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August: Chapter 17

( ao3 | ff )

Previous Chapters: [link]

Summary: Blair deals with Chuck's alarming state of intoxication while trying to keep it together amid unwanted guests like Georgina Sparks.

Pairing: Chuck x Blair

Word Count: 4.3k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: None

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For the second time that evening, Blair Waldorf found herself rooted to the spot on the upper deck of Nate Archibald’s suffocating, ill-fated yacht. The once warm and golden sun had vanished entirely, leaving a desolate darkness in its wake. The moon loomed low, casting a spectral glow over the vast expanse of the ocean. Laughter and music now echoed as hollow whispers, drowned out by the cacophony of Blair’s profound emptiness. Her entire body hummed relentlessly, nausea clawing at her insides.

“Blair!” The call reached her ears, distant and muffled, followed by words she couldn’t quite understand.

Her eyes refused to focus, the world around her reduced to a disorienting haze. A pair of hands shook her, trying to pierce the thick fog that enveloped her senses. On the floor lay a figure, its usual swagger and charisma replaced by unsettling stillness, like a discarded puppet left for the merciless waves to claim.

Fingers snapped frantically in front of her face, and the surrounding blur began to clear.

“Chuck?” Blair’s voice quivered, barely finding its way through the air.

A desperate call.

It all came rushing back: the game thick with resentment, saturated with the acrid stench of alcohol, and tainted with the sting of jealousy. A fist met a face in a single, powerful blow amid waves of disbelief, pain and disappointment, with words slashing like knives. A cruel mouth pressed against his neck, hands on his chest, broken hearts, and still more alcohol—too much alcohol. Blair rushed to his side. Why did he have to drink so much? What drove this relentless pursuit of self-destruction? Why did he insist on courting death, beckoning its icy grip with every sip? When had the train gone so violently off the rails to lead to this? Kneeling, her perfectly manicured hand reached out to shake his shoulder.

No response.

Each jostle grew more frantic than the last. “Chuck! Hey! Wake up. You have to wake up.”

But still, silence reigned.

Serena’s eyes widened. “Is he…?” she asked.

“What?” Blair snapped. Her response came out in a sharp, guttural growl, her neck almost cracking. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He’s not responding,” Serena said.

Her friend’s words hit her like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. “Shut up, Serena. Just shut the fuck up,” she spat out.

Tears welled in her eyes as she kept shaking him, pinching him, even resorting to small hits, all in a desperate attempt to bring him back to consciousness. To see his eyes open again. As if the sheer force of her touch or the depth of their connection could bridge the gap between them, could penetrate whatever distant place he now occupied, and compel him to return to her, just as he’d always done before.

Yet, he remained motionless, the heavy scent of distilled spirits surrounding him.

Why wasn’t he waking up?

Her fists clenched tightly at his shirt, her nails digging into the fabric. “You selfish bastard,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “You always have to take it too far, don’t you? You think you’re invincible, but deep down, you’re just a coward. You think you can push us away, keep us at arm’s length so that you won’t get hurt. But you’ll get hurt all the same.”

“Damn you, Chuck Bass,” she continued, her voice starting to shake. “Do you have any idea what you’re putting me through? Or do you simply not care? You arrogant, insufferable, inconsiderate blockhead.”

“I… I hate you so much.” Her tirade was punctuated by a sob. “Oh my god, I can’t. Please, please, please wake up. I need you.”

“Calm down,” Serena said.

“Do not dare tell me to calm down. You’re the one insinuating that he’s…” Blair couldn’t bring herself to say it. “He cannot do this to me. He is fine. He has to be.”

Though she tried to sound convincing, the anguish of not really knowing what was happening tore her apart like a hungry predator. Chuck’s recklessness, his constant flirtation with alcohol and drugs, was a fire he played with far too often. And now, it seemed, those flames licked hungrily at his heels, poised to devour him whole.

If not this time, would it be the next? How much more could he take? Each day he pushed himself one step closer to the precipice, and Blair feared the day when the consequences would be irreversible. The day when there would be no rope to hold on to.

Her index and middle fingers pressed against Chuck’s wrist, seeking the reassuring, solid thump of a pulse. But the blood coursing through his veins remained nerve-rackingly silent. With each passing second, with each absent throb, her heart ironically pounded louder in her chest.

Blair quickly moved her digits to the carotid artery at his neck. There, she found it: a faint, almost imperceptible beat, but undeniably there. Leaning her forehead against his still form, she inhaled sharply, gasping for air as her best friend’s hand rested on her back.

