without a key (2/5)
Nate, Dan, Blair, Serena. Ew, also Chuck.
PG13. 7975 words.
Summary: The girls had been like that as long as Nate had known them, opposing forces fastened together.
Note: OMG I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO TAKE THIS LONG. I just got all wrapped up in school and life and other fics, so this fell by the wayside. I hope to be better about updating in the future, because I am still really excited about writing this.
PART ONE
Nate doesn't think he'll ever get used to the Humphreys.
He's been to the loft a handful of times by now and it's always so relentlessly pleasant that it kind of makes his skin itch. Dan's dad makes them toast with Nutella and asks thoughtful, polite questions that he seems to honestly enjoy the answers to. He's always nodding and hmm-ing and asking how Nate feels, saying please call me Rufus every time Nate forgets to drop his ingrained formalities. Dan isn't even phased by any of it, only occasionally waving his dad away when he hovers too much. Mostly Dan and his dad joke with each other, tease and mock like friends.
It's bizarre.
Nate does like Dan's sister, though he barely sees her. She's very tightlipped around him ("This is not at all like her," Dan informs him) but sometimes she relaxes and lets a one-liner or a giggle slip by. She's always "working on something" in her room; the sound of the sewing machine is constant faint background noise as he and Dan watch movies or whatever else.
Nate likes it there.
"I'm surprised we haven't had the pleasure of meeting you before now, Nate," Mr. Humphrey (Rufus, Nate internally corrects) says. He always ends his statements with the name of the person he's speaking to, a little reassuring punctuation. "Have you and Dan not had any classes together all this time?"
Jenny is breezing by for a bottle of juice, one iPod earbud in. "Nate used to be friends with all the cool kids," she says. She punches Dan on the arm. "And obviously Dan isn't one."
Nate goes ever so slightly red but Dan just pinches Jenny. "Don't be a brat."
"You mean those girls you're always talking about?" Rufus asks Jenny, sounding only vaguely interested. "Blaise, or something?"
Jenny has the grace to look abashed. "Blair, Dad, jeez," she says, rolling her eyes. "And Serena." At that, she raises her eyebrows suggestively at Dan and makes a kissy face. "You remember, Dan's girlfriend."
Rufus laughs and Dan says something snarky, but Nate's spine has gone tense, rigid as a ruler.
Dan must notice because it only takes one glance at Nate for the good humor to fade from his face.
Later, after dinner, they're alone taking care of the dishes and Nate says, voice low, "You like Serena?"
"Uh…" Dan looks uncomfortable, moving the sponge in slow, intent circles. He glances towards Jenny's door (it's shut tight) but when he speaks it's so quiet that Nate doubts she'd be able to hear him anyway. "She's kind of a good scapegoat, you know?"
"Scapegoat?" Nate repeats slowly, puzzled. He takes the dish and dries it off, sets it in the drainer.
Dan gives Nate a look like he's weighing something in his head. Finally he says, "My family thinks that I'm in love with this blonde goddess who is completely out of my league, so they don't notice that I'm not dating." Nate is still confused until Dan drops his gaze and adds carefully, softly, "Not dating girls."
"Oh," Nate says. "Oh." His heartbeat speeds up a little. "Oh. So you're –"
"Gay," Dan supplies. His eyes narrow the tiniest bit. "That's not an issue for you, is it?"
"No, no," Nate says immediately. "No, of course not. I'm just…surprised."
Nate looks down at the plate in his hands, picks up the dishtowel to dry it. Dan doesn't seem gay. Nate guesses that's a stupid thing to think, but he just never would have suspected. It wouldn't even have crossed his mind.
He supposes a lot of things escape his notice. He can add that to the list of things about himself he has to change.
When the silence lingers too long, Nate says, "No one knows?"
"Not yet," Dan says. He starts on another dish, tiny circular motions. "Well. I told my best friend – her name's Vanessa – but she moved away right after. That was about a year ago." His voice takes on that bitter joking sound Nate is beginning to recognize. "Nothing like telling someone the hugest secret of your life and having them leave the state, never to contact you again."
Nate clears his throat, searches his utterly blank mind for something to say, and can only come up with, "I'm sorry."
Dan shrugs. "Just keep it to yourself, alright?"
Nate nods. He tries to act natural. "Yeah, man. You got it."
Nate doesn't mean to be, but he's kind of distant after that. It's not that Dan being gay bothers him, of course it doesn't, but somehow it just…changes things.
The Captain probably wouldn't have guessed Dan was gay either, and he's pretty vocal about that kind of thing. Before Blair, the Captain had thought Nate was gay for a while and if it hadn't been for his mother's strong-arming Nate probably would have ended up in a boatload of therapy.
Not that he isn't headed for a shit ton of therapy anyway.
Aside from Dan, though, there aren't many people who have the time of day for Nate. No one talks to him. No one invites him anywhere. He drifts from class to class like a ghost, like he's not really there, and outside of barked orders on the soccer field no one has anything to say to him. Except Dan. Nate has already begun to rely on Dan being glad to see him.
So Nate figures he'll just have to get over the gay thing, since it's not even really a thing, and he doesn't even know why it's tripping him up so badly.
"So it turns out Jenny's going to this sleepover –" There's muffled talking on the other line and then Dan corrects, "Jenny's going to a soiree this weekend and my dad's going up to Hudson to talk to my mom, so, you know, the loft is pretty much my castle for the next two days."
"That's cool," Nate offers noncommittally.
"So I thought," Dan clears his throat, "Maybe you'd want to chill? You could stay over, if you wanted…"
Nate hesitates. It would be nice to get out of his house, even for a night. "Okay," he says. "Yeah. Sounds good."
He can practically hear Dan's smile. "Good."
Hanging out at the Humphreys' is different than hanging out with Nate's other friends – no drugs or booze, like with Chuck, no millions of possible missteps like with Blair, no feelings he shouldn't be feeling, like Serena. No suits, no ties, no parties, no tuxes. No crowd ever-threatening, no one waiting with phone in hand to document Nate's latest fuck-up. Just hanging out, having pizza. This is probably what's normal, Nate thinks, and it almost makes him laugh.
"So what's the plan for tonight?" Nate asks. He's actually looking forward to whatever it is, even if it's just one of those movies Dan rattles on about that Nate pretends to listen to.
"I thought maybe we'd do a walking tour of New York underground," Dan says, straight-faced. "Visit my friends the mole people. They're great, except they only ever eat leftovers."
Nate isn't sure if he's supposed to laugh or not, so he just kind of makes a puzzled grimace.
"I'm sorry," Dan says. "I don't know why I said any of that." He closes his eyes and ducks his head, presses fingertips to his temple before spinning them in a little circle, like he's saying he's crazy or like he maybe can't find the word he's looking for. "I have this thing, this nervous tic, where I don't ever stop speaking. Like ever. In fact when I was a little, my mom used to say there was never a word I met that I didn't like."
Nate blinks at him. "I gotta agree with that."
Dan smiles, wide and abashed. His teeth are a little fucked up, Nate notices. There's a little gap. Nate wonders why he never got braces. "We can do whatever you want."
"Even if I want to visit the mole people?" Nate teases.
Dan's smile softens, goes all crinkly. "We can bring them what's left of the pizza."
What they end up doing is playing pool at a bar one subway stop away. It's one of the few things they have in common, pool, and they play a few rounds with another group of guys who are a little bit older. Dan hustles them out of seventy bucks, his expression one of complete naiveté, which he uses to buy them drinks while Nate fiddles with the jukebox. He's never really seen one outside of movies (and a theme party in the seventh grade) and it amuses him, flipping through songs he doesn't know until he finds one he does.
He and Dan get the table to themselves once the hipsters decide they don't want to cough up any more cash to Dan. Nate's impressed until he realizes Dan's hustling skills extend to him and he loses twice in a row.
"Game over!" Dan crows. He sips his beer tentatively, in tiny little sips. "There are not enough words to describe the kind of bad you are at this."
Nate laughs shortly, shaking his head. "Dude, you're some kind of pool savant. It's not my fault I keep losing."
Very seriously, Dan says, "I think you'll find that the only thing being lost in this game is your dignity."
Nate opens his mouth to retort when the song he chose comes on. "Hey, this is my song," he says, smiles.
Dan seems intrigued. "I didn't think you liked this kind of music."
"I think we've already established that there are plenty of things you don't know about me," Nate says. He expects Dan to duck his head or bite his lip, embarrassed again, and he's rewarded when Dan does both.
"You just struck me as a Top Forties kind of guy," he says.
"I like lots of things," Nate says.
"Like what?" Dan asks. Nate's about to answer when Dan's phone goes off for probably the tenth time that night. "Shit. Sorry, it's just Jenny. She's at that – you know, that sleepover thing at Blair Waldorf's and I'm being a lame older brother and making her keep me updated. Just in case."
Nate knows Blair's sleepovers are just girls, but after Kiss On the Lips he doesn't really blame Dan. "I'm sure she's fine," he says. "Blair's sleepovers are pretty innocent. Maybe psychologically scarring in the long run, but…"
"Look who found a sense of humor," Dan says, but his eyes are on the phone's tiny screen as he texts back. "I'm a good influence on you."
"Not terrible," Nate agrees.
"I just worry." Dan sighs a little as he tucks his phone away. "That crowd can be… I don't know if that's really her and I get wanting to fit in, but…I don't know."
"It's okay for her to want to be friends with the people she goes to school with," Nate says.
"Why?" There's that twist of bitterness in Dan's tone again. "I'm not."
I'm not either, Nate things, anymore. But what he says is, "If you made half the effort she did, we probably would have met a long time ago."
That gets him half a smile. "Fair enough," Dan says.
"They're just going to do girl stuff," Nate tells him. "Manicures. Dresses. Probably a few martinis and maybe some making out with random guys at a bar –"
"Making out?" Dan repeats, sounding appalled. "With random guys at a bar?"
"It's totally normal," Nate insists. "She's gonna be fine, let her have her fun." He offers, "It's nice that you worry about her. It's good."
