although I try to forget you, your name is written in the stars
Title: Although I try to forget you, your name is written in the stars
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Characters: Blair, Chuck, Nate, Vanessa, Rufus, Lily, Nate and Dan (some Eric and Jenny)
Pairing: Blair/Chuck, Blair/Dan
Genre/Rating: Angst, Romance, Hurt, PG-13
Summary: Post-mortem the group tries to pull the pieces together after Serena dies.
+
He was dying, crying.
Something along those lines.
Chuck Bass was drinking scotch and toasting to yet another faceless whore.
Something was wrong. Nathaniel hadn’t exonerated the first stage of grief, let alone gotten to anger.
-
It was all so public, as much as Blair tried to imagine it wasn’t. Tabloids blurted inconsistencies and all the rage she’d felt at their imperfection had faded to indifference.
Did it matter whether they said she died at 11pm or 3am?
Did it matter if the man was Swedish or a stock broker?
Did it change anything if she’d been drinking or if she was pregnant?
No.
(Yes.)
She was dead now.
-
Unscrupulous service, classy as always, the Van der Woodsens had put on a show for the ‘mourning public.’
Vanessa would call it ‘rich people using money to grieve’ or something tree-huggy and green-loving like that. Dan, however, found the stark, white lilies sad and reflective. There was nothing personal about this funeral. Nothing that would make it stand out from any other. There was nothing of the nineteen year old in this. No spark, no magic.
It was all about decorum and ‘maintaining public image’.
(It was all about lying)
Dan felt there was something tragically literary to this scenario and he resolved to write when he got home.
When he’d stopped crying.
When it sunk in that she was no more.
But he wasn’t in denial.
(Or so he told himself.)
-
Jenny didn’t come. In her own way, she was respecting Serena by respecting Blair and vice versa.
She didn’t really care much either.
She just wished Eric would have someone to hold him.
-
Lily griped Rufus’ hand.
“Did the caterer return my call?”
Rufus nodded and pulled her into his coat but she shrugged him off.
“Good. I hope everything is in order.”
But she wasn’t in denial.
(Or so she told herself.)
-
Blair had been dressed and waiting in the lobby hours before she needed to be.
It all ached.
Perhaps it was the cold.
But she knew better.
It was Serena.
The fact Serena was gone.
Blair wasn’t in denial.
Her velvet gloves were folded and placed neatly in her lap as she waited for the limo.
Waited.
What was she waiting for?
Serena’s name to appear on her phone with a text telling her to meet for breakfast at Daniel’s on Madison.
But her blackberry remained stilled.
Perhaps she was waiting for her to laugh and come down the steps waiting to profess about her most recent conquest (whether it be librarian, convict, physicist or other likely idiot.)
Blair chided herself for being childish.
But she was still waiting.
-
Chuck rolled the tumbler in his hands.
The silence was so loud.
Why was this so hard?
Serena was in a better place.
“S...”
Quiet.
“Serena?”
He gulped and downed the liquor in one gulp. He couldn’t do this.
He felt empty.
He pulled out his little black book.
He swallowed another mouthful.
He felt better.
(Worse.)
-
Eric held the scarf like it was made of gold.
It was, in a way.
Sentimental value was priceless.
He looked terrible. Tired, distraught.
Jonathan tried to make him shave.
He barely articulated a negative response.
Jonathan took his hand and kissed him.
He swallowed his depression.
He felt better.
(Slightly.)
-
Dan found himself at Blairs.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Why had he told her that?
Did he think she’d pity him?
Did it make him a better friend if he was suffering worse than she was?
She who’d swallowed dozens of narcotics just to stop herself shaking?
Did it make him better?
Did it make her better?
“I don’t believe it.”
So much for her ‘acceptance’.
Tears were streaming down his cheeks.
Or maybe it was her cheeks.
He was hugging her. She didn’t know what limb was her’s, she felt so disconnected.
“It’ll be alright.”
(Lies.)
“It’ll be alright,” She repeated.
Say it thrice and it’ll come true.
-
Chuck refused to get up.
The girl sauntered out but forgot her underwear.
A calling card? A reservation for next time.
Chuck arranged for the entire place to be stripped bare and redecorated - old sentiments incincerated.
And yet he couldn’t shake the memories. He felt them burn.
Or perhaps it was the whisky down his throat.
-
Blair felt the food in her stomach and the familiarity was comforting.
She felt clean, purified after wards.
But the feeling didn’t even last.
The snow fell around her and she thought of Serena.
About the same time, Dan knocked on the door.
-
Nate returned to old habits.
Mrs Robinson?
-
Vanessa called Dans mobile.
She got voicemail.
-
Eric blamed Jonathan. Jonathan blamed Serena’s death.
Serena’s death was blamed on people who had not been listening to the woes of a Upper East Side tragic.
The tabloids got the better of him.
The familiarity got him.
The depression lulled him.
Familiarity was a friendly foe.
-
Dan knew the signs.
Blair knew how to lie.
He didn’t realise for at least another week.
‘Just a few dresses I need to get altered.’
The grief got’s to him.
How did he become so oblivious?
All he can do is write.
-
His story was published.
Through a mix-up.
But it broke the New York best-seller list.
‘Upcoming Brooklyn novelist, D. Humphrey’
Jeremiah was pleased.
Dan was almost ashamed.
Blair purged.
Chuck drunk.
Nate thought this meant he was absolved.
-
Months past and it didn't get easier.
In fact, nothing ever did.
-
Familiarity bred contempt.
-
Somewhere in the spring, Dan attended another funeral.
The white lilies seemed fitting this time.
