#shapiros

for a while, josie paced back and forth outside of blair’s place. she wasn’t sure what she was going to say when blair opened the door, if blair opened the door. she wasn’t really sure what she was doing, she just knew that she needed someone to talk to. and none of her friends got it. not really. they felt bad about the jerry stuff but she knew she could only talk to someone about it who knew what everyone at high volume went through. and for some reason, blair was the first person she thought to talk to. maybe it was because she had always looked up to her or maybe it was because of the thing blair said about her wearing a mask. she finally knocked on the door and when blair opened it she said, “sorry for coming over unannounced, i just...i really need someone...to talk to.”

this is her favourite tree in woodstock. it’s home to some of the best memories she’d ever created with blair. when she looks up, the trunk still looks like it’d lead all the way to heaven and her hands don’t even reach half way when she stretches her arms against the bark, which only shows that things haven’t changed. she leans her back against the tree, bare feet planted next to the giant root tangled into the ground. “ if you dig your toes into the soil, you can kind of feel the energy going up the tree from mother earth. ” kind of like how babies feed on their mother’s breast, she wants to say, because she used to be able to be as weird as she wants around blair without any judgement. she reminds herself that nothing’s changed and says, “ kind of like how babies feed on their mother’s breast. ”

    1AM. THAT’S WHAT THE DIGITAL clock beside his bed reads. 1am. the last time trip was awake at 1am, it was new years and he was stumbling into marty’s apartment with enough alcohol in his system to warrant the snow caked under his boots and the car left at his now - former apartment. before that, it was him sobering up in a police station in seattle, watching the seconds tick by on an analog as his manager slipped a wad of cash to a cop and told them he had it handled. then, before that, it was LA, and all the baggage that had come from that.

he’s  occupying  a  spot  at  the  head  of  his  bed,  blair  at  the  foot  and  an  assortment  of  takeout  in  between.  it’s  not  a  very  festive  layout,  and  it  hasn’t  been  a  very  festive  season  for  any  of  them.  it  can’t  really  be  surprising,  given  the  meetings  and  the  faked  checks  and  the  all  around  build  up  to  inevitable  consequence.  he  hadn’t  thought  about  it  then,  he  doesn’t  really  think  about  it  now,  except  to  notice  that  he  hasn’t  even  put  up  lights  around  the  apartment.  maybe  that’s  something  for  tomorrow,  talking  trip  and  jamie  into  decorating.  for  now,  he’s  committed  enough  to  assure  he  had  christmas  music  to  leave  playing  in  the  background.  he’s  nearly  forgotten  the  reason  for  asking  her  over  to  begin  with,  sparkling  company  aside.  ❛   oh,  yeah.   ❜  he  has  to  lean  to  reach  below  bed,  setting  down  two  pristinely  wrapped  gifts.  ❛   happy  secret  snowflake,  blair  bear.   ❜

it’s  not  really  blair  that  captures  his  attention.  she  looks  amazing,  but  in  the  scheme  of  everyone  in  costumes  not  as  easy  to  pick  out  of  the  crowd.  it’s  the  person  opposite  her  that  draws  eyes,  taller  still  with  the  little  circle  antennae  and  stiff  even  as  theyre  goaded.  he’s  considering  letting  it  happen,  chiefly  because  he’s  pretty  sure  blair  would  win  with  the  little  movement  happening  on  the  other  end.  in  the  end,  he’d  just  rather  step  in  when  there’s  only  one  of  them.