the history books forgot about us

gossip girl, nate/blair, (implied chuck) missing scene from the valley girls, they've been here before- they always have.672 words, pg

"You're mad."

She says it softly but it's still an accusation and she peeps up at him through wet lashes, fingers stopping half way through to reaching from his.

"You're lying to me." His voice is cold- "Why shouldn't I be mad?"

His backs against the wall, granite digging into his jacket because she's pushed him a corner like she always does. One twist of the finger and he' playing her thread so she when she decides to let go-

-he's still pretty fucking lost.

Her words spin over in his head- high school boyfriend, prom, perfect. Only Blair Waldorf could make a night come true seem like an acceptable break up manifesto and he's still shaking his head.

He tries again.

"I wish you'd just tell me the truth."

He feels like he can't let her go till she admits it's not about memories or growing up- it's about him. It's about Blair chasing after another dream because this one isn't what she wants anymore.

He's enough of masochist, himself to wait for his best friends name on her lips.

She just stares at his profile instead, committing it to memory.

"High school boyfriends,"- he can't believe his voice is catching- "high school boyfriends don't ask you to move in with them, Blair."

She bites her lips and he can see the curve of her neck where he kissed her last Sunday, as she bows down the lovely head of hers and even the corner of his eye is too much to watch her by so he looks away.

It's bitter irony, really and Nate thinks he's getting the hang of it.

They've been here before- the streets of Manhattan at midnight, she's crying, he's distant but nothing else is the same.

Last time- he used his issues with his father, his family, his life, his plan and pawned all that on his relationship with Blair.

Tonight, standing before him, she's doing the same.

He asks her to stay.

Keeps his voice steady and asks her- just once mind because there's not much more left in him and asks with the conviction that she'll refuse, refuse because clarity, coherence and identity are the gifts she's been giving him all her life and she shuts her eyes like she can't give anymore.

Shuts her eyes so that she can't see he's not asking, this time, he's offering.

He's offering to give her the world.

Perhaps other love stories have had better beginnings, grander endings.

All he can remember is her hands pressed up against his sweater and her lips tasting sweet under the mistletoe.

She bites that lip now, caught between coy and dejection and he wonders if she's tempting him or fate.

Blair fights fire with fire and he gets this.

They've never fought fire with ice before.

She shakes her head when she leaves, smiling just a little as she bids him good night.

Her wrap pulls tighter around her shoulders, fingers seeking the warmth that her body lost from his and he wonders if she'll ever give his heart back.

She touches his arm as she leaves and his mouth turns.

Another man might have grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. Another man might have pressed his forehead to hers, no lips, no kisses just a reminder of all that she plans to leave behind. A touch for each summer, a touch for each kiss shared in her bed.

For every night he missed her and every night he didn't and Christ, this woman makes him so mad.

So mad, so romantic.

He does want to kiss her.

Nate Archibald is only himself.

He doesn't watch her back as she leaves- his hand delves into the jacket that still smells like her hair (orchids and violets) and pulls out a joint.

He won't wait on the world to tell her she loves him.