Title: Silk Lines

Chapter: Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Rating: T - M

Ship(s): nate/blair, chuck/blair

Summary: It's them together, as it should be – as it should have been years ago.

–

Prologue

Larrabee, Missouri; 2017

Nate Archibald slouches on the stone steps of the hill-top church as the southern sun rises high in the sky, towers overhead, and penetrates a mixture of intense heat and the feeling of shame over the small town.

The heavy wooden door creaks opens and the sound of soft footsteps echo into his ears from behind him.

Nate knows that he probably looks like hell from being outside in the sweltering heat, but somehow he straightens up and wipes the sweat off his forehead as the perpetrator wordlessly sits next to him.

Her black dress and dark locks are the antithesis to the bright, scorching afternoon and although perspiration beings to collect over her features and neck, like it does to him, she is still beautiful, like she has always been.

And the moment Nate's exhausted blue eyes lock with hers, she slides her smaller hand into his and squeezes it assuringly, almost encouraging him to forget the hell they have been through.

The hell that all three of them have been through; the tragedy no one had thought would strike, until it did.

And suddenly he feels weak because all his life Nate has thought he knew Chuck Bass, but maybe he never did.

And now, he never will.

–

New York, New York; 2009

Let sleeping dogs lie.

It occurs to him in the strangest moment, as he twirls his pencil between his fingers, sitting in front of his incomplete English assignment, that Nate loses his train of thought when his phone chirps.

It's Bree.

Fuck, she's kind of getting annoying now, and Nate doubts it really has anything to do with the bad blood in between their families and more with her dominant attitude.

Reluctantly, he answers, although he's not sure why. If he's so sick of her, then why does he continue to lead her on?

It's probably because he's not stoned yet.

Bree starts a casual conversation and asks what he's doing to which Nate slowly explains the task his professor has appointed; choose a commonly used phrase to describe the first person to come to mind.

So far, Nate has his name and the date written.

Bree's conspicuous personality strikes when she accusingly asks why he doesn't write about her. It nearly causes him to slam his phone shut with irritation because that kind of persona has only ever looked gratifying on one person.

Blair.

Let sleeping dogs lie. It suits her just fine, actually.

It is her niche of never letting anything go completely that has shaped Blair into who she is.

It is also that niche that undoubtedly lands her in Chuck's bed.

Fuck, Nate can really go for that joint right now.

When he naively voices his opinion out loud, he is met by a fuming Bree on the other line, who jealously demands to know why he picks Blair over her. "I thought you guys weren't even close!"

Something inside him rips instantly like a band aid being torn angrily off a wound, because Bree's words trigger the first set of truths he has worked hard to leave along with his intimate memories of Blair.

"We're not."

–

Bridgeport, Connecticut; 2010

Taking a deep breath, Nate takes the ropes of the sail into his hands and pulls them tight, bringing life to the thick, white material that propels the Charlotte.

This voyage is going to be the first of many this summer and Nate is stumped as to how many times he has dreamed of this day during his long lectures at Columbia.

But he knows there have been many, because there is nothing to tie him back to the mainland for the next few months. No school, job or girlfriend.

As he picks up his discarded sandals and t-shirt from the deck, Nate hears someone call his name at the far end of the dock and it only takes him a few seconds to recognize a frantic Blair running from the distance.

Nate stands frozen for a couple of minutes, simply because he isn't sure how to react. He can't remember the last time he has been alone with Blair, and the way she looks so upset at the moment worries him because he doesn't know what's wrong but he should because she's his Blair, even when she's not his.

It's amazing how these realizations always come to him too late.

Once she is close enough and Nate can make out her face, he snaps out of his trance and leaps off the boat without a second thought and clings onto Blair as she lunges herself into his arms in a fury and cries so hard that he can't quite understand what she's saying through her tears.

He wonders why she didn't call him, but then he recalls leaving his phone at the beach house because he thinks it would be less distracting that no one have contact with him while he sails.

Nate immediately curses his juvenile impulse as he watches Blair collect herself and wipe away her tears because fuck, what if something had happened to her while he was away.

"Blair, what's wrong? What is it?" he asks anxiously, shaking her shoulders so she would answer him.

She looks up at Nate, taking quick, shallow breaths, ready to burst.

"It's... I..."

And then she collapses into his arms.

–

And I've been thinking
but it hurts me thinking,
that these nights when we were drinking
no, they never got us anywhere.