A/N: This has been on my hard drive for ages, but it's kind of a fail. Finally posting it 'cause Gaslit made me that depressed. This was N-JBC fluff which digressed into Cherry. It happens.

Warning: Mostly T, some M. Contains hints of abuse, language, and sexy stuff.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even these words.

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I usually say, "Fuck the truth," but mostly, the truth fucks you.

-Angels in America

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Chuck breaks things. This is the truth that never was a secret. This is the truth he never lies about. It would be ridiculous to try.

Chuck wants to fix things. This is the truth that he never breathes. This is the truth that no one believes. So he doesn't try.

He is a high-maintenance kind of guy. He lives in a cycle of greed and constant consumption. It's an expensive life, but he rarely picks up the tab. Those stupid enough to love him pay with tears shed and hearts broken.

He picks his friends carefully, these truths a guiding force.

Nathaniel comes first. Kindergarten is a blur of pigtail pulling and mean remarks that get him sent to the corner to play alone. Nate follows. Chuck doesn't care. He makes fun of Nate's hair, tells him only girls have hair that blonde and that long. Nate just looks puzzled. He shakes his head, too-long hair flying around, and tells Chuck very seriously that he is a boy. In the next week, Chuck insults Nate's eyes, clothes, and intelligence. After the weekend, he arrives at school and Nate waves, smiling brightly. Every now and then Chuck does something awful, just to see if Nate's smile is still as bright. It's a decade long game, but the day he realises Nate will always choose the same seat beside him on Monday, is the day he knows what loves feel like.

Blair comes next. It's second grade and those huge brown eyes always stare just a fraction too long at Nathaniel. Chuck hates her. Nate is the best thing he's ever found, and Chuck Bass does not share. He snickers and points when Blair loses her front tooth. When they come back from lunch, the pages of his notebooks are glued together. The teacher shakes his head, unsurprised. Blair sits primly and never looks back. He hates her more. She's always there. Right in front of him. She brings Nate baked gifts, and grabs his best friend's hand like there was never a doubt that she didn't deserve it. Chuck swears to himself that he'll hate her forever. He hits out at her whenever the opportunity arises. She hits back just as hard. This game lasts a lifetime—longer than it should, because she won him over with a glue stick and a vengeful smirk.

Serena comes last and sometime not at all. Her and Blair are a package deal, there's no avoiding that. Serena is sunny and fun, but she's not Nate who lives half in and out of his own charmed world, where bad things rarely happen and the bad things that do are forgotten with a comedy DVD. She's not Blair who meticulously shapes her own perfect world, like a force of nature. Serena lives with her feet planted squarely in the filthy streets of the real world. She is clumsy, and makes the wrong decision at every turn. She cares about too many things, too much and doesn't hold on to them tight enough. Chuck can't dislike her, but he can't trust her. Handle with care is stamped to her skin and he's never had steady hands. At thirteen he likes her just for the tequila shots she can handle and nothing else. But he waits, because he's sure Serena is the clichéd wild child, masking her parents failings with sex and drugs. He waits for her to crack and all her daddy issues and vulnerabilities to flow from her wounds. But it never happens. Serena proves herself to be untouchable and a safe place to rest his friendship.

These are the three people he allows himself to care about. His mistakes, his failings, his every imperfection slip over their skin and leave no bruises.

They are unbreakable. This is the truth that isn't a truth.

}{

They're fourteen and it should have been an ordinary Friday night. Carter's parents are gone and the Baizen penthouse has been turned into frat house. Carter disappeared hours ago, pulled into the streets by two public school girls still in their cheerleading outfits. Chuck's had enough. The girl he was hitting on passed out before he got any, and all the good liquor is gone. Carter's cool, but most of his friends are just lacrosse-playing idiots who can't even handle beer.

He asks around till someone points to the bathroom. There's a line forming and he has to push his way down the hall. One guy is already pounding furiously on the door. "Touch the door again and you can spend the rest of the year at the Bronx Academy," he growls, eyes narrowing into dark slits. Seniors were harder to threaten, usually unwilling to back down for a freshman. But he's Chuck Bass and people already know better. The guy does a double take, and decides it's worth the trip to the upstairs bathroom.