They end the night back in Brooklyn on Dan's fire escape, Dan watching uneasily as Nate lights a joint. Nate kind of enjoys playing the corruptor for once. Nate smiles, says, "Just try it. Have some fun."
The music playing is familiar in a distant kind of way, like maybe Nate heard it in a movie. It's an uneasy sound, unsettling, a man's droning talk-singing and a woman, sharp and high, out of sync with each other. Nothing about it sounds quite natural.
"What is this?" Nate asks, nodding towards Dan's room, where the music is coming from.
As loud as hell, a ringing bell, behind my smile, it shakes my teeth.
A small smile. "I thought you knew the kind of music I liked."
"Not all of it," Nate says, rolling his eyes. Not most of it, probably. The bar was a fluke.
"Pixies," Dan says, like it's obvious. When Nate is still blank, Dan's expression becomes practically scandalized. "Consider this the beginning of your musical education, my friend."
"I like it," Nate murmurs.
"Then I guess you're not a total loss," Dan tells him. Nate punches his arm and Dan laughs.
The weed relaxes Nate, as it usually does, but if he thought Dan had a lot to say before, it's only because he hadn't known what Dan could accomplish high. He speaks in a steady stream that Nate only half-hears, tuning in and out of the conversation like a wonky radio station. Dan's voice is kind of soothing, the way his syllables drag, and the music is a harsh lull.
Then suddenly too-bright dark eyes focus on him and Dan says, "Can I ask you a question?"
Shrugging, Nate says easily, "Sure."
"A personal one?"
Nate looks at him, sitting up a little bit straighter. "I guess?"
Dan sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, hesitating. "Last year," he says. "Why'd you leave?" When Nate stills completely, Dan hurries on, "I'm sorry, I just – I was just curious and we're – we're kind of friends, right? So I thought I would ask but you don't have to – you don't have to –"
"We're friends," Nate says. It seems like an important point to make. "Not 'kind of.'"
Dan nods, says, "Cool," but seems pleased despite his nonchalance.
Nate considers it for a half a second: confessing. Telling someone, just so he's not the only one with it racketing around in his head. Dan would be a good person to tell because Dan wouldn't judge him – Nate thinks, anyway. So far Dan's been pretty cool.
I cheated on Blair, Nate thinks, taking a slow drag to kill time. He hands the joint off to Dan. I slept with her best friend.
"It was my family." Everyone knows about that now anyway: his father's downward spiral, the ruined finances, the ruined name. It's at least partly true, too. If home hadn't been so unbearable maybe he wouldn't have gotten so stoned and drunk at the wedding; if he had something to stay for maybe he wouldn't have left. Too many ifs. "I couldn't take it anymore. I just needed to get away."
Hey! the music exclaims, been dying to meet you.
Dan holds out the joint and, without thinking, Nate just puts his mouth on it, lips brushing Dan's fingers. He doesn't know why he did that. He's stoned. Dan looks a little pink but Nate bulldozes over any awkwardness, says inanely, "This is a good song too."
Noncommittally, Dan nods. "What about –" He clears his throat.
"What?"
"Your…girlfriend." Dan's painful awkwardness is vaguely endearing, the way he doesn't meet Nate's eyes.
"Blair," Nate supplies, does not add the correct prefix, ex.
"She seems to really have it out for you."
Defensively, "She's hurt." Nate drums his fingers on the metal beneath them, feeling suddenly awkward himself. "It's my fault, I – Whatever. I deserve it."
Dan looks like he doesn't believe that but all he says is, "She seems kind of intense."
Nate smiles. "She is."
Intense is a good word for Blair. Everything she does she does with everything she has to give and then some. Nate used to like being around someone who was so consumed by purpose all the time, with her causes and projects and plans. It was comforting, almost; Nate didn't know what to do with his life, but Blair had it figured out for him.
Except –
Except she was too much like his parents, laying his life out for him from his prom tux to his college course load to the house they were going to live in and the wedding they were going to have. It just became too much for Nate, became suffocating.
Serena never planned anything at all. Maybe that was better. She wasn't wound up tight like Blair, she was spiraling, drunk-bright eyes and stumbling steps. The girls had been like that as long as Nate had known them, opposing forces fastened together.
Nate looks down, blinking until his eyes clear.
The joint has burned down. Dan stubs it out and, uncertainly, says, "You said you – you said you deserved it. Because you left?"
"We're not that close, Dan," Nate snaps. It comes out much too sharply, born of his being momentarily overwhelmed. Dan is clearly chastised, which makes Nate feel guilty. He remembers that as far as he knows, Dan has one secret in the world and he shared it with Nate. And when everyone else buzzed with gossip after the Ivy mixer, Dan just came to see how he was.
More mildly, Nate says, "I just don't want to talk about Blair, okay?"
The song changes, a quirky little melody and a low wolf-whistle. "It was funny – well, not funny," Dan says, "But you left the same time Vanessa did. Around the same time, anyway. I remember because I was miserable already and then I went to school and everyone was talking about you."
Nate doesn't get the connection. And, really, he doesn't need reminding that he's everyone's favorite topic of conversation. "Yeah?" he murmurs, uninterested. "You were close?"
"My only friend," Dan says with that self-deprecating grin.
It's strange that Dan's been here this whole time but Nate never knew him.
"She was my first girlfriend, sort of," Dan continues. "We were ten. I gave her a Valentine Jenny made. It had Justin Timberlake on it. That should have been her first tip-off."
By the time he was ten, Nate was already latched onto Blair, making it official with their first kiss a year later. If you could even call it a kiss, they were just kids.
"I'm guessing it didn't end well?" Nate says, smiling a little.
"Well." Dan smiles back – smirks, really. "She started looking at other boys. And so did I."
Nate laughs but that shiver of discomfort races up his spine. He wishes he'd brought more weed with him. "You didn't always know? I've heard…that usually, people always know."
"I guess." Dan half-shrugs. "I didn't really think about it much. Until it became impossible not to think about."
Nate has a million more questions but he swallows them down. He doesn't want to be impolite.
"Vanessa was my first kiss," Dan says, and laughs, possibly at some memory Nate doesn't share. He bites his lip, self-conscious as he looks up at Nate and says, "Last, too."
The last person Nate kissed was Serena. It feels so long ago, ages ago. He can't even really remember it, it's all a blur of hair and skin and light. He always thought her mouth was fantastic for smiling but he can't remember what it was like for kissing, not at all.
Dan has a nicely shaped mouth, his lips a little pursing bow. Serena's was made for wide, toothy grins. Nate likes how Dan's mouth draws together in a pout when Dan is frowning, like he is now, and then Dan's lips part in surprise when Nate kisses him and Nate doesn't even remember deciding to lean forward.
Fuck, Nate thinks. He tries not to jump back like he's been scalded but he can't disguise his flinch. "I'm sorry."
Dan's eyes are wide. "It's okay."
Nate's first instinct is to bolt (that's always his first instinct) but then there's a sound in the apartment, the door banging open and footsteps following. Dan turns towards it, calls, "Dad? Jen?"
"It's me!" Jenny pipes. She appears at Dan's doorway wearing a yellow dress and glittering black jacket, her hair loose and wavy.
"That's not what we sent you out in," Dan says disapprovingly.
She looks down at herself, smiling. "It's nice, right? I love the jacket."
Dan glances at Nate and raises an eyebrow before looking back at Jenny. "A little Aladdin Sane, but yeah. It's nice. Aren't you supposed to be straggling back tomorrow morning?"
"The night ended early," Jenny says, but she sounds satisfied by that. She declares, "It was a good night for the Humphreys. I'm going to order food, all I had at Blair's was two grapes."
Then she disappears in a toss of blonde hair.
"I knew that sleepover was trouble," Dan mutters, turning to climb back in the window. He looks back. "You coming?"
Nate swallows, nods. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."
Nate stays at the Humphreys' through the weekend and it's not until Monday morning, two blocks from St. Jude's, that he works up the nerve to mention the almost-sort-of kiss.
"You know, the other night," he starts awkwardly, "on your fire escape, I was – I was high."
Dan looks at him, eyebrows raised high in amusement. "Are you referring to you kissing me?"
Nate ducks his head, looks away to the other side of the street. He doesn't get how Dan can just say things. "Really high," he says. "It didn't – I wasn't trying to, uh, make a move on you or – or make fun of you, or anything like that."
Everything sardonic in Dan's expression smoothes away. "It's really okay," he says.
Nate's not convinced. "You sure?"
Dan rolls his eyes a little, in good humor. "Look, you're cute and everything," he says, looks Nate up and down in a way that makes him overly aware of his skin, "Very cute. But you're not my type."
Nate presses his lips together, not sure if he wants to smile or grimace and so does neither. "Oh?"
"Yup." Dan sighs, exaggerated and long-suffering. "That whole blue eyes, tousled hair, charming smile thing – does nothing for me."
Nate laughs. "Oh yeah? Then what does?"
They've gotten closer to the school now, similar navy jackets and ties echoed in the throng of boys around them. Dan scans the crowd and makes his choice, pointing discreetly at a tall boy with lightish curly hair. "He's alright."
"Dude," Nate says, shaking his head, "That's Evan Hale. He's a cheap date."
Dan laughs. "It's okay, I'm a cheap date too."
"Don't put yourself down," Nate jokes. "You deserve a nice guy."
Dan laughs again and Nate likes that, that he can make Dan laugh. Nate isn't funny. He never makes people laugh. Except Blair, sometimes, and then there was always the feeling that she was laughing at him, just a little bit.
Absently, Nate thinks that it's nice walking to school with someone again.
To get from English to gym, Nate's last class of the day, he has to cut across one of the girls' hallways. The girls' halls have been a danger zone for as long as Nate can remember, long before he was a social pariah (that's what Dan called him, and Nate had nodded along and looked it up later on his own, so he wouldn't seem dumb). Before, when he'd been with Blair, he got all kinds of looks and giggles, girls sidling up to him asking if whatever latest story Blair was selling about their relationship was really true. Nate would grin and confirm everything, be rewarded with little sighs, how romantic.
