One word. Insane. The night was insane. Possibly the most insane night of Blair Waldorf's life. But to Charles Bass, it was nothing new. 7 shots of scotch to start off the adventure, followed by a Xanax. Hopping from one strip club to the next till you find the best one. The usual. Nothing new for Charles. But of course, for our dear Blair, it was the exact opposite. On Saturday nights, Blair simply enjoyed hour long massage sessions, facials, and an exquisite dinner at Butter's. Which was her original plan, until she invited Charles.
"La da deeda doo, who are you?," Blair sang to Charles as they were on their way to their eighth club, The X. A strip club, might I add. Throughout the whole car ride, the sound of their laughter filled the limousine. Real laughter. The type of laughter that was only brought out of Charles when Blair was around. "Come on, we're here. Let's go," demanded Charles as he watched her struggle to get out of the car without falling right back onto the cushioned leather seats. "Pick me up," She said with her arms reaching upwards, implying for Charles to carry her. "No," Charles said in a strict and firm tone. Who does she think I am? Charles Bass doesn't carry girls. There is no way she'll get me to do this. "Notice how my voice didn't rise? It wasn't a question, Bass. It was a demand. Pick me up." She's done it again. Charles carried her out of the car only to place her back on her feet at the entry of the club. Holding her tight and firm to allow her not to fall. Or was that the only reason, Charles?
Red neon lights shining bright all around as Charles and Blair walked to the coach, located in front of the strip stage. "Does that say all are welcome? Is this a joke?," Blair asked Charles. "What do you mean? It's implying that all are welcome to dance on the stage." She really is a saint when it comes to these things. "Well, I may take them up on that offer," She said with her head down, not wanting to look at the expression on Charles' face. "Oh I know you wouldn't," He said. That's like a mother bird giving birth, then five seconds after, demanding her baby chicks to fly. It's impossible. They're just amateurs. "How much do you want a bet, Bass?," Blair asked. "My limousine is yours for the next week if you do and if you don't, you're buying me a brand new Rolex. You know how I adore my watches, don't you?," Charles asked. That Rolex will be mine. I'm sure of it. "Get ready to lose," Blair said as she walked up the stage steps. No way. Charles stood in absolute and utter shock. Am I dreaming? There is no way she has never done this before. She had moves like Shakira, and for the next one minute and thirty seconds remaining of the song, the whole club was convinced she was Shakira's long lost, brunette, cousin.
The song ended. Charles remained standing in utter shock. He was incapable of even moving his hands to clap. "Why aren't you clapping? Was I bad?," Blair asked as she walked towards him. "You've done that before, haven't you? No amateur can simply pull off moves like that, I've been to possibly every strip club there is in New Yo-," Charles said whilst being interrupted. "Charles, relax, I have never done that before in my life. Now tell me, was I good, or bad?," She asked again. "Were you not listening to anything I was just saying? You were mesmerizing. Absolutely stunning," He said with no shame, and no voice in his head telling him to shut up. "Thank you, Charles. Now let's go, I'm craving something... sweet," Blair said with her head down the whole entire time. She simply couldn't and wouldn't allow Charles to catch her blushing.
It was nearly five in the morning, Charles and Blair eating pistachio flavored macaroons and sipping strawberry shakes from room service at the Palace after their extremely long night. "Can I ask you a question?," Blair asked. "Depends. What is it?," Charles asked curious. God please don't allow her to ruin the night. "Why do you put on an act for everyone?," Blair asked, looking deep into Charles' rich brown eyes. Oh Blair, you just opened a deep wound. "Monsters don't show their true selves," Charles said in a firm town. "Charles, don't start. I've known you ever since we were newborns. We grew up with each other. You're not a monster. You may scare me at times due to your reckless behavior, but you will never be a monster." Blair was never the "Let's talk about our emotions" type, but for some reason, with Charles, she cared. "Try telling my father that," Charles said, and in that second Blair finally understood. She lifted his chin and stared him deep in the eyes, in a way she never has before. "Hey, none of our parents are great. In fact, I don't even think my mother can go on a second without having something negative to say about me. I'm here for you. Always," Blair said. Charles automatically got tense. Who does she think I am? Some teenage sad boy? I'm Chuck Bass! Why do people fail to realize that?
"I think it's best for you to leave. I'll get my driver to take you home. It's late," He said, wanting her out as fast as possible. "Fine. I'll leave. But I know the things that go through your head, Bass. I hope one day you understand, your last name has nothing to do with who you are. It's only a part of your identity, a name that declares who your parents are. But if you want to use it as if it's what identifies the real person you are and your emotions, remember, I'm Blair Waldorf, and as much as you attempt to push me away, I'll never leave. I stand my ground, you should know that," Blair said. "Goodnight, Waldorf," Charles said calmly. He was disappointed in himself. After all, when was he not? But tonight, it was a different type of disappointment, not the type his father made him feel. It was that he knew he had disappointed Blair. "Goodnight, Bass," She said while slightly and slowly pressing her pink lips against his pale cheek. Sparks.That night, neither of them could sleep.
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The Empty Glass|| GOSSIP GIRL
FanfictionShow your emotions and be seen as weak or remain hidden, and remain powerful. You can't have both.
