Chuck Bass strode into Blair Waldorf’s immaculate foyer on Thanksgiving evening, feeling slightly guilty for intruding, but his father had insisted.

“Mrs. Waldorf, so sorry to bother you this evening,” he said, quickly kissing Blair’s mother on both cheeks in greeting.

“Oh, no problem at all,” she said noticing he was quickly scanning the room for her daughter. She gave him a wry smile. “What can I help you with?”

“You see I accidently left a flash drive when I was here last. I think it fell out of my pocket,” he grinned sheepishly,“somewhere in Blair’s bedroom. My father needs the information from it tonight.”

“Well, Blair is in her bath - ahem – bedroom,” she smirked, “Go along back there. I’m sure you’ll find her.”

 

 Chuck wound his way back through the maze of rooms towards Blair’s suite. He cracked open her door softly, “Blair?”

Her room was deserted, but a light shone from under her bathroom door which was slightly ajar. Chuck decided to wait on her bed. He was reaching for the television remote when he heard retching. What the. . ? He jumped up off the bed and gave a cursory knock on the bathroom door before basically just barging in.

“Blair, are you all right?”

Blair was hunched over the toilet, throwing up. He knelt beside her, putting his hand on her shoulders. She recoiled; pushing him back violently. She gave one more retch and then turned on him, screaming, “What the HELL, Chuck?”

She wiped her mouth with her forearm, and then pushed him back against the wall, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Better question, what the hell are YOU doing?”

“None of your god damned business,” she released him, turned, and went to the sink to clean up. She couldn’t believe he was here. Not now. No matter. She was busy. Let him watch. She was hungry.

She walked purposefully back into the kitchen where her partially eaten pie was, Chuck trailing behind her. He wasn’t silent, but she wasn’t listening. She ravenously began to devour another portion of the pie she had started. She didn’t even like apple pie, it was just there –  an ugly desert to be devoured. Something to calm the turmoil inside – but something that couldn’t stay. Like Chuck.

She was beginning to feel precariously, dangerously full – it was time to purge again. During this moment of vulnerability, Chuck finally broke through to her and she listened – if only for a second. “Blair, please look at me.”

She did, and in the moment that she registered the concern in his deep brown eyes tears welled up in her own eyes and the bile rose in her throat. She ran off for the safety of her bathroom. This time she let him touch her shoulders and hold her hair back while she vomited, but she did not hear a word of concern or comfort that he uttered. When she was finished she shoved him away from her with another nasty look, cleaned up, and headed for the kitchen once again.

This time Chuck tried silence. Talking hadn’t really gotten him anywhere with Blair – she just completely ignored him, regardless of what he said. He watched her wolf down the remainder of the pie, this time noticing that she was crying while eating. Something within her had shifted. She was no longer eating in a daze.

She put her fork down slowly and carefully and looked Chuck deliberately in the eye. He looked up at her from where his head was resting in his hands. “Are you alright now?”

“No,” was her small answer.

He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, but before he could settle her on her bed, she said, “No, I need to use the bathroom.”

So her carried her in there and set her on her feet. She slowly went over to the toilet and kneeled before it, beginning her purging ritual once again. This time Chuck just stood in the doorway and watched her. 

She finished, flushed the toilet, and sank back against the bathroom wall, her head in her hands, just crying softly. Chuck sat down beside her. Finally allowing herself his comfort, she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Wow, Blair, you want to tell me what that was all about?” he asked.

“Not really,” she said.

He sighed and picked at some lint on his pants in an agitated manner. She would have told Nate. 

“But I will,” she relented.

Chuck sighed and kissed her forehead, drawing a lock of her brown hair across it. They sat together for a long time in Blair’s bathroom, Chuck’s father’s flash drive all but forgotten.