It looks the same, now: he still receives whispers and giggles as he makes his way past the lockers, but the sound of them has changed. Now the girls narrow their eyes, the whispering is almost a hiss.
And there is always the danger of running into Blair or Serena. He doesn't know which would be worse. But today is his day to find out – there, five feet from the entrance to the gym, surrounded by brightly dressed girls, is Blair. She's in a white polo and a tight red skirt, hair pulled back. She must have gym right before he does. They're all laughing; it's nice to se Blair smile, her cheeks dimpling, her face open in a way it rarely is.
Until she spots him. Then her expression slams shut.
After the Ivy mixer, to Nate's complete lack of surprise, his mother's rhetoric had barely changed. Blair is hurt, she'd said, And I understand why. If you could just apologize, Nathaniel –
"Hi," he says slowly.
Tightly, Blair says, "Hello." She turns a sharp eye on the gathered girls. "You're dismissed!"
They scatter.
"That's new," he remarks. They never used to be so attentive to her.
"Lots of things changed while you were gone," Blair says.
Nate shifts awkwardly side to side. "How is your mom doing? With the divorce and everything?"
Her mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. "Great." Her tone is falsely chipper. "So my dad left her for another man. She lost fifteen pounds and got an eyelift. It's been good for her."
Nate looks at the tiled floor, at his shoes. "I'm really sorry."
"Yes," Blair says, and the falseness almost gives way to biting. "I could tell. Because you didn't call or write the entire time it was happening."
"I –" he starts, falters.
But Blair is gaining speed, words spilling out. "You didn't even tell me why you left. Do you know what it was like to call your house and have your maid say, 'Oh, you didn't know? Nate moved to Connecticut.' You didn't even have the decency to break up with me first. Was I supposed to wait for you, Nate? Sit by the phone and pray and pray for you to come home?"
Her voice cracks a little then and he thinks maybe Blair would have done that, has done that, until she couldn't stand it anymore.
"I just –I didn't expect you to wait. I had to get away from – from everything, my dad -"
"From me?" she says, low and dangerous.
The bell rings; they both ignore it.
Nate looks at her, unsure and unwilling to answer, but he figures honesty (honesty-adjacent, at least) is the best policy. "Yes. But not for the reasons you think."
She takes a quick, deep breath and Nate knows immediately he said the wrong thing. She wanted the lie. "I'm seeing someone else," Blair says, firmly. "I've moved on." I didn't wait for you. There is no clearer way for her to say it.
Nate only hears his mother's voice in his head; that's all he seems to hear lately. If we don't do everything we can to keep the friends we've got, we're going to be left with nothing.
He knows why his mom wants him to make nice with Blair. Even with the scandal that rocked the Waldorfs, they're a good family to have on their side. They're good at rebuilding, reworking, shifting gossip so it works to their advantage. Eleanor's company would look good affiliated with his father's, might smooth the cracks in his dad's ruined career just a little, just enough that they'd have something to work with. Nate's resistant to all of this, because all of it is bullshit.
He knows why he wants to make nice with Blair. He's ashamed of what he did, ashamed of how he hurt her, ashamed that everything they had was ruined by his fuckup. He wanted one thing and he got it, but the fallout left him with nothing; he thought leaving could someone preserve them, as though lives could be put on ice and picked up later. He's only made it all worse.
He wants to make up with Blair because he wants her to be happy. He wants her and Serena to be happy.
"Remember," he starts softly, "how I used to walk you to each of your classes every day? I was always late, because of that."
"Nate," Blair says warningly.
"I know I messed up by leaving," Nate says, finally meeting her eyes. "I know that. But things at home were – they were bad and I – I felt like I couldn't breathe. And I just had to go. I'm sorry. I wasn't…I wasn't thinking. I know you hate me and I deserve it, but I… I want us to just be decent to each other, at least. Because even though you hate me, you still…" He swallows. This comes easily because every word is true. "You still mean a lot to me."
Blair surveys him, utterly unreadable, and says only, "You're late for class, Nate."
He sighs. "Yeah. You too."
Blair gives him another long look and then moves past him; he thinks she might slam her shoulder into his to make a point, like he's seen her do to girls she doesn't like, but she doesn't even come close to touching him.
He goes to gym, gets scolded, feels miserable. But on his way out of the building a chipper blonde who he thinks is called Hazel accosts him, shoving an envelope into his hand with a wide grin.
"It's from Blair," she says cheerfully and then disappears.
Nate opens it warily, scanning the sparse type on the creamy white paper. It's an invitation to Blair's birthday. Nate starts to smile, feeling the most honest relief he's felt since the night on Dan's fire escape, and thinks maybe it's not all ruined after all.
Dan calls just as Nate is falling asleep, already mid-rant by the time Nate picks up the phone. It's a steady stream of words Nate doesn't know how to interrupt – "And really," is where he begins to catch on, "who is she kidding, just waltzing back into our lives? I can't believe she left in the first place, but to lie and say she was coming back when she wasn't and – and to just swan in now –"
"Whoa, whoa, dude," Nate interjects as soon as Dan pauses to draw breath. "What are you talking about? Who came back?"
"Oh." Dan is silent for a second. "Uh, my mom. Sorry, I should've prefaced."
They've never talked about Dan's mom. Nate had just assumed his parents were divorced. "She was gone?"
"Yeah…" He can hear the soft sounds of Dan fidgeting, then Dan launches into the whole story – his mother going away for the summer but not coming back, the affair Dan found out about by accident, her return. "It's like she wants to pick up where we left off, but it's impossible."
"Aren't you glad she's back?"
"Yeah, but she still left. It was like –" Dan sighs. "Vanessa left, then –" He clears his throat. "And then my mom left, it was like…everyone was gone, and it sucked, and now she just wants it to be fine but I'm – I'm still angry."
The fact that Dan's list of everyone amounts to two people kind of breaks Nate's heart, though he knows Dan is exaggerating. But Nate…Nate gets the leaving thing, of course he does.
"She didn't leave because she didn't care," Nate says. He doesn't know Dan's mom, but he knows Dan's family and they don't want for love. "She just…had to, I guess. I don't know why. Sometimes people need to leave. Sometimes it's better that way. Or they think it'll be better that way."
Dan's quiet, then, "People don't give you enough credit."
It's the kind of compliment that also sort of feels like an insult, but Nate knows Dan meant it well and he feels warmed by the thought that Dan thinks he deserves any credit at all for anything. "I'm going to Blair's birthday party," Nate says suddenly, "I want you to come with me."
Dan laughs softly. "You asking me on a date?"
Nate laughs too. "Yup. You and Jenny, if she wants to come."
Dan sounds slightly less amused when he says, "Blair Waldorf has no idea who I am."
"But I know who you are," Nate counters. "And you're my friend, I like you, which means that Blair should like you too. It's math."
"How is that math?" Dan says, laughing again.
Nate smiles, pleased once more that he's able to do that – make Dan laugh. "I like you and Blair likes me – well, actually Blair kind of hates me, but she used to like me and she did invite me, so…She should like who I like. Math."
"And he wonders why he's failing algebra," Dan says, but it's good-natured. "Alright. Do I have to buy her a gift?"
"Yeah," Nate says, "But let Jenny do it."
"Jenny is going to die," Dan says. "You've made her week. Nay, her year."
"Yours too?"
"Always," Dan says. "You fill my life with light and joy, Archibald."
"Don't get all gay on me," Nate teases.
"Sorry, sorry," Dan says. "I'll be straighter. You fill my life with – with, uh, beer? And football? And those backwards trucker hats?"
Nate laughs. "Dude, don't even try."
Jenny is all a-twitter on the walk up to Kati's brother's place, covering up Dan and Nate's silence with chatter. Nate is all nerves – his mother had sat him down that afternoon and tried to pawn off her engagement ring on him, ridiculously, and hadn't given up on the idea until Nate stormed off. He brought Blair a small, less extravagant, less impressive gift instead; a gift that makes no promises. He assumes Dan is also nervous, though he doesn't try to assume why.
"I made her a card, she's probably going to hate it," Jenny says, "I was going to buy her something, but she probably wouldn't have liked it, and then I thought I'd make her something – like, a dress, maybe – but she'd like that even less and I didn't know what else to –"
"Breathe, Jen," Dan says. "Don't worry about it, Blair won't like whatever it is."
Jenny rolls her eyes, gives him a light shove. "Nice, Dan."
Kati's brother's place is done up in full Blair-sanctioned style, anime projected against the walls and neon lights overhead, sake and fresh sushi. Blair sits near her pile of presents, her black dress stark against all the whimsy. Serena is giggling by her side, already drunk.
"You made it," Blair notes wryly, reaching out for gifts before even saying a proper hello. Her gaze slides over Jenny, who is dressed to fit the theme, all bows and frills with her hair in crisp curls. "Little J, it's not a Halloween party."
Jenny's eyes stray to Kati and Iz in their matching sailor suits. "Right. I just thought…"
Dan opens his mouth to interject, that little furrow of irritation forming between his brows, and Nate knows that whatever Dan says, it won't be good. So he interrupts instead. "I think Jenny looks nice," he says brightly.
Nervously, Jenny smiles.
Blair snorts. "You would. All my training clearly had no effect." She turns, waving them along. "Come on, have something to eat."
Dan looks at him, eyes slightly narrowed. Nate shrugs and gives him a push to follow Blair.
"Beeeeee," Serena says, letting the syllable drag. She's hanging back, feet planted like a kid, and her fingers are curled around Blair's wrist. "B. B, I want to play Guitar Hero, play with me."
"Play with Nate," Blair says dismissively. "I don't even like that game."
Serena slides Nate a sidelong look and pauses noticeably before saying, "Nate's not good at it."
There's a beat of awkwardness and then Jenny pipes up, "Dan is really good at Guitar Hero. And the actual guitar. He's super talented. He can play with you."
It strikes Nate as totally weird until he remembers that Dan's whole family thinks he has a crush on Serena. So of course Jenny would jump to help her brother out; they're that kind of people. Jenny means well. She's being sweet.
