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ironunderstands · 3 months ago

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Double Indemnity, Spellbound and how a retroactive plot twist kicked the communities ass (which also has some VERY interesting implications for Aventio)

I had a very enlightening conversation on TikTok about the nature of these two romance/thrillers, and while unfortunately, I have no idea how to watch them, the plot synopses I’ve seen and analysis other people have made have caused me to come to this conclusion/interpretation of these references:

On the first viewing of the Double Indemnity questline, the reference to the DI movie is meant to be played straight, with Aventurine and Ratio being just as doomed to fail as they are in the movie, and their relationship as equally as toxic and fake.

On second viewing, it’s the complete opposite, and the track (and other movie reference) you receive at the end, Spellbound, proves it.

Let’s start with Double Indemnity.

Also disclaimer I’m gonna be over simplifying the plot/themes of these movies because a) both are singular references, DI is only referenced in the name of the quest itself and Spellbound is only referenced in a track you receive once you complete DI, and references this small probably aren’t meant to be anything more than a fun Easter egg for those who notice it b) this is hoyoverse they aren’t clever enough for that anyways c) the nature of references isn’t going to be having everything be the exact same anyways, so I’m just going to go with the overall interpretation of DI + Spellbound/their impact, picking the stuff which aligns with the actual plot of the DI quest, I don’t care what happens in one frame at 30:01.56 minutes in and neither do the writers

Anyways, how does the Double Indemnity reference on the first viewing seem?

On our first play through of the Double Indemnity quest, we are made to believe that Dr. Ratio and Aventurine do not trust each other, but they are begrudgingly working together for the sake of stealing Penacony for the IPC. Then, Aventurine makes it seem as if he wishes to use the singer Robin’s- also the sister of Sunday, the head of the Oak Family and the one they are negotiating with- death as a means to pressure Sunday into forking over some of the Family’s secrets, which Aventurine will then use against him in future negotiations.

With this setup, the Double Indemnity reference is a solemn warning- Aventurine and Ratio will fail.

You see, in the movie, Phyllis Dietrechson intends to kill her husband in order to earn the money from the Double Indemnity clause (which is a real legal thing btw!), roping in one Walter Neff when he falls for her. However, their relationship isn’t stable and in the end, Walter betrays Phyllis, ratting her out to the investigator Keyes, ultimately meaning they don’t earn the DI clause, also killing Phyllis in the process.

Hopefully you can already see where I’m going with this, but it’s time to draw some fun parallels.

Sunday is Keyes, Ratio is Walter, Aventurine is Phyliss and Robin is Phyliss’s husband.

Although Aventurine a) isn’t married to Robin and b) he didn’t actually kill her, he is the one who witnessed her “death” and in the first viewing of the Double Indemnity quest, we are made to believe he intends to profit off of it, although this time the payout isn’t money: it’s Penacony.

To do this, he enlists the help of Ratio- albeit not seducing him, but still convincing him to help nonetheless- and together they go to meet Sunday for negotiations.

However, Ratio “betrayed” Aventurine, ratting him out to Sunday behind his back and informing him of his plan, which mirrors how Walter confesses to Keyes. This results in Aventurine being sentenced to death, much like how Phyllis dies by Walter’s hand, Aventurine seems like he will die by Ratio’s, calling him a wretch before slinking off.

And there you go, their partnership is as doomed as the one in the movie, failing because their trust + love didn’t hold up till the end, a devious foreshadowing.

At least, that’s how it seems on the first playthrough.

Because Aventurine and Ratio’s plan SUCCEEDS.

And on the second viewing, knowing that the betrayal is fake, you realize they succeed because they do the one thing the people in DI (and I’ll get to Spellbound) DONT do- they actually TRUST each other.

Ratio and Aventurine’s plot is a success. And it’s because they deliberately made it seem like they were doing a Double Indemnity plot. Like they were going to make the same mistakes as the characters in the movie. Sunday falls for the false appearance hook, line and sinker, and that’s his downfall.

They win because they TRUST each other, you can even say because they actually LOVE each other, unlike the characters in the movie, where it’s more list than anything else. Walter and Phyllis don’t make it together to the end but Ratio and Aventurine DO, and they get to continue on with their lives because of it. The reference to Double Indemnity in this quest is genius because it works both before and after you learn the retroactive twist of Penacony. It makes you believe Aventurine + Ratio are doomed to fail, and it makes you realize they were always going to succeed, expertly dawning the false appearances Sunday expects from them, becoming literal actors playing out the roles of two people who will fall short due to their selfishness. Sunday believes he’s seen this film before which is why he BUYS IT, and god it’s just beautiful looking back on it. He thinks he’s Keyes about to uncover a dastardly plot to profit off his sisters death, and in turn he paints Ratio and Aventurine with the identities of those he believes would do such a thing, which they do their best to play into. Ugh it’s amazing.

