Pretty Young Things (Chapter 10)
He doesn’t know what he’s doing.
(“Let’s just go back to the suite and get hammered…you up for it?”)
He has no idea what he’s saying.
(“She’s still just a kid.”)
He’s not fooling anyone.
(no matter what I say or do, I still feel you here, till the moment I’m gone)
Serena may be self-involved but she’s not falling for it
(A woman knows when a man looks into her eyes and sees someone else.)
Chuck may be broken but he’s not blind
(“Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored, Nathaniel.”)
It is so easy
(“Well, time flies when you’re having a Wii tennis death match, Humphrey.”)
So simple
(“Hey, you wanna dance?”)
So hard
(”…us hanging out was, just as friends…”)
So complicated
(“I need to know why you ignore our plans to spend the day with Jenny.”)
And he doesn’t have an answer she’ll like.
So he lies.
(and you’re neither friend nor foe)
And he can’t seem to let her go
(you hold me without touch)
And he’s tried to stay away
(you keep me without chains)
-so he lies.
He is good, he is happy, they are friends.
(He is drowning.)
He should feel better now.
It doesn’t take too long.
(When it gets deeper than shampoo; Serena is not perfect and Nate will never be Dan and Chuck is all ‘I told you so’ except he is still Chuck Bass so it comes out something like, “I believe you owe me a Bentley, Nathaniel.”)
Something always brings him back to her
(set me free)
and he makes excuses and makes up stories and makes her hate him
(leave me be)
Because he can’t hate her and he hates himself.
(and I’ve lost who I am)
They stand a million miles apart and six inches away
(I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity)
and he pretends he’s looking at oak molding and Brooklyn “art”
(and not at the way her dress is a shirt and she’s naked under these trippy lights and he’s drunk and she could be)
And he blames age
(but everyone remembers, “Come on, she’s a sophomore, I’m a senior. Don’t act like I’m some creepy older guy.”)
and commitments
(but none of that mattered when you were groping her ass on the street, did it?)
And Chuck tells him not to be stupid
(again)
but he will not look at the girl who is not a girl at all
(because she does not look like a kid and she does not dance like a kid and she does not feel like a kid against his lips or move like a kid under his fingertips)
He will stand tall
(just the way I’m supposed to be)
and he will diligently cater to Serena
(but you’re onto me, and all over me)
He stays quiet and he thinks this makes him strong.
(But she loves him because he’s fragile.)
He bites his tongue and stands by Serena and goes out with Chuck and stews with Blair. And chats with Dan and confides in Rufus and lies and lies and lies.
(Lying is done with words, but also with silence.)
He sees a familiar dress on a mannequin in a window display and he does not think of Dorota and dancing
(and Jenny, Jenny, Jenny)
He does not throw a patented Bass tantrum or leave her a scathing message
(I don’t know how but now we’re so far out of touch)
He goes home to his significant other
(and it is all a lie and he can’t do it anymore because she is a Guitar Hero girl and he is a Wii Sports guy)
and he lets her go.
(and all my fragile strength is gone)
He takes an Art History class field trip to the Museum of Modern Art and does not think of knee-socks or waffles
(“…It’s just I’m a Humphrey so syrup is a food group.”)
He graduates, gets an internship, lives through the GMAT’s, builds a life of money and prestige, and can swear to God Jenny Humphrey was just a girl he knew once;
(he is cold, he is cold, he is cold)
Then his alarm clock goes off and he forces himself out of bed and stumbles to the kitchen-
And she is always there and she is always trying and she is more than he dreamed she was and she knows what he can’t say
(“You deserve someone who’s gonna treat you right.”)
-and she is gone.
(“Just get out.”)
How many times does he have to say friends before he believes it?
(you have not forgotten me through all of this)
How many times can he promise, nothing happened, before he will stop wishing it did?
(you’ve lost the only thing that ever made you feel alive)
They are just friends. He needs them to be good friends.
(and the reflection of a lie will keep me waiting)
And it is good everything is in the open and he only wants good things for her
(except the list starts with him and ends with him)
But he thinks maybe this time he’s broken them.
(and his tongue tastes of bile)
And he thinks he finally understands how Chuck feels
(I’m not asking you to let me rush back in and fail again)
and to think that he is finally free of her makes his palms sweat and his stomach itch.
(I’m falling all over myself)
Serena looks at him
(I know the burden and the pain it draws)
and he is sorry for something but he doesn’t know why.
He is lost.
And he hates himself. And he can’t hate her.
(but I’ll meet you where we started once again, cause I miss you)
Because no matter how dark the sunglasses, she always sees him
(somehow you saw someone worth saving)
Because nothing heals her like he does
(there will be ash and dust to bury us but I will keep you clean)
Because she never says what she should
(that face, I know exactly what you’re thinking)
but she always tells him what he needs to hear
(can you take it, can we save it?)
Because he can tear her sideways and turn her right side up and she can make him forget his name and remember who he is
(maybe we’re not as far apart as it appears)
Because he is the poor, damned moth and she is the glorious, wanton flame and she doesn’t have to try and he can’t resist
(these are the signals of my dying nerves, singed by the heat of your lines and curves)
So he will go home to Serena
(and pretend the distance between them does not bend and stretch; and pretend his heart did not stutter when he thought Sawyer might be another Damien)
And she will go on picking at his scabs
(and pretend hers aren’t bleeding; we all break the same)
But at night, in the dark, he holds on.