She means well, but she is still the next one on the receiving end of Dan's narrow-eyed glare.
Serena turns to Dan, hands clasped, and says solemnly, "I played the flute in junior high."
Just as seriously, Dan tells her, "We could start a band."
A slow smile spreads across Serena's face. "We should probably practice first. To see if we're compatible."
Dan smiles a little too, holding out a hand that Serena takes. Nate watches them go with something like disbelief, frowning.
"Well look at that," Blair says, sounding amused. She doesn't elaborate, however, instead tugging on Nate's sleeve. "Come on, I'm going to make you do 'I'm sorry' shots."
Reluctantly, Nate allows himself to be pulled away.
"Where's your boyfriend?" he asks, trying not to sound jealous.
Blair shrugs, waving a hand. "He might be somewhere around here," she says, very pointedly casual. "If no, I'm sure he'll be here by midnight. Now." She pats the barstool next to her. "Time to make apologies."
He does shots until Blair deems herself satisfied. She watches him the entire time with a very focused, half-suspicious stare; it reminds him of Dan, really. Nate used to be better at holding his liquor but he's out of practice, so he's dizzy and nauseous almost immediately. It's probably half nerves, at least, but instead of relaxing him the alcohol puts him on edge.
Blair and the girls are laughing again, maybe at him, as Nate unsteadily gets to his feet. He balances with one hand on the wall, making his way slowly and carefully. He tries to find Dan and Serena in the slightly shiny-blurry crowd and spots them still playing. Serena is totally rocking out, tossing her hair back and forth, spinning, for all appearances having the best time anyone has ever had playing Guitar Hero. And Dan is watching her with a huge grin, laughing. He's laughing harder than Nate has ever seen him laugh, and it almost makes him seem like a different person. He cheers louder than anyone when Serena finishes with a twirling flourish.
It bothers Nate, annoys him, and he doesn't know why.
"Having fun, Nathaniel?"
Still frowning, Nate turns to see Chuck observing him. "I guess."
"Haven't seen much of you since Blair told everyone your father was a cokehead," Chuck says. He leans on the wall next to Nate, sipping scotch in that on-purpose way of his. He's wearing a suit and an ascot. Nate is wearing jeans and a blazer, but only because he wanted Blair to think he put an effort in. "Embarrassed to show your face?"
"Sure," Nate says. He faces away from Chuck again. "That must be it."
"I heard you were holed up in Brooklyn, of all places."
"I wasn't holed up anywhere."
"Someone's acting like a little bitch," Chuck says, amused. "Is it your family that's getting you down, Nathaniel? Or is it being in the same room with one girl you fucked and one girl you never did?"
Nate spins on the spot, half terrified someone heard but mostly just angry. But he's too drunk for moving that briskly and he has to put his hand on Chuck's shoulder so he doesn't fall or vomit or something. "You need to stop," he says.
Chuck's eyes shift to a spot over Nate's shoulder. "Looks like your new best friend is stealing your girlfriend."
Nate doesn't give in to the temptation to look around. "I don't have a girlfriend," he says, pushing Chuck back against the wall hard before leaving.
He goes outside to gulp some fresh air, leaning heavily on the railing.
"Are you okay?"
People have got to stop appearing over his shoulder. "Yeah," Nate sighs, as Dan steps up next to him. "I'm okay."
Dan nudges a bottle of water into Nate's hand. "Blair put you through a set of trials, huh?"
Nate's honestly surprised he noticed, since he was so caught up with Serena. "Nah, that's nothing for Blair. She's not even warming up yet." He glances at Dan, unscrewing the bottle cap. "You and Serena were having fun."
Dan smiles a little, genuinely. "She is fun."
Nate nods. He swallows water but wishes it was more booze, feels more unsettled by Chuck than he wants to admit to himself. Chuck was never the kind of person you trusted with secrets; he liked to hold on to them, wait for the right moment, and then expose them, reveling in the ensuing destruction like some people watch movies. Nate used to think that was funny, because it was never leveled at him.
Dan is studying him. "Are you okay?"
"I –" Nate pushes the bottle back at him, stumbles down a few steps, and sits heavily. He drops his face into his hands. "I shouldn't've come."
Dan takes a seat too. "Why not?"
"It's too…" Nate shakes his head. "It's too hard. It's – It's not fair, trying to get Blair to forgive me, acting normal, when…" He sighs.
"Your family's just going through a rough patch," Dan says. "It's not your fault. You just have to – to stick it out. Like…me with my mom. I know the situations don't really compare, but –"
"It's not that," Nate interrupts. His voice is soft, heart suddenly hammering. "It's not – it's not family stuff."
"Oh," Dan says. "Uh. You know, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to–"
"I do want to," Nate says, surprising himself. He just wants to say it so badly. He wants someone to know besides himself and Chuck. He wants someone to tell him he's not an awful person, not a piece of shit, even though he wouldn't be able to agree. But he likes the way Dan looks at him, that friendly open look, and it's so new that he's even more hesitant to lose it.
"Hey." Dan bumps his shoulder against Nate's gently. "It's alright, man. We're friends, right?"
Nate nods, opens his mouth, shuts it. "I –" he starts again, "I –" then in a rush, "I slept with Serena."
There is silence for a moment and Nate fears the worst. He can't look at Dan and he's hyper-conscious of the sounds of the party through the door, laughter and music and talking, the street sounds of cars and people walking their dogs.
"Oh," Dan says again. "Is that why you…why you left?"
Nate nods, ducking his head out of embarrassment.
Evenly, "Do you love Serena?"
"No," Nate says automatically, but it rings hollow, "Maybe. I don't – I don't know."
Dan nods and doesn't say anything else. Do you hate me? Nate wants to ask, but doesn't. He's can't look at Dan for some reason, strangely worried about what Dan is thinking, what he'll say. He wonders if he's not the person Dan thought he was.
Dan takes a few long swallows from the water bottle and then says, "Well, are you still in love with Blair?"
Nate presses his lips together. "I don't know."
"Then," Dan says slowly, "You should probably figure it out."
Nate looks at him then. "That's…it?"
Dan shrugs. "It's…your life, you know. You can't wish your problems away, but you already knew that since it just got worse when you left. I don't know your life before, so I can't talk about it. But I think if you really wanted to be with Blair, you probably wouldn't have cheated on her. And if you really wanted to be with Serena, then you probably would have stayed."
Nate frowns a little. "It's not like that. You're making it sound like it's easy."
Dan tilts his head a little and his face is kind of unreadable when he says, "I think if you know what you want, then it is."
Nate sighs. "So. Figure it out."
"Figure it out," Dan agrees. He drops a hand onto Nate's shoulder and gives him a little shake. "Maybe don't drink so much."
Nate snorts. "Yeah, yeah."
They make their way back inside, where everyone is gathering around Blair and her birthday cake. In the dim room, she's silhouetted against the bright flare of numerous birthday candles – the black bell of skirt, her small waist, the elaborate pinned-up hair. Her hand is tucked into the bend of Serena's arm and they couldn't present more of a difference, standing there. Blair half-smiles, intent as she leans in to blow out her candles; Serena is beaming, hair loose, and she cheers loudly. Nate thinks she might shine brighter than the candles.
"Go on," Dan gives him a push, "Go say happy birthday."
Nate makes his way through the press of people just as Blair turns. Her eyes widen a little and her eyebrow arches. "I thought you'd left," she says.
Nate shakes his head. "It's almost midnight," he says. "I had to tell you happy birthday."
Her expression softens slightly. "Oh. Well. Thank you."
Nate remembers however many years of midnights on her birthday – back when they were still too young to be up so late, he would call her in the secret darkness of his room, tucked up in bed with his phone pressed to his ear. Later on he was usually with her. She would blow out her candles and then they would kiss, right when the clock hit twelve-oh-one.
"I have a present," Nate says, feeling suddenly sheepish. "For you." He hadn't put it on the huge pile with Jenny and Dan's; he's not sure why. He guesses he wanted her to have it right from him.
Blair looks at the wrapped box as he pulls it from his pocket. Nate had done it himself, mostly, though the maid had helped. "You didn't have to."
"Yeah, I did," Nate says. He holds it out. "I know you...usually put stuff on hold. But I didn't want to… I mean, I saw this and it made me think of you. So. That's why I got it."
Both her eyebrows raise, curious and still somehow doubtful. She lets the wrapping paper fall carelessly to the floor and opens the box to find a silver charm bracelet. "Nate," she says, a little sigh in her voice. She lifts it up. It dangles a mismatched bunch of charms – an ice skate, a heart, and a tiny key, amongst others. Nate had found in a thrift store he'd gone to with Dan. He'd bought it as is, only adding one charm – a letter B.
"It's…old," he prefaces. "I know you might not like it…"
"It's incredibly childish and tacky," Blair says. "Not my style at all." She holds out her wrist. "Fasten it for me."
Nate half-smiles. He takes her wrist, pulling her a little bit closer. Her wrist is so slim and delicate between his fingers; somehow he'd never noticed before. The bracelet is a little too big on her as she jangles it around.
"Did, uh…" Nate looks around briefly. "Did your boyfriend make it?"
Blair looks up at him and her lips purse briefly before smoothing back into expressionlessness. "No," she says. "I don't think he did. We've been…fighting. Lately."
"I'm sorry," he says. But he's not, really.
"Yes, well –" Blair's gaze shifts up over his shoulder and her face splits into a wide, utterly false grin. "Cameron!" she exclaims. "We were just talking about you!" She moves past Nate and launches herself into Cameron's arms. He laughs. Her bracelet makes a faint tinkling sound.
"Couldn't miss the whole thing, could I?" he says, slinging an arm around her shoulder and beginning to lead her off.
"You certainly made me wait," Blair says. She doesn't even look back at Nate.
Dan appears at Nate's shoulder with two plates of cake, one of which he hands over. He must've been waiting. "Tough break," he says. He takes a bite. "This cake is awesome though."
Nate laughs quietly. "That's something, I guess."