And now, for Spellbound.

You receive this track after completing Double Indemnity, containing the description above.

Now, this is a reference to Spellbound, another one of Hitchcock’s films.

The main characters in this one are Dr. Anthony Edwards, a man suffering from amnesia, and Dr. Constance Peterson, a psychoanalyst who he was meant to replace, who discovers a dark secret about Edward’s while they fall for one another; he’s an imposter. He believes he killed the real Dr. Edward’s, but she thinks he’s just suffering from a guilt complex. Fake Edward’s goes missing, and the real Edward’s assistant arrived and informs them that he’s missing. She finds Fake Edward again, living under the pseudonym John Brown, and although he tries to leave, she convinces him to stay, telling him that with the help of her mentor, psychoanalysis can help recover his lost memories.

Through an incredibly complicated psychoanalysis of dream, Constance begins to uncover the truth- learning the person who believes himself to be Dr. Edward’s (and is using the pseudonym John Brown) is actually a man named John Ballantyne. Ballantyne accidentally caused the death of his younger brother in the past, resulting in his deep guilt, as well as recalling the location where the real Edwards died- skiing off a cliff to his death. With his memories, they find the body, but it has a bullet wound, so Ballantyne is taken into custody.

However, her boss, Dr. Murchison lets it slip that he actually used to know (and didn’t like) Dr. Edwards, and through another complicated sequence gets him to confess his guilt and ultimately kill himself, which frees Ballantyne, ending the movie with the two going on a honeymoon.

So, what does this mean in the context of the quest line?

Well, let’s say Ballantyne and Constance are representative of Ratio and Aventurine respectively.

“Every psychoanalyst must first have someone else diagnose them.”

If we read Aventurine as the psychoanalyst (Constance) and Ratio as the diagnoser/doctor (Ballantyne), it reveals an interesting interpretation.

That being that they knew the truth from the start/ they had already succeeded.

Or in other words, unlike in Double Indemnity, in Spellbound, they actually succeed.

In the film, Constance is the one doing the diagnosing, the one trying to figure out the truth, and you can see that in Aventurine pretending he’s trying to find out the truth behind Robin’s death. However, in the DI quest, it’s the opposite. Ratio’s as Ballantyne is the one doing the diagnosing for the psychoanalysist, Constance, or rather, Aventurine.

To diagnose someone, you must be very familiar with them, or at the very least the ailment plaguing them, and Ratio he knows Aventurine through and through at the start, and what plagues him (his own sense of meaninglessness) unlike the protagonists in Spellbound who despite falling for one another quickly, don’t begin being intimately familiar with one another.

In this way, they have already succeeded. Aventurine and Ratio already know one another, and while they might not know the reason behind Robin’s death, that was never what they were searching for in the beginning, meaning they effectively can skip through all the drama (aka the ups and downs of Spellbound, finding out the truth behind Robin’s/Edwards’ death), and reach their happy ending- a honeymoon; or in DI’s case, Aventurine attaining his cornerstone, and fulfilling his end of the plan.

Interestingly, Aventurine slots into the role of Ballantyne and Ratio as Constance equally well, with the phone call Constance makes to save Ballantyne being reminiscent of the note Ratio makes to save Aventurine, as well as Aventurine being the replacement, or in the sense, the one to find the truth about Robin.

Personally, I think Aventurine and Ratio are reminiscent of both the main leads in Spellbound, which is why it’s complicated to discern the meaning of the reference. Oh how I wish I knew what the original Chinese description for this was (if you do please tell me 🙏).

Is it just meant to signify them being in love? Is it meant to signify that they will succeed, due to how well they know each other? Is it both, which is what the inclusion of Double Indemnity (the movie) suggests?

Either way, it adds onto the already present idea that the trust between Aventurine and Ratio is what allowed them to succeed in Penacony, and that’s not just something expressed by these movie references.

Think Aventurines Eidolons: Stag Hunt Game and Prisoner’s Dilemma, both of which are game theories about trust. Or how Aventurine says that Ratio knows him best, or how Ratio entrusts Aventurine with close secrets of his, like him being the “Genius” of the council of Mundanites.

“Do you trust me?” “That depends on you.”