(to the way we started)
(“Let’s just go back to the suite and get hammered…you up for it?”)
He has no idea what he’s saying.
(“She’s still just a kid.”)
He’s not fooling anyone.
(no matter what I say or do, I still feel you here, till the moment I’m gone)
Serena may be self-involved but she’s not falling for it
(A woman knows when a man looks into her eyes and sees someone else.)
Chuck may be broken but he’s not blind
(“Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored, Nathaniel.”)
It is so easy
(“Well, time flies when you’re having a Wii tennis death match, Humphrey.”)
So simple
(“Hey, you wanna dance?”)
So hard
(”…us hanging out was, just as friends…”)
So complicated
(“I need to know why you ignore our plans to spend the day with Jenny.”)
And he doesn’t have an answer she’ll like.
So he lies.
(and you’re neither friend nor foe)
And he can’t seem to let her go
(you hold me without touch)
And he’s tried to stay away
(you keep me without chains)
-so he lies.
He is good, he is happy, they are friends.
(He is drowning.)
He should feel better now.
It doesn’t take too long.
(When it gets deeper than shampoo; Serena is not perfect and Nate will never be Dan and Chuck is all ‘I told you so’ except he is still Chuck Bass so it comes out something like, “I believe you owe me a Bentley, Nathaniel.”)
Something always brings him back to her
(set me free)
and he makes excuses and makes up stories and makes her hate him
(leave me be)
Because he can’t hate her and he hates himself.
(and I’ve lost who I am)
They stand a million miles apart and six inches away
(I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity)
and he pretends he’s looking at oak molding and Brooklyn “art”
(and not at the way her dress is a shirt and she’s naked under these trippy lights and he’s drunk and she could be)
And he blames age
(but everyone remembers, “Come on, she’s a sophomore, I’m a senior. Don’t act like I’m some creepy older guy.”)
and commitments
(but none of that mattered when you were groping her ass on the street, did it?)
And Chuck tells him not to be stupid
(again)
but he will not look at the girl who is not a girl at all
(because she does not look like a kid and she does not dance like a kid and she does not feel like a kid against his lips or move like a kid under his fingertips)
He will stand tall
(just the way I’m supposed to be)
and he will diligently cater to Serena
(but you’re onto me, and all over me)
He stays quiet and he thinks this makes him strong.
(But she loves him because he’s fragile.)
He bites his tongue and stands by Serena and goes out with Chuck and stews with Blair. And chats with Dan and confides in Rufus and lies and lies and lies.
(Lying is done with words, but also with silence.)
He sees a familiar dress on a mannequin in a window display and he does not think of Dorota and dancing
(and Jenny, Jenny, Jenny)
He does not throw a patented Bass tantrum or leave her a scathing message
(I don’t know how but now we’re so far out of touch)
He goes home to his significant other
(and it is all a lie and he can’t do it anymore because she is a Guitar Hero girl and he is a Wii Sports guy)
and he lets her go.
(and all my fragile strength is gone)
He takes an Art History class field trip to the Museum of Modern Art and does not think of knee-socks or waffles
(“…It’s just I’m a Humphrey so syrup is a food group.”)
He graduates, gets an internship, lives through the GMAT’s, builds a life of money and prestige, and can swear to God Jenny Humphrey was just a girl he knew once;
(he is cold, he is cold, he is cold)
Then his alarm clock goes off and he forces himself out of bed and stumbles to the kitchen-
And she is always there and she is always trying and she is more than he dreamed she was and she knows what he can’t say
(“You deserve someone who’s gonna treat you right.”)
-and she is gone.
(“Just get out.”)
How many times does he have to say friends before he believes it?
(you have not forgotten me through all of this)
How many times can he promise, nothing happened, before he will stop wishing it did?
(you’ve lost the only thing that ever made you feel alive)
They are just friends. He needs them to be good friends.
(and the reflection of a lie will keep me waiting)
And it is good everything is in the open and he only wants good things for her
(except the list starts with him and ends with him)
But he thinks maybe this time he’s broken them.
(and his tongue tastes of bile)
And he thinks he finally understands how Chuck feels
(I’m not asking you to let me rush back in and fail again)
and to think that he is finally free of her makes his palms sweat and his stomach itch.
(I’m falling all over myself)
Serena looks at him
(I know the burden and the pain it draws)
and he is sorry for something but he doesn’t know why.
He is lost.
And he hates himself. And he can’t hate her.
(but I’ll meet you where we started once again, cause I miss you)
Because no matter how dark the sunglasses, she always sees him
(somehow you saw someone worth saving)
Because nothing heals her like he does
(there will be ash and dust to bury us but I will keep you clean)
Because she never says what she should
(that face, I know exactly what you’re thinking)
but she always tells him what he needs to hear
(can you take it, can we save it?)
Because he can tear her sideways and turn her right side up and she can make him forget his name and remember who he is
(maybe we’re not as far apart as it appears)
Because he is the poor, damned moth and she is the glorious, wanton flame and she doesn’t have to try and he can’t resist
(these are the signals of my dying nerves, singed by the heat of your lines and curves)
So he will go home to Serena
(and pretend the distance between them does not bend and stretch; and pretend his heart did not stutter when he thought Sawyer might be another Damien)
And she will go on picking at his scabs
(and pretend hers aren’t bleeding; we all break the same)
But at night, in the dark, he holds on.
(to the way we started)