It is one big speeding train wreck. Words tumble out of his mouth, there's a tightness in his chest, and all he is conscious of is the phantom feel of her lips pressed against his. His brain is paralyzed, and he can only watch as the expression on her face turns from shock to anger and disgust. A part of him just wanted to make her feel something. The blank, toneless words she greeted him with all became too much. So he kissed her.
"What the hell was that?" She's pushed herself away from him, but her palms are still pressed against his chest, and he is sure she can feel his heart beating.
"I love you. I've tried to fight it, this thing between us—there are so many reasons why I should—like your mom terrifies me, and your younger sisters are unbearable and ridiculous, and how can I expose my sister to all of that? You are ridiculous and always have every situation so completely wrong, but you drive me absolutely mad, and I can't help it. I want you. It's some kind of torture. I'm in literal physical pain all the time! When I'm not around you, there's this constant ache. When I'm with you, I get so frustrated and…" He starts tugging on his hair.
Her palms slide off his chest, and turn into fists at her side. He watches them dumbly, the chipped nail polish catching his attention.
"I'm sorry I've caused you any…pain, trust me when I say I never wished to do so," Her teeth are firmly clenched together. His heart stutters, and for a moment her words have no meaning. He replays them over and over, waiting to hear that she feels for him too. She looks at him, the corner of her mouth jerking at his silence.
"Are you mocking me?" He steps toward her, anger coloring his vision. There is a bitter taste in his mouth, and his throat feels oddly constricted, like there is not enough air.
"How else am I supposed to react, Darcy? All we do is fight, you glare at me all the time, and now you chose to tell me that you actually lo-care for me, by insulting me? What were you expecting? Me to fall to my knees and kiss your feet in gratefulness that the great William Darcy has lowered himself to the likes of someone like me?" She took a step toward him, a humorless laugh escaping from her.
"I-" He's not even sure of what he's going to say. Fortunately, she interrupts him.
"How could I ever be with the guy who ruined my sister's chance of happiness?" Her hazel eyes search his own; he cannot look away or deny it.
"And George! All that you put him through! All of his misfortunes and heartache!" Wickham's name seems to wake him up.
"Oh he has told you of his heartache, has he?" They are now inches from touching. She lifts her chin at him defiantly.
"Yes, his troubles have been very great, indeed!" There is something about his tone which stops her from replying. Or perhaps it's their proximity. Darcy leans his head toward her, eyes lowering to her pursed mouth. For a moment, she leans forward also.
Then somewhere, a twig is snapped, and Darcy steps back, whatever moment broken.
He hears himself apologizing for disturbing her her. Acid rises up his throat, his stomach lurches painfully. He leaves, and just barely makes it out of her sight in time as he heaves and tries to expel the awful feeling inside. Her words ring through his mind.
What were you expecting?