Sometime Around
And it starts, sometime around midnight
(at least that’s when his tequila catches up with his rum and he can lose Nathaniel Fitzwilliam Archibald in the crowd)
And the blinding lights let him forget where he is and the music buries what brought him here
(her smile and his smarm and their lips and that sweet skin on those silk sheets and all sweat and tears and where were you, where were you, why weren’t you there, and why didn’t you know?)
He hasn’t seen her in months
(you didn’t say goodbye)
And he had to hear it from Dan that she was home
(where have you been?)
And after three months he’d thought maybe it was time to look for her
(find her, bring her back, bring her home where he needed her Goddamnit)
But then by month four reality had set in and he’d realized she’d left him just like his father and mother before her and there was no use looking for someone who didn’t want to be found and so he took the volume of his life that read ‘Jenny’ on the cover and stashed it
(he thought he’d trashed it, buried it deep)
But he can’t mistake the feeling that crawls across his neck and claws up the base of his spine
(and she’s watching him and he feels it and that smile, that smile tugs low in his gut)
And she’s laughing
(and she’s clutching that cup and he can feel those fingers; pressing, blanching, harder)
And he can’t see straight
(and he can’t feel straight)
And, and she’s talking to him
(and when did she cross the room?)
And he’s always thought he’d have so much to say if he ever got the chance
(this chance that’s jumped in his lap and all he can do is clamor for oxygen, and words, words fail him miserably)
And all he can breathe is her and the space around him becomes pale, bare, smooth skin
(and he’s drowning in her)
The waves drag him down, she is the wind and the rain and the land and the sea
(there are knee socks against his toes and the gentle scrape of buttons beneath his fingers and those damn extensions are tickling his nose)
And what he wants to say is ‘I love you, I’m sorry, why the fuck did you leave me?’ and he knows he should say ‘what happened, where have you been, are you okay?’ because she left town for Christ sakes, but all that comes out is ‘hi’ and a polite chuckle and a ‘it’s good to see you’ even while his eyes are burning holes in her clothes.
He is lost.
(He’s always lost but this…)
She knows.
(She buries him deeper.)
And he tries to hate her
(he’s always trying to hate her)
Sometimes he thinks he almost does.
He doesn’t want to see Chuck in everything that reminds him of her
(he doesn’t want to see him in her)
But now they’re both polluted, tainted, poisoned
(and maybe this was her plan all along)
And maybe they like this game
(maybe they’re more like Blair and Chuck than they’d like to admit)
Maybe they get off on the
(push, pull, kick, slap, punish, repair)
tug of war they can’t escape.
There are hands on her hips and her pulse races under someone else’s lips
(and he just stands there while a stranger paws her and pulls her away from their conversation and he imagines this is what it must’ve been with Chuck)
And what he really wants to do is punch his fucking face in until he can see out the other side of his skull, and what he should do is introduce himself because he’s not supposed to care, but all he does is stare
(your blood boiling, your stomach in ropes)
at the way her fingers hesitate and her lips trip over her words
(that tells him all is not yet lost)
but this knowledge does not temper the wrath that simmers and overruns the space between his gut and his fist
(and she knows)
She will make this one count.
(she makes sure you saw her; she looks right at you and bolts)
And takes his last frayed thread of control with her
(you swayed your hips and stole the breath that I was taking)
He feels the distance between them bend and stretch
(and I kinda think that we can bend, do you?)
And he wonders just how far they can pull before it finally snaps and leaves them free
(but you don’t want to be free, you want the blonde with the blue eyes with your heart in her hands walking out the door)
And the color from your face, drains,
(and your friends say what is it, you look like you’ve seen a ghost)
And Dan is there and he’s asking, demanding,
(and you won’t tell him, you won’t say I need your sister, Dan, because you’ve had this fight and it doesn’t end differently in take two)
And you’re pushing, shoving, clawing through the crowd and people are yelling and calling after you and they don’t understand, they’ll never understand and you don’t care you have to get out
(and you know Chuck would understand, he would commiserate with the driving need for someone but you’ll never bring it up and you never want to hear her name pass his lips because all you can think about is moaning and roaming hands and don’t touch her, she is not yours, she is mine)
And he’s stumbling, tripping, walking,
(trying)
And the street lights are glaring but it might as well be dark and he is too drunk to notice the uncomfortable bypassers and he doesn’t care what he looks like
(the world is falling around you)
And she is just around the corner of this block, the next block, she’s close and he won’t lose her again she won’t slip through his listless fingers
(you just have to see her)
and he needs her
(you know that she’ll break you in two)
And she knows, she knows who he is and if she remembers then maybe she can remind him, and he, he doesn’t see the hair and the makeup and the expensive clothes
(you see the blonde girl with the bow in her hair that stole your heart on the steps of a UES walkup with her kindness and her wisdom and God she’s beautiful and she sees outside the money and fame and scandal to the little boy who just wants to make his father proud)
He sees the girl who held his hands because they were shaking
(and I count the steps from where I am to where I started)
And he wants to turn around, walk back, find home, find her
(but he’s not so sure you can ever really go home again)
He is afraid he is too late and he thinks maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to start over, start again with this new Jenny
(I’ll try my best to follow if I can but)
He sits.
And he stares at the stars.
And he pretends not to grieve for the little girl that was and he says a prayer for the little boy that loved her and he imagines a world where NateandJenny meet for drinks on weeknights and
(you just have to see her)
cameras don’t flash and Nathaniel and Queen J don’t exist
(you just have to see her)
(you know that she’ll break you in two)