erik/chuck
give me reason, but don’t give me choice (cause I’ll just make the same mistake again)
*same mistake - james blunt
“I don’t think about you.” Chuck doesn’t lie.
chuck/erik. post-1.16. ~ 2,170. warnings: language, minor boy/boy action
a/n: I totally skipped doing history notes to finish this. idk what this is about, but I hope you enjoy?
+
The night after he comes back from Monte Carlo, Chuck hears about it everywhere. A drunken socialite in an argyle sweater decides Chuck needs to hear it again.
“Did you hear?” they whisper to him in a bar in down town Manhattan, “Erik Van der Woodsen is gay.”
Chuck looks at him. He is leaning dangerously close and Chuck is not entirely comfortable with this person breathing all over his scotch.
“Fucked up, huh?” The guy laughs, like it’s that fucking funny.
Chuck sneers and pushes the guy away.
+
Chuck comes home that night, a little late. Bart is off on a business trip before the wedding; Lily usually stands by the picture window, watching Manhattan at night. She doesn’t yell at him when he stumbles; she’s mostly accompanied by a vacant stare and a dry martini. Chuck expected more from her, a woman of such her stature and demeanor, but Chuck just can’t be surprised.
He obviously doesn’t know as much as he thought he did.
Lily only looks at him when he walks in. She’s moved onto the scotch, eyes glassed over and of course she would have take it this way. Her hands shake and Chuck watches her.
“I’m okay with it. I love him. I accept his choices,” she murmurs. She looks over her shoulder, looks right at Chuck; Chuck doesn’t have time for this. “I just… I can’t understand. I want to, but.” She looks back to her glass. “I don’t know.”
He takes off his shoes. “Good night, Mother,” he mutters as he walks past her and into his bedroom. She doesn’t call him back.
Erik is in the bathroom before Chuck can get there. He knocks on the door.
“I’m not trying to kill myself,” Erik calls through the door.
“I wasn’t asking.”
Chuck is digging for his last cigarette when Erik opens the door. Chuck looks up and sighs, holding the found cigarette between his fingers. “Oh, Christ.”
“How’s my mom?” he asks in a small, wavering voice. “She’s been scared lately about everything-”
Chuck pushes past Erik, who stumbles after him, eyes a little red.
“She’s drinking, she’ll be fine,” Chuck says as he opens cabinets and drawers. “Have you seen my lighter?”
“You keep a lighter in the bathroom?” Erik is genuinely shocked; it makes Chuck grin.
“Never mind.” Chuck stands up and pockets the cigarette. He looks at Erik. “Just stop crying, okay?”
Erik looks confused. “I wasn’t crying.”
Chuck is getting tired of this game; everyone in this family always to be hiding something and, honestly, Chuck never saw any problem with the blatant truth. “Come on, Erik, I-”
“I had a drink,” Erik cut in. “Well, drinks.” He doesn’t look apologetic. Chuck kind of expects him to, but - well, whatever. Chuck doesn’t know what to expect, honestly.
“Oh.” Chuck stands there, hands on his hips, feeling a little ridiculous. “Interesting.”
Erik shrugs. “I figured I needed it.”
Chuck nods. “Sure.”
They stand in silence for a moment. Chuck still has his hands on his hips and Erik is staring at the wall; Chuck is sure he’s stopped blinking. Erik seems to forget that Chuck is there and Chuck is dying for a cigarette, but he doesn’t want to leave. Just in case. Of what? He’s not exactly sure. Just something.
“Well, I’m going to bed,” Chuck says slowly. He carefully side steps Erik and stands in the door frame. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Chuck nods. He’s not really sure if he believes Erik. “I’m here, remember. If you ever need me.”
Erik smiles sadly. “I know, Chuck.”
+
Chuck wakes up the next morning light-headed and only a bit nauseous. He trips over Erik, who’s slumped against the wall near the bathroom. He groans when Chuck toes him in the ribs.
“How’re you doing?”
“Fuck.”
Chuck only smiles.
