We've both still got room left to grow – John Legend, 'Ordinary People'

He isn't sure how long he sits in the kitchen. There is a whisper of dawn in the air when he finally becomes aware of his surroundings again. He rubs a tired hand over his tired face. His stubble prickles uncomfortably and as he sighs, the smell of coffee lingers around him. He pushes off the stool he's been slumped on and heads to the door.

The key to the front door is still in the bowl. As quietly as he can, he lets himself out and locks the door behind him again; it's too early for anyone else to be awake.

He sets off on foot. He makes his way down the long driveway towards the road, breathing deeply as he goes. He stretches a hand out and lets the overhanging branches scrape his palm. He entertains the vague thought of suggesting that Bing employ a gardener or a landscaper to maintain the grounds while he's in New York. He rifles through contacts in his mind, finally settling on the undisputable fact that recommending a gardener that was never requested counts as interfering in Bing's life and if he wants his driveway to look unkempt and if he wants the branches to scratch the paintwork on his car and if he wants a garden he can't sit out in, then it's up to Bing and he, Darcy, won't do a damn thing about it.

This thread takes his as far as the park. He can't help but feel slightly unsettled by the idea that he made it this far on autopilot.

Nevertheless, he's here now and here is as good a place as any. He finds a bench and sits down and thinks.

He thinks about last fall.
He thinks about the videos.
He thinks about the Bennets.
He thinks about the Darcys and the de Bourghs.
He thinks that the Bennets of the world were never that different from the Darcys and the de Bourghs of the world.
He thinks that he would have never reached that conclusion last fall.
He thinks about all the changes he's made for Lizzie.
He thinks about the idea that you shouldn't have to change to be loved and he wonders if this idea has any merit.
He thinks about Lizzie; he considers the changes he's made from her point of view and wonders whether he'd trust such radical differences in such a short space of time.
He thinks that, when all is said and done, he deserves a better demonstration of trust from the one person who said she trusts him above all others.

The edges of the sun brighten, no longer the smudged streaks of pale yellow that broke up the sky when he first sat down.

He thinks it's time to go back.

He purposefully doesn't think of anything during the walk back. His thoughts have a definite order now, and he knows what he needs to say when he sees her.

The door is unlocked when he tries the handle. He drops the key back into the bowl and makes his way into the kitchen. She is slumped on the stool he had been slumped on earlier. He clears his throat and her head snaps up. The legs screech against the tiles as she pushes away from the counter and stands, uncertain and timid.

'William,' she breathes. 'God. Thank God. I... I came down and you'd gone. I thought... I don't know what I thought.'

'You thought I'd gone?' His voice is too stilted, too much of a giveaway, too much of an insight into his roiling emotions.

'What was I supposed to think?' she asks, defeated.

'That you'd hurt my feelings last night?'

He can see the effect of his suggestion on her countenance. She looks down. Her hands grip at each other and a dark spot appears on her pyjama top. She sniffles.

'Lizzie,' he sighs.

He moves to her, gathers her into his arms and now her hands are gripping his shirt and her face is buried in his chest right by his heart. His cheek rests on her hair. She shudders as another sob leaves her.

'Lizzie, I can't give up that easily. I want to work this out.'

He feels her nuzzle his shirt, her hands turn from fists pulling him towards her into open palms that tickle and caress his back.

'I want to work out why you still think of me as Darcy when I've been trying so hard to be William. I want to work out how often you have those thoughts and how often you voice those opinions. I want to work out if we can move past this.'

She nods, pulls back so he can see her face. She pushes her hair away from her face and wipes her eyes ineffectually with the sleeve of her pyjama top. Once finished, she takes him by the hand and leads him to the guest room they've been assigned. He sits on the chair by the dressing table while she shuts the door firmly.

'William.' Gigi sounds overly anxious for a social call. 'William, are you OK? Is Lizzie? What's going on? She called me, like, six times before 8am.'

'We're fine,' he says quietly. 'We're going to be fine. There was a... heated exchange last night and I needed some time to process what had happened. Lizzie assumed the worst.'

'But you're both OK? You're still together?'

'We're still together.'

A tinny voice sounding through the tannoy blocks out most of Gigi's response, but he catches her final question tagged on at the end.

'Where are you?'

'The airport. I'm leaving for the 'Investors of Innovation' conference in LA.'

'What? But you were sending Jacobs to that so you could be with Lizzie. William, you said you were OK.'

'And we are. We just need a little space.'

'Willam-'

'Gigi, I have to go. That was the final boarding call. I'll see you in a week.'

'Willam-'

'This was her idea, Gigi. Take it up with her. Love you.'

He checks his messages one last time before turning his phone early. A text has arrived during his conversation with Gigi.

Know that I can make changes too. Know that you're worth the fight. And I love you x

I still want you to stay – John Legend, 'Ordinary People'