“He is going to be fine,” Blair repeated.

“What happened?” her friend asked.

There was no way she could be that dense.

“Seriously?” Blair straightened up, her hand resting on Chuck’s chest. “Do I really have to spell it out for you, of all people? Take a good look at him. Maybe it will jog some memories. He’s knocked back enough booze to outmatch his own body weight.”

“Wasn’t he with Georgina?”

That was right, he was. But that serpent was nowhere to be found. There was no trace of her, as if what Blair had witnessed moments before was nothing more than a cruel figment of her imagination. Where was she? Where had that vile creature slithered off to?

“I’m going to kill her.” The words escaped Blair’s lips like a sacred oath, her jaw clenched so tight it felt like her teeth might break, every muscle in her face tensed with anger. Anger at Georgina for callously abandoning him like this. For extending a tempting hand into the abyss. Anger at Chuck for succumbing to alcohol once again instead of fighting to save their relationship. For giving up on himself, on her. Anger at her friends for being nosy, entitled assholes. But in the midst of the outward anger, there was a deeper, more painful anger at herself.

“She better run as fast as her outdated heels can carry her because if I so much as catch a glimpse of her again, I swear on everything that is sacred that I’ll end her.”

Serena’s eyes darted around, scanning the deck. “Should we call for help? Maybe get an ambulance? Should we tell Nate?”

“No,” Blair said firmly. “We are definitely not going to do that.”

“Why not?”

“What do you think?”

“But he’s our friend. He’d want to know.”

“I couldn’t care less,” she declared with steely resolve. “That’s precisely what he gets for playing the role of the ‘good friend’ so convincingly.”

The Golden Boy was categorically out of the equation, but that didn’t mean time wasn’t still slipping away like sand through an hourglass. They needed a plan, and they needed it fast. The music blared on, the partygoers growing louder and more uninhibited with each passing moment. It was only a matter of time before someone sought out the upper deck for a little more privacy. They couldn’t afford to stay out in the open much longer, exposed to prying eyes and wagging tongues. To be the chatter of the upper crust, if they weren’t already. “Let’s get him off this damn yacht first. Then we can figure out our next move.”

“What if he…”

“Shut it, Serena.”

Pooling their strength, Blair and Serena tried to lift Chuck’s body. The weight proved too much, and fatigue quickly set in, causing Blair’s arms to tire out. With a gasp, they lowered Chuck back to the floor.

“We need help,” her best friend insisted. “We need Nate.”

Blair’s response was a withering look, a silent, definitive refusal to involve the fourth member of their group. Serena could cry all she wanted; no meant no. The mere thought of seeing or talking to Nate right now made her skin crawl. More importantly, she was dead set against him getting anywhere near Chuck, even if that meant summoning strength she didn’t know she had to haul Chuck’s body herself. With or without Serena’s help.

“Come on, Bass,” she muttered under her breath. “Work with us here.”

“Blair…”

“We’re not telling Nate, and that’s final. Stop wasting your breath trying to bring your boyfriend into this and focus on being useful for once.”

In that moment, suspended between current and past flames, Chuck’s eyelids fluttered, and Blair’s heart skipped a beat. It was far from the coherent reaction she was looking for, but at least it was something. It was short-lived, though. His eyes flickered open briefly, then drifted, unfocused, before closing again.

No, no, no.

“Hey!” Blair pinched his arm. “Wake up.” Chuck remained unresponsive, his silence once again unnerving. Frustration boiled inside Blair, bubbling over as she couldn’t hold back any longer. “You idiot! Wake up.”

“Can’t you see he’s not well?”

“Don’t,” Blair interjected sharply, cutting her off. “Just... don’t. He’s going to be fine. Because if he isn’t, if anything happens to him... He better be alright, or I swear to you, I’ll… I’ll chase him to the very gates of hell myself if I have to.”

Her gaze shifted, locking onto Chuck with an intensity that could ignite even the coldest of souls. “Do you hear me? Quit this stubborn act and wake the hell up.”

Blair shook him again, harder this time.

“Stop,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and strained.

He finally opened his eyes, his touch weak and fragile as he stopped Blair’s hand. Despite his obvious struggle, he managed to squeeze her hand with all the strength he could muster.

“What’s the matter?” Blair asked.

Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose, a grimace crossing his features as he tried to articulate his thoughts. He looked like he was about to throw up. “Stop.”

Stop what? What was wrong with him? Did he hit his head on the way down?

“Cut… cut it out with the hitting, Waldorf.”

Well, he definitely had another thing coming.

Blair couldn’t help but crack a small smile, a hint of amusement sparkling in her eyes despite the seriousness of their situation. He was still there, just as annoying as ever. “Don’t get tired so fast,” she replied. “I was just getting warmed up.”

“If you wanted to play rough, you could have just asked.”

“Oh, I don’t need to ask for anything, Bass. I simply take what I want.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware.”

“And if you were hoping for a softer touch, perhaps you should’ve thought twice before polishing off every last bottle in the state of New York.”

“Where’s the fun in holding back, anyway?”

Serena cleared her throat.

“Come on,” Blair urged, her tone softening as she returned her focus to their immediate predicament. “You really need to help us here. Can you stand?”

“Barely,” he whispered.

“Please.”

With a groan, Chuck tried to get up, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. He leaned heavily on Blair and Serena, their combined strength apparently enough to support his tottering frame. Their arms encircled him, holding him upright, but with each step, his body swayed unsteadily, his legs trembling beneath him as the girls struggled to bear his weight.

Why did he do this to himself?

He really looked like he was about to throw up.

“Absolutely not,” Blair warned him. “You better not even think about ruining this blouse with your vomit. It’s far too exquisite to suffer such indignities, unlike some people’s taste in men.”

“What about your taste in men?” Serena protested.

With a lopsided grin, Chuck pulled Blair closer to his side, his warm breath tickling her skin. Despite his words slurring together, he managed to articulate, “No complaints about that, sis.”

Leaning in, he planted a sloppy peck on the corner of her lips, and Blair fought to contain the blush creeping onto her cheeks, unsure about how to react to this rare display of affection in front of Serena.

“Not even one,” Chuck added, his voice barely above a whisper.

After a few steps, he stopped in his tracks, and Blair tugged at his shirt, urging him forward. “Come on,” she implored.

“Blair,” he breathed.

“What is it?”

“I need to kiss you. I need it so bad I can hardly think straight.”

Blair rolled her eyes.

“Come on,” she said. Let’s focus on getting out of here first, shall we?”

“Blair…”

“What now?”

“Can I? Kiss you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “We need to get you out of here.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

“Just one kiss, that’s all.”

“You and I both know it’s never just one kiss,” she replied. Blair feared that if they started, they wouldn’t be able to stop. This was not the place, and it was definitely not the time. Not after everything they had been through in the last few hours. Not when he couldn’t even stand up straight. “Let’s make a deal,” she proposed. “If you behave, you can kiss me all you want once we’re off this damn yacht.”

“Are we on a yacht?”

“Unfortunately for me, we are.”

“Did you mean it? Can I? After…”

“Yes,” she smiled.

“Sounds… nice,” he slurred softly. “I… I really like kissing you.”

“And I like kissing you too, Chuck.”

Serena’s grin stretched from ear to ear, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“What?” Blair asked.

“You’re way too sweet,” Serena murmured.

Blair ignored her and brushed Chuck’s hair back from his clammy forehead, her heart sinking as his breathing became shallower and more labored, his eyelids drooping under the weight of alcohol. But she refused to give up. Fueled by pure adrenaline, she pressed forward, determined to get Chuck out of here.

They were not sweet.

Absolutely not.

As they made their way through the crowded party, Blair tuned out the noise. The questions, the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’—she blocked it all out. To hell with Serena and her stupid party. To hell with Nate Archibald. To hell with Georgina Sparks. To hell with anyone who dared to question what they had. None of them mattered right now.

Together, Blair and Serena carefully maneuvered Chuck down the gangway and onto the dock, the briny ocean breeze sticking uncomfortably to Blair’s skin. Once they were on stable ground, her mind raced with a thousand thoughts.

But what exactly did they have?

What was she even fighting for? Was there water underneath or just a hard layer of concrete? Was it worth it? Would he drown his sorrows in alcohol every time things got tough? Would he call Georgina, Amanda, or whoever else was willing to play his sick game just to prove his demons right, time and time again? Would he spiral into self-destruction until there was nothing left? And could Blair, herself desperately climbing out of her own abyss, pull him back from it as well? Could she handle it alone? Did she even want to?