+
Chuck leaves Erik at the steps of St. Jude’s. Chuck’s standing by the limo and Erik is clutching onto his bag, knuckles white and face pale. First day of school; fire and brimstone in the form of acid tongues and white eyes and the fear is written so clearly in Erik’s eyes.
Erik is standing close to Chuck. Chuck pushes him up the steps. “Why aren’t you staying?” Erik asks.
“I’ve got stuff to do.” Chuck thinks that Erik needs to do this alone. “You’ll be fine.”
Erik is watching the people around them; they stop to stare and whisper behind covered hands. The boys sneer and the girls laugh behind Prada bags. These are the moments when Chuck realizes he hates this city.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Erik whispers.
“You’re a Bass now, Erik. You don’t let people walk all over you.”
“Our parents aren’t even married yet.” Erik is distracted. He’s shrinking, moving away from the St. Jude’s boys as they come up the steps, glaring, pushing past him roughly. “Besides, it’s only a legal thing.”
“The fuck does that matter? You’re related to me, whether through blood or legal documents, and you don’t let shit like this get the best of you.”
Erik looks back at Chuck. His eyes are wide and he looks like a child. “Chuck, this isn’t some stupid rumour.”
“I know. That’s why you have to rise above it.” Chuck touches Erik’s arm. Erik stiffens and jerks away, looking at the ground. “Hey.”
“I’m sorry,” Erik mutters. He turns away and starts up the steps. “I’ll see you later.”
Erik disappears into the crowd. Chuck thinks of calling him back, but he knows Erik has to do this on his own.
+
Erik is sitting on the steps when Chuck pulls up. Everyone is gone. He has a pile of textbooks at his feet. He’s playing with the cuff of his jacket sleeve.
Chuck is standing in front of Erik, leaning down to pick up the books. Erik doesn’t move.
“Come on,” Chuck says quietly.
Erik is still sitting on the steps when Chuck turns away. He stops at the bottom of the steps and looks back up as the driver takes the books from his arms. “Erik?” Chuck calls.
“He wasn’t here,” Erik says. “He wasn’t even at school.”
Chuck - well, Chuck doesn’t know what to think.
(Later, they find out Asher moved to a boarding school in France for the rest of the semester. Erik doesn’t say anything else.)
+
Bart comes back from his trip. Erik waits in the lobby for him. Chuck is sitting on the counter in his bathroom, smoking a cigarette. Lily is standing by the window.
Chuck hears the door open and he stiffens. It’s somewhat involuntary, branded into him like fire and metal. But, still… he’s unsure.
Chuck hears Erik speak, but can’t make out the words. He won’t leave, though. He promised Erik that he would have to do it on his own. Bart says nothing, even after moments of silence. High heels click on the floor, echoing through the empty space, but it feels heavy and suffocating.
A door closes, but doesn’t make that much of a sound. Chuck barely notices it.
Chuck waits. He’s not sure what for. Erik doesn’t come back. Chuck thinks he has made a mistake, but he’s not sure what he has to apologize for this time.
+
“Why are you doing this to me?”
Chuck is not trying to sleep. He’s never been that good at pretending just for the sake of it. He doesn’t turn to face Erik. He thinks he may be too afraid to face him, but it doesn’t really seem like him.
“I’m doing this for you. You should be in bed.”
“Stop it.”
“You can’t act like this forever, Erik. People were going to find out eventually.”
“I know that! But you keep pushing me and I can’t do this alone.”
“You have to.”
Chuck can hear Erik breathing.
“You’re not my brother, Chuck," he whispers. "Not anymore.”
+
Chuck goes to school the next day. Erik walks; he’s good at avoiding Chuck’s gaze and Chuck finds it a little amusing. Chuck almost thinks of following Erik, like it would actually make a difference, but takes the limo instead.
There’s something about the way that Erik looks at him from across the room and how Nate takes Erik by the arm and leads him away that makes Chuck grin. He knows that Nate thinks Chuck was a part of all this, but Chuck could never see how. He can’t pretend not to be offended, but his promises are suddenly poisonous and he feels a little like himself again.
