Lover Left Bleeding - Chuck/Blair - Chuck POV - 1/2
Title:Lover Left Bleeding
Author: force-oblique
Rating: G, PG - Possibly AU
Disclaimer: I dont own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Chuck/Blair
Spoilers/Warnings: None in particular..:D
Word Count: 906
Summary: 1x13 - related , a take of what could have happened after Blair left Chuck at the bar.
Author's Notes:English is not my native language, so don't hate me for grammar/syntax mistakes or wrong prepositions!
~ I know it's crappy....
Crossposted at blair-chuck & gossipgirlfic,chuckxbass
Lyrics: "Lover Left You Bleeding" By Die Radio Die
Lover Left Bleeding
He remained there immobile, unmoving as if her were frozen in time. And perhaps he was. Inside he felt cold. So cold it burned and there was nothing he could do about it.
It used to be soothing. Being among strangers. People who didn’t know him. People who didn’t have any expectations about him, about his future… About his actions…
Oh, yes, it used to be soothing just like the burning of alcohol at the back of his throat.
Now instead he felt more nauseous with each mouthful he took, with every look pointed at him.
So nauseous that he thought his insides would turn upside down, a whirlwind inside of him, spinning out of control taking every last bit of his sanity in the process.
He brought the glass to his lips again and ignoring the queasiness, he gulped down some whiskey.
{The needle in the vein is never dry.
The dagger in your side keeps you from breathing.
And this is what, this is what brings you back.
You're falling away.
You're falling away now}
Maybe it wasn’t meant to feel good. Why should it?
Sure, he had seen it in movies, in corny scripts and dialogues but maybe revenge wasn’t so sweet after all.
Or maybe he should have waited.
After all, they say revenge is best served cold.
When one least expects, when one has already forgotten about the wrong he has done.
Chuck wondered if that was the problem. Should he have waited for Blair to forget him, what they shared, what she had given up , what she had put him through?
Would it be better if he had remained faithful to her, her memory that lingered still so powerfully that he could hear her voice echoing in the corridors of his mind?
Was it too soon to exert his revenge?
Was it too soon to try to hurt her as much as she had with her words, her actions?
Sometimes he thought that her rejection stung so much that the stubborn pain overshadowed all his other emotions…
Even his decency.
Was it too soon for him to try and rid himself of all the feelings he had for her, all the love and the disillusioned hope he held dear deeply within him?
Was that the reason her face couldn’t escape him, not his words which were harshly calculated for her humiliation?
”You held a certain fascination” he had told her. And he was being honest. She used to hold a fascination….
When you were beautiful, delicate and untouched”
Yes, she held a fascination initially, but then she had become his and his alone even for a little while and everything had changed.
Now that fascination had escalated, it had transformed into something greater, something deeper, something more meaningful….
And though he was too scared to say it out loud, Chuck was almost certain it was love.
He wasn’t sure when it had begun, when the initial infatuation had given its place to pure passion and longing.
When his every waking moment had started to be a moment of reflection about her, about them together.
When his dreams had started to include her…
But it didn’t matter, not at this time. Now it was already too late to back down.
But that must have been it.
It must have been too soon, maybe that was why Blair was not the only one broken by his words.
Maybe that was why his words had turned boomerang on him, like a hundred blades piercing through him, one after the other.
He could barely look at her as the words one by one escaped his mouth, each at its predetermined time, as If he were an actor practicing his lines a little unenthusiastically…
Each word bringing him closer to the edge, their terrible reality of forsaking her, what he loves due to his pride.
It was building up inside him, getting bigger by the second, as if her were a time bomb, one “tick” away from exploding and tearing him apart from the inside out.
{The needle in the vein is never dry.
The dagger in your side keeps you from breathing.
And this is what, this is what brings you back}
Couldn’t she see he was just faking it?
Faking it the whole time he was saying all those horrible words?
Couldn’t she see that he only wanted to hurt her, to get back some of the dignity and the pride she had stolen away when she had walked out on him?
Couldn’t she feel that he was too stern, too stiff to be him? That he talked of contempt ,of her being insignificant, of not having feelings for her with no emotion in his voice?
Not even to express this contempt?
If her really didn’t want her, if the sight if her didn’t burn him still, then why was he avoiding, refusing to look at her?
It should be nothing for him, right?
Then why not look at her?
Why bother look the other way when he could relish at her anguish, her pain and her humiliation, if that was what he really wanted?
But he didn’t look at her because he couldn’t see her like this, so broken and sorrowful, so desperate and know that he was the cause of that.