Blair’s muscles protested under the weight of Chuck’s body as she stifled a sob. They couldn’t drag him much longer; it was impossible. The strain on her body was too much, beads of sweat already forming on her forehead. It just hurt—Blair wasn’t sure where anymore.

“Serena,” Blair managed. “Call Arthur. Have him come pick us up.”

“I don’t have his number.”

Could her friend, for once in her life, put her brain to good use, or must Blair bear the burden of every task alone?

Blair could feel her heart pounding against her rib cage. Rough gasps ripped through her throat as she fought to keep Chuck upright. Despite everything, Blair dug into Chuck’s pockets until she finally reached his LG Dare phone. “Look in there, and for God’s sake, tell him to come quick.”

Tiny needles pierced her shoulders as they carefully lowered Chuck onto the nearest bench.

Serena stepped a few paces away to make the call. Her hand trembled as she ran it through her hair again and again, strands of golden hair slipping through her fingers like sand. Her friend was worried, but fear and adrenaline rush from the need to act quickly had kept Blair from seeing just how much. Meanwhile, Chuck remained slumped on the bench, his features pale and drawn, practically comatose.

Blair hovered over him. With insistent slaps on his cheek, she shook him out of his stupor. He couldn’t afford to drift off; he had to stay awake, for both his sake and hers. “Damn it, Bass. Open your eyes. Don’t you dare pass out on me,” she murmured.

Chuck mumbled something incomprehensible in response.

“What did you just say?”

His eyes were glassy and unfocused. “You are…”

“What?”

“You’re… as bossy as you are irresistible.”

“Stop it.”

Unable to look at him any longer, she settled at his side, her hand extending to gently clasp his, the touch sending a tiny electrical spark up her arm. “If anything happens to you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “I will never forgive you for it.”

He seemed invincible, constantly destroying himself and yet somehow always surviving, like a resilient cockroach. What Chuck failed to realize was that every time he tore himself down, he tore her apart as well. Every insult hurled his way felt like a personal attack on her soul, every bad thing he said about himself a direct hit on her heart.

What Blair had failed to realize before was that they were two halves of the same whole, connected by a thin, invisible thread that transcended mere friendship or attraction. Blair could see it clearly now, feel it vividly. It was much more than that. It was woven from a profound understanding of each other’s flaws, rooted in acceptance. There was no one who knew her like he did. There was nothing he could do that she wouldn’t. They were mirror images, indivisible. The point where one ended, the other one began. To accept his hopelessness was to accept her own, and that was a reality she adamantly rejected. Life without him wasn’t an option—it was inconceivable, like trying to imagine a world without air.

Blair knew without a doubt that she would always stand by him. No matter what. No matter how terrible his actions, she would never leave his side.

The minutes dragged on like a slow torture, each passing second stretching Blair’s nerves to their breaking point. They needed to get out, to forget this party ever happened, to simply be alone.

Serena’s fingers danced rapidly over Chuck’s phone, tapping away in a frenzy that sent Blair’s mind racing. What was the blonde up to? Who could she possibly be texting right now? Was she really giving Nate the heads up?

Damn her. Damn her straight to hell.

As if summoned, Nate materialized out of thin air. And standing behind him was none other than the spawn of Satan herself; Georgina, with arms crossed and a drink in her hand. Blair could hardly believe the audacity of it all.

Releasing Chuck’s hand, Blair felt her fingers tense up, heat prickling beneath her skin. She stood up and drew in a sharp breath, jaw clenched tight, nails digging into her palms. She was going to kill Serena. For real this time. How hard was it for her to keep her mouth shut? Dumb, her best friend was so freaking dumb.

“What happened?” Nate asked, concern etched on his face.

“You happened,” she spat.

Did he regret his actions? Well, he should have known better.

“Blair…”

But Nate’s plea fell on deaf ears as Georgina’s smirk twisted into something sinister. With each sip of her cocktail, she exuded an air of calculated menace, unapologetic in the role she had played. The role she continued to play. It was as if nothing could rattle her, as if leaving Chuck teetering on the brink of death meant nothing. But then, should anyone really be surprised? Chaos was her playground, and she reveled in its every twist and turn.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Blair seethed. “Haven’t you had enough?”

Georgina’s smirk widened. “My, my, hide those claws. Chuck extended the invitation, in case you missed that memo.”

“Well, consider it revoked. Don’t you ever get tired of always being the surplus guest?”

Georgina clicked her tongue. “Oh, but it appeared quite the contrary, wouldn’t you agree? After all, you were keeping a close eye on us.”