+
They have supper as a family on Friday. They are seated around a square table staring at their empty plates. No one wants to eat.
“Well, this looks delicious,” Lily says breathlessly. She doesn’t move for anything.
Chuck is sitting next to Erik. He keeps glancing sideways, but there’s something that Chuck can’t see. Bart is tapping his glass of brandy with the tips of his fingers; he looks lost, like truth is a fickle thing that he’s never liked. Chuck can only think half of it is true.
“So, Erik.” Lily looks at her son. So does everyone else. “How’s school?”
Erik looks up from his lap. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well. May I be excused?” He gets up and leaves, quietly, before they can say anything.
Bart takes a sip of his brandy. “It’s just a phase, Lily. He’ll be fine.”
Chuck folds his napkin, always one for proper etiquette in the face of adversity, and rises from the table. “I’ll go talk to him.”
He finds Erik, where else, but in his bedroom. There’s something reserved and glaring about Erik’s bedroom; nothing personal on the walls or on the dressers, but it breathes stories and secrets that Chuck already knows. He wonders if anyone else feels it like he does.
Erik speaks first. He’s leaning against the wall by the dresser. Chuck can’t see his face. “Your dad hates me.”
“Our dad.”
“Yours.”
Chuck sits down on the bed. Erik sighs and sits down on the bed beside Chuck. They watch the bare walls; Chuck doesn’t mind it.
“You’re okay,” Chuck whispers. “Right?”
“I have to be.”
Chuck grabs Erik by the shoulders and kisses him. It’s mostly uncomfortable, but it’s something. Chuck’s not sure if he really wants it; then again, he’s not really sure what he’s ever wanted. He’s only ever been told.
Erik pushes him away, fingers cutting skin as he gasps for air. “Chuck.”
“I’m sorry. I thought it’s what you wanted-”
Erik turns away.
“It’s not a solution, Chuck,” Erik whispers. “Not for me.”
“Erik.”
Erik stands up and walks to the window. “Just go.”
And Chuck does. He doesn’t know what to expect.
+
Chuck wakes up in the middle of the night to murmurs and echoing footsteps. Erik has a suitcase in the hall. He’s talking to one of the drivers; Chuck watches from the doorway.
“Running away?” Chuck asks when the driver walks away. Erik doesn’t look at him. “How horribly clichéd.”
“Just for a week.”
“Where?”
Erik shrugs. “I think Italy. I haven’t been there for a few years.”
Chuck pulls out a cigarette from his housecoat pocket. He doesn’t have a lighter, but he keeps the cigarette caught between his fingers anyway.
“Do you love me, Chuck?”
“I don’t know.”
“What was that kiss, then?”
Chuck shrugs, because there isn’t a word for everything.
“So, what happens when I leave?” Erik steps towards Chuck. “Do you move on with life or is it something more?” And Erik is serious. Chuck wants to laugh, but he can’t seem to find it, not with the way that Erik is staring at him, like he expects so much more from Chuck. Like he wants this, but Chuck just doesn’t know.
“I don’t think about you.” Chuck doesn’t lie.
Erik frowns. “That’s not what I’m asking.” And it almost makes Chuck grin.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m still going.” Erik looks as if he’s expecting Chuck to stop him, but Chuck doesn’t really like surprises.
“Then go.”
And he does.
+
Chuck’s waiting for something, but he really doesn’t know what. He finds the most important moments are the motionless, half-dead ones, when he stops moving and thinks. He doesn’t know about Erik, but there’s something. Something probably real and honest, but Chuck can’t seem to hold on. Like fluttering things, chasing bugs in the park when he was still young, that escape his grasp and he doesn’t really seem to care to get them back. He wonders if it’s a fear of commitment or just fear. He’s a child of exultation, of pleasure, of poison and of fireworks in his hands, things that never stay too long and the idea of this, of Erik, is something he can’t comprehend.
Erik calls, but Chuck doesn’t answer. He hasn’t quite decided yet, whether this is about him or if it’s about the way the city makes him insane. He could love, he’s sure, but there’s no place for it in his world. And he wonders if Erik will ever know that.
fin.