{Lover stole your heart and now it's bleeding
You're falling away.
You're falling away now.
You're falling away.
You're falling away now.}
Maybe it was too soon and revenge is best served cold for a reason, because inside he felt empty, empty of this anger anymore and it seemed like it was a big mistake.
It seemed that now that he had unleashed all his wrath and malice on her, the place those two have occupied in his soul was starting to be filled with sadness and the same feelings of longing and unrequited love he had for her to begin with.
It seemed that this passion for her, this profound bond he sensed was there. It hadn’t left his psyche, it had merely remained hidden somewhere he couldn’t reach it, overshadowed by his pride and the thirst to get back at her.
He could see that clearly now.
He didn’t hate her, he didn’t resent her. He loved her and he needed her.
So badly that his conscious mind couldn’t contain it so it had to be dealt with in the most gruesome way.
He had to break her down into little pieces, hoping that those pieces as minuscule as they would be would not still hold the power to move him, haunt him, hurt him when he looked at her.
{Lover stole your heart and now it's bleeding.
And this is what, this is what brings you back.
You're falling away now.
You mean everything to me.
You mean everything}
That in that way, fragmented she wouldn’t have the same effect on him, she wouldn’t make his heart squirm inside his chest, banging against his collarbone and sides like a caged-up bird anxious to be freed.
But he was wrong.
Even in pieces, Blair was so beautifully broken, so delicately dignified, so perfectly flawless that it hurt him to look at her.
It hurt him to know that had he said the word, she would be his again, but his pride didn’t let him.
He had forsaken her, given up the one thing that meant the world to him and he had caused her to bleed.
Bleed invisibly, silently but subtle as it was, it was screaming to him, so obvious that it blinded him.
Chuck Bass had done his job well.
She was destroyed and he should enjoy it.
Only… He couldn’t.
The pain inside him didn’t let him rest in peace.
{This is the way back home
this is the way back home
You mean everything to me.
You mean everything}
It wasn’t until the bartender had brought a wet tissue to him trying to get the slivers of the glass he was holding out of his hand and wipe off the blood, that Chuck recognized he had broken the glass.
He hadn’t even realized he was squeezing it that hard, he hadn’t realized he should be in pain, he should be trying to stop the bleeding, get the slivers off his flesh, because that itch he was feeling, that pain was nothing compared to the one he experienced inside.
”I’m fine” he growled at the barman taking the wet piece of cloth from his hands. ”I can do it”
He hadn’t meant to sound so annoyed, so irritated but everything inside him was shutting down because till that moment he was running on rage and his mindless desire for revenge and now that those two were gone, he had nothing to sustain him.
Abruptly, he stood up and after paying, over tipping for obvious reasons, he grabbed his jacket and stepped out into the dark, chilling night, whose darkness didn’t compare to the darkness he felt that it threatened to engulf him.
As if intoxicated - maybe he was- he started walking unsteadily on the pavement, his feet following one another leading him to where he knew he could find redemption.
{This is the way back home.
This is the way back home.
Lover stole your heart and now your bleeding.}
He knew her apartment building all too well, from all the times he had sneaked in unnoticed.
But something told him that this time, a boy so drunk and so desperate wouldn’t be so inconspicuous.
He hardly cared and as he made his way through the entrance, he sent a grin at the doorman as his hand met his in a secret handshake containing a roll of dollar bills, it didn’t matter how many.
Despite his shaky legs, he was at her door sooner than he had hoped. There he was outside her door after having broken her heart but himself appearing more broken and a mess than she could ever be.
His hand still bleeding, he wrapped the cloth around it tighter and used that hand to knock at the door.
It hurt but he wanted it to hurt.
If not to make amends to her, at least he wanted ti to hurt to convince himself that this was worth it.
He had to try.
After all, if it’s worth it, it never comes easy.
He knew Eleanor was away to promote her fashion line, so that left only Dorota and Blair.
Dorota opened the door, her expression something between confusion and embarrassment.
Chuck could understand that.
It was late, too late for a proper, well-bred gentleman to be making a visit.
But then again, he never considered himself a gentleman.
So instead of offering any awkward explanations he moved past her and into Blair’s room, only to find her there as torn as he was....
{The dagger in your side keeps you from breathing.
And this is what, this is what brings you back.
You're falling away.
You're falling away now.
You're falling away.
You're falling away now.
You mean everything to me.