These are 2 lines in their 2.0 conversation that really stick out to me. Ratio will always offer his trust so long as Aventurine can prove himself worthy of it, and as we have seen, Aventurine always delivers, proving himself long before Penacony in the Final Victor lightcone, albeit in his weird homoerotic way.

Therefore Ratio will always trust him.

And because of that, they win.

Now whether you take the deep trust between them to be romantic or platonic, or infer the literal honeymoon at the end of Spellbound to mean something for Aventio, either way the feeling absolutely there, and it’s crucial for an understanding of their relationship.

Also damn, the retroactive plot twist fucking slaps.

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youdontjustgiveup · 5 months ago

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August: Chapter 20

( ao3 | ff )

Previous Chapters: [link]

Summary: Chuck Bass, a crash course in hallucinative self-therapy.

Pairing: Chuck x Blair

Word Count: 5.5k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: None

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You’ve reached Blair Waldorf’s voicemail. Leave a message, and I’ll see if you’re worth my time.

Fuck.

Well, he certainly brought it on himself. What did he expect? That she would be glued to the phone, waiting for him to save her? That after countless ignored calls and texts, she would pick up? Welcome him with open arms?

He put the phone back in his pocket and rubbed his hand over his face. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

When he had returned to the Hamptons, he had found the house empty. No sign of the girls, no sign of Nate. Desperation had driven him to ask his stepsister where they were. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. But when he had finally tracked them down, the sight of Blair running to the bathroom, her eyes glassy and on the verge of tears, had shattered him. He had wanted to reach out, to pull her into his arms, but fear had paralyzed him. Before he could act, Serena had beaten him to it, causing him to turn away and hide.

“Rough night?” said a black-haired, impeccably dressed guy smoking at the exit of the club.

“You have no idea.”

The guy offered him a pack of cigarettes. “You look like you could use one of these. Women trouble?”

Chuck accepted and flicked his lighter, the flame casting a brief, warm glow on his troubled face. “Something like that.”

“They’re all the same, man. Impossible to please and not worth the headache. Don’t waste your time trying to figure them out. They’re only good for one thing, and even that’s questionable.”

He took a long drag. “You’re wrong.”

The guy shrugged, clearly not interested in his opinion. “Suit yourself. But take it from me, they’re not worth the pain.”

“She is worth it.” His voice was firm, a quiet intensity burning in his eyes. “She is worth everything.”

Chuck exhaled slowly, the smoke dissipating into the night air.

“You’re fucked,” the guy laughed.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I guess I am.”

“Good luck with that. Love only sets you up to get torn apart.”

“Maybe. But some things are worth the risk.”

A week ago

Chuck stirred from a restless sleep, head throbbing in protest as consciousness clawed its way back to him. Another night, more bottles drained. Another pitiful display. Blinking against the harsh moonlight filtering through the curtains, he found himself tangled in sheets, with Blair’s form curled up beside him in peaceful repose.

His stomach churned, a grim reminder of the night’s excesses. As he sat up far too quickly for his liking, the room began to spin around him, like a merry-go-round of regret. Dehydration set in, his mouth parched. The horrible taste of hangover coated his tongue, undeniable proof of what a fucking idiot he had been.

If only he hadn’t acted like a total jerk in what was supposed to be a harmless game between friends. If only he hadn’t let jealousy get the best of him. If only he hadn’t won Best Friend of the Year. If only he hadn’t picked up the phone and dialed Georgina’s number. If only he hadn’t tried to numb the pain, maybe he could have faced it head-on and saved the people he loved from the wreckage he was now buried under.

But what was done was done, and it could not be undone. It was just another screw-up to add to his long list of mistakes, a list that felt endless. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he stop? The wheel of self-condemnation kept on spinning. A total disappointment to everyone around him.

Pain, pain, and more pain.

Then, Blair shifted in her sleep, a subtle furrow forming on her forehead as if in disagreement. Her hand sought his, and a soft, irresistible pout graced her lips, adding to her already captivating beauty. The room stopped spinning. Her chest rose and fell in time with his heartbeat, each breath pulling him out of the hole he had dug for himself, inch by inch. And in that fleeting time, a warmth unlike any he had ever felt suffused his tired muscles.

Was he truly capable of becoming the man she deserved? Could he love her the way she needed him to?

If tonight was proof of anything, the answer would be a resounding no.

With trembling fingers, Chuck carefully brushed back a stray curl that had fallen across her face, his touch lingering on her cheek. His thumb traced the curve of her jaw before caressing her lips. In the hush of the night, he wished that time would stand still. As he marveled at the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips, he felt his heart swell with an overwhelming intensity, as if nothing else could fit inside him.

