i run on gasoline
serena/carter

canon divergence from 5.22

…

He leaves a sour taste in her mouth after she finishes kissing him. He tastes like rum. He tastes like beer. He tastes like a hard scotch on the rocks. He tastes like smoke. He tastes like poison.

Carter has always been this — her fallback guy, the boy who fits easily in her hands, the man who doesn't ask her questions, the only person who she ever knows what she's doing with; what is this, she whispers underneath the sheets, the words scattered across his collarbone. Serena knows that this is sex, it's hiding, it's what Carter and Serena have always done together. But she asks anyway, because he told her he loved her once and her heart had felt the same — but that was a long time ago.

He's good at avoidance. He doesn't answer her question. He rolls on his side, his back facing her and she presses a kiss to it; it seems romantic somehow, like they're two lovers lost in a hotel room with a mile of secrets in between them, cant's and wont's and forbidden fruits, sad melancholy music plays softly in the background of the indie film they're the stars of.

It's not what they are. They're bad habits for each other. People to get lost in when the times are tough. Two rich kids — still kids, always kids, never growing up, Peter Pans, — who never wanted the wealth (except—they wanted the money, the wanted the possessions, the dresses, the Armani, the thousand dollar watches, the flights to anywhere in the world; yes they wanted that). Correction: they never wanted the responsibility that came with being the offspring of socialites. Clear cut paths of who they were and who they were going to be. Carter would inherit his family's business, Serena would marry a rich husband and produce rich grandchildren.

He leaves the bed. Whoosh — the shower is running.

Serena sits up, letting the sheets fall off of her body and picks up the cigarette lying abandoned on the ashtray next to the bed; should I join him? She thinks as she places it in between her lips, once ruby-red, now washed off from his lips. Fumbles around for a match, lights the cigarette, inhales, exhales. Serena's not a smoker but it lets a sense of calm wash over her as she smokes, looks out at the window at the bustling city below — Tokyo.

This time Serena had sought him out. Found him in Madrid, had sat with him in the sun and drunk cherry cocktails before jetting off that evening to Tokyo. It's been a week since then, maybe. It's hard to keep track of time. It's hard to wake up in the morning sometimes. Because when she wakes up Serena has to face the facts: her best friend hates her, she doesn't have any friends left, Dan is gone — Dan is - it was never about Dan.

Her heart clenches, she smokes some more. Carter gets out of the shower, a towel rubbing his hair and the rest of his body dried off; he looks like a movie-star, an action hero, romantic lead. Serena starts to sob.

"Serena - " He starts, a familiar voice. He's always in the back of her mind. He's been with her for days now. "It's-" Carter wants to tell her it's going to be okay, she hears the words on the tip of his tongue but he doesn't like lying to her. He walks forward instead, wrapping the towel around her waist and she half-sobs half-chuckles at it. His hands wind around her frame, pulling her against his stomach. He presses kiss against her forehead and whispers soothing words into her ear: good, fine, okay, beautiful, smart, kind. It's an attempt to make her feel better. Serena wishes they would work.

"I'm not a good person." Serena says, later, once she's calmed down. His arms haven't moved off of her. It feels warm and comforting and safe—Carter makes her feel safe. He doesn't tell her that she is - it's not what she wants to hear yet. "I sleep with my best friend's boyfriend. I make the same mistakes again and again. I fall back into old bad patterns that I told myself I left a long time ago."

Carter is silent for a long time after that. Long enough that his arms have moved from her body and he's gotten dressed. Long enough that Serena has thrown on a shirt and underwear and has been bundled up in blankets. Long enough that her tears have dried and her breathing has evened out. Long enough that she's close to forgetting.

"Serena, you're not a bad person." He whispers, right in her ear. His breath tickles her and she curls into him happily. "Everyone makes mistakes. You're allowed to be in your twenties and fuck up. It doesn't make what you've done okay but it doesn't make you a bad person." Serena doesn't think she's ever noticed just how insightful Carter is. It's a fleeting thought as she falls asleep, but it's this - I think I might love him.