Chuck knocks. "It's me. Open up." He tries the handle. "If you think there's anything of yours I haven't seen before, you're deluding yourself." He tries again and the door swings open. He slams it shut so none of the people in line get any ideas.

Serena's sitting on the edge of the spa, looking oddly still. She's wrapped in a towel, blonde hair slicked down from a shower. "Serena?" He slowly takes a step forward. His eyes go wide, breath catching at the sight of her. There's ugly blue bruises running up her right arm, which she quickly uses to brush her hair back, as if to distract him.

"My shirt—it got ruined, and I didn't know what to do. I was going to call you, but I don't where my cell is and I…" she keeps talking, but Chuck's not really listening. There's something huge and awful on her neck. It takes him a full minute to realise it's a bite mark. The teeth indentations are a reddish colour, but the area around it has turned into an almost black bruise. He's never seen anything like it—he feels a little sick just looking at it.

Without make-up she looks younger. There's the barest hint of freckles on her nose, and her eye liner is smudged, as if to reveal this game of make-believe they play.

"Where is he?" he asks, mouth suddenly working again. He doesn't sound angry, he's past anger. He feels oddly calm. He's not even thinking about Serena, his mind won't let him. Instead he just thinks about finding the guy and killing him, making things right again.

"Chuck!" Serena cries, and it's the same complaint she says daily, like he's stealing her yoghurt or something. "It wasn't like that."

Chuck frowns disbelievingly. "Did you ask him to do that?" He keeps shooting questions at her after she shakes her head. "Did you want him to touch you? Did you even say 'yes'?"

Serena hesitates, and Chuck frowns harder. "I didn't say 'no'," she responds cautiously. Chuck can hear the deceit in her voice. If it's not an outright lie, it's something close.

He wants to demand she tell him, but her eyes start to water. She wipes the back of her arm across her eyes then winces at the pain. Chuck sits beside her, not really sure what to do. He wraps one arm around her shoulders, holding her tighter when she relaxes. Even now Serena wasn't scared. She always expected kindness. She'd only ever seen the best in people, had never imagined that someone could hurt her.

"It's okay, S." He leans his forehead against her hair. "I'll buy you a new phone."

She gives a wet giggle. "What about a new shirt?"

He pulls his blazer off. She's wearing her underwear beneath the towel and he doesn't look away. He counts every finger mark on her thighs. He scans her chest quickly and sees the usual bruises. He knows he'll never be able to hear the phrase love bite again without gagging. She pulls the blazer over her bra, and her shorts just barely peek out from the jacket. "Very daring. You'll start a new fashion," he comments, voice strained.

She doesn't actually cry until he gets her home, or at least the suite his father gave him for his last birthday. He knows better than to ask where her mother is. He's never had a girl crying in his bed before. At a loss, he tells her he's calling Blair, but Serena cries harder—hard enough that he reluctantly promises not to tell Blair anything.

She's calmed down to the occasional hiccup when he hands her a glass of water and a Percocet. It feels like such a Bair thing to do, so it must be the right move. He turns the light off and hopes that she'll fall asleep.

The dark weighs heavily, their steady breathing the only sound.

"Did you go to bio today?" Serena asks suddenly, feeling the need to whisper in the dark.

"No." He briefly wonders how much she drank tonight.

"We talked about cells dying and stuff." She takes a long pause before continuing "In seven years we'll have a new skin, so it doesn't really matter what happens in this one, does it?" she asks distantly.

Chuck doesn't think that's how it works. He's still contemplating this when her lips brush against his mouth. Her soft mouth devours his before a thought can run through his mind. Cool fingers brush against his jaw line. He grabs on to her wrist and pulls away as gently as he can.

"Goodnight, Serena," he whispers gruffly.

"'Night, Chuck."

Chuck does his first take down the next week. The name is easy enough to find. People always remember Serena. There's an anonymous phone call and half a key of coke is found in Darren Holder's locker. It's overkill, but Chuck knows expensive lawyers can make an eight ball disappear. Serena chews her bottom lip when she reads the Gossip Girl post.

He pretends not to know anything about it and she pretends to be angry.

The next day he hands her a flip phone in candy pink.

He does fix things.