To open himself to love was to invite weakness, a lesson his father had instilled in him since childhood, yet here he was, grappling with emotions so potent they defied his understanding and left him utterly defenseless.

As if burned by an invisible flame, Chuck recoiled, pulling his fingers away and instinctively pressing a hand to his chest. His heart hammered against his rib cage like a desperate, trapped bird, his lungs gasping for air against the oppressive burden of his own limitations.

How could he, so broken and flawed, dare to dream of deserving something so pure and good? The very idea seemed absurd. Totally out of reach. With a mother lost to death and a father’s scorn as his only companion, how could he possibly comprehend giving and receiving love?

Bart knew he couldn’t. Even his best friend understood that.

What happened to all those speeches about wanting her happiness? Do you really think she’ll find it with you? That you’re the better choice? Nate’s words echoed in his head. Do you really think he’s gonna treat you right? He’s Chuck Bass. He can’t love anyone, Blair. He’s going to hurt you.

Are you really counting on Chuck Bass to be your knight in shining armor? Georgina’s taunts lingered like a bitter taste in his mouth. Do you honestly think he loves you? We both know he can’t.

Sad, pathetic, little boy. His father’s harsh judgment cut through him like a knife. I’ve seen nothing in you that suggests you have what it takes. If anything, you’ve been nothing but a disappointment.

It all pressed upon him like a heavy yoke, threatening to crush him. How long would it take Blair to realize that they had been right all along? That he was born on a dead-end road.

How could he ever hope to bring her happiness if he was destined to fall short?

Leaving felt like the only way out, a last-ditch attempt to protect her from the inevitable heartbreak that trailed behind him like a shadow. But in truth, he wasn’t just running from her; he was running from himself, from the merciless reality of his own shortcomings that would surely consume them both.

Blair would despise him, but that was a price he was willing to pay.

Hate, in its bitter familiarity, appeared almost comforting. He had weathered its storms before, grown accustomed to its presence. It was a strange relief in the midst of the chaos.

As soon as Chuck’s motorcycle roared to life beneath him, regret clawed at his insides like an implacable beast. Was he doing what was best? Every mile he traveled, each curve of the road, only increased the pain in his chest. How could he stay away from her? Was his need to protect her from himself stronger than his desire to hold her close? With each passing moment, the urge to turn back grew stronger. It tore at him.

But as much as he wanted to retreat into the safety of her arms, Chuck knew he couldn’t.

He couldn’t do that to her.

The throbbing pain in his brain had subsided to a tolerable level when he awoke in his suite at the Palace without Blair at his side. With a grunt, Chuck forced himself to sit up, his movements lethargic and heavy, as if he had been run over by a truck. He dragged himself upright and shuffled to the kitchenette. Glass after glass of water went down his throat, the cool liquid a soothing balm against his sandpaper mouth.

Feeling the fatigue weighing down on him like a leaden blanket, Chuck returned to his bed. He reached for the small bottle of sleeping pills on his nightstand. Swallowing them with a painful grimace, he succumbed once more to the alluring embrace of sleep, anxious to escape the void of his waking hours.

In his dream, Chuck was transported back to a time when he and Nate were sixteen years old. The scene unfolded before him with startling clarity: the hideous beige pants, the yellow shirt, and the blazer that identified them as students of St. Jude’s. But what etched itself most deeply into his subconscious was the pain on his face as he held an ice pack to his already swollen eye. His best friend sat next to him in the headmaster’s office.

Headmaster Smith’s stern voice broke the tense silence. “I’m afraid I must inform your father of this, Mr. Bass,” he said, his disapproval evident. It was not the first time he had waited in that very chair to be punished, and he knew all too well that it would not be the last. “What you have done warrants disciplinary action. Here, in our esteemed institution, such behavior will not be tolerated. Resorting to violence of any kind against a fellow student is simply unacceptable.”

“Go ahead, call him,” Chuck challenged.

Perhaps his father would have paid more attention that way, but to no one’s surprise, Bart Bass simply did not care, just as Chuck no longer cared about the consequences. His father, or rather his lawyer, would likely settle the matter with monetary compensation, as if wealth could solve all problems. How egregious was the insolence of a son who wasted his father’s precious time on trifles unworthy of a man.

The sting of rejection felt just as raw as it had all those years ago. No amount of money or material success could force fatherly love after all.