-
Blair thought they’d come full circle as she placed one yellow sunflower on Serena’s grave.
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Characters: Blair, Chuck, Nate, Vanessa, Rufus, Lily, Nate and Dan (some Eric and Jenny)
Pairing: Blair/Chuck, Blair/Dan
Genre/Rating: Angst, Romance, Hurt, PG-13
Summary: Post-mortem the group tries to pull the pieces together after Serena dies.
+
He was dying, crying.
Something along those lines.
Chuck Bass was drinking scotch and toasting to yet another faceless whore.
Something was wrong. Nathaniel hadn’t exonerated the first stage of grief, let alone gotten to anger.
-
It was all so public, as much as Blair tried to imagine it wasn’t. Tabloids blurted inconsistencies and all the rage she’d felt at their imperfection had faded to indifference.
Did it matter whether they said she died at 11pm or 3am?
Did it matter if the man was Swedish or a stock broker?
Did it change anything if she’d been drinking or if she was pregnant?
No.
(Yes.)
She was dead now.
-
Unscrupulous service, classy as always, the Van der Woodsens had put on a show for the ‘mourning public.’
Vanessa would call it ‘rich people using money to grieve’ or something tree-huggy and green-loving like that. Dan, however, found the stark, white lilies sad and reflective. There was nothing personal about this funeral. Nothing that would make it stand out from any other. There was nothing of the nineteen year old in this. No spark, no magic.
It was all about decorum and ‘maintaining public image’.
(It was all about lying)
Dan felt there was something tragically literary to this scenario and he resolved to write when he got home.
When he’d stopped crying.
When it sunk in that she was no more.
But he wasn’t in denial.
(Or so he told himself.)
-
Jenny didn’t come. In her own way, she was respecting Serena by respecting Blair and vice versa.
She didn’t really care much either.
She just wished Eric would have someone to hold him.
-
Lily griped Rufus’ hand.
“Did the caterer return my call?”
Rufus nodded and pulled her into his coat but she shrugged him off.
“Good. I hope everything is in order.”
But she wasn’t in denial.
(Or so she told herself.)
-
Blair had been dressed and waiting in the lobby hours before she needed to be.
It all ached.
Perhaps it was the cold.
But she knew better.
It was Serena.
The fact Serena was gone.
Blair wasn’t in denial.
Her velvet gloves were folded and placed neatly in her lap as she waited for the limo.
Waited.
What was she waiting for?
Serena’s name to appear on her phone with a text telling her to meet for breakfast at Daniel’s on Madison.
But her blackberry remained stilled.
Perhaps she was waiting for her to laugh and come down the steps waiting to profess about her most recent conquest (whether it be librarian, convict, physicist or other likely idiot.)
Blair chided herself for being childish.
But she was still waiting.
-
Chuck rolled the tumbler in his hands.
The silence was so loud.
Why was this so hard?
Serena was in a better place.
“S...”
Quiet.
“Serena?”
He gulped and downed the liquor in one gulp. He couldn’t do this.
He felt empty.
He pulled out his little black book.
He swallowed another mouthful.
He felt better.
(Worse.)
-
Eric held the scarf like it was made of gold.
It was, in a way.
Sentimental value was priceless.
He looked terrible. Tired, distraught.
Jonathan tried to make him shave.
He barely articulated a negative response.
Jonathan took his hand and kissed him.
He swallowed his depression.
He felt better.
(Slightly.)
-
Dan found himself at Blairs.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Why had he told her that?
Did he think she’d pity him?
Did it make him a better friend if he was suffering worse than she was?
She who’d swallowed dozens of narcotics just to stop herself shaking?
Did it make him better?
Did it make her better?
“I don’t believe it.”
So much for her ‘acceptance’.
Tears were streaming down his cheeks.
Or maybe it was her cheeks.
He was hugging her. She didn’t know what limb was her’s, she felt so disconnected.
“It’ll be alright.”
(Lies.)
“It’ll be alright,” She repeated.
Say it thrice and it’ll come true.
-
Chuck refused to get up.
The girl sauntered out but forgot her underwear.
A calling card? A reservation for next time.
Chuck arranged for the entire place to be stripped bare and redecorated - old sentiments incincerated.
And yet he couldn’t shake the memories. He felt them burn.
Or perhaps it was the whisky down his throat.
-
Blair felt the food in her stomach and the familiarity was comforting.
She felt clean, purified after wards.
But the feeling didn’t even last.
The snow fell around her and she thought of Serena.
About the same time, Dan knocked on the door.
-
Nate returned to old habits.
Mrs Robinson?
-
Vanessa called Dans mobile.
She got voicemail.
-
Eric blamed Jonathan. Jonathan blamed Serena’s death.
Serena’s death was blamed on people who had not been listening to the woes of a Upper East Side tragic.
The tabloids got the better of him.
The familiarity got him.
The depression lulled him.
Familiarity was a friendly foe.
-
Dan knew the signs.
Blair knew how to lie.
He didn’t realise for at least another week.
‘Just a few dresses I need to get altered.’
The grief got’s to him.
How did he become so oblivious?
All he can do is write.
-
His story was published.
Through a mix-up.
But it broke the New York best-seller list.
‘Upcoming Brooklyn novelist, D. Humphrey’
Jeremiah was pleased.
Dan was almost ashamed.
Blair purged.
Chuck drunk.
Nate thought this meant he was absolved.
-
Months past and it didn't get easier.
In fact, nothing ever did.
-
Familiarity bred contempt.
-
Somewhere in the spring, Dan attended another funeral.
The white lilies seemed fitting this time.
-
Blair thought they’d come full circle as she placed one yellow sunflower on Serena’s grave.