A/N: Alrighty. This has been in the works for about a week and a half. It probably sucks, so go easy on me?

Thanks to Michelle for the beta! You're honestly, like, all my inspiration! :)

P.S.: Don't own Gossip Girl.

Inconceivable

The aching that Chuck Bass felt throughout his entire body was unimaginable. It was unthinkable. If someone else were going through the same thing at that exact moment, he would have been very stupefied.

His head throbbed with each breath he took in. His throat felt so clogged up that he could barely breathe and his nose wasn't much better. And then there was his wretched cough. The cough that scraped the deepest depths of his lungs and clawed at his windpipe and tonsils on the way up.

Chuck felt delusional whenever he attempted to stand and walk somewhere. Simply walking into the living area to grab an apple made him more nauseous than anyone could have ever thought. He was dizzy and could barely turn over in bed. All he wanted to do was sleep and his body was so cold that he had five wool blankets wrapped around himself.

But all of these things put together was not what made him such an inconceivably pitiful person right then. No, what made him such a sad shell was what he thought as he was coughing and sputtering and sniffling on bated breath in his bed.

The truly pathetic thing was that through all of his depressing agony, the only person he wanted to take care of him, to make him feel better, was her.

That wasn't an option, though. Just because they'd recently "done the deed" didn't mean he could feel these things. These were things that a Bass man did not feel. He wasn't allowed to have the butterflies, to think about how her hair flowed and curled so angelically.

He tried to banish all the thoughts, but in his dreams they prevailed once again. She would be at his bedside, cup of hot herbal tea in hand, stroking his hair and softly serenading him. And then he would fall into a peaceful slumber, and everything would be happily ever after.

It was at that point that he always jolted awake and scanned the room for her petite frame of a body. The fact that she was not there shouldn't have astonished him so much, but it did.

Chuck would never admit any of this to a soul. No one knew of the boy's vulnerability and it needed to stay that way. He would lose power and be downgraded for revealing his true self to the world.

More than anything, though, he wished he could show her the real him. Then they would be okay; no one really had to know that they were one of those couples. The couples that did everything together. They could just lay low and not tell anyone about their relationship.

But even he knew that was absurd.

Yet the seventeen-year-old, still in a Day-Quil daze, picked up his telephone from where it lay on the nightstand by his bed. He scrolled down through the numbers. When her phone number and name were finally highlighted, he pushed 'send' without one bit of reluctance.

"Hello?" Blair asked in a giggly voice. She must not have looked at the caller I.D., for if she had her voice would have been more dismal.

"Blair. Please come," he rasped out in a soft and needy voice. "I feel like I'm going to die...Please, please help me." He knew how deplorable his voice was, so he hung up immediately, before he did anything else to tarnish his reputation.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since the phone call was made. He'd fallen asleep at some point, and then woken up to find that dark cumulus clouds were dispersed throughout the sky.

Chuck heard shuffling coming from the area around the bar and he sat up quickly, trying to remember whether that baseball bat his father had autographed by Jackie Robinson was still lying in his closet. He didn't move, though, because of what happened next.

Despite his clogged nose and current smelling capabilities – which were none – he was still able to catch a strong whiff of her sensuous perfume. No more need to look for the bat, he knew who was here now.

A blender was heard and he watched as pink and yellow swirled around in the container.

"Blair?" he called. His voice was barely audible, though. And it was heard even less as the blender's speed picked up.

He got up from the bed and immediately smelled chicken noodle soup and scrambled eggs. He took another whiff through his nose and smelled an anti-septic as well.

That was when he saw the orange pills and glass of water on his nightstand. She must have tried to administer medicine to him earlier, just like the little maternal nurse she really was, but failed.

It flattered him that she came to him whenever he was in a great need. It boosted his ego immensely. She was always there for him. While to some that may have been extremely annoying, to him it was a superb comfort.

"Bed," she said flatly when he came in and sat down at a bar stool. "You need to go to bed."

"Wha-?" he began to question, but the look on her face told him to follow her words. He stood up trudged back to his oil-filled bed and plopped down. Before he knew it, his eyes were drooping.

Apparently it really had been as implausible as he had thought for her to actually care. He'd broken her; he had used her and wrecked her. It was as if she were a toy that had been played with too much, and now she was simply no use to anyone, least of all him.

He had been so wrong. Devastatingly wrong.

But I'm crazy about her...That has to count for something, he thought right before sleep overtook him.

In the end, it counted for nothing.

A/N: Woah, angst. Huh. Wasn't supposed to turn out like that. I just picked it up again and, here you have it....Angst. Angst, angst, angst. It was supposed to be this beautiful fluff of Blair being sweet to Chuck but, uh, ANGST. Well, I guess maybe I'll wait a little longer for one of those other oneshots I had planned, because it was supposed to be some pretty bad angst as well. Well, yeah, as I said, totally sucked. And it was short :P. Very runny author's note. I apologize. Maybe you could review, though?