever."
Nate throws his hands up in the air, a fake frown on his face. "Stop flirting with my girlfriend, man."
Dan laughs - a sincere one- and shakes his head. "I couldn't be more pathetic, dude. Cut me some slack."
"True that." Eric yells back from the kitchen.
Rufus puts a big bowl of steaming mashed potatoes on the table, swinging his arm playfully. "Come sit down, children. Dinner is served."
"Children?" Jenny protests, a smirk creeping on her lips. "We're grown up. And you're getting old, dad. Embrace it."
"Oh thank you very much! My 20 year old daughter, ladies and gentlemen."
They all laugh, sitting behind the overly stocked table.
"Where's Lily?" Nate asks, cramming a large piece of Nacho in his mouth.
Serena smacks him, huffing a laughy breath out. "Chew!" She commands while jamming a napkin into his closed fist.
Rufus clears his throat. "She is going through some legal problems about Bart." A fake smile, "Again."
"How's Chuck?" Dan suddenly asks, enjoying the sheer shock appearing on all their faces.
"Uh, he is-" Eric tries, failing miserably.
Dan tosses a bean inside his mouth, chortling. "Just a mundane - and innocent - question. You can all breathe."
"He's Chuck Bass." Jenny suddenly says, "You know how that works."
He sneers at the words. "I do."
"Let's not talk about Chuck. Tell us about your book. When will it come out?" Serena asks.
"Uh, according to Alessandra, maybe in a month. But , I can maybe give you a first draft to read?"
Nate waves his hand impatiently. "Am I in it? You know, as a whole character."
Dan shakes his head no.
"What? Man!"
"None of you are in it. It isn't about us, It's about;" he clears his throat, "Someone I met."
Jenny's eyes dart at him, a piece of beef hanging from her fork. He slowly shakes his head, looking away. "Yes. A guy I met there, working in a bar."
"You wrote a book about a guy you met in a bar?" Rufus asks, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes." He nods, tapping his fingers on the wooden table, "So, how's New York?"
"He's back then?" Blair half asks, while moving some magazines from her night stand to the desk. She looks around her old room, feeling more at home than ever since moving in with Chuck.
"Yes. Miss Serena said Mr. Lonely boy about to publish a new book." Dorota confirms, cautiously.
Blair's expression turns sour, a wave of unexpected jealousy washing through her. "Huh. Humphery seems to know what he's doing. 22 and having his second book published." She says, softly touching her blushed cheek, "Who would've thought Humphrey would be the most successful one;" She pauses, "Aside from me, of course."
Dorota's eyes turn away from her quickly, looking at an unseeable spot on the ceiling. "I should clean the thing on ceiling. I know you don't like when it's not shining, miss Blair."
Blair darts the maid a knowing look, pressing her lips together in annoyance. "Spill it, Dorota. I pay you to make my life more clear, not foggier."
Dorota's eyes seem to be popping out of her skull, as she absently rubs a dirty rag on her employer's wooden desk. "I heard you may have to ask Mr. Chuck for money to save your company." She explains, in a voice so low that gets Blair into thinking maybe she has imagined it.
"And who have you heard that from?" She defies the clearly panicked woman, yet she doesn't feel too bad about it; that's what years of practice has brought her, a soft but cold heart.
"Your mother."
Blair sniffles lightly, yanking the rag out of Dorota's fist. "This is filthy! Go wash it."
Her thoughts are so loud, she doesn't hear the shaky breath Dorota lets out when she leaves the room.
------
"He said WHAT?" Blair yells on the phone, something she seems to be doing too much for her liking in the past few days.
A trembling voice is mumbling the words on the other end of the line, the despair and fear clear in her tone making Blair angrier by second. "I do not care what he promised you, you less than a human idiot! Put Jenny Humphrey on."
The girl explains something in a muffled tone and Blair is now furious beyond control. "She's taken the day off to be with her brother? Well, screw her and her ass of a brother! Tell her not to bother showing up to work tomorrow. Pack her things and send them to Brooklyn. " She spits the last word out, before hanging up and throwing her phone on the bed.
"You okay?"
Blair turns around on her heels, getting herself together in three seconds it takes her to do so. "Serena! What a nice surprise!"
Serena throws up her eyebrows, smiling. "I could hear you yell when I got out of the elevator, Blair. Cut it out."