“As for you, Mr. Archibald, I expect better judgment from a young man of your caliber. While I recognize your athletic potential and commendable character, I must caution you about the company you keep.”

As they left the office, Nate reached into his pockets and looked down at the floor.

“Why did you take the blame for me? It was all my fault,” he said. “I punched him. I should be the one getting punished.”

“And see Anne Archibald freak out about her golden boy getting a suspension? Not a chance,” Chuck replied, a small grin playing at the corner of his lips.

“You shouldn’t have jumped in. Look at your face. Pete got a really good hit.”

“Ah, come on, Nathaniel. It’s just a black eye. Besides, if this was your face, Waldorf would have our heads on a pike for letting some guy mess it up.”

“And nobody wants to be the target of Blair’s fury.”

“Indeed.”

“Thanks. I owe you one, big time.”

“There’s no need for a scoreboard between friends. We’ve always had each other’s backs, and that’s not about to change.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, man.”

“Well, lucky for you, you won’t have to find out.”

“Neither will you.”

He didn’t hold many people in high regard, but Nate Archibald was a rare exception.

As their conversation faded, St. Jude’s corridors shifted into the interior of his friend’s yacht. Nate’s face, which had previously been warm with camaraderie and gratitude, now changed into an accusatory scowl. They were still clothed in their school uniforms, creating a bizarre juxtaposition.

“Did you also have my back when you were lusting after my girl all those years, huh?” Nate said. “What a good friend you were.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Chuck, don’t play dumb. You’ve always had a thing for her. Always lurking around, waiting for your chance to make a move.”

“That’s not how it went down, and you know it.”

“Do I?”

“Not once did I act on it while she was with you.”

“But you wanted to, didn’t you?”

More than anything else in the world. But he hadn’t. Even though every fiber of his being had screamed for him to do so, he’d held back, sticking to some imaginary bro code.

“Admit it,” Nate urged.

What did he have to lose now? Nate wasn’t even there. It wasn’t real.

“I did. So what? It’s not my fault you were too blind to see what was right in front of you,” Chuck spat out the words. “Blair was right there, and you couldn’t see how incredible she was. You never appreciated her, not like she deserved, and it cost you everything.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”

It landed like a slap in the face. “Shut up,” he growled.

“Did you get a kick out of it? Seeing me mess up, time after time? Hoping I’d slip up so you could snatch your best friend’s girl?”

Chuck’s fists clenched. “Blair is not your girl.”

“Then whose is she? Yours? Please. As if you could ever hold onto anything without screwing it up.”

“Just shut up,” he muttered, his hands shaking at his sides. His shoulders slumped forward as if bracing for the impact of the painful truth. With a hint of desperation, he pleaded, “Please.”

But Nate continued, relentlessly. “Why put her through your misery? Hasn’t she had enough?”

“I care about her, okay? I really do. More than you’ll ever understand.”

“Don’t make me laugh. You never think beyond your own desires. You betrayed our friendship for your own selfish gain. Was it worth it?”

“It wasn’t like that. You were not together. You didn’t love each other, and I… I…”

“And what? You do?”

The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, desperate to break free.

“You’re nothing but a spineless coward, Chuck. Hollow at your core. Blair deserves way more than you can ever give her.”

He wanted to scream. But he was powerless, trapped in the twisted labyrinth of his own mind.

“Pathetic.” But that voice wasn’t Nate’s. It hadn’t been for a while. It was his father’s. “You’re just a pitiful, broken boy. Weak. Soft as silk, and twice as useless.”

It was a new day when he opened his eyes again. He was drenched in sweat, his stomach churning and his body weak. He threw off the clinging sheets and welcomed the fresh air on his clammy skin.

Chuck was torn between two opposing forces, each vying for his attention like contestants in a tug-of-war match. There was Blair, and there was the overbearing presence of his father. He was paralyzed by the fear of losing his balance, terrified that leaning too far to one side would result in everything crashing down around him.

How could he bare his soul, let others see the depths of who he really was, and still maintain the strong front his father demanded?

A wave of nausea washed over him. He doubled over slightly, feeling the emptiness clawing at him from the inside. When had he last eaten? It took Chuck a moment to recall—had it been yesterday? No, surely it had been the day before.

“Must we add ‘wasting away’ to your repertoire of bad habits?” It was as if Blair herself was standing there, hands on hips, giving him an earful. Beautiful as always. “I mean, you’re starting to resemble one of those tragic characters from a Dickens novel, and we both know you prefer Fitzgerald.”

“Leave me alone, Waldorf.”

“You know I can’t do that,” she said. “Eat something.”

