It was May and a freak storm had hit the California coast early that morning and had now engulfed San Francisco. Standing on the doorstep of her sister's little terrace house pounding on the door at five o'clock in the morning, Elizabeth Bennet was cold, wet and crying.
"Please Jane, open the door," She sobbed to herself, stomping from foot to foot to try and keep warm, but it was a futile effort. Finally, the hall light flickered on and Lizzie stopped knocking and wrapped her arms around herself. At this stage, she didn't care if it was her sister or Charlie (who was practically her brother anyway) who opened the door. She just needed a familiar face and a place to get warm, dry and consoled. The door swung inwards, letting a little more light onto the stoop.
"Elizabeth?"
"Darcy?!"
They spoke in unison, each as incredulous as the other.
"What are you doing here?" They chorused.
Lizzie was baffled, after not seeing someone for four years, to suddenly find them opening the door of your sister's house in nothing but their gray Yale sweat pants at 5am, the appropriate reaction was speechless. Which he seemed to be also.
Then, the bleary eyed Darcy seemed to come to his senses.
"You're soaked to the bone, quick come inside," he said, stepping aside. She didn't hesitate. Outside, the rain had masked her tears, but in the brighter light of the foyer, her bloodshot eyes were much more obvious to Darcy, who was quickly becoming more awake.
"What happened?" he asked, as she repeated her earlier question.
"Why are you here?"
"Sorry," he apologised, "You should get dry"
She nodded her agreement and quickly fled his company. It was clear to her at this stage that Charlie and Jane weren't home, so she escaped into their bedroom, claimed some of Jane's sweats and locked herself in the bathroom. She defrosted in the shower and emerged twenty minutes later, wearing the borrowed clothes with her towel dried hair knotted in a bun on top of her head.
He was half reclined on the sofa in the living room, a forest green t-shirt now covering his formally bare chest. His eyes were closed, so she attempted to tiptoe past him to the kitchen in search of tea, but he must have sensed her presence because his eyes opened when she was directly in his line of sight.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," She whispered, but couldn't tell you why.
"It's fine," he told her, sitting up straighter he made room for her on the sofa, and she sat beside him. They were both silent for a minute, before Lizzie spoke.
"The last time I saw you, you were drunk and had me cornered in the pool house and Donny Lockridge's graduation party," she tried to laugh, but that was still not the best of memories. Darcy seemed to flush a little to remember that, and so he should. That was the night he'd revealed he was in love with her, and while they were friends, sort of, Lizzie had not welcomed his advances, or the cheap beer on his breath when he'd kissed her. She's avoided him for the rest of the summer and then they'd both left for college. And even though, out of everyone, they were closest to each other, her at Columbia and him at Yale, while the other's had stayed close to home at Berkeley, they'd never even spoken since that night.
It took Darcy a long moment to formulate a response, but just as he opened his mouth to speak a ragged sob escaped his companion cutting him short. Looking over at her, she had her hands over her face but she couldn't hide from him now.
"Elizabeth?" He asked, she drew a deep breath and quickly wiped her eyes, giving him a watery smile.
"It's nothing," she lied, "Where's Jane?"
"She's in Napa, with Charlie,"
"Oh right, their half year anniversary," she recalled, "I forgot that was this weekend," Darcy smirked.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, unconsciously edging closer.
"I'll be fine, trust me, you're probably the last person I should talk to, given our history,"
He flushed again, just slightly, he was still ashamed of himself for that night, spewing words at her she hadn't expected to hear, then forcing a kiss on her when it was the last thing she ever wanted from him. But she was still crying silent tears and he couldn't let her stew in silence while he was willing to listen. He'd still do almost anything for her, even after four years apart. He reached out and grasped her hand.
"Why does this keep happening to me?" She cried, bursting into tears again, and even though he had no idea what she was talking about, he pulled her close and hugged her. With her head on his chest, wetting his shirt with tears, he pulled the story together from her sobbed explanations.
"Am I so repulsive? So unlovable? Bad at sex?" She questioned, he knew she wasn't looking for answers, but he found that hard to believe.
"I just don't get it, it's not even that I can't keep a boyfriend, that wouldn't be so bad, but why do they all cheat on me?" she cried. He was stumped, and that was the last of her explanations, now she was just crying. He held her, stroked her hair and pulled her back so that she would be more comfortable and eventually her sobs subsided, and her breathing evened out and she was asleep, his chest was her pillow and he hugged her close, just wanting to take her pain away. Eventually, he must have fallen asleep too.
He woke when he felt her stirring, the sun was up and the storm had cleared, making way for clear skies. He looked down to see Lizzie raising her head and looking around the room, she looked towards him and their eyes met. She pulled herself upwards a little more.
"Hi," She whispered, she seemed embarrassed, "I'm sorry about last night, I didn't mean to dump all that on you, but thanks for listening,"
"Don't worry about it, I don't mind, you obviously needed a friend…" he trailed off. Could he still call himself her friend? She sighed.
"Oh Will, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have blocked you out all these years. You were always a better friend to me than I appreciated. I over-reacted, it was only hindsight and growing out of my idiotic teenage attitude that made me realise that, but by then, I thought it would be too late to try and fix it."
"No, I'm the one who should be sorry, I did the wrong thing, I was the stupid teenager. I'll always regret that night,"
She frowned, she couldn't tell you why it hurt to hear him say that.
"Oh," she faltered,
"See, I'm still saying the wrong thing," he sighed, "What I meant was, I'll always regret that I hurt you, that I did it the wrong way, that I lost your friendship, because you were the most important person in my world then, and I made a mistake and broke that. Maybe if I hadn't been such an idiot, I wouldn't have spent my entire collage career missing you,"
They were both silent for a long time after that, both turning of thoughts in their heads of what might have been, and how things could have been different… better.
"I missed you too," Lizzie finally spoke, giving him a shy smile, which he returned.
"Lizzie, would you like to go and get some breakfast with me?" He asked, and she smiled wider.
"I'd love to," she answered.
And while he was only asking about breakfast, they both knew he was asking more than that. But they'd start with breakfast, that felt like a good place to start.