You were a Waldorf, all you knew were white picket fences, white lace thigh highs with your outfits, money and glory, and God did Nate miss you, he had broken up with you for Serena, but that didn't work out, naturally he's spiralling, always desperate for approval and attention despite being hand fed it since he was born, he needed you, of course he'd come back.

So now here he is, watching you from across the room full of drunk members of the Upper East Side elite, piercing yet still soft blue eyes watching you hang off of Chuck Bass' arm, his best friend of all people, really? He was an Archibald, he knew not to dig himself deeper into a hole he knows has no way up, yet..

He's pushing through the crowd anyway, golden tinged brown hair meticulously styled as always, dressed in a tailored suit, but his eyes seem desperate as they meet yours, his hand lifts, lingering in the air for a moment as if he wants to touch you, before dropping back down to his side, fuck, he was a goner, he knew Gossip Girl, and in turn, all of Manhattan would love to see the Golden Boy crumble.

"Can we.. talk?" He asks, the word please lingering on the tip of his tongue, not even looking towards Chuck, he genuinely could barely hold himself back from just tugging you away from him and into one of the empty rooms at the venue.