}{

He doesn't know when he starts wanting Blair. It's like a fever, and when he recognises it for the first time he can't remember what life felt like without it. He knows only one thing for certain: it's Serena's fault. If she hadn't fucked Nate and disappeared, he wouldn't be alone with Blair so much. Nate wouldn't be late and stoned quite so much.

He hates Serena a little when she comes back. He hates the way she acts, like she's never passed out on his bathroom floor, like she's never had sex with strangers just to pass the time. He knows who she is and he does his best to remind her with sly words and sidelong glances. She stops looking at him altogether.

He doesn't know why he does it. Oh, he could fill a book with excuses, but there'd be nothing in it worth reading.

I'm trying to change.

His mind coats those words with bitterness. Change into what? Someone who looked down on everything that she was? Everything that they were?

I liked you better before.

He holds her face, kisses her lips—tries so hard to make her remember everything they were. Those touches blur together till she's kneeing him in the balls. She's not fourteen anymore. She knows her way around guys. Drunk, high, half-asleep—it wouldn't matter, because she knows better now.

He doesn't feel guilty, not when she cries out no, not when he calls her bitch or slut.

Not until the next Tuesday at school.

He's lounging in the courtyard and catches sight of her talking to Humphrey. He kind of likes watching them. It's like watching a cat and a stray dog get it on. It breaks all laws of nature, but you just can't look away. Humphrey says something, and she laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. There's a mark on her neck. It's barely there—just a yellow tinged thumb mark.

It feels like a punch to the gut. The breath leaves his body, and he can't get it back.

He leaves the courtyard, walks out of the school grounds—far enough that he can start breathing normally.

He waits for it: for her to yell, and scream, throw something hard. Because what he did should have broken them. It should have. She should never have spoken to him again. When it doesn't, when she never throws an accusation his way, he thinks about apologising, but it's too hard to acknowledge. there's a stupid thought in his head that tells him bringing it up again might destroy their carefully constructed repressions.

They argue a million more times, hurl hurtful words at each other, as if that's what they were born to do. But never, not even in their darkest moments does she bring up what he did.

He loves her, just a tiny bit, for that.

}{

There's a pool party and a boy gets hurt.

Chuck hides the key and hides the truth from Dan. He hates this new shiny, untarnished girl she's trying to be, but he keeps her secrets from her judgemental boyfriend anyway.

He knows new-Serena won't lie, so he does the only thing he can. Asking his father for help bruises his pride, but it's worth it.

He smirks and Serena pretends to be angry.

Chuck relearns an old truth: he can't break Serena, only bruise her.

And a new one: it's always, always, his place to fix her.

}{

He breaks Nate first, which seems oddly fitting. There are so many things he could say I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Never again. But he says none of those things. He wants Blair like he's never wanted anything else. He'd do it again in a heartbeat. Nate leaves and he has nothing but a street full of gawkers and a heart that feels like a dead weight. He hides in his limo before people see him tremble. Because he is sorry, so damn sorry that Nate's hurt.

On Monday Nate's not at school. Chuck leaves before second period. He only went to school for his friends anyway. He doesn't see Blair again. Not really. She stands in front of him, eyes pleading, and he turns his face—eyes blind, heart cold. I don't want you anymore. He means it. Has to. He doesn't want her. Not if it costs him Nate.

Nate forgives him. And if his life feels a little emptier, a little lonelier, he pretends not to notice. He's cautious now. He doesn't test Nate's friendship again, not now that he knows it can break, not now that he's seen that desk beside him empty on a Monday.

}{

Chuck does his best to repress a smile. Serena's on his lounge with her face buried in her hands. It feels like old times. And he got to close the door in Humphrey's face—with Serena on his side. It's a good morning.

He hands her a scotch.

"Chuck, the last thing I need is another drink." Unsteadily she drops the glass to the side table.

"It's congratulatory. I heard from our little friend: looks like you just broke the twenty-two hundreds on your SATs." He raises his glass, not quite ironically.

Serena smiles tiredly. "It's good to know you can still buy your way around the education system."

"Our way," he corrects dryly. "I can still buy our way around the education system."

Serena just raises her eyebrows, sick of telling him that she wants to earn her grades. She takes a sip of her drink, sick of pretending she didn't want to do that, too.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" she asks unconvincingly. Her chest is tight and that edge of fear that she can't escape is threatening to overwhelm her.