*same mistake - james blunt
“I don’t think about you.” Chuck doesn’t lie.
chuck/erik. post-1.16. ~ 2,170. warnings: language, minor boy/boy action
a/n: I totally skipped doing history notes to finish this. idk what this is about, but I hope you enjoy?
+
The night after he comes back from Monte Carlo, Chuck hears about it everywhere. A drunken socialite in an argyle sweater decides Chuck needs to hear it again.
“Did you hear?” they whisper to him in a bar in down town Manhattan, “Erik Van der Woodsen is gay.”
Chuck looks at him. He is leaning dangerously close and Chuck is not entirely comfortable with this person breathing all over his scotch.
“Fucked up, huh?” The guy laughs, like it’s that fucking funny.
Chuck sneers and pushes the guy away.
+
Chuck comes home that night, a little late. Bart is off on a business trip before the wedding; Lily usually stands by the picture window, watching Manhattan at night. She doesn’t yell at him when he stumbles; she’s mostly accompanied by a vacant stare and a dry martini. Chuck expected more from her, a woman of such her stature and demeanor, but Chuck just can’t be surprised.
He obviously doesn’t know as much as he thought he did.
Lily only looks at him when he walks in. She’s moved onto the scotch, eyes glassed over and of course she would have take it this way. Her hands shake and Chuck watches her.
“I’m okay with it. I love him. I accept his choices,” she murmurs. She looks over her shoulder, looks right at Chuck; Chuck doesn’t have time for this. “I just… I can’t understand. I want to, but.” She looks back to her glass. “I don’t know.”
He takes off his shoes. “Good night, Mother,” he mutters as he walks past her and into his bedroom. She doesn’t call him back.
Erik is in the bathroom before Chuck can get there. He knocks on the door.
“I’m not trying to kill myself,” Erik calls through the door.
“I wasn’t asking.”
Chuck is digging for his last cigarette when Erik opens the door. Chuck looks up and sighs, holding the found cigarette between his fingers. “Oh, Christ.”
“How’s my mom?” he asks in a small, wavering voice. “She’s been scared lately about everything-”
Chuck pushes past Erik, who stumbles after him, eyes a little red.
“She’s drinking, she’ll be fine,” Chuck says as he opens cabinets and drawers. “Have you seen my lighter?”
“You keep a lighter in the bathroom?” Erik is genuinely shocked; it makes Chuck grin.
“Never mind.” Chuck stands up and pockets the cigarette. He looks at Erik. “Just stop crying, okay?”
Erik looks confused. “I wasn’t crying.”
Chuck is getting tired of this game; everyone in this family always to be hiding something and, honestly, Chuck never saw any problem with the blatant truth. “Come on, Erik, I-”
“I had a drink,” Erik cut in. “Well, drinks.” He doesn’t look apologetic. Chuck kind of expects him to, but - well, whatever. Chuck doesn’t know what to expect, honestly.
“Oh.” Chuck stands there, hands on his hips, feeling a little ridiculous. “Interesting.”
Erik shrugs. “I figured I needed it.”
Chuck nods. “Sure.”
They stand in silence for a moment. Chuck still has his hands on his hips and Erik is staring at the wall; Chuck is sure he’s stopped blinking. Erik seems to forget that Chuck is there and Chuck is dying for a cigarette, but he doesn’t want to leave. Just in case. Of what? He’s not exactly sure. Just something.
“Well, I’m going to bed,” Chuck says slowly. He carefully side steps Erik and stands in the door frame. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Chuck nods. He’s not really sure if he believes Erik. “I’m here, remember. If you ever need me.”
Erik smiles sadly. “I know, Chuck.”
+
Chuck wakes up the next morning light-headed and only a bit nauseous. He trips over Erik, who’s slumped against the wall near the bathroom. He groans when Chuck toes him in the ribs.
“How’re you doing?”
“Fuck.”
Chuck only smiles.
