coda fic (hi, society): these bones are mere accessories
so, i haven't exactly been accepted to join 10_themes, but whatever - I don't like to wait, especially when I kind of like the story.
these bones are mere accessories
fandom: gossip girl (tv show)
summary: 10_themes prompt #4, fear: immediately following 1.10 hi, society, nate wonders where chuck has gone.
pairing: nate/chuck
word count: ~1,300
rating: pg
warning: implied nate/chuck (boy-loving); major spoilers for 1.10, hi, society!
author’s notes: first time writing gossip girl fic (and the first fanfic i’ve written in months), so i may not have a full grasp on the characters, but i always found chuck as being the “dominant” of the nate-chuck friendship, but with his own weaknesses. and i’ve never met a butler in my entire life, so i hope i got it right. :) enjoy (hopefully)!
he wakes up cold and alive and with blair curled into his side. he can kind of remember fucking and he can kind of remember feeling, but it’s not enough. he expected to be here, at some point, but not now. not with-not without-
this always confused nate, what he and chuck had (have).
he leaves before blair wakes up and, somehow, he doesn’t feel guilty about walking out again. he thinks about leaving a note, but ends up walking out empty handed, nothing left behind.
it’s early, but only for him. the world moves and shifts with the stars and kills the weak and marries itself and dies for land or faith or pride and lives in fearful ecstasy and nate just stands still. he doesn’t know if there’s much else he can do, what with everyone running ahead (like chuck) and he’s left behind, trying to figure why everyone leaves in the first place.
this always confused nate.
nate rings chuck’s apartment. his butler answers.
“hey, can you send chuck down? it’s nate.”
(the front door opens and it’s just a black silhouette through the glass-nate straightens up, thinking it’s chuck, and he feels that if he’s done something horribly wrong to chuck. a women passes, laughing on her cellphone, and out into the running, murderous world.)
“sorry, mr. archibald. mr. bass left last night.”
(first, first it’s confusion. it’s always confusion these days, so nate doesn’t register it and it just passes through him.)
“just tell him i’m-”
(and next, it’s something like shock. he still has his finger on the button and he’s breathing into the speaker and he doesn’t really understand.)
“oh.”
“anything else, mr. archibald?” bored and tired.
(now, third, it’s anger. why didn’t he call? why didn’t he tell him? why didn’t he-why didn’t-why why why why? nate can’t answer it and it just leads to more why why why.)
“i, uh. did he say where he was going?”
“he wished for that to be kept private.”
“oh, okay. well, um. thanks.”
“good day, mr. archibald.”
the speaker clicks off and nate just stands there.
(last. fear. it’s-there’s-he’s-
nate can’t explain this. not this fear. he’s sure he hasn’t been alone-not like this.)
it’s up on gossip girl by noon. (feels that, if he reads it here, he’s not the first to know and he’s not so alone in his fear.)
nate reads the anonymous post, how chuck is just c and how chuck is just a blurred photo now, rushing from his limousine at the airport. nate stares at it for hours, wondering if he could follow, if chuck would come back-what if, what if, what if and he screams it at the walls.
there’s a text from blair, but he ignores it. (knock on the door an hour later, but he doesn’t answer.)
there’s a text from serena, but he doesn’t care. (no one comes this time and he only has his fear in the silence.)
he waits for chuck to text him, waits all day. to explain.
it never comes.
(this fear. it’s-it can’t-he’s not-there’s nothing to-
nate wonders where it comes from. he only wants it go away.)
he remembers when they met. pre-school-so private, you needed to invited to apply. chuck was there before nate and he was the first person to talk to nate. he was something like a superhero-crusader of his own greed, defending his right to the privileges of others, standing above everyone else and setting fire to the world and just too big and empty and ready for it all.
(nate could never let go, not from chuck.)
chuck was the only thing that was every really there. silk sheets and vodka in a champagne glass; that was chuck. that was chuck for nate, with nate, only for nate. saved him from blair, from his father and his mother, saved him from the world, saved him from himself-chuck, his hero.
(it could’ve been that nate wished he had chuck’s confidence-but it was the way chuck looked at him after a night with empty champagne bottles that kept nate there. nate’s hero, the only one who could save him.)
he doesn’t like waking up in the middle of the night, city lights flashing glamour and murder in his eyes, and chuck’s not there. nate thinks the world has taken chuck, finally, and isn’t going to give him back. they don’t need nate’s hero, not anymore.
they have enough of those.
the end of the first day, nate sends chuck a text (he can’t wait any longer). where are you?
he doesn’t expect an answer.
he doesn’t expect much anymore.
chuck’s gone for two days and it’s become a guessing game, to where he’s gone. everyone assumes nate knows, so nate lies. it changes every hour and rumors spread and no one knows where chuck has gone yet.
their only clue is the black and blue photo, face blurred as he turns from the door, jerky movements in the heat of the escape and nate wonders what made him run.
blair sneaks up on him in the park, threading her cold, tiny hands through his hair.