You mean everything}
End Of Part One
~ Other Chuck/Blair Fiction:
*Letters You Will Never Get- [1] [2]
*This Toy Is Broken- [1]
*How Many Butterflies Can Fit In A Goodbye - [1] [2]
*Bury Me Tonight - [1]
Author: force-oblique
Rating: G, PG - Possibly AU
Disclaimer: I dont own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Chuck/Blair
Spoilers/Warnings: None in particular..:D
Word Count: 906
Summary: 1x13 - related , a take of what could have happened after Blair left Chuck at the bar.
Author's Notes:English is not my native language, so don't hate me for grammar/syntax mistakes or wrong prepositions!
~ I know it's crappy....
Crossposted at blair-chuck & gossipgirlfic,chuckxbass
Lyrics: "Lover Left You Bleeding" By Die Radio Die
Lover Left Bleeding
He remained there immobile, unmoving as if her were frozen in time. And perhaps he was. Inside he felt cold. So cold it burned and there was nothing he could do about it.
It used to be soothing. Being among strangers. People who didn’t know him. People who didn’t have any expectations about him, about his future… About his actions…
Oh, yes, it used to be soothing just like the burning of alcohol at the back of his throat.
Now instead he felt more nauseous with each mouthful he took, with every look pointed at him.
So nauseous that he thought his insides would turn upside down, a whirlwind inside of him, spinning out of control taking every last bit of his sanity in the process.
He brought the glass to his lips again and ignoring the queasiness, he gulped down some whiskey.
{The needle in the vein is never dry.
The dagger in your side keeps you from breathing.
And this is what, this is what brings you back.
You're falling away.
You're falling away now}
Maybe it wasn’t meant to feel good. Why should it?
Sure, he had seen it in movies, in corny scripts and dialogues but maybe revenge wasn’t so sweet after all.
Or maybe he should have waited.
After all, they say revenge is best served cold.
When one least expects, when one has already forgotten about the wrong he has done.
Chuck wondered if that was the problem. Should he have waited for Blair to forget him, what they shared, what she had given up , what she had put him through?
Would it be better if he had remained faithful to her, her memory that lingered still so powerfully that he could hear her voice echoing in the corridors of his mind?
Was it too soon to exert his revenge?
Was it too soon to try to hurt her as much as she had with her words, her actions?
Sometimes he thought that her rejection stung so much that the stubborn pain overshadowed all his other emotions…
Even his decency.
Was it too soon for him to try and rid himself of all the feelings he had for her, all the love and the disillusioned hope he held dear deeply within him?
Was that the reason her face couldn’t escape him, not his words which were harshly calculated for her humiliation?
”You held a certain fascination” he had told her. And he was being honest. She used to hold a fascination….
When you were beautiful, delicate and untouched”
Yes, she held a fascination initially, but then she had become his and his alone even for a little while and everything had changed.
Now that fascination had escalated, it had transformed into something greater, something deeper, something more meaningful….
And though he was too scared to say it out loud, Chuck was almost certain it was love.
He wasn’t sure when it had begun, when the initial infatuation had given its place to pure passion and longing.
When his every waking moment had started to be a moment of reflection about her, about them together.
When his dreams had started to include her…
But it didn’t matter, not at this time. Now it was already too late to back down.
But that must have been it.
It must have been too soon, maybe that was why Blair was not the only one broken by his words.
Maybe that was why his words had turned boomerang on him, like a hundred blades piercing through him, one after the other.
He could barely look at her as the words one by one escaped his mouth, each at its predetermined time, as If he were an actor practicing his lines a little unenthusiastically…
Each word bringing him closer to the edge, their terrible reality of forsaking her, what he loves due to his pride.
It was building up inside him, getting bigger by the second, as if her were a time bomb, one “tick” away from exploding and tearing him apart from the inside out.
{The needle in the vein is never dry.
The dagger in your side keeps you from breathing.
And this is what, this is what brings you back}
Couldn’t she see he was just faking it?
Faking it the whole time he was saying all those horrible words?
Couldn’t she see that he only wanted to hurt her, to get back some of the dignity and the pride she had stolen away when she had walked out on him?
Couldn’t she feel that he was too stern, too stiff to be him? That he talked of contempt ,of her being insignificant, of not having feelings for her with no emotion in his voice?
Not even to express this contempt?
If her really didn’t want her, if the sight if her didn’t burn him still, then why was he avoiding, refusing to look at her?
It should be nothing for him, right?
Then why not look at her?
Why bother look the other way when he could relish at her anguish, her pain and her humiliation, if that was what he really wanted?
But he didn’t look at her because he couldn’t see her like this, so broken and sorrowful, so desperate and know that he was the cause of that.
{Lover stole your heart and now it's bleeding
You're falling away.
You're falling away now.