He was losing his goddamn mind.

Chuck reached for the hotel phone and dialed room service without even checking the time. Despite his lack of appetite, he ordered a full American breakfast. They’d be fools to deny the owner’s son a damn thing.

But the eggs seemed to have soured overnight, the bacon was burnt to a crisp, and the coffee tasted more like dishwater than anything resembling a morning pick-me-up. The food proved unpalatable, his stomach rejecting every bite. He pushed the contents of his plate around, scoffed at his own pitiful condition, and finally pushed the tray away, collapsing on the sofa in defeat.

Seeking a mundane distraction, he picked up the New York Post, which had been sitting untouched on the side table for a month. There, he was greeted by the imposing image of his father, the pinnacle of success.

“Bass Empire Expansion: Iconic Business Titan, Renowned for Reshaping the Manhattan Skyline, Set to Revamp Brooklyn Shelter into Trendy Living Quarters.”

Fantastic.

The headline mocked him. Was this the legacy he was destined to inherit? One built on ruthless ambition, where power reigned supreme, regardless of the collateral damage left in its wake? A world devoid of affection and human connection. Where the pursuit of more, more, more eclipsed all else. The successful, the powerful, the great Bart Bass. Alone. Unreachable. Unloving. But a titan nonetheless. Indestructible. Where did the line end? What good were wealth and power if your soul felt hollow to the core?

With bitterness staining his tongue, Chuck tossed the newspaper, unable to face the reflection of his future looking back at him. Turning to whiskey for solace, he drowned his sorrows and dulled the pain in a futile attempt to forget it was even there.

The next day, a terrible pain gripped his chest. He felt sure he was having a heart attack, but instead of calling for help, he curled up into a ball and buried his face in his pillow. Perhaps that was for the best.

Days blurred into one another, haunted by vivid dreams of his childhood, Nate, and Blair.

In some, Blair’s soft lips captured his in sweet, intoxicating kisses that left him wanting for more. They inhabited a world of their own, where time stood still and the Upper East Side was theirs to conquer. They laughed. They lived. They thrived. Other times, angry screams pierced the air. Blair hurled every conceivable insult at him until her voice ran dry. What a complete fool he’d been to let his insecurities win. But it was the dreams in which she simply looked at him with nothing but disappointment and hurt, the word ‘coward’ a damning indictment of his actions, that tormented him the most.

He knew, even in his subconscious, that she was right, that he deserved every ounce of her hatred and reproach. What he didn’t know was whether he could handle it. He had once believed himself capable, but as time passed, he wasn’t sure anymore. Hadn’t that been the point? For her to despise him now, to save herself more pain in the future?

The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. He was causing her pain anyway. Worse yet, he was taking away her right to choose.

He was so stupid.

A sharp, loud knock on the door woke Chuck from his slumber. Ignoring the annoying interruption, he rolled over, hoping to return to the peaceful state of the unfinished dream he had left behind.

In his mind, he could still feel Blair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath his head as they lay together in their favorite spot on the beach, his form perpendicular to hers. While she immersed herself in the pages of a fashion magazine, he was lost in his own book.

“I could stay like this forever,” he murmured, almost to himself.

He turned his head slightly to look at her, a rare smile playing on his lips.

Blair sighed, closing her magazine. “As tempting as that sounds, Bass, I think the world might miss us too much. And let’s face it, we’d miss the city lights, too. The Upper East Side is too ingrained in our souls to leave behind.”

“True. But it’s nice to dream, isn’t it?”

“Dreaming is one thing, but living our lives on our own terms is another. We’re not very good at it.”

“Maybe we haven’t been, but that doesn’t mean we can’t change.”

“We thrive in chaos. It’s what makes us, us.”

“We are so much more than that.”

Blair looked at him, her eyes softening. “Do you really believe that?”

“I do.”

It was so calm, so peaceful, and he just wanted to go back.

But the knocking persisted, demanding attention. His fingers curled into the soft fabric of the pillow as he resisted the urge to lash out. Whoever dared disturb him at this moment would have no job to come back to tomorrow.

Taking a deep breath, Chuck rose from the bed, made his way to the door, and swung it open, fully prepared to unleash his wrath upon the unsuspecting intruder.

“What do you want?” he growled.

To his surprise, he was met not only with a hapless hotel staff member but also with a phone extended towards him. His brow furrowed in confusion as he accepted the device.

“Mister Bass asks for you,” the receptionist said, his professional demeanor unwavering.