The brunette sighs involuntarily, throwing herself on the oh-so-comfortable mattress, hugging a pillow. "We're going through something at the company, but nothing I can't handle." She says, dryly.
The other girl lies beside her, gently stroking her hair, just like she used to do when they were in highschool. "I believe in you, B. I know you can get past anything." She says, " But , just in case you ever need any help, you should know you're not alone."
"I'm not asking Chuck for help." She states simply.
Serena shakes her head. "I wasn't talking about him. I meant me and Nate, you know we have money and we can help-"
"I know." She says, cutting the girl off, looking at her with glossy eyes.
They stay in silence for a few minutes, before Blair gathers up her courage and asks what has been eating inside her brain for two weeks. "How's Dan?"
Serena turns her head, now completely facing Blair. The brunette investigates her expression, and there is something lingering in it she can't quite make out; It alarms her in a bizarre way, her heart starting to pound faster in her heavy chest.
"He's fine; Busy, you know. With his book and the publisher and everything."
Blair nods awkwardly. "Yes, I remember the last time he went through it." She lets out a shallow breath, "Anyway, he better stick more to reality this time, I'm tired of paying for his fame with my dignity."
"It's not about us, B." Serena says, shifting her foot. Blair kicks it inadvertently, earning a soft sound of pain from her best friend. Their legs tangle together, and the warmth radiating from the other girl seems to work to Blair's benefit, as the uneasy shiver that keeps running through her, slows down.
"You okay?"
"Yes! Of course. Just relieved that Humphrey has started to find other people to harass on his journey to a so-called successful life."
Even if Serena reads into her lie, she doesn't say anything else. They quickly fall into a comfortable conversation about boys, with Serena revealing much too graphic details about her latest intimate moments with Nate, and for Blair who has gone through a number of them with the same guy, it never stops being disturbing.
"So how are you and Chuck?" She asks the question she always does, and Blair starts with the first step of her solid algorithm to answering this particular one - an algorithm that is used every time - no matter who asks it.
"We're fine. He's getting back next week, I think. I'm not sure."
"Oh." Serena exclaims, and the alarm in her voice sets Blair off.
"What?" She asks demandingly, running a hand through her now ruffled hair.
"Nothing!" Her friend shoots back, a blaming look in her eyes.
"Come on, S. Say it so I can deny it."
Serena hesitates for a moment, as if to determine whether it is worth arguing with her aggressive friend over, and seems to decide against it. "Nothing. Glad that he's coming back soon."
Blair exhales, feeling relief washing through her, even though she would never admit it to her friend. She knows Serena and her not always appreciable talent to yank the truth out of her, however unpleasant it may be.
"Are you coming to the ball?" The blonde asks after a number of peaceful quiet minutes, and Blair finds herself feeling an unjustified annoyance towards her for breaking it; her happy and full of sunshine of a friend, never seeming to understand Blair's need for grasping to life's handful moments of solitude.
"I think so." She answers, almost harshly, ignoring the hurt expression on Serena's face. "Why?"
"It's three days from now, and since Chuck's gone, I thought maybe-"
"I'm coming, S." She retorts back, dryly. "Chuck doesn't own me."
Serena exhales sharply through her clogged nose, blinking rapidly. "I meant since you don't have a date, maybe I can help you with that?"
A wave of affection suddenly hits Blair, a warm feeling of love creeping inside of her. Her certainty in Serena's friendship has grown back over the course of the past year, filling a void inside her she hadn't known existed. A look at the blonde's worried eyes gives her the confidence to blurt out emotions swimming at the surface of her heart.
"I'm scared, S." She finds herself confessing, and Serena seems to need more, as she tilts her head, her blue eyes shining in question.
"Of what, sweetie?"
Blair presses her eyes shut, a shaky sigh escaping her mouth. "Of being alone." She says and it is suddenly lifted off her shoulders, the baggage she didn't know she had been carrying around. "Chuck is invisible to me, S. I don't see him. Even when he's in front of me, or touching me, I can-" She cries out, "I can look right past him."
"B;"
"I mean, is that love? Because I remember it being different back then. These days I almost realise that I've maybe, in a way, grown out of him." She continues, ignoring her friend's calling of her name.
Serena's lips twist into a sad smile, with her raising a hand to stroke Blair's hair. She leans into the touch immediately, feeling the backs of her eyelids getting warm with tears.
"Why don't you just break up with him?"
Blair snorts. "Yes, because if I do that, I wouldn't spend the rest of my life alone." She looks at her finger, "Plus, I'm engaged, so there's no going back."
"What? That's insane, Blair and you know it. Who says you won't find someone else? And, really, when have you ever stopped chasing after what you want because of a ring ?" Serena protests and Blair can't seem to stop herself from laughing at the girl's too familiar pep talk.
"I've tried it, remember? I just end up running back into his arms. Maybe," she takes a deep breath, "Maybe I'm just supposed to stick with him. It's probably destiny."
She hears the dullness that is hugging her words, but she can't seem to phrase her desperation any other way. There has never been a real deadend in her life, up until this point; This is where she knows her remarkable reputation must end, as there doesn't seem to be any way out of letting the waves of life drown her.
"That is the most stupid thing I have ever heard you say, Blair. You fight! You don't give in, that's not who you are."
Blair suddenly snaps, standing up from the bed, looking at Serena with hostility. "You sound overly optimistic, and sorry, but given everything that you've done wrong in your life, I can't help but not want to listen to you."
For a moment, it looks like Serena wants to get up and slap her, but surprisingly, she takes a deep breath and smiles sweetly. "That's rich, given the fact that all of this is really about Dan."
The blood in her veins seems to freeze, as she suddenly feels cold, staring at her friend in disbelief. "What?"
Serena stands up, walking towards her with long steps, "Well, none of us are idiots, and you are obvious, so;" She pauses, not saying what is clearly implied.
"So?" Blair questions anyway.
The blonde sighs, shaking her head. "Just talk to him, okay? Call him up, ask how he's doing, meet him for coffee." She says, "It's not as hard as you picture it to be."
Blair can feel her heart pounding faster. "I'm with Chuck." She argues, weakly.
Serena's eyes are shining. "You don't have to be."
Blait thinks she hears what the girl is saying.
------
The gown she chooses is dark navy blue, with spaghetti straps and a long asymmetrical skirt that is a little shorter in the front. She braids her hair into a fishtail, with shining straps knitted between them. With a deep burgundy lipstick, a faded gray eyeshadow and black high heels, she feels more than ready to show her face.
The ball room is the same one she had her cotillion in, yet it seems smaller than she remembers it to be. There are waiters serving champagne, and she finds herself huffing in annoyance. The drink tastes great, she doesn't have anything against it, yet it seems to be the only thing she drinks these days. From a charity gala to a museum opening, all too elegant to be ruined with heavier, more refreshing drinks.
"Hey!" A smiling Nate appears out of nowhere, offering her a hand to shake.
Blair scowls, squeezing his hand a little more than necessary. "Oh dear Archibald, I remember the days you used to kiss my hand hello."
Nate chuckles, his eyes darting between her and her ring covered finger. "I don't like to be beheaded by Chuck, and plus, I'm not trying to impress you anymore, so…"
She laughs. "Yes well, this is what growing up feels like, I guess." She states, looking at him fondly, "Anyway, I'm here alone, I don't feel like drinking champagne and I'm already bored, so I guess I am really getting old."
"So it's a good thing this thing has an open bar." He says, pointing at somewhere with his head.
Blair gasps in a dramatic way, slapping him lightly on the arm, "You know that Blair Waldorf does not get drunk at elegant parties."
"Yeah well, then order wisely."
Before she can answer, Nate spots his girlfriend in the crowd and excuses himself, leaving Blair in the middle of the cramming room.
She spends the next hour having polite small talks with nosey yet well hearted elder guests, answering their tiring questions about her company, repeating a well rehearsed half lie: "Yes, we are going through a bit of a hard time, but with our designers' new ideas, we are going to get back on track very soon."
After what seems to be an eternity, she can't take it anymore and gives in, walking towards the bar with slow, careful steps.
She orders an apple martini and drinks it descriptively, taking small gulps while watching the room with tired and watery eyes. One turns into two and then three, each pushing the walls she has built around herself a bit further down.
She likes to blame it on alcohol when she gasps loudly and stands up the moment she spots him beside her, maybe even the fact that his hair has gotten longer and his face thinner, or that he smells strongly of his earthy cologne, but it all seems like a lie, considering how her heart starts pounding faster and her breaths become shallower, leaving her looking like a deranged version of her always put together self.
"Dan." She whispers in a hushed tone, hands gripping to her elegant gown, not able to fix her gaze on one part of his vacant face.
"Waldorf." He replies, dryly.
Oh how the tables have turned.