Nate, Dan, Blair, Serena. Ew, also Chuck.
PG13. 7975 words.
Summary: The girls had been like that as long as Nate had known them, opposing forces fastened together.
Note: OMG I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO TAKE THIS LONG. I just got all wrapped up in school and life and other fics, so this fell by the wayside. I hope to be better about updating in the future, because I am still really excited about writing this.
PART ONE
Nate doesn't think he'll ever get used to the Humphreys.
He's been to the loft a handful of times by now and it's always so relentlessly pleasant that it kind of makes his skin itch. Dan's dad makes them toast with Nutella and asks thoughtful, polite questions that he seems to honestly enjoy the answers to. He's always nodding and hmm-ing and asking how Nate feels, saying please call me Rufus every time Nate forgets to drop his ingrained formalities. Dan isn't even phased by any of it, only occasionally waving his dad away when he hovers too much. Mostly Dan and his dad joke with each other, tease and mock like friends.
It's bizarre.
Nate does like Dan's sister, though he barely sees her. She's very tightlipped around him ("This is not at all like her," Dan informs him) but sometimes she relaxes and lets a one-liner or a giggle slip by. She's always "working on something" in her room; the sound of the sewing machine is constant faint background noise as he and Dan watch movies or whatever else.
Nate likes it there.
"I'm surprised we haven't had the pleasure of meeting you before now, Nate," Mr. Humphrey (Rufus, Nate internally corrects) says. He always ends his statements with the name of the person he's speaking to, a little reassuring punctuation. "Have you and Dan not had any classes together all this time?"
Jenny is breezing by for a bottle of juice, one iPod earbud in. "Nate used to be friends with all the cool kids," she says. She punches Dan on the arm. "And obviously Dan isn't one."
Nate goes ever so slightly red but Dan just pinches Jenny. "Don't be a brat."
"You mean those girls you're always talking about?" Rufus asks Jenny, sounding only vaguely interested. "Blaise, or something?"
Jenny has the grace to look abashed. "Blair, Dad, jeez," she says, rolling her eyes. "And Serena." At that, she raises her eyebrows suggestively at Dan and makes a kissy face. "You remember, Dan's girlfriend."
Rufus laughs and Dan says something snarky, but Nate's spine has gone tense, rigid as a ruler.
Dan must notice because it only takes one glance at Nate for the good humor to fade from his face.
Later, after dinner, they're alone taking care of the dishes and Nate says, voice low, "You like Serena?"
"Uh…" Dan looks uncomfortable, moving the sponge in slow, intent circles. He glances towards Jenny's door (it's shut tight) but when he speaks it's so quiet that Nate doubts she'd be able to hear him anyway. "She's kind of a good scapegoat, you know?"
"Scapegoat?" Nate repeats slowly, puzzled. He takes the dish and dries it off, sets it in the drainer.
Dan gives Nate a look like he's weighing something in his head. Finally he says, "My family thinks that I'm in love with this blonde goddess who is completely out of my league, so they don't notice that I'm not dating." Nate is still confused until Dan drops his gaze and adds carefully, softly, "Not dating girls."
"Oh," Nate says. "Oh." His heartbeat speeds up a little. "Oh. So you're –"
"Gay," Dan supplies. His eyes narrow the tiniest bit. "That's not an issue for you, is it?"
"No, no," Nate says immediately. "No, of course not. I'm just…surprised."
Nate looks down at the plate in his hands, picks up the dishtowel to dry it. Dan doesn't seem gay. Nate guesses that's a stupid thing to think, but he just never would have suspected. It wouldn't even have crossed his mind.
He supposes a lot of things escape his notice. He can add that to the list of things about himself he has to change.
When the silence lingers too long, Nate says, "No one knows?"
"Not yet," Dan says. He starts on another dish, tiny circular motions. "Well. I told my best friend – her name's Vanessa – but she moved away right after. That was about a year ago." His voice takes on that bitter joking sound Nate is beginning to recognize. "Nothing like telling someone the hugest secret of your life and having them leave the state, never to contact you again."
Nate clears his throat, searches his utterly blank mind for something to say, and can only come up with, "I'm sorry."
Dan shrugs. "Just keep it to yourself, alright?"
Nate nods. He tries to act natural. "Yeah, man. You got it."
Nate doesn't mean to be, but he's kind of distant after that. It's not that Dan being gay bothers him, of course it doesn't, but somehow it just…changes things.
The Captain probably wouldn't have guessed Dan was gay either, and he's pretty vocal about that kind of thing. Before Blair, the Captain had thought Nate was gay for a while and if it hadn't been for his mother's strong-arming Nate probably would have ended up in a boatload of therapy.
Not that he isn't headed for a shit ton of therapy anyway.
Aside from Dan, though, there aren't many people who have the time of day for Nate. No one talks to him. No one invites him anywhere. He drifts from class to class like a ghost, like he's not really there, and outside of barked orders on the soccer field no one has anything to say to him. Except Dan. Nate has already begun to rely on Dan being glad to see him.
So Nate figures he'll just have to get over the gay thing, since it's not even really a thing, and he doesn't even know why it's tripping him up so badly.
"So it turns out Jenny's going to this sleepover –" There's muffled talking on the other line and then Dan corrects, "Jenny's going to a soiree this weekend and my dad's going up to Hudson to talk to my mom, so, you know, the loft is pretty much my castle for the next two days."
"That's cool," Nate offers noncommittally.
"So I thought," Dan clears his throat, "Maybe you'd want to chill? You could stay over, if you wanted…"
Nate hesitates. It would be nice to get out of his house, even for a night. "Okay," he says. "Yeah. Sounds good."
He can practically hear Dan's smile. "Good."
Hanging out at the Humphreys' is different than hanging out with Nate's other friends – no drugs or booze, like with Chuck, no millions of possible missteps like with Blair, no feelings he shouldn't be feeling, like Serena. No suits, no ties, no parties, no tuxes. No crowd ever-threatening, no one waiting with phone in hand to document Nate's latest fuck-up. Just hanging out, having pizza. This is probably what's normal, Nate thinks, and it almost makes him laugh.
"So what's the plan for tonight?" Nate asks. He's actually looking forward to whatever it is, even if it's just one of those movies Dan rattles on about that Nate pretends to listen to.
"I thought maybe we'd do a walking tour of New York underground," Dan says, straight-faced. "Visit my friends the mole people. They're great, except they only ever eat leftovers."
Nate isn't sure if he's supposed to laugh or not, so he just kind of makes a puzzled grimace.
"I'm sorry," Dan says. "I don't know why I said any of that." He closes his eyes and ducks his head, presses fingertips to his temple before spinning them in a little circle, like he's saying he's crazy or like he maybe can't find the word he's looking for. "I have this thing, this nervous tic, where I don't ever stop speaking. Like ever. In fact when I was a little, my mom used to say there was never a word I met that I didn't like."
Nate blinks at him. "I gotta agree with that."
Dan smiles, wide and abashed. His teeth are a little fucked up, Nate notices. There's a little gap. Nate wonders why he never got braces. "We can do whatever you want."
"Even if I want to visit the mole people?" Nate teases.
Dan's smile softens, goes all crinkly. "We can bring them what's left of the pizza."
What they end up doing is playing pool at a bar one subway stop away. It's one of the few things they have in common, pool, and they play a few rounds with another group of guys who are a little bit older. Dan hustles them out of seventy bucks, his expression one of complete naiveté, which he uses to buy them drinks while Nate fiddles with the jukebox. He's never really seen one outside of movies (and a theme party in the seventh grade) and it amuses him, flipping through songs he doesn't know until he finds one he does.
He and Dan get the table to themselves once the hipsters decide they don't want to cough up any more cash to Dan. Nate's impressed until he realizes Dan's hustling skills extend to him and he loses twice in a row.
"Game over!" Dan crows. He sips his beer tentatively, in tiny little sips. "There are not enough words to describe the kind of bad you are at this."
Nate laughs shortly, shaking his head. "Dude, you're some kind of pool savant. It's not my fault I keep losing."
Very seriously, Dan says, "I think you'll find that the only thing being lost in this game is your dignity."
Nate opens his mouth to retort when the song he chose comes on. "Hey, this is my song," he says, smiles.
Dan seems intrigued. "I didn't think you liked this kind of music."
"I think we've already established that there are plenty of things you don't know about me," Nate says. He expects Dan to duck his head or bite his lip, embarrassed again, and he's rewarded when Dan does both.
"You just struck me as a Top Forties kind of guy," he says.
"I like lots of things," Nate says.
"Like what?" Dan asks. Nate's about to answer when Dan's phone goes off for probably the tenth time that night. "Shit. Sorry, it's just Jenny. She's at that – you know, that sleepover thing at Blair Waldorf's and I'm being a lame older brother and making her keep me updated. Just in case."
Nate knows Blair's sleepovers are just girls, but after Kiss On the Lips he doesn't really blame Dan. "I'm sure she's fine," he says. "Blair's sleepovers are pretty innocent. Maybe psychologically scarring in the long run, but…"
"Look who found a sense of humor," Dan says, but his eyes are on the phone's tiny screen as he texts back. "I'm a good influence on you."
"Not terrible," Nate agrees.
"I just worry." Dan sighs a little as he tucks his phone away. "That crowd can be… I don't know if that's really her and I get wanting to fit in, but…I don't know."
"It's okay for her to want to be friends with the people she goes to school with," Nate says.
"Why?" There's that twist of bitterness in Dan's tone again. "I'm not."
I'm not either, Nate things, anymore. But what he says is, "If you made half the effort she did, we probably would have met a long time ago."
That gets him half a smile. "Fair enough," Dan says.
"They're just going to do girl stuff," Nate tells him. "Manicures. Dresses. Probably a few martinis and maybe some making out with random guys at a bar –"
"Making out?" Dan repeats, sounding appalled. "With random guys at a bar?"
"It's totally normal," Nate insists. "She's gonna be fine, let her have her fun." He offers, "It's nice that you worry about her. It's good."