Chuck’s grip on the phone tightened as he retreated into the confines of his suite, shutting the door behind him. He raised the device to his ear, his father’s voice crackling through the line with an edge of impatience. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Good to hear your voice too, Dad.”

“What did you do?”

“Oh, you know me,” he replied, “just walking the fine line, as usual.”

“I don’t have time for your games.”

“I’m as innocent as they come. Feel free to sue whoever led you to think otherwise.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“What do you want me to say?” Chuck shot back defensively. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Explain to me why Lily is losing sleep over you because Serena is blowing up her phone day and night. Or better yet, why aren’t you picking up your damn phone? What’s the point of me footing the bill if you’re just going to ignore your responsibilities and waste it on parties, women, and booze?”

“I…”

Where was his phone? Had he left it in his room in the Hamptons? Had it fallen out of his pocket on the way here? He rummaged through the bed, the sofa, his pockets, every surface. His movements became more urgent as he lifted and rearranged the decor of the hotel suite in his search.

“Are you drunk?” his father’s voice resonated through the other end of the line when he received no response.

“I am not,” Chuck replied tersely.

“High?”

“No.”

“It’s about time you started acting like a man, Chuck. Your persistent immaturity is both disappointing and harmful to your future. When will you start taking things seriously?”

“I’ve told you, I didn’t do anything,” Chuck insisted. “If Serena is acting like a crackhead, that’s not my problem.”

“It is if you make it my problem. Your actions have consequences, and I’m too busy to play hide-and-seek with you. Get it through your head that my time is far too valuable to waste on adolescent theatrics. So, learn to clean up your own mess, and don’t run away like a coward. You’re a Bass.”

Chuck gritted his teeth, the sting of his father’s words cutting deep.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“And don’t think I haven’t found out about that little spectacle you put on last week on your friend’s yacht,” Bart continued, his tone cold and unforgiving. “It cost me a great deal to get rid of those pitiful photos of ‘Bart Bass’ son and heir passed out at scandalous party’ that were almost printed in every tabloid.”

“It was a mistake.”

“When is it not with you?”

“I’m—”

“What? You’re what?” Bart interrupted. “Don’t apologize like a pathetic, weak little girl. Own it.”

The line fell silent for a moment, before his father scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re my son.”

And then, he hung up.

Where the fuck was his phone?

He paced the room a second time. His black Belstaff riding jacket lay discarded on the floor, and as he bent down to retrieve it, his fingers brushed the smooth surface of his breast pocket. There it was, nestled snugly inside.

He pulled it out, only to find it completely dead.

Of course.

As soon as Chuck plugged his phone into the charger, it lit up with a ton of missed calls and text messages.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered under his breath, the harsh expletive slipping past his lips as the screen continued to glow. “What more do you want from me?”

Face it. Let people in. Don’t slink away because you’re too scared to feel, said a voice in his head.

But his fingers trembled and his stomach plummeted as he scrolled through Blair’s messages, each one a blow to his already bruised heart. They were all from the day he had left, starting with desperate pleas and worry, escalating to righteous anger. Eventually, her texts stopped altogether, leaving behind a cold silence that matched the emptiness inside him.

This wasn’t right. It simply wasn’t. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

But what was it supposed to be like?

His own fears had led him to this steep precipice with no clear way out. How was he going to fix it? The uncertainty of what lay ahead, the threat of rejection and disappointment if he dared to open up to others, drove him straight to a strong drink.

Until now, he had hid like a cornered animal, letting time eat away at him, with only his thoughts as companions. Hoping in vain that numbness would replace feeling. Yet, it hadn’t. The pain persisted, refusing to subside. Not only had his feelings not gone away, they had consumed him even more, and his phone was just reality smacking him in the face. Forcing him to face it. To really look at the consequences of his actions.

For if Bart had been right about anything, it was this, and he could no longer keep pretending it wasn’t. He couldn’t run away, or unravel at the seams every time life went sideways. Every time he felt vulnerable.

What was the point of shutting everyone out? What kind of life was that?

He didn’t have to look very far for the answer. Bart Bass was the perfect example.

Pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey, Chuck tried to calm his nerves. He had to stop hiding behind his own weaknesses, stop letting fear call the shots. With newfound determination, he turned back to his phone.

Serena’s messages, on the other hand, were predictably dramatic, filled with frantic demands and threats.

> Chuck, u need 2 come back RN

> Tell me where u r. If u don’t answer me ASAP, I’ll call Bart & Lily

> I’m gonna kill u

> Nate’s a mess. Blair 2

As he scrolled through the missed calls, Chuck’s chest tightened. His stepsister’s name dominated the screen, and he couldn’t help but wonder why she was such a pain in the ass. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture doing little to ease the discomfort.

