It was her eyes that made it worse.
She has a way of looking at him, as though her eyes can bore way past the exterior he presents to the world and then they just settle on his soul and take it all in, everything he is, everything he always has been and he's pretty sure