“Your naivety is almost charming, Georgina. Almost.” Blair’s lips curled into a sneer.

“You really did a number on him, you know? He was practically begging.” Georgina shot a glance at Chuck. “Do you like it? Seeing Chuck Bass forced to beg? Brought to his knees? I know I do. To have him wrapped around my finger, completely under my control.”

“What a great accomplishment that must be,” Blair remarked sarcastically. “Reducing Chuck to a drunken nothing just so he can stomach your presence must make you feel like the belle of the ball. But unlike you, I don’t have to stoop to such desperate, low antics to keep his attention.”

“Do you honestly believe he needs any encouragement to drink himself into oblivion? Whatever he does to himself is entirely his own doing. He asked me here for a reason, and it wasn’t for a friendly game of cards. Whether you choose to see it or not is entirely up to you.”

“If there’s anyone who’s well-acquainted with self-destruction, it’s you. How was your latest stint in rehab? Did they finally manage to scrub away some of that desperation?”

“I could ask the same of you, darling.” Georgina’s tone turned colder. “How are those trips to the bathroom treating you?”

“What’s she talking about, B?” Serena asked.

Blair’s finger darted toward Serena like a viper striking its prey. “Stay out of it.”

“On second thought, between the two of you, you seem like the one who’s used to begging,” Georgina taunted. “Begging your own boyfriend to love you. Begging him to desire you. Begging the porcelain of your toilet to purge away every bite, just to look a little more like Serena van der Woodsen. Do you ever tire of your endless begging, Blair?”

“Ah, Georgina, you’re certainly brave for someone who’s more accustomed to groveling. Need I remind you of that embarrassing puppy love incident in Ibiza?”

Georgina paled at that.

“No? That’s what I thought,” Blair said.

Chuck had told her all about it while gently running his fingers through her hair, making her laugh until her chest hurt. It had been an ordinary, simple afternoon that now seemed so far away. Georgina had met a Spanish boy named Lucas while vacationing on the island with her parents. The son of a duke, a sweetheart, so very handsome. He had fallen head over heels in love with her almost instantly, and she had paraded him around like he was the jewel in the crown. But as it turned out, the perfect summer romance hadn’t been so perfect. It had ended with Georgina begging him not to leave, and her parents with a 4-million-dollar dent in the bank. He was just a waiter, after all.

Despite the setback, Georgina soon pulled herself back together. “Come on, Little Miss Perfect,” she remarked, “let’s not stray from the subject at hand, which is none other than who Chuck runs to when he craves a genuine rush. Your childish games may amuse him momentarily, playing the unattainable card, the forbidden fruit, all pristine and perfect as his bestie’s girl. But we both know where he truly savors his delights. And believe me, it’s not with you.”

With her head held high, Blair countered, “Are you sure about that?”

“I’m more than sure. You can play your games all you want, but deep down, you know he’ll never be fully yours.”

“You have no idea what is truly mine.”

“Darling, are you really counting on Chuck Bass to be your knight in shining armor? The one who’ll sweep in to rescue you from your demons? How quaintly romantic.” Georgina closed the distance between them, a sly smirk returning to her lips. “What’s the matter? Do you honestly think he loves you? We both know he can’t.”

Blair’s fists clenched involuntarily.

“Are you in love with him, Blair?” Georgina’s laughter echoed, a dark, twisted melody. “Well, that’s rather pathetic.”

Fury coursed through her veins like a wildfire, consuming reason and restraint in its wake, her vision blurring with red, her knuckles turning white. Blair wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk from that wretched girl’s face.

But just as Blair thought she was about to pounce on her like a wild animal, Serena stepped forward. With a dancer’s grace and a warrior’s resolve, her best friend’s hand cracked against Georgina’s cheek in a resounding slap.

“That’s what you get for messing with one of us,” Serena said. “Pick your battles more wisely next time.”

Nate approached and grabbed Georgina’s arm, forcefully escorting her back to the yacht.

As the tension dissipated, the black limo pulled up to the dock. Arthur stepped out, a picture of poise and professionalism, his expression betraying no surprise at the sight of his employer’s son with clear signs of alcohol poisoning. He helped Blair get Chuck settled into the back seat of the vehicle and, without a second thought, Blair sat down next to Chuck and slammed the door shut.

Are you in love with him, Blair? Georgina had said.

Yes, she had wanted to scream.

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