#goldibald

it's become their morning ritual of sorts. no longer are the days of meeting her minions on the steps of the met before making their way to constance. nowadays, the queen b opts for meeting her king with two cups of jitter bean coffee outside the god-u crimefighting hall. a salted cream cold brew in one hand for herself & a white americano in the other for him, when blair spots nate across the courtyard, she can't help but smile. (even after all these years, she does cartwheels in her stomach. that's true love.) prada heels clicking against the sidewalk, chanel purse slung across her body, she makes her way over. as soon as blair's standing behind him, the coffee cups are placed aside before her hands cover his eyes.

❝ surprise! ❞ she's aware it's not really a surprise. (it's a morning ritual they share together, after all. it's the furthest thing from a surprise.) but it doesn't stop her from wearing her heart on her sleeve. the smile is still worn across her face as she lifts both hands from his irises, the cup of americano being brought into his view. ❝ it's your favorite as always— ❞ the coffee cup is passed in nate's direction before she takes a sip of her own latte, a refreshed sigh for the dramatics being exhaled.

hands shake,   breath trembles,   the cold air feels warm upon stained cheeks.       stained with water,   salty and sticky,   stained with tears.       she’s stopped crying now,      (i can’t even begin to think about how terrible my posture must be right now),      &.    even whilst her mind ponders upon it,   whilst her whole being shivers in embarrassment for the  first  love of her life is bearing witness to the downfall of blair waldorf,   she cannot find the strength to pick herself up.       to straighten her back,   to hold her head high,   to let berry lips stretch into that signature waldorf smile:       she just breathes.       the words ring in her ears,   how he speaks so low to her,   almost like a hum.       felines narrow at him,   ebonies clumpy with droplets of water and smudged mascara,   she looks how she feels yet there’s a streak of beauty she’s divinely wrapped in.       perhaps to the outside eye,   to nate’s eye,   that’s all that can be seen.

only a few minutes before this,    she could be found muttering to him:      HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?      when did everything get so.  .  .      screwed up?        i don’t know               i don’t know who i am anymore.

      her  silence  is  deafening  at  first.  mocha  hues  roaming  to  him  as  she  attempts  to  process  his  words.  was  this  an  admission  of  guilt,  nate  talking  about  all  the  times  he  had  let  her  down?  or  was  this  his  way  of  asking  for  an  apology?  when  you’ve  let  someone  down  again  and  again,  i  think  it’s  fair  to  lose  a  little  faith.  blair  has  never  lost  faith  in  him.  she  has  lost  faith  in  them,  in  their  future,  even  in  herself  at  times.  but  nate?  her  love  for  him  is  her  biggest  weakness,  blinding  her  and  making  it  oh  so  easy  for  her  to  forgive  anything  and  everything.  perhaps  that  is  where  the  problem  is.  does  he  want  her  to  hate  him?  blair  just...  she  doesn’t  understand.  not  because  she  can’t,  but  rather  because  she  doesn’t  want  to.  the  idea  that  they  are  broken  beyond  repair  is...  terrifying.  ❝  so  i  let  you  down  but  somehow...  serena  hasn’t?  or  is  it  jenny  now?  ❞  she  inquires,  her  voice  trembling.  ❝  i  love  you,  nate.  i  know  we  both  have  made  some  mistakes  but...  i  wanna  fix  this.  please.  ❞

eyes downcast ,    turned away from the sidekick on the table in front of her                    the  constant pinging   from gossip girl alerts sound like   alarms from a bell tower :    [  careful B !   looks like your prince has his eyes set on someone else...  ]        

                                                   ❝     would you break it,   if you’re honest ?     ❞