chapter TWENTYSEVEN.

When Serena pushed the door of the bathroom open, her pale blonde hair still damp and her body clad in only a soft white towel, she came to the realization that her mother had already left, presumably to either Rufus' or Bart's. She dried her hair furiously with another towel and then tossed it into the hamper, gazing at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror that was attatched to one of the walls of the sumptuous hotel suite, her face clearly reading distaste.

She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but she somehow looked uglier and shabbier than she had only yesterday. . .

Maybe it was because her eyes were a little swollen from all the crying she'd been doing, or her body looked a little thin from all the meals she'd been missing, but maybe it was something deeper, too. Maybe it was because she felt so rotten and miserable for the horrible way she'd broken up with Dan - and what was even worse was the fact that Dan didn't even have a legitimate reason for her break up with him. For all she knew, he could have been sitting in the dark of his abandoned loft, writing poetry or chain-smoking or fuming with anger or something. . .

She couldn't bear to think of him that way, so she began humming the words to Paramore's song "Crushcrushcrush" and dropped the towel that had been wrapped around her torso. She examined her naked body for a mere second. Then she padded her way over to her part of the suite where a Louis Vuitton suitcase lay sprawled across the floor, some of her clothes spilling out of it messily.

Serena zipped up a pair of cut-off Sevens, stuffed her feet into her favorite pair of scuffed brown suede boots, threw on her brother's white Oxford shirt with the frayed cuffs, and then traipsed back toward the door of the apartment, pulling it open and shutting it behind her as she went. Her blonde hair cascaded messily down her back and she hadn't put on make up of any sort, but she didn't care. She was going over to Chuck's to see if he'd heard anything about her mother and knew of her whereabouts. . . And if not, she'd go down to that Irish pub uptown and drink her troubles away so either way she had an activity to do.

She didn't feel like stuffing herself into a crowded, claustrophobic elevator which would probably take longer than the stairs anyway, so she pushed through the door that read Staricase and trampled down to the lobby, passing by Dexter and making her way for the glass doors. . . But then she noticed the hotel bar on the side of her eye and she couldn't help but turn in its direction.

If she was going to go to Chuck's she definitely needed a drink. . . Or two.



When Serena finally stepped out of the cab and onto the sidewalk just outside the Bass penthouse, she was thoroughly trashed. Her eyelids were already halfway closed, her head was spinning, and she stumbled rather than walked. But that still didn't stop her. She pushed through the glass doors, bypassing the white-gloved doorman completely, and stomped over to the elevator, her suede boots echoing all through the lobby as it banged against the marble floor.

People were already beginning to stare, most women thinking Serena was some drunken skank and most men wondering if she was wasted enough to want to do it with them.

The elevator took her to the very top floor, where the Basses (and now apparently her mother) lived. She strolled right into the penthouse and tossed her Chanel clutch onto a nearby chair. Almost immediately, she spotted Chuck sitting at the wet bar, nursing a bottle of Jose Cuervo and nothing else. "Oh, Chuck." She sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and hopped onto the circular stool beside him, resting a drunken head on his shoulder. "We're both so, so messed up."

Chuck could smell liquor on her breath. It made sense, because Serena would never come over here unless she was forced to or she was drunk. And this was clearly the latter. "Hey sis," he mumbled, taking another sip from the crystal tumbler he was holding. "I take it things aren't going so well?"

Serena groaned loudly but this time didn't scold him for calling her 'sis'. . . Maybe she was too drunk to even notice. "No no no. . . No, they aren't." She leaned forward, crossed her arms over the counter, and then rested her head on top of them like she always used to in elementary school. Chuck thought she might fall asleep right there, but then she stretched an arm out without lifting her head, pried the glass of alcohol from his fingers, and brought it to her own lips. Then she threw her head back and gulped it down.

"I broke up with Dan all because my mom's having a stupid affair with his dad and now she's making it like what I did was cruel and pointless and I just broke Dan's heart without good reason. Things aren't good at all, Chuck."

Of course the boy had had his suspicions, but he wasn't aware that the actual reason for Lily being up in Rufus' loft the other day was because they were sleeping together. She leaned back on her stool - so far back that she nearly fell over. Luckily Chuck extended his arms just in time to steady her and they both chuckled in their drunken stupor. Serena, however, was far more shitfaced than he was - which seemed pretty ironic to Chuck since these days it always seemed like he was the drunkard and Serena was the good girl.

She leaned in and hugged him tightly, resting her head against his chest. "Oh, C. I miss the way things used to be so much. Don't you miss the way things used to be?"

Chuck's mind flashed back to the photo album in his Motorola and he remembered one photo in particular: the one of Blair strangling him with his scarf playfully. The one where they'd looked so happy and careless and content. "Yeah, S. Yeah, I do."

Rather than hearing Serena respond, however, the sound of soft snoring slowly cut its way through the air and Chuck grinned. Serena never was one to hold down her alcohol, whether she was falling fast asleep in random places or vomiting all over people's clothing.

He wrapped his arms around her, stood up from his stool, and carried them both over to the leather couch. He set her gently on the cushion, fetched a blanket out of a nearby shelf, and then went back to the couch where he lay beside her and covered them both with the blanket. Then he clapped his hands once and the lights in the living room turned off.

And in no time they were both fast asleep, forgetting their heartbreak and slipping into dreamland. . .


Spotted: C resisting yet another intoxicated girl who could have been very easy given the situation. Just who are you saving yourself oh-so-tirelessly for? Well I think we all know, but it wouldn't hurt if you said it out loud once in a while. . .

you know you love me.
xoxo; gossip girl