He studies her slowly. What's so bad that you can't tell me? He meant it. He can't think of anything that would put that look of terror in her eyes. Not when it was him. How could he judge her? Cheating? Threesomes? Drugs? He'd been there, done that, learnt his lessons then went back for seconds. "You don't honestly think there's something that you could do to disappoint me, do you?"

Though he had been mildly disappointed by her just say no attitude.

Her hand clenches around the edge of her shirt, the other shakes as she brings the glass to her lips. "You never know," she answers quietly.

"I do." He sits beside her, prying her hand away from her shirt. He holds it loosely in his. "If you don't tell me what she's got, I can't help."

Serena stares at their hands, feeling oddly detached from her body. You can't help me. No one can. "I drank. I slept in. I'll retake the test." She smiles dimly, needing him to believe her. "All fixed," she breathes.

He touches the edge of her lips, not believing in any smile that could disappear so quickly. "I'm not Humphrey: I can't be bought off with a smile and comforting lies."

Serena cups his face, leaning in close. Of course you can't. You never let me take the easy out. She drags her fingers though his hair, tilting her head. "I thought you missed the old Serena." She tugs him closer and he can't help but stare at her lips. "And here she is. On your lounge. Drinking your scotch." Her lips brush against the base of his ear before she whispers "What are you going to do about it?"

Just the heat of her breath makes him shudder. He puts one hand on the arm of the chair, trapping her. "What do you want me to do?"

She lays back, pulling him with her. "Help me?" She kisses him quickly, hands resting on the back of his neck. "Make me feel better?"

He brushes a shaky hand down her arm, soaking in the feel of her skin. He kisses her roughly, their lips and tongues moving in familiar patterns. He tries to go slow. He doesn't want to scare her, but knows that at any second she's going to remember herself. Who knows how long it will be till the next time she forgets herself?

She shrugs off her jacket and pulls her dress off. His hands ghost over her ribs, lips sucking at the soft flesh of her breasts above her bra. He quickly unbuttons his shirt enough so that he can discard it over his head. His fingers move to the button of his fly.

Serena grasps a handful of his hair, pulling till he looks up. "No sex."

He swallows, fighting any smart remarks. His fingers leave his fly, trace up her thigh and along the line of her panties. "What counts as sex?"

"Sex," she answers with a hint of a smile.

He runs his hand over her, suddenly pressing the material into all the right places that make her eyes glaze. "I can work with that."

His thumb circles her clit, light and hard, playing with the pressure till she can't breathe without making small sounds. He hooks his thumbs into the elastic, pulling.

"Chuck—" He swallows the rest of her words in a kiss.

"No sex," he grinds out, the words almost hurting his throat. "Promise."

No one, no one, should believe Chuck Bass was getting them out of their underwear not to have sex with them, but Serena meets his eyes and lifts her hips so he can get rid of her panties.

Between kisses she tells him "I love Dan." It's just a fact. She's not trying to convince either of them. "You like Blair."

"Do not," he replies childishly. He'd be more resentful, but she's arching her hips, forcing his fingers harder into her wet flesh. He twists his fingers, working her till her legs fall open and her head lolls back. He wishes she'd let him shut her up like this more often. He drags her down the lounge and a tiny sound of surprise leaves her lips. He lifts her hips with one arm, the other holding his weight. He presses his still clothed hardness into her, rocking his hips gently. He clenches his jaw in the effort to go slow. He can slide easily now, but he knows he has to be gentle. "Don't move," he orders as sternly as he can manage.

You can't make one wrong move with a metal fly around flesh this delicate.

He leans his forehead against hers and her breath is coming as fast as his. He twirls his hips harder. He can feel her soaking through his pants, flesh burning his with almost too much heat.

Serena's mumbling pleases, hands massaging into his flesh. Anything to make him go harder, or faster, or to take off his pants and just fuck her. She can't care anymore. Can't care about anything but getting more.

His hips are pumping frantically, lips tasting hers sporadically. If he could think he'd be inside her now, promises be damned. He knows she wouldn't stop him, knows she's to the point where she'd do anything he wants. But all blood flow has been diverted to his cock, so desperately trying to find its way inside her. He's not sure who comes first, just that he's jerking in oblivion, not sure whether to laugh or cry and Serena is falling apart in his arms, shuddering and chanting his name.