+
Chuck leaves Erik at the steps of St. Jude’s. Chuck’s standing by the limo and Erik is clutching onto his bag, knuckles white and face pale. First day of school; fire and brimstone in the form of acid tongues and white eyes and the fear is written so clearly in Erik’s eyes.
Erik is standing close to Chuck. Chuck pushes him up the steps. “Why aren’t you staying?” Erik asks.
“I’ve got stuff to do.” Chuck thinks that Erik needs to do this alone. “You’ll be fine.”
Erik is watching the people around them; they stop to stare and whisper behind covered hands. The boys sneer and the girls laugh behind Prada bags. These are the moments when Chuck realizes he hates this city.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Erik whispers.
“You’re a Bass now, Erik. You don’t let people walk all over you.”
“Our parents aren’t even married yet.” Erik is distracted. He’s shrinking, moving away from the St. Jude’s boys as they come up the steps, glaring, pushing past him roughly. “Besides, it’s only a legal thing.”
“The fuck does that matter? You’re related to me, whether through blood or legal documents, and you don’t let shit like this get the best of you.”
Erik looks back at Chuck. His eyes are wide and he looks like a child. “Chuck, this isn’t some stupid rumour.”
“I know. That’s why you have to rise above it.” Chuck touches Erik’s arm. Erik stiffens and jerks away, looking at the ground. “Hey.”
“I’m sorry,” Erik mutters. He turns away and starts up the steps. “I’ll see you later.”
Erik disappears into the crowd. Chuck thinks of calling him back, but he knows Erik has to do this on his own.
+
Erik is sitting on the steps when Chuck pulls up. Everyone is gone. He has a pile of textbooks at his feet. He’s playing with the cuff of his jacket sleeve.
Chuck is standing in front of Erik, leaning down to pick up the books. Erik doesn’t move.
“Come on,” Chuck says quietly.
Erik is still sitting on the steps when Chuck turns away. He stops at the bottom of the steps and looks back up as the driver takes the books from his arms. “Erik?” Chuck calls.
“He wasn’t here,” Erik says. “He wasn’t even at school.”
Chuck - well, Chuck doesn’t know what to think.
(Later, they find out Asher moved to a boarding school in France for the rest of the semester. Erik doesn’t say anything else.)
+
Bart comes back from his trip. Erik waits in the lobby for him. Chuck is sitting on the counter in his bathroom, smoking a cigarette. Lily is standing by the window.
Chuck hears the door open and he stiffens. It’s somewhat involuntary, branded into him like fire and metal. But, still… he’s unsure.
Chuck hears Erik speak, but can’t make out the words. He won’t leave, though. He promised Erik that he would have to do it on his own. Bart says nothing, even after moments of silence. High heels click on the floor, echoing through the empty space, but it feels heavy and suffocating.
A door closes, but doesn’t make that much of a sound. Chuck barely notices it.
Chuck waits. He’s not sure what for. Erik doesn’t come back. Chuck thinks he has made a mistake, but he’s not sure what he has to apologize for this time.
+
“Why are you doing this to me?”
Chuck is not trying to sleep. He’s never been that good at pretending just for the sake of it. He doesn’t turn to face Erik. He thinks he may be too afraid to face him, but it doesn’t really seem like him.
“I’m doing this for you. You should be in bed.”
“Stop it.”
“You can’t act like this forever, Erik. People were going to find out eventually.”
“I know that! But you keep pushing me and I can’t do this alone.”
“You have to.”
Chuck can hear Erik breathing.
“You’re not my brother, Chuck," he whispers. "Not anymore.”
+
Chuck goes to school the next day. Erik walks; he’s good at avoiding Chuck’s gaze and Chuck finds it a little amusing. Chuck almost thinks of following Erik, like it would actually make a difference, but takes the limo instead.
There’s something about the way that Erik looks at him from across the room and how Nate takes Erik by the arm and leads him away that makes Chuck grin. He knows that Nate thinks Chuck was a part of all this, but Chuck could never see how. He can’t pretend not to be offended, but his promises are suddenly poisonous and he feels a little like himself again.
+
They have supper as a family on Friday. They are seated around a square table staring at their empty plates. No one wants to eat.