“hey,” she whispers into his ear, giggling.
and nate’s confused. he expected (wanted) blair to be mad, to fight and scream and run away, so he could leave for chuck, no strings attached. but blair slides along the bench, linking her arm in his.
“chuck’s gone,” nate says. “he left last night.”
“oh.” blair purses her lips. “well, things will certainly be different.”
“why do you think he left?”
blair frowns. “probably because he needs more girls to get around with.” she sighs, resting her head on his shoulder. “let’s go get something to eat.”
nate pulls his arm from blair’s grasp and stands up, brushing off his jacket. “i’m not hungry,” he mutters.
it’s fear that makes him move, makes him walk away. and it’s fear that makes him look back, where blair sits alone; but it’s not fear he feels when she stares back.
only regret.
nate thinks this will be the death of him, right there with the cocaine in his dad’s veins and the way blair cries herself to sleep when she thinks he’s sleeping.
it’s the end of the week and blair wants him to come out for drinks at chuck’s hotel and chuck hasn’t called. he stands outside his apartment building, hoping that chuck will come to his senses and he will show up, looking for him.
he knows it’s fear that keeps him there and it’s fear that keeps chuck away.
“where do you think he went?”
cell rang and he answered. only serena, sounding bored and only a little worried.
“i dunno.”
“have you been able to get a hold of him?”
“why me?”
“he’s your best friend.”
(fear-only friends.)
“yeah, i guess.”
(he remembers the first night and it’s not like chuck was endearing or sweet; he was chuck and that’s all nate wanted. that’s all nate got and it was enough.
it was enough, then.)
blair comes to his house a few days later, looking scared and alone. (nate is, too.) “come stay with me tonight?”
and nate almost wants to say no, that he’s running away and he’s going to find chuck, because chuck is what he needs to fix all of this. but there’s fear and regret and guilt and nate doesn’t know who it’s for anymore.
“okay.”
most nights (now), he goes to bed, cold, alive, with blair curled into his side. it’s not confusing anymore. chuck has been gone for two weeks and all nate has got is a text saying nowhere.
it should confuse nate, but it doesn’t. it’s only-fear.
these bones are mere accessories
fandom: gossip girl (tv show)
summary: 10_themes prompt #4, fear: immediately following 1.10 hi, society, nate wonders where chuck has gone.
pairing: nate/chuck
word count: ~1,300
rating: pg
warning: implied nate/chuck (boy-loving); major spoilers for 1.10, hi, society!
author’s notes: first time writing gossip girl fic (and the first fanfic i’ve written in months), so i may not have a full grasp on the characters, but i always found chuck as being the “dominant” of the nate-chuck friendship, but with his own weaknesses. and i’ve never met a butler in my entire life, so i hope i got it right. :) enjoy (hopefully)!
he wakes up cold and alive and with blair curled into his side. he can kind of remember fucking and he can kind of remember feeling, but it’s not enough. he expected to be here, at some point, but not now. not with-not without-
this always confused nate, what he and chuck had (have).
he leaves before blair wakes up and, somehow, he doesn’t feel guilty about walking out again. he thinks about leaving a note, but ends up walking out empty handed, nothing left behind.
it’s early, but only for him. the world moves and shifts with the stars and kills the weak and marries itself and dies for land or faith or pride and lives in fearful ecstasy and nate just stands still. he doesn’t know if there’s much else he can do, what with everyone running ahead (like chuck) and he’s left behind, trying to figure why everyone leaves in the first place.
this always confused nate.
nate rings chuck’s apartment. his butler answers.
“hey, can you send chuck down? it’s nate.”
(the front door opens and it’s just a black silhouette through the glass-nate straightens up, thinking it’s chuck, and he feels that if he’s done something horribly wrong to chuck. a women passes, laughing on her cellphone, and out into the running, murderous world.)
“sorry, mr. archibald. mr. bass left last night.”
(first, first it’s confusion. it’s always confusion these days, so nate doesn’t register it and it just passes through him.)
“just tell him i’m-”
(and next, it’s something like shock. he still has his finger on the button and he’s breathing into the speaker and he doesn’t really understand.)
“oh.”
“anything else, mr. archibald?” bored and tired.
(now, third, it’s anger. why didn’t he call? why didn’t he tell him? why didn’t he-why didn’t-why why why why? nate can’t answer it and it just leads to more why why why.)
“i, uh. did he say where he was going?”