Her over-the-top theatrics were exhausting, but deep down, he knew they came from genuine concern. That knowledge did nothing to alleviate the unease that settled in his stomach.

Why was it so hard for him to accept that people actually cared about him? Was it really such a rare thought?

The phone beeped again, this time with a new message. Unsurprisingly, it was Serena’s.

> I know u love her. Stop being a coward.

Chuck stared at the screen, her words hitting harder than he expected. His stepsister’s bluntness was jarring, but necessary. For so long, he had allowed indifference to prevail, pushing everyone away to avoid the risk of hurting and getting hurt.

But the truth presented itself with tremendous clarity—he was not indifferent. He never had been. He felt like the rest of them. Thoughts of her consumed him incessantly, almost absurdly. Like a moth to a flame.

As for why he was putting himself, and them, through this, he could only place the blame on his own stupidity.

Perhaps the solution, the only answer, was as simple as returning to her side. To learn from his mistakes instead of trying to blame them on cosmic fate or some nonexistent predestined path, instead of trying to sweep them under the rug. To try to rebuild what he had lost.

Could he find the strength? He didn’t know, but he had to.

He had to give her agency. He had to let her choose.

For in the end, Chuck realized, the only thing that truly mattered was her. Not his father, not money, not power, but her. He could no longer deny the pull of his heart, nor did he want to.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He typed, then deleted it. He typed again, then deleted that too. He tried a third time, but quickly erased it. Nothing was good enough. It all seemed inadequate, a pale shadow of what he really wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for.

Instead, he typed out a quick reply to Serena.

Serena’s response came fast.

> No, she’s not, u fool. Come back already

The next day, as he continued to send messages to his stepsister, Chuck began to get back on his feet. He stopped drinking, started showering, and started eating properly.

Present day

“I’m sure you could have any girl you want.”

He took another drag, the nicotine doing little to calm his nerves. “She’s not just any girl,” he said, almost to himself. “She’s Blair Waldorf.”

The guy looked at him, clearly not understanding the meaning of those words. But Chuck didn’t care.

Crushing the cigarette under his heel, Chuck made a silent promise to himself. He swore he would protect her happiness with everything that he had. If that made him weak, so be it. If that meant risking it all, so be it. Blair was worth every bit of effort, every sacrifice.

He turned to the guy one last time. “Thanks for the smoke.”

And with that, he walked away.

After hours of aimless riding, Chuck parked his flashy red motorcycle in the Hamptons driveway, the engine’s rumble settling into silence. He didn’t dare put it in the garage, wanting to keep the noise to a minimum and avoid any unnecessary attention. The fewer people who knew of his return, the better.

He had to talk to Blair first.

With each step, his heart pounded faster. Memories of their moments together flooded his mind—her laughter, her sharp wit, the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy. As he stood on the doorstep, motorcycle helmet cradled in the crook of his arm, the front door loomed large before him. His feet might as well have been set in cement, heavy and immovable. Petrified, with only the sound of his own heart echoing in his ears, Chuck was unsure of his next move. Now that he was so close, facing her felt like the stupidest idea in the world. What could he even say? “I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for being an idiot. I’m sorry for being afraid.” Those words might be a start, but were they enough? Would she even be willing to listen? He fumbled with the keys in his pocket.

The courage to take that crucial first step remained frustratingly out of reach. Unable to face her just yet, he turned away from the imposing entrance and headed down the familiar path to her favorite spot on the beach.

The soft sand greeted him as he kicked off his shoes, the grains cool beneath his feet. The rhythmic lapping of the waves provided a soothing backdrop.

As he approached the shoreline, he realized he wasn’t alone. Blair was there, her silhouette bathed in the moonlight, a vision that made his heart leap into his throat and his palms sweat. He wiped them on his pants, taking a deep, steadying breath as he tried to compose himself.

This was it. It was now or never.

He could have stayed in that room, slowly withering away, becoming Bart Bass. And he would have hated himself for it. But he hadn’t. He was here, standing just a few steps away from her, the girl who had captured his heart in ways he could never fully articulate.

Leaving the darkness that had always protected him, he sat down beside her.

#gossip girl #gossip girl fanfiction #chuck x blair #chuck bass #blair waldorf #chair #chair fanfiction #chuck x blair fanfiction #fics #*#had to borrow the summary from one of my readers #avellana you're the absolute best ily

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