You're falling away.
You're falling away now.}
Maybe it was too soon and revenge is best served cold for a reason, because inside he felt empty, empty of this anger anymore and it seemed like it was a big mistake.
It seemed that now that he had unleashed all his wrath and malice on her, the place those two have occupied in his soul was starting to be filled with sadness and the same feelings of longing and unrequited love he had for her to begin with.
It seemed that this passion for her, this profound bond he sensed was there. It hadn’t left his psyche, it had merely remained hidden somewhere he couldn’t reach it, overshadowed by his pride and the thirst to get back at her.
He could see that clearly now.
He didn’t hate her, he didn’t resent her. He loved her and he needed her.
So badly that his conscious mind couldn’t contain it so it had to be dealt with in the most gruesome way.
He had to break her down into little pieces, hoping that those pieces as minuscule as they would be would not still hold the power to move him, haunt him, hurt him when he looked at her.
{Lover stole your heart and now it's bleeding.
And this is what, this is what brings you back.
You're falling away now.
You mean everything to me.
You mean everything}
That in that way, fragmented she wouldn’t have the same effect on him, she wouldn’t make his heart squirm inside his chest, banging against his collarbone and sides like a caged-up bird anxious to be freed.
But he was wrong.
Even in pieces, Blair was so beautifully broken, so delicately dignified, so perfectly flawless that it hurt him to look at her.
It hurt him to know that had he said the word, she would be his again, but his pride didn’t let him.
He had forsaken her, given up the one thing that meant the world to him and he had caused her to bleed.
Bleed invisibly, silently but subtle as it was, it was screaming to him, so obvious that it blinded him.
Chuck Bass had done his job well.
She was destroyed and he should enjoy it.
Only… He couldn’t.
The pain inside him didn’t let him rest in peace.
{This is the way back home
this is the way back home
You mean everything to me.
You mean everything}
It wasn’t until the bartender had brought a wet tissue to him trying to get the slivers of the glass he was holding out of his hand and wipe off the blood, that Chuck recognized he had broken the glass.
He hadn’t even realized he was squeezing it that hard, he hadn’t realized he should be in pain, he should be trying to stop the bleeding, get the slivers off his flesh, because that itch he was feeling, that pain was nothing compared to the one he experienced inside.
”I’m fine” he growled at the barman taking the wet piece of cloth from his hands. ”I can do it”
He hadn’t meant to sound so annoyed, so irritated but everything inside him was shutting down because till that moment he was running on rage and his mindless desire for revenge and now that those two were gone, he had nothing to sustain him.
Abruptly, he stood up and after paying, over tipping for obvious reasons, he grabbed his jacket and stepped out into the dark, chilling night, whose darkness didn’t compare to the darkness he felt that it threatened to engulf him.
As if intoxicated - maybe he was- he started walking unsteadily on the pavement, his feet following one another leading him to where he knew he could find redemption.
{This is the way back home.
This is the way back home.
Lover stole your heart and now your bleeding.}
He knew her apartment building all too well, from all the times he had sneaked in unnoticed.
But something told him that this time, a boy so drunk and so desperate wouldn’t be so inconspicuous.
He hardly cared and as he made his way through the entrance, he sent a grin at the doorman as his hand met his in a secret handshake containing a roll of dollar bills, it didn’t matter how many.
Despite his shaky legs, he was at her door sooner than he had hoped. There he was outside her door after having broken her heart but himself appearing more broken and a mess than she could ever be.
His hand still bleeding, he wrapped the cloth around it tighter and used that hand to knock at the door.
It hurt but he wanted it to hurt.
If not to make amends to her, at least he wanted ti to hurt to convince himself that this was worth it.
He had to try.
After all, if it’s worth it, it never comes easy.
He knew Eleanor was away to promote her fashion line, so that left only Dorota and Blair.
Dorota opened the door, her expression something between confusion and embarrassment.
Chuck could understand that.
It was late, too late for a proper, well-bred gentleman to be making a visit.
But then again, he never considered himself a gentleman.
So instead of offering any awkward explanations he moved past her and into Blair’s room, only to find her there as torn as he was....
{The dagger in your side keeps you from breathing.
And this is what, this is what brings you back.
You're falling away.
You're falling away now.
You're falling away.
You're falling away now.
You mean everything to me.
You mean everything}
End Of Part One
~ Other Chuck/Blair Fiction:
*Letters You Will Never Get- [1] [2]
*This Toy Is Broken- [1]
*How Many Butterflies Can Fit In A Goodbye - [1] [2]
*Bury Me Tonight - [1]