“Well, this looks delicious,” Lily says breathlessly. She doesn’t move for anything.
Chuck is sitting next to Erik. He keeps glancing sideways, but there’s something that Chuck can’t see. Bart is tapping his glass of brandy with the tips of his fingers; he looks lost, like truth is a fickle thing that he’s never liked. Chuck can only think half of it is true.
“So, Erik.” Lily looks at her son. So does everyone else. “How’s school?”
Erik looks up from his lap. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well. May I be excused?” He gets up and leaves, quietly, before they can say anything.
Bart takes a sip of his brandy. “It’s just a phase, Lily. He’ll be fine.”
Chuck folds his napkin, always one for proper etiquette in the face of adversity, and rises from the table. “I’ll go talk to him.”
He finds Erik, where else, but in his bedroom. There’s something reserved and glaring about Erik’s bedroom; nothing personal on the walls or on the dressers, but it breathes stories and secrets that Chuck already knows. He wonders if anyone else feels it like he does.
Erik speaks first. He’s leaning against the wall by the dresser. Chuck can’t see his face. “Your dad hates me.”
“Our dad.”
“Yours.”
Chuck sits down on the bed. Erik sighs and sits down on the bed beside Chuck. They watch the bare walls; Chuck doesn’t mind it.
“You’re okay,” Chuck whispers. “Right?”
“I have to be.”
Chuck grabs Erik by the shoulders and kisses him. It’s mostly uncomfortable, but it’s something. Chuck’s not sure if he really wants it; then again, he’s not really sure what he’s ever wanted. He’s only ever been told.
Erik pushes him away, fingers cutting skin as he gasps for air. “Chuck.”
“I’m sorry. I thought it’s what you wanted-”
Erik turns away.
“It’s not a solution, Chuck,” Erik whispers. “Not for me.”
“Erik.”
Erik stands up and walks to the window. “Just go.”
And Chuck does. He doesn’t know what to expect.
+
Chuck wakes up in the middle of the night to murmurs and echoing footsteps. Erik has a suitcase in the hall. He’s talking to one of the drivers; Chuck watches from the doorway.
“Running away?” Chuck asks when the driver walks away. Erik doesn’t look at him. “How horribly clichéd.”
“Just for a week.”
“Where?”
Erik shrugs. “I think Italy. I haven’t been there for a few years.”
Chuck pulls out a cigarette from his housecoat pocket. He doesn’t have a lighter, but he keeps the cigarette caught between his fingers anyway.
“Do you love me, Chuck?”
“I don’t know.”
“What was that kiss, then?”
Chuck shrugs, because there isn’t a word for everything.
“So, what happens when I leave?” Erik steps towards Chuck. “Do you move on with life or is it something more?” And Erik is serious. Chuck wants to laugh, but he can’t seem to find it, not with the way that Erik is staring at him, like he expects so much more from Chuck. Like he wants this, but Chuck just doesn’t know.
“I don’t think about you.” Chuck doesn’t lie.
Erik frowns. “That’s not what I’m asking.” And it almost makes Chuck grin.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m still going.” Erik looks as if he’s expecting Chuck to stop him, but Chuck doesn’t really like surprises.
“Then go.”
And he does.
+
Chuck’s waiting for something, but he really doesn’t know what. He finds the most important moments are the motionless, half-dead ones, when he stops moving and thinks. He doesn’t know about Erik, but there’s something. Something probably real and honest, but Chuck can’t seem to hold on. Like fluttering things, chasing bugs in the park when he was still young, that escape his grasp and he doesn’t really seem to care to get them back. He wonders if it’s a fear of commitment or just fear. He’s a child of exultation, of pleasure, of poison and of fireworks in his hands, things that never stay too long and the idea of this, of Erik, is something he can’t comprehend.
Erik calls, but Chuck doesn’t answer. He hasn’t quite decided yet, whether this is about him or if it’s about the way the city makes him insane. He could love, he’s sure, but there’s no place for it in his world. And he wonders if Erik will ever know that.
fin.