He sags against her. She's stolen the last of his energy. They lay still and quiet, nothing but trembling flesh and heavy breathing.

He finds it in himself to sit up, his hips still in the circle or Serena's legs. She slowly comes back down, her eyes registering some kind of higher thinking. Chuck squirms. He pulls off his pants, because he doesn't think Serena will like looking at the wet patch. In his boxers there's still some embarrassing, sticky patch, but he'll deal. He's pretty certain the time to get his naked on with Serena has come and gone.

"I feel like I'm twelve," he complains.

Serena pats his arm. "A very talented twelve," she adds breathily

Chuck runs a finger experimentally between her legs, frowning when she writhes away from him. "Bad?"

"It's a good kind of burn," she replies carefully, not meeting his eyes.

"Won't be tomorrow." Chuck smiles darkly, knowing his words have more than one meaning. "So was that your attempt to distract me? Make me forget about Georgina and your little problem?"

Serena pulls on her dress, throwing her underwear in her bag. Chuck watches, just to embarrass her further. "Were you thinking about G?" Serena asks in amusement, sitting down again, just because it would be awkward to do anything else. Her body is aching enough that she curls her legs beside her to remove some of the pressure.

"Fuck no," he growls.

"Mission accomplished," she pronounces with a flourish of her hands. Chuck just keeps watching her until she shrugs. "No. I just…I wanted to feel good," she says, trying hard not sound pathetic.

Chuck takes pity on her. "I knew Humphrey didn't have it in him."

She slaps his shoulder. "Chuck!"

He just smiles, glad his barb made her feel like herself. He stands. "Want me to find some painkillers?"

"No." The pain is good at making every other worry disappear. She grabs his hand. "You won't say anything? Not to Dan? Not even to Nate?"

He shakes his head wordlessly. He's not known for his gentlemanly behaviour, but as much as he'd love to rub this in Dan's face, it would severely reduce the chance of a repeat. And he really wants a repeat. And instinctually he just knows this isn't the sort of locker room talk he can swap with Nate.

What's one more secret between the two of them?

}{

Serena watches him warily anyway, pouncing from the shadows whenever it looks like he and Dan might be alone together.

Serena and Dan break up and get back together. There's Carter and Tripp and Nate, and others whose names he either doesn't remember or never bothered to learn. They spin past dizzyingly fast, each ending more tragically than the last.

More than once they crash into each other. Usually when he's coming down from a Blair break-up, or she's burnt-out from one hook up or another.

Always he tries to seal his heart wounds with sex, but only with Serena does it work.

He tells Nate his theory once, careful not to spill any secrets. It's about Serena being some kind of demon, feeding on the souls and hearts of boys. Because no one should destroy that much and come out of it looking that good, right?

Nate just laughs, shaking his head. "Then how come she leaves relationships a damn mess?"

It's an unsettling thought for Chuck. She always leaves him looking brighter. Reenergised and untouchable once again.

He tries not think about it. Because she's not Blair. She can't keep him on a straight path with cruel words and comforting touches. He's not Dan. He doesn't make her want to be a better person. He doesn't make her want to be someone else.

He's gathered a new truth: he and Serena could be together. He's just not sure either of them would survive it.

}{

He breaks Blair next. The symmetry of it all perfectly heartbreaking.

Empty, he crashes again. But Serena's not there; Jenny is. Blonde and leggy, pretty in all the wrong ways. If he drinks enough and squints it almost…But it's not. Not even close.

He knows he's fucked up. Only he and Serena have unbreakable secrets and the ability to heal each other without hurting anyone else.

Blair hates him, not in her usual white-hot fire way. This burns slower. Every now and then he catches her eyes and she doesn't look angry. Those dark eyes just get bleaker and bleaker with every day that passes without a reconciliation. He tries hard to find the words that would make her come back, but it never quite works. Then one day he sees her, and her eyes aren't watching him.

They've turned back to Nate, lingering for a moment too long, as if the last years had never existed.

He breaks them.

He can't fix them.

He'll never trust another truth again.

}{

E/N: Apologies for any OOC-ness. GG writers make it damn hard for C and S to get it on. I want a happy Cherry ending…May give it one when I'm ready for some more mental gymnastics.