“he wished for that to be kept private.”
“oh, okay. well, um. thanks.”
“good day, mr. archibald.”
the speaker clicks off and nate just stands there.
(last. fear. it’s-there’s-he’s-
nate can’t explain this. not this fear. he’s sure he hasn’t been alone-not like this.)
it’s up on gossip girl by noon. (feels that, if he reads it here, he’s not the first to know and he’s not so alone in his fear.)
nate reads the anonymous post, how chuck is just c and how chuck is just a blurred photo now, rushing from his limousine at the airport. nate stares at it for hours, wondering if he could follow, if chuck would come back-what if, what if, what if and he screams it at the walls.
there’s a text from blair, but he ignores it. (knock on the door an hour later, but he doesn’t answer.)
there’s a text from serena, but he doesn’t care. (no one comes this time and he only has his fear in the silence.)
he waits for chuck to text him, waits all day. to explain.
it never comes.
(this fear. it’s-it can’t-he’s not-there’s nothing to-
nate wonders where it comes from. he only wants it go away.)
he remembers when they met. pre-school-so private, you needed to invited to apply. chuck was there before nate and he was the first person to talk to nate. he was something like a superhero-crusader of his own greed, defending his right to the privileges of others, standing above everyone else and setting fire to the world and just too big and empty and ready for it all.
(nate could never let go, not from chuck.)
chuck was the only thing that was every really there. silk sheets and vodka in a champagne glass; that was chuck. that was chuck for nate, with nate, only for nate. saved him from blair, from his father and his mother, saved him from the world, saved him from himself-chuck, his hero.
(it could’ve been that nate wished he had chuck’s confidence-but it was the way chuck looked at him after a night with empty champagne bottles that kept nate there. nate’s hero, the only one who could save him.)
he doesn’t like waking up in the middle of the night, city lights flashing glamour and murder in his eyes, and chuck’s not there. nate thinks the world has taken chuck, finally, and isn’t going to give him back. they don’t need nate’s hero, not anymore.
they have enough of those.
the end of the first day, nate sends chuck a text (he can’t wait any longer). where are you?
he doesn’t expect an answer.
he doesn’t expect much anymore.
chuck’s gone for two days and it’s become a guessing game, to where he’s gone. everyone assumes nate knows, so nate lies. it changes every hour and rumors spread and no one knows where chuck has gone yet.
their only clue is the black and blue photo, face blurred as he turns from the door, jerky movements in the heat of the escape and nate wonders what made him run.
blair sneaks up on him in the park, threading her cold, tiny hands through his hair.
“hey,” she whispers into his ear, giggling.
and nate’s confused. he expected (wanted) blair to be mad, to fight and scream and run away, so he could leave for chuck, no strings attached. but blair slides along the bench, linking her arm in his.
“chuck’s gone,” nate says. “he left last night.”
“oh.” blair purses her lips. “well, things will certainly be different.”
“why do you think he left?”
blair frowns. “probably because he needs more girls to get around with.” she sighs, resting her head on his shoulder. “let’s go get something to eat.”
nate pulls his arm from blair’s grasp and stands up, brushing off his jacket. “i’m not hungry,” he mutters.
it’s fear that makes him move, makes him walk away. and it’s fear that makes him look back, where blair sits alone; but it’s not fear he feels when she stares back.
only regret.
nate thinks this will be the death of him, right there with the cocaine in his dad’s veins and the way blair cries herself to sleep when she thinks he’s sleeping.
it’s the end of the week and blair wants him to come out for drinks at chuck’s hotel and chuck hasn’t called. he stands outside his apartment building, hoping that chuck will come to his senses and he will show up, looking for him.
he knows it’s fear that keeps him there and it’s fear that keeps chuck away.
“where do you think he went?”
cell rang and he answered. only serena, sounding bored and only a little worried.
“i dunno.”
“have you been able to get a hold of him?”
“why me?”
“he’s your best friend.”
(fear-only friends.)
“yeah, i guess.”
(he remembers the first night and it’s not like chuck was endearing or sweet; he was chuck and that’s all nate wanted. that’s all nate got and it was enough.
it was enough, then.)
blair comes to his house a few days later, looking scared and alone. (nate is, too.) “come stay with me tonight?”
and nate almost wants to say no, that he’s running away and he’s going to find chuck, because chuck is what he needs to fix all of this. but there’s fear and regret and guilt and nate doesn’t know who it’s for anymore.
“okay.”
most nights (now), he goes to bed, cold, alive, with blair curled into his side. it’s not confusing anymore. chuck has been gone for two weeks and all nate has got is a text saying nowhere.
it should confuse nate, but it doesn’t. it’s only-fear.