They end the night back in Brooklyn on Dan's fire escape, Dan watching uneasily as Nate lights a joint. Nate kind of enjoys playing the corruptor for once. Nate smiles, says, "Just try it. Have some fun."
The music playing is familiar in a distant kind of way, like maybe Nate heard it in a movie. It's an uneasy sound, unsettling, a man's droning talk-singing and a woman, sharp and high, out of sync with each other. Nothing about it sounds quite natural.
"What is this?" Nate asks, nodding towards Dan's room, where the music is coming from.
As loud as hell, a ringing bell, behind my smile, it shakes my teeth.
A small smile. "I thought you knew the kind of music I liked."
"Not all of it," Nate says, rolling his eyes. Not most of it, probably. The bar was a fluke.
"Pixies," Dan says, like it's obvious. When Nate is still blank, Dan's expression becomes practically scandalized. "Consider this the beginning of your musical education, my friend."
"I like it," Nate murmurs.
"Then I guess you're not a total loss," Dan tells him. Nate punches his arm and Dan laughs.
The weed relaxes Nate, as it usually does, but if he thought Dan had a lot to say before, it's only because he hadn't known what Dan could accomplish high. He speaks in a steady stream that Nate only half-hears, tuning in and out of the conversation like a wonky radio station. Dan's voice is kind of soothing, the way his syllables drag, and the music is a harsh lull.
Then suddenly too-bright dark eyes focus on him and Dan says, "Can I ask you a question?"
Shrugging, Nate says easily, "Sure."
"A personal one?"
Nate looks at him, sitting up a little bit straighter. "I guess?"
Dan sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, hesitating. "Last year," he says. "Why'd you leave?" When Nate stills completely, Dan hurries on, "I'm sorry, I just – I was just curious and we're – we're kind of friends, right? So I thought I would ask but you don't have to – you don't have to –"
"We're friends," Nate says. It seems like an important point to make. "Not 'kind of.'"
Dan nods, says, "Cool," but seems pleased despite his nonchalance.
Nate considers it for a half a second: confessing. Telling someone, just so he's not the only one with it racketing around in his head. Dan would be a good person to tell because Dan wouldn't judge him – Nate thinks, anyway. So far Dan's been pretty cool.
I cheated on Blair, Nate thinks, taking a slow drag to kill time. He hands the joint off to Dan. I slept with her best friend.
"It was my family." Everyone knows about that now anyway: his father's downward spiral, the ruined finances, the ruined name. It's at least partly true, too. If home hadn't been so unbearable maybe he wouldn't have gotten so stoned and drunk at the wedding; if he had something to stay for maybe he wouldn't have left. Too many ifs. "I couldn't take it anymore. I just needed to get away."
Hey! the music exclaims, been dying to meet you.
Dan holds out the joint and, without thinking, Nate just puts his mouth on it, lips brushing Dan's fingers. He doesn't know why he did that. He's stoned. Dan looks a little pink but Nate bulldozes over any awkwardness, says inanely, "This is a good song too."
Noncommittally, Dan nods. "What about –" He clears his throat.
"What?"
"Your…girlfriend." Dan's painful awkwardness is vaguely endearing, the way he doesn't meet Nate's eyes.
"Blair," Nate supplies, does not add the correct prefix, ex.
"She seems to really have it out for you."
Defensively, "She's hurt." Nate drums his fingers on the metal beneath them, feeling suddenly awkward himself. "It's my fault, I – Whatever. I deserve it."
Dan looks like he doesn't believe that but all he says is, "She seems kind of intense."
Nate smiles. "She is."
Intense is a good word for Blair. Everything she does she does with everything she has to give and then some. Nate used to like being around someone who was so consumed by purpose all the time, with her causes and projects and plans. It was comforting, almost; Nate didn't know what to do with his life, but Blair had it figured out for him.
Except –
Except she was too much like his parents, laying his life out for him from his prom tux to his college course load to the house they were going to live in and the wedding they were going to have. It just became too much for Nate, became suffocating.
Serena never planned anything at all. Maybe that was better. She wasn't wound up tight like Blair, she was spiraling, drunk-bright eyes and stumbling steps. The girls had been like that as long as Nate had known them, opposing forces fastened together.
Nate looks down, blinking until his eyes clear.
The joint has burned down. Dan stubs it out and, uncertainly, says, "You said you – you said you deserved it. Because you left?"
"We're not that close, Dan," Nate snaps. It comes out much too sharply, born of his being momentarily overwhelmed. Dan is clearly chastised, which makes Nate feel guilty. He remembers that as far as he knows, Dan has one secret in the world and he shared it with Nate. And when everyone else buzzed with gossip after the Ivy mixer, Dan just came to see how he was.
More mildly, Nate says, "I just don't want to talk about Blair, okay?"
The song changes, a quirky little melody and a low wolf-whistle. "It was funny – well, not funny," Dan says, "But you left the same time Vanessa did. Around the same time, anyway. I remember because I was miserable already and then I went to school and everyone was talking about you."
Nate doesn't get the connection. And, really, he doesn't need reminding that he's everyone's favorite topic of conversation. "Yeah?" he murmurs, uninterested. "You were close?"
"My only friend," Dan says with that self-deprecating grin.
It's strange that Dan's been here this whole time but Nate never knew him.
"She was my first girlfriend, sort of," Dan continues. "We were ten. I gave her a Valentine Jenny made. It had Justin Timberlake on it. That should have been her first tip-off."
By the time he was ten, Nate was already latched onto Blair, making it official with their first kiss a year later. If you could even call it a kiss, they were just kids.
"I'm guessing it didn't end well?" Nate says, smiling a little.
"Well." Dan smiles back – smirks, really. "She started looking at other boys. And so did I."
Nate laughs but that shiver of discomfort races up his spine. He wishes he'd brought more weed with him. "You didn't always know? I've heard…that usually, people always know."
"I guess." Dan half-shrugs. "I didn't really think about it much. Until it became impossible not to think about."
Nate has a million more questions but he swallows them down. He doesn't want to be impolite.
"Vanessa was my first kiss," Dan says, and laughs, possibly at some memory Nate doesn't share. He bites his lip, self-conscious as he looks up at Nate and says, "Last, too."
The last person Nate kissed was Serena. It feels so long ago, ages ago. He can't even really remember it, it's all a blur of hair and skin and light. He always thought her mouth was fantastic for smiling but he can't remember what it was like for kissing, not at all.
Dan has a nicely shaped mouth, his lips a little pursing bow. Serena's was made for wide, toothy grins. Nate likes how Dan's mouth draws together in a pout when Dan is frowning, like he is now, and then Dan's lips part in surprise when Nate kisses him and Nate doesn't even remember deciding to lean forward.
Fuck, Nate thinks. He tries not to jump back like he's been scalded but he can't disguise his flinch. "I'm sorry."
Dan's eyes are wide. "It's okay."
Nate's first instinct is to bolt (that's always his first instinct) but then there's a sound in the apartment, the door banging open and footsteps following. Dan turns towards it, calls, "Dad? Jen?"
"It's me!" Jenny pipes. She appears at Dan's doorway wearing a yellow dress and glittering black jacket, her hair loose and wavy.
"That's not what we sent you out in," Dan says disapprovingly.
She looks down at herself, smiling. "It's nice, right? I love the jacket."
Dan glances at Nate and raises an eyebrow before looking back at Jenny. "A little Aladdin Sane, but yeah. It's nice. Aren't you supposed to be straggling back tomorrow morning?"
"The night ended early," Jenny says, but she sounds satisfied by that. She declares, "It was a good night for the Humphreys. I'm going to order food, all I had at Blair's was two grapes."
Then she disappears in a toss of blonde hair.
"I knew that sleepover was trouble," Dan mutters, turning to climb back in the window. He looks back. "You coming?"
Nate swallows, nods. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."
Nate stays at the Humphreys' through the weekend and it's not until Monday morning, two blocks from St. Jude's, that he works up the nerve to mention the almost-sort-of kiss.
"You know, the other night," he starts awkwardly, "on your fire escape, I was – I was high."
Dan looks at him, eyebrows raised high in amusement. "Are you referring to you kissing me?"
Nate ducks his head, looks away to the other side of the street. He doesn't get how Dan can just say things. "Really high," he says. "It didn't – I wasn't trying to, uh, make a move on you or – or make fun of you, or anything like that."
Everything sardonic in Dan's expression smoothes away. "It's really okay," he says.
Nate's not convinced. "You sure?"
Dan rolls his eyes a little, in good humor. "Look, you're cute and everything," he says, looks Nate up and down in a way that makes him overly aware of his skin, "Very cute. But you're not my type."
Nate presses his lips together, not sure if he wants to smile or grimace and so does neither. "Oh?"
"Yup." Dan sighs, exaggerated and long-suffering. "That whole blue eyes, tousled hair, charming smile thing – does nothing for me."
Nate laughs. "Oh yeah? Then what does?"
They've gotten closer to the school now, similar navy jackets and ties echoed in the throng of boys around them. Dan scans the crowd and makes his choice, pointing discreetly at a tall boy with lightish curly hair. "He's alright."
"Dude," Nate says, shaking his head, "That's Evan Hale. He's a cheap date."
Dan laughs. "It's okay, I'm a cheap date too."
"Don't put yourself down," Nate jokes. "You deserve a nice guy."
Dan laughs again and Nate likes that, that he can make Dan laugh. Nate isn't funny. He never makes people laugh. Except Blair, sometimes, and then there was always the feeling that she was laughing at him, just a little bit.
Absently, Nate thinks that it's nice walking to school with someone again.
To get from English to gym, Nate's last class of the day, he has to cut across one of the girls' hallways. The girls' halls have been a danger zone for as long as Nate can remember, long before he was a social pariah (that's what Dan called him, and Nate had nodded along and looked it up later on his own, so he wouldn't seem dumb). Before, when he'd been with Blair, he got all kinds of looks and giggles, girls sidling up to him asking if whatever latest story Blair was selling about their relationship was really true. Nate would grin and confirm everything, be rewarded with little sighs, how romantic.
It looks the same, now: he still receives whispers and giggles as he makes his way past the lockers, but the sound of them has changed. Now the girls narrow their eyes, the whispering is almost a hiss.
And there is always the danger of running into Blair or Serena. He doesn't know which would be worse. But today is his day to find out – there, five feet from the entrance to the gym, surrounded by brightly dressed girls, is Blair. She's in a white polo and a tight red skirt, hair pulled back. She must have gym right before he does. They're all laughing; it's nice to se Blair smile, her cheeks dimpling, her face open in a way it rarely is.
Until she spots him. Then her expression slams shut.
After the Ivy mixer, to Nate's complete lack of surprise, his mother's rhetoric had barely changed. Blair is hurt, she'd said, And I understand why. If you could just apologize, Nathaniel –
"Hi," he says slowly.
Tightly, Blair says, "Hello." She turns a sharp eye on the gathered girls. "You're dismissed!"
They scatter.
"That's new," he remarks. They never used to be so attentive to her.
"Lots of things changed while you were gone," Blair says.
Nate shifts awkwardly side to side. "How is your mom doing? With the divorce and everything?"
Her mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. "Great." Her tone is falsely chipper. "So my dad left her for another man. She lost fifteen pounds and got an eyelift. It's been good for her."
Nate looks at the tiled floor, at his shoes. "I'm really sorry."
"Yes," Blair says, and the falseness almost gives way to biting. "I could tell. Because you didn't call or write the entire time it was happening."
"I –" he starts, falters.
But Blair is gaining speed, words spilling out. "You didn't even tell me why you left. Do you know what it was like to call your house and have your maid say, 'Oh, you didn't know? Nate moved to Connecticut.' You didn't even have the decency to break up with me first. Was I supposed to wait for you, Nate? Sit by the phone and pray and pray for you to come home?"
Her voice cracks a little then and he thinks maybe Blair would have done that, has done that, until she couldn't stand it anymore.
"I just –I didn't expect you to wait. I had to get away from – from everything, my dad -"
"From me?" she says, low and dangerous.
The bell rings; they both ignore it.
Nate looks at her, unsure and unwilling to answer, but he figures honesty (honesty-adjacent, at least) is the best policy. "Yes. But not for the reasons you think."
She takes a quick, deep breath and Nate knows immediately he said the wrong thing. She wanted the lie. "I'm seeing someone else," Blair says, firmly. "I've moved on." I didn't wait for you. There is no clearer way for her to say it.
Nate only hears his mother's voice in his head; that's all he seems to hear lately. If we don't do everything we can to keep the friends we've got, we're going to be left with nothing.
He knows why his mom wants him to make nice with Blair. Even with the scandal that rocked the Waldorfs, they're a good family to have on their side. They're good at rebuilding, reworking, shifting gossip so it works to their advantage. Eleanor's company would look good affiliated with his father's, might smooth the cracks in his dad's ruined career just a little, just enough that they'd have something to work with. Nate's resistant to all of this, because all of it is bullshit.
He knows why he wants to make nice with Blair. He's ashamed of what he did, ashamed of how he hurt her, ashamed that everything they had was ruined by his fuckup. He wanted one thing and he got it, but the fallout left him with nothing; he thought leaving could someone preserve them, as though lives could be put on ice and picked up later. He's only made it all worse.
He wants to make up with Blair because he wants her to be happy. He wants her and Serena to be happy.
"Remember," he starts softly, "how I used to walk you to each of your classes every day? I was always late, because of that."
"Nate," Blair says warningly.
"I know I messed up by leaving," Nate says, finally meeting her eyes. "I know that. But things at home were – they were bad and I – I felt like I couldn't breathe. And I just had to go. I'm sorry. I wasn't…I wasn't thinking. I know you hate me and I deserve it, but I… I want us to just be decent to each other, at least. Because even though you hate me, you still…" He swallows. This comes easily because every word is true. "You still mean a lot to me."
Blair surveys him, utterly unreadable, and says only, "You're late for class, Nate."
He sighs. "Yeah. You too."
Blair gives him another long look and then moves past him; he thinks she might slam her shoulder into his to make a point, like he's seen her do to girls she doesn't like, but she doesn't even come close to touching him.
He goes to gym, gets scolded, feels miserable. But on his way out of the building a chipper blonde who he thinks is called Hazel accosts him, shoving an envelope into his hand with a wide grin.
"It's from Blair," she says cheerfully and then disappears.
Nate opens it warily, scanning the sparse type on the creamy white paper. It's an invitation to Blair's birthday. Nate starts to smile, feeling the most honest relief he's felt since the night on Dan's fire escape, and thinks maybe it's not all ruined after all.
Dan calls just as Nate is falling asleep, already mid-rant by the time Nate picks up the phone. It's a steady stream of words Nate doesn't know how to interrupt – "And really," is where he begins to catch on, "who is she kidding, just waltzing back into our lives? I can't believe she left in the first place, but to lie and say she was coming back when she wasn't and – and to just swan in now –"
"Whoa, whoa, dude," Nate interjects as soon as Dan pauses to draw breath. "What are you talking about? Who came back?"
"Oh." Dan is silent for a second. "Uh, my mom. Sorry, I should've prefaced."
They've never talked about Dan's mom. Nate had just assumed his parents were divorced. "She was gone?"
"Yeah…" He can hear the soft sounds of Dan fidgeting, then Dan launches into the whole story – his mother going away for the summer but not coming back, the affair Dan found out about by accident, her return. "It's like she wants to pick up where we left off, but it's impossible."
"Aren't you glad she's back?"
"Yeah, but she still left. It was like –" Dan sighs. "Vanessa left, then –" He clears his throat. "And then my mom left, it was like…everyone was gone, and it sucked, and now she just wants it to be fine but I'm – I'm still angry."
The fact that Dan's list of everyone amounts to two people kind of breaks Nate's heart, though he knows Dan is exaggerating. But Nate…Nate gets the leaving thing, of course he does.
"She didn't leave because she didn't care," Nate says. He doesn't know Dan's mom, but he knows Dan's family and they don't want for love. "She just…had to, I guess. I don't know why. Sometimes people need to leave. Sometimes it's better that way. Or they think it'll be better that way."
Dan's quiet, then, "People don't give you enough credit."
It's the kind of compliment that also sort of feels like an insult, but Nate knows Dan meant it well and he feels warmed by the thought that Dan thinks he deserves any credit at all for anything. "I'm going to Blair's birthday party," Nate says suddenly, "I want you to come with me."
Dan laughs softly. "You asking me on a date?"
Nate laughs too. "Yup. You and Jenny, if she wants to come."
Dan sounds slightly less amused when he says, "Blair Waldorf has no idea who I am."
"But I know who you are," Nate counters. "And you're my friend, I like you, which means that Blair should like you too. It's math."
"How is that math?" Dan says, laughing again.
Nate smiles, pleased once more that he's able to do that – make Dan laugh. "I like you and Blair likes me – well, actually Blair kind of hates me, but she used to like me and she did invite me, so…She should like who I like. Math."
"And he wonders why he's failing algebra," Dan says, but it's good-natured. "Alright. Do I have to buy her a gift?"
"Yeah," Nate says, "But let Jenny do it."
"Jenny is going to die," Dan says. "You've made her week. Nay, her year."
"Yours too?"
"Always," Dan says. "You fill my life with light and joy, Archibald."
"Don't get all gay on me," Nate teases.
"Sorry, sorry," Dan says. "I'll be straighter. You fill my life with – with, uh, beer? And football? And those backwards trucker hats?"
Nate laughs. "Dude, don't even try."
Jenny is all a-twitter on the walk up to Kati's brother's place, covering up Dan and Nate's silence with chatter. Nate is all nerves – his mother had sat him down that afternoon and tried to pawn off her engagement ring on him, ridiculously, and hadn't given up on the idea until Nate stormed off. He brought Blair a small, less extravagant, less impressive gift instead; a gift that makes no promises. He assumes Dan is also nervous, though he doesn't try to assume why.
"I made her a card, she's probably going to hate it," Jenny says, "I was going to buy her something, but she probably wouldn't have liked it, and then I thought I'd make her something – like, a dress, maybe – but she'd like that even less and I didn't know what else to –"
"Breathe, Jen," Dan says. "Don't worry about it, Blair won't like whatever it is."
Jenny rolls her eyes, gives him a light shove. "Nice, Dan."
Kati's brother's place is done up in full Blair-sanctioned style, anime projected against the walls and neon lights overhead, sake and fresh sushi. Blair sits near her pile of presents, her black dress stark against all the whimsy. Serena is giggling by her side, already drunk.
"You made it," Blair notes wryly, reaching out for gifts before even saying a proper hello. Her gaze slides over Jenny, who is dressed to fit the theme, all bows and frills with her hair in crisp curls. "Little J, it's not a Halloween party."
Jenny's eyes stray to Kati and Iz in their matching sailor suits. "Right. I just thought…"
Dan opens his mouth to interject, that little furrow of irritation forming between his brows, and Nate knows that whatever Dan says, it won't be good. So he interrupts instead. "I think Jenny looks nice," he says brightly.
Nervously, Jenny smiles.
Blair snorts. "You would. All my training clearly had no effect." She turns, waving them along. "Come on, have something to eat."
Dan looks at him, eyes slightly narrowed. Nate shrugs and gives him a push to follow Blair.
"Beeeeee," Serena says, letting the syllable drag. She's hanging back, feet planted like a kid, and her fingers are curled around Blair's wrist. "B. B, I want to play Guitar Hero, play with me."
"Play with Nate," Blair says dismissively. "I don't even like that game."
Serena slides Nate a sidelong look and pauses noticeably before saying, "Nate's not good at it."
There's a beat of awkwardness and then Jenny pipes up, "Dan is really good at Guitar Hero. And the actual guitar. He's super talented. He can play with you."
It strikes Nate as totally weird until he remembers that Dan's whole family thinks he has a crush on Serena. So of course Jenny would jump to help her brother out; they're that kind of people. Jenny means well. She's being sweet.
She means well, but she is still the next one on the receiving end of Dan's narrow-eyed glare.
Serena turns to Dan, hands clasped, and says solemnly, "I played the flute in junior high."
Just as seriously, Dan tells her, "We could start a band."
A slow smile spreads across Serena's face. "We should probably practice first. To see if we're compatible."
Dan smiles a little too, holding out a hand that Serena takes. Nate watches them go with something like disbelief, frowning.
"Well look at that," Blair says, sounding amused. She doesn't elaborate, however, instead tugging on Nate's sleeve. "Come on, I'm going to make you do 'I'm sorry' shots."
Reluctantly, Nate allows himself to be pulled away.
"Where's your boyfriend?" he asks, trying not to sound jealous.
Blair shrugs, waving a hand. "He might be somewhere around here," she says, very pointedly casual. "If no, I'm sure he'll be here by midnight. Now." She pats the barstool next to her. "Time to make apologies."
He does shots until Blair deems herself satisfied. She watches him the entire time with a very focused, half-suspicious stare; it reminds him of Dan, really. Nate used to be better at holding his liquor but he's out of practice, so he's dizzy and nauseous almost immediately. It's probably half nerves, at least, but instead of relaxing him the alcohol puts him on edge.
Blair and the girls are laughing again, maybe at him, as Nate unsteadily gets to his feet. He balances with one hand on the wall, making his way slowly and carefully. He tries to find Dan and Serena in the slightly shiny-blurry crowd and spots them still playing. Serena is totally rocking out, tossing her hair back and forth, spinning, for all appearances having the best time anyone has ever had playing Guitar Hero. And Dan is watching her with a huge grin, laughing. He's laughing harder than Nate has ever seen him laugh, and it almost makes him seem like a different person. He cheers louder than anyone when Serena finishes with a twirling flourish.
It bothers Nate, annoys him, and he doesn't know why.
"Having fun, Nathaniel?"
Still frowning, Nate turns to see Chuck observing him. "I guess."
"Haven't seen much of you since Blair told everyone your father was a cokehead," Chuck says. He leans on the wall next to Nate, sipping scotch in that on-purpose way of his. He's wearing a suit and an ascot. Nate is wearing jeans and a blazer, but only because he wanted Blair to think he put an effort in. "Embarrassed to show your face?"
"Sure," Nate says. He faces away from Chuck again. "That must be it."
"I heard you were holed up in Brooklyn, of all places."
"I wasn't holed up anywhere."
"Someone's acting like a little bitch," Chuck says, amused. "Is it your family that's getting you down, Nathaniel? Or is it being in the same room with one girl you fucked and one girl you never did?"
Nate spins on the spot, half terrified someone heard but mostly just angry. But he's too drunk for moving that briskly and he has to put his hand on Chuck's shoulder so he doesn't fall or vomit or something. "You need to stop," he says.
Chuck's eyes shift to a spot over Nate's shoulder. "Looks like your new best friend is stealing your girlfriend."
Nate doesn't give in to the temptation to look around. "I don't have a girlfriend," he says, pushing Chuck back against the wall hard before leaving.
He goes outside to gulp some fresh air, leaning heavily on the railing.
"Are you okay?"
People have got to stop appearing over his shoulder. "Yeah," Nate sighs, as Dan steps up next to him. "I'm okay."
Dan nudges a bottle of water into Nate's hand. "Blair put you through a set of trials, huh?"
Nate's honestly surprised he noticed, since he was so caught up with Serena. "Nah, that's nothing for Blair. She's not even warming up yet." He glances at Dan, unscrewing the bottle cap. "You and Serena were having fun."
Dan smiles a little, genuinely. "She is fun."
Nate nods. He swallows water but wishes it was more booze, feels more unsettled by Chuck than he wants to admit to himself. Chuck was never the kind of person you trusted with secrets; he liked to hold on to them, wait for the right moment, and then expose them, reveling in the ensuing destruction like some people watch movies. Nate used to think that was funny, because it was never leveled at him.
Dan is studying him. "Are you okay?"
"I –" Nate pushes the bottle back at him, stumbles down a few steps, and sits heavily. He drops his face into his hands. "I shouldn't've come."
Dan takes a seat too. "Why not?"
"It's too…" Nate shakes his head. "It's too hard. It's – It's not fair, trying to get Blair to forgive me, acting normal, when…" He sighs.
"Your family's just going through a rough patch," Dan says. "It's not your fault. You just have to – to stick it out. Like…me with my mom. I know the situations don't really compare, but –"
"It's not that," Nate interrupts. His voice is soft, heart suddenly hammering. "It's not – it's not family stuff."
"Oh," Dan says. "Uh. You know, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to–"
"I do want to," Nate says, surprising himself. He just wants to say it so badly. He wants someone to know besides himself and Chuck. He wants someone to tell him he's not an awful person, not a piece of shit, even though he wouldn't be able to agree. But he likes the way Dan looks at him, that friendly open look, and it's so new that he's even more hesitant to lose it.
"Hey." Dan bumps his shoulder against Nate's gently. "It's alright, man. We're friends, right?"
Nate nods, opens his mouth, shuts it. "I –" he starts again, "I –" then in a rush, "I slept with Serena."
There is silence for a moment and Nate fears the worst. He can't look at Dan and he's hyper-conscious of the sounds of the party through the door, laughter and music and talking, the street sounds of cars and people walking their dogs.
"Oh," Dan says again. "Is that why you…why you left?"
Nate nods, ducking his head out of embarrassment.
Evenly, "Do you love Serena?"
"No," Nate says automatically, but it rings hollow, "Maybe. I don't – I don't know."
Dan nods and doesn't say anything else. Do you hate me? Nate wants to ask, but doesn't. He's can't look at Dan for some reason, strangely worried about what Dan is thinking, what he'll say. He wonders if he's not the person Dan thought he was.
Dan takes a few long swallows from the water bottle and then says, "Well, are you still in love with Blair?"
Nate presses his lips together. "I don't know."
"Then," Dan says slowly, "You should probably figure it out."
Nate looks at him then. "That's…it?"
Dan shrugs. "It's…your life, you know. You can't wish your problems away, but you already knew that since it just got worse when you left. I don't know your life before, so I can't talk about it. But I think if you really wanted to be with Blair, you probably wouldn't have cheated on her. And if you really wanted to be with Serena, then you probably would have stayed."
Nate frowns a little. "It's not like that. You're making it sound like it's easy."
Dan tilts his head a little and his face is kind of unreadable when he says, "I think if you know what you want, then it is."
Nate sighs. "So. Figure it out."
"Figure it out," Dan agrees. He drops a hand onto Nate's shoulder and gives him a little shake. "Maybe don't drink so much."
Nate snorts. "Yeah, yeah."
They make their way back inside, where everyone is gathering around Blair and her birthday cake. In the dim room, she's silhouetted against the bright flare of numerous birthday candles – the black bell of skirt, her small waist, the elaborate pinned-up hair. Her hand is tucked into the bend of Serena's arm and they couldn't present more of a difference, standing there. Blair half-smiles, intent as she leans in to blow out her candles; Serena is beaming, hair loose, and she cheers loudly. Nate thinks she might shine brighter than the candles.
"Go on," Dan gives him a push, "Go say happy birthday."
Nate makes his way through the press of people just as Blair turns. Her eyes widen a little and her eyebrow arches. "I thought you'd left," she says.
Nate shakes his head. "It's almost midnight," he says. "I had to tell you happy birthday."
Her expression softens slightly. "Oh. Well. Thank you."
Nate remembers however many years of midnights on her birthday – back when they were still too young to be up so late, he would call her in the secret darkness of his room, tucked up in bed with his phone pressed to his ear. Later on he was usually with her. She would blow out her candles and then they would kiss, right when the clock hit twelve-oh-one.
"I have a present," Nate says, feeling suddenly sheepish. "For you." He hadn't put it on the huge pile with Jenny and Dan's; he's not sure why. He guesses he wanted her to have it right from him.
Blair looks at the wrapped box as he pulls it from his pocket. Nate had done it himself, mostly, though the maid had helped. "You didn't have to."
"Yeah, I did," Nate says. He holds it out. "I know you...usually put stuff on hold. But I didn't want to… I mean, I saw this and it made me think of you. So. That's why I got it."
Both her eyebrows raise, curious and still somehow doubtful. She lets the wrapping paper fall carelessly to the floor and opens the box to find a silver charm bracelet. "Nate," she says, a little sigh in her voice. She lifts it up. It dangles a mismatched bunch of charms – an ice skate, a heart, and a tiny key, amongst others. Nate had found in a thrift store he'd gone to with Dan. He'd bought it as is, only adding one charm – a letter B.
"It's…old," he prefaces. "I know you might not like it…"
"It's incredibly childish and tacky," Blair says. "Not my style at all." She holds out her wrist. "Fasten it for me."
Nate half-smiles. He takes her wrist, pulling her a little bit closer. Her wrist is so slim and delicate between his fingers; somehow he'd never noticed before. The bracelet is a little too big on her as she jangles it around.
"Did, uh…" Nate looks around briefly. "Did your boyfriend make it?"
Blair looks up at him and her lips purse briefly before smoothing back into expressionlessness. "No," she says. "I don't think he did. We've been…fighting. Lately."
"I'm sorry," he says. But he's not, really.
"Yes, well –" Blair's gaze shifts up over his shoulder and her face splits into a wide, utterly false grin. "Cameron!" she exclaims. "We were just talking about you!" She moves past Nate and launches herself into Cameron's arms. He laughs. Her bracelet makes a faint tinkling sound.
"Couldn't miss the whole thing, could I?" he says, slinging an arm around her shoulder and beginning to lead her off.
"You certainly made me wait," Blair says. She doesn't even look back at Nate.
Dan appears at Nate's shoulder with two plates of cake, one of which he hands over. He must've been waiting. "Tough break," he says. He takes a bite. "This cake is awesome though."
Nate laughs quietly. "That's something, I guess."