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I don't know what we're doing / I don't know what we've done but the fire's coming / and she's already on the run
He comes home for Serena's wedding to an English teacher. The news sound funnier in his head, or maybe it’s because he's the only one that gets it. There's a blond on his arm. He's in a thousand dollar suit that feels uncomfortable, foreign and together doesn't belong. Like it's meant for another Daniel Humphrey, who bred on silk and caviar rather than in plaid and cotton. He sees Blair Waldorf across the room, and he straightens his spine. His fingers curl involuntarily around his red tie, not pink, and hasn't been pink since he left. Their eyes lock and he's the first to break contact.
Jenny is the first to come over and gives him hug. Her smile is light and easy, like those days of feeling lost never existed, and he wishes for a moment that envy isn't what he felt. She asks him why he never comes home that often anymore. He says, "Work," before introducing date as a distraction. "This is Emily." She smiles and so does Jenny. They shake hands before Jenny's called away for some wedding duties.
“Thanks."
Emily gives him a knowing look, the lowering of the brows and her lips curving up, teasingly, "All in a day's work, Dan," she says, because she saw the invitation on the pages of drafts he sent her before the novels were published and his desperation not to show up alone. They're friends, but not really. Lovers, but not. "So when will I get to meet the girl—" Her speech is cut short when his father interrupt with smiling Lily on his arms. He leans into Dan's ears, whispers something inaudible and nods.
Dan's fingers twitch slightly but holds himself tall and mutters a polite, but curt reply, "I'd be happy to oblige the lucky bride." He doesn't have much time to explain to Emily before the signal is given that the ceremony is about to start. So much for a head up. His father then ushers him back by the door. When he sees her face to face, she has a scowl on. "Humphrey."
He almost admits to missing the sound of her voice, which has changed to a deeper, earthier voice. Raspier as well, perhaps but his memory is hazy from the lack of contact in the past few years. Her disdain licks his skin with familiarity, and gives him a small shiver. "Waldorf." He the holds out his arm for her to take.
"Try not to cry because your dream girl is getting married."
He chuckles, sucking in a breath. "You almost sound concerned there, Waldorf."
Her eyes narrow as she keeps the forced smile on her lips in front of the guests. "I do take part in charity once awhile."
Somehow the walk down the aisle seems longer than it should. "Is that what it was?"
She gets the last words in before they part. "I thought you love to write about tragedies, Humphrey."
He scoffs, licking his lips. Then the music plays and he looks toward Serena. Air knocks from his lungs when he sees her in a simple white gown. She has a glow that hasn't been dimmed with time, and he knows that it's not love anymore; he's past that with her but seeing how radiant she looked, it makes him feel like he's sixteen and discovering for the first time what's like to get a taste of what he wants. He doesn't want Serena, but he wants what she has; and maybe Blair is right. Maybe he does love tragedies because perhaps once upon a time, he could have gotten what he wanted but opts something else instead.
While the minister rambles on about love, marriage, he looks toward Emily. She catches him staring and shakes her head, give him another knowing look like she has discovered the secret he has hidden this far. The words I Do brings him back to the bride and groom. From the corner of his eyes, he feels Blair watching him. His body tenses and his suit feels tighter than it should.
When the ceremony ends, every one piles out to the garden for food and dancing. Serena is the first to go on the floor with her husband. A guy named Ethan or something; he didn't pay close enough attention or cared enough to remember. Then bridesmaids do too. Dan does it out of formality but his arms seem to remember her body because they slide around hers quite comfortably, and pulls her close too knowingly. They're closed, but are miles apart. "Another blond, Humphrey?" Her left brow rises involuntarily as her gaze turns scrutinizing. "God, you're predictable."
"Says someone who always run back to their abusive ex," retorts Dan, "That's like the pot calling the kettle black." He waits for a physical response and gets none.
"Bitterness doesn't suit you."
“Neither is waiting for Chuck." There's a flicker of emotion behind her eyes before she hides it away. "Face it, he'll always be the one that gets away."
"And I'm the one you'll never get."
It sounds more like a challenge than a fact, so he pulls her away from everyone. She doesn't protest and looks like she has anticipated as much when she said those words. He slams her against the wall of some unknown corner and presses his mouth to hers. It's sloppy and rough and not like him but this isn't love; he reminds himself. He doesn't need to be gentle, to take her feelings into account because they're nothing to each other; so he takes all that he can and lets his hands roam every familiar peaks and curves, before he hikes her skirt up, thinking she would stop him but she doesn't.
She clings into him instead, and wraps her legs around his waist, fingers clawing down his back as she marks him with her teeth. "You're mine," she gasps between breath and gives a light kiss to his jaw. "Don't forget it."
He thinks he feels a numbing pain spreading through his chest from her words but he pushes the feelings down. "And I'm the one makes you come," he says, and leaves a few marks of his own on places she allows. He used to think of Blair as water. Always moving, slipping through his grasp, no matter how tightly he hold on; and he hates it, hates her, hates himself for not being able to break away; but he was wrong. He can hold her, can fuck her and can love her. He just can't have her like she has him.
After a final push, he holds her still. Their breathing heavy and their forehead touch. It's the closest they'll come to be, he knows, as he breathe in her scent. A hint of jasmine and rose and in a moment of vulnerability, he says, "I miss you." Her face pales. "So fucking much." Those aren't the right words but he figures she understands what he meant to say. "You've broken me in such a way that I don't know how fix myself like how I used to fix you."
She sighs, breaking off their eye contact. A strand of curl falls over her face before she brushes it away. "Humphrey."
He hears his answer in her voice. "Temporary madness." He then musters a half hearted smile and lowers her to her feet. They parts a few feet from each other and rearranges their clothes, her with the dress and him with his suit. "An after effect from the sex."
"This—whatever happened between us—doesn't mean that we—"
"Relax, Waldorf. We're two individual entities that fucks one another once in awhile. It means nothing." Except it does, but he can't give her the chance to contemplate an option of leaving. If he can't have her heart, he'll settle for her body; so he straightens his back once more, tightens his red tie and says, "I'll see you later, Waldorf."
He leaves first, knowing that she'll follow soon. While he can't have her, she will never leave him. He thinks that this is supposed to be a tragedy after all.
- fin