Chapter Text
he can’t help the feeling of wariness when he sees lily’s name flash across his screen. in the past months the only contact he’d had with the upper east side was rufus and eric, and even then the contact was minimal, being unable to handle the way they tiptoed around certain topics like he would shatter at the mere mention of their names (he might have been actively avoiding thinking about her, not even so much as saying her name in his head, but denial has become his best friend). nate and serena had tried calling him, to no avail for he was almost 100% sure that both people would want to talk about the way he had left and why he left, and he was fairly certain that he did not want to talk about it, or anything remotely related to new york, really. so when he picked up, he was half expecting to get his ear talked off about not coming home and extending his time away by months, not that serena was in the hospital.
he’d almost dropped the coffee in his hand when lily delivered the news. dan had always known serena to be free-spirited and reckless, hell he loved her for it, but he never thought that she would put her life in danger after all that she had been through, not like this. he feels slight disappointment come to the surface, before letting a wave of guilt wash over him. he doesn’t need to be there, or to check gossip girl, or to have jenny or eric fill him in on the latest gossip to know what it's like in the upper east side now : a full blown war between its two queens, avoiding each other at every corner, walking the other way at the sight of the other, and maybe a few years ago dan would have felt some joy and triumph in knowing that he had the power to drive such a wedge between two of the most influential people in new york, but now all he could feel was emptiness, none of the remorse rufus taught him to feel in these situations, none of the self-reproach he might have felt if it was anyone else.
he’s vaguely surprised that he drops bern in all of its beauty and books the next flight home, even calls jenny, who surprisingly agrees to meet him at the airport as soon as he gets back. apparently, some things have changed since he’s been gone. he briefly wonders if jenny had patched things up with nate and vanessa, that maybe she’s lost her vengeful streak for good.
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the moment he steps off the plane, it's like a switch inside him is flipped and he feels everything all at once, and he’s unable to distinguish what he’s feeling, but the paranoia seems to stick out above everything else, as he looks around to watch for any camera phones (there aren’t any, but you can never be too careful when on gossip girl’s turf). it feels incredibly self-centred, thinking that he could arrive somewhere and there would immediately be people waiting to get a picture of him, like he was some kind of fucking celebrity and not a kid barely out of college trying to navigate life, but he knows his fears are not unfounded, for his return to new york could either be the lifting of the iron curtain or the atomic bomb that blows everything up. the unsteadiness in him only settles when he sees jenny, who looks just the same as she did the last time he saw her, dressed in black from head to toe, just as lanky as he remembers, her hair a dirty blonde now rather than the long platinum locks. she’s taller than him now, looks healthier, happier, and a wide smile spreads across his face as he pulls her into his arms. she pulls away quickly, tells him he really needs to shave, but a soft smile makes an appearance all the same.
by the time he makes it out of the airport, the blast had hit and people are starting to recognise him, but lily’s sent a town car along with his dad in the front seat waiting for him, and dan could care less about what gossip girl has to say in that moment, because unlike jenny, he finds no shame in admitting that he had missed his family very much, so much that he thinks he feels tears welling up in his eyes, and before he can hide them, jenny points them out, loudly, because of course she does, and he rolls his eyes, but something about her teasing and rufus’ hearty laugh is comforting.
rufus offers to take him home to settle in before heading to the hospital, but he insists on going to see serena first. seeing his first love like this shocks him, her face nearly sheet-white and her lips pale, her hair seemingly dirty and brittle, her eyes tired. for as long as he’s known her, she was always bright-eyed with her golden hair and sunkissed skin, even at her lowest, but he supposes he’s never really seen her at her lowest before this. she wakes as he enters the room, cold with dreary white walls and the ever-present smell of chemicals and cleaning agents, seems surprised to see him but gives him a weak smile. he takes a seat in the armchair and holds her hands in his.
“i’m sorry about the way i left you that night, i’m so sorry,” he starts as he tucks a loose golden lock behind her ear. serena starts to pull her hands back, but he tightens his grip ever so slightly, “no, just, hear me out. i didn’t mean it when i said i never wanted to see you again, i was just angry, at her, at myself, hell at the world.”
serena looks away from him, pulling away from him, and she seems so small as she whispers, “i shouldn’t have lied to you.”
her quiet words hang in the air, and for a second her eyes widen like she’s said something wrong again. his signature self-deprecating laugh escapes him before she can say anything else, “well, as it turns out you weren’t exactly lying anyway,” and this time he’s the one that looks away, unable to bear the pity in her eyes.
for a few minutes all they do is sit in silence, his warm hand over her cold ones, leaving all the apologies and the loving words unsaid. he thinks they could make it work, again, if they wanted to, even after the way he’d stormed out on her even though all she’d done was tell him the truth, their old spark and those first love butterflies never fading completely, but he knows that they would ultimately just put each other through lots of pain, and they’ve done quite enough as is. he leans in to press a kiss to her forehead, “you’ll always be family to me, serena,” he says, watching the soft smile that comes across her face as her eyes flutter shut, “you’re going to be okay.”
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he’s standing by the bar and drinking red wine (it's a pity they never serve hard liquor) at a welcome back party his stepmother had thrown that he honestly thinks serves her purpose of promoting the new company she’s investing in better than it does celebrating the grand return of the humphrey siblings when he sees nate archibald walk through the door, beelining straight for him with the signature nathaniel archibald wide grin. they engage in easy conversation, things comfortable and easygoing between them as it always had been, having long forgiven dan for his half-character. he still feels the need to apologise though, with the promise of a book written all about him one day. nate only laughs and gives him a clap on the back, before spotting jenny and waltzing off to talk to her. he observes as they talk, and notes the way jenny leans into his hand on her waist, the way she giggles at all his lame jokes (and dan is confident that the jokes are lame, doesn’t even need to hear them to know, his best friend does have a tendency to tell bad jokes), and wonders if there was something jenny had been leaving out of their weekly phone calls. he's watching from the edge of the room, observing everyone from the outside, and he smiles as a feeling of deja vu washes over him. something about this felt different though, everyone seemed so cordial with one another, he even caught sight of carter baizen at some point, who gives him a nod that he doesn’t gather himself in time to respond to.
it's when he spots cece and is about to go greet her when he sees her, all bright lips and dark hair, dressed in a white gown that he thinks might be from givenchy (jenny had been fawning about it and he’d pretended he was listening while she went on and on). chuck has one arm twisted around her shoulders, holding her close, and she’s smiling, oh so brightly, but dan knows her better than most, can see the way her smile doesn’t meet her eyes and the way her eyes dart around the room like she’s looking for an escape route (he later finds out that she was looking for him, and figures maybe he doesn’t know her as well as he thinks). he thinks maybe he could do this, that maybe after all those months he could breathe the same air and not completely fall apart, and just maybe he wanted to be petty and flirt with the nearest girl just so he could give her a taste of her own medicine, but looking around the room there seemed to only be blondes and brunettes (it takes him off guard for a second, are there no redheads among the upper east side elite?) and he couldn’t do it, not without seeing blair or serena, or even vanessa, in every one of them. he wonders if this was how it would always be, the ghost of his past loves haunting him at every corner, and files the information away, to be revisited for future writing reference.
and so he slips away, unbuttoning the top buttons of his dress shirt and bidding people farewell as he went, and had just pressed the elevator button when he hears her call out his name. his last name, of course, never his first (except all the times he’s kissed her and held her in his arms, but who’s counting, right?). he doesn’t turn, frozen on the spot. after all, it wouldn't be unbelievable for it all to be a figment of his imagination, his brain did run a hundred miles a minute most days.
“humphrey, i see you’ve finally gotten that much needed haircut,” he can tell she’s nervous, despite her confident facade, and revels slightly at the thought that he wasn’t the only one affected by the way they'd left things, “and where exactly have you been all this time? not off writing another scathing non-fiction i hope, although all things considered i guess at least you haven’t taken to having georgina sparks be your muse, it would be such a-”
“blair, stop”
“downgrade really, from having me as your muse-”
“blair, stop, please!” his voice cracks just as the last word leaves his mouth, and he thinks he can feel himself falling apart a little, “i can’t act like everything is normal, like nothing has changed. i can’t do it, not when everything has changed.” her red lips curl into a frown, and it seems like she’s about to say something when the ding of the elevator sounds and it takes everything in him to walk away from her. as the doors of the elevator close, he hears an apology slip from her lips, watches as tears well up in her doe eyes that seem duller than they used to be, and he thinks it must be quite the cinematic sight, the pair of them staring at each other wistfully while standing on opposites sides of a door.
he kept his head down as he walked out of the complex, more aware than ever of vanya’s pity (really, vanya has seen him in this state far too many times), feeling just as defeated as he did the last time he left this building. the skies were stormy, and just as the sky began crying, what felt like a tear slipped down his cheeks. it seemed he could never quite get his brave face right, no matter how much he tried, he thinks as he chokes out a bitter laugh.
the ride back to brooklyn seemed longer than ever, all he could see when he looked out the window were visions of them together, walking the streets of new york with fresh coffee in their hands while discussing tarantino, drunken kisses as they stumbled out of bars and into alleyways, her lighthearted giggles echoing through his head, and when those memories fade, he could see blair, hand in hand with the love of her life, her epic love, standing by the side of the road telling him he loved her as he walked away from her, diamond ring twinkling in the moonlight, and he thinks, god, does he need some sleep (he’s lying to himself at this point, well aware that no amount of sleep can ever stop these memories from haunting him).
later that night, he’s already downed a bottle of whiskey when there’s a sharp knock on the door. in his inebriated state he doesn’t register that its midnight and no one he might actually want to talk to would be at the door until he opens it and he sees blair waldorf, standing there in all her dripping wet hair, clothes stuck to skin, glory. as he invites her in, he hears her sigh a shaky breath of relief, and he’s reminded of all the time she’s walked through this door with a sigh on her lips, back then he’d thought that her entering the loft was always a little like coming home, but now he’s not so sure anymore.
they’re standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, and he watches her fidget under his gaze, waits for her to speak up, to say sorry, to say something, anything, until he can no longer stand it and breaks the silence, “what do you want, blair?” he can tell that its not what she expected him to say, surprise flashing across her face, although he wonders what exactly she expected from him (he later finds out that she was expecting him to put on some coffee before they got into it, as he always did).
“why did you leave? why didn’t you come home?” he scoffs at the last word. people have always said that home is where the heart is, but somehow, even knowing that she, the woman who he, for better or for worse, loved, was here in new york, the city has never felt any less like home. to be frank, he’s not quite sure he has a home anymore, all the previous warmth of his family seemingly evaporated.
“i don’t know, blair, why didn’t you stay?”
“i needed you, i needed you and you weren’t here,” she’s tearing up again, and her voice is breaking, “you said you’d always be here for me, you lied.”
his next words are biting and harsh in a way he’s never been with her before, his tears bitter on his lips, “when i said that i thought you would never leave me, would never hurt me, would never choose him over me in the way you did. when i said that i thought we could have been together forever, as friends or as lovers, which clearly proved to be wishful thinking, but you didn’t even have the decency to tell me, to say a single fucking word before going to him, what makes you think i owe you anything? I waited for you, for hours! i stood there, waiting for you to call, to send me a text, but i could only get the news from gossip girl! i thought, god, i knew that i never stood a chance against chuck bass and whatever the fuck it is you call an epic love, but damn it blair, i thought we were friends, i trusted you and you just-”
“you left!” she screams, face red with anger and humiliation.
“so did you!” he yells in return, watching as she flinches visibly, and softens his voice as he went on, “i’m no fool, blair, i knew better than to think you were in love with me or that you would ever completely leave him behind, but i really thought you’d changed, that you’d finally left your days of immaturity behind, but clearly i was wrong about that too.” she shrinks at his words, and he knows his disappointment is painted all over his face, but he’s too exhausted to even try to keep up any facade of being okay, too tired to protect her feelings again. “so, i’ll ask you again, what do you want from me, blair?”
she’s sobbing now, crumpled into a heap on the wooden floors as she fell to her knees. he’s never seen her cry like that, not even when chuck and louis had completely torn her life apart, and he feels his heart break all over again. when he wraps his arms around her shoulders, he feels her sink into his arms, head against the crook of his neck, and he shuts his eyes tight, revels in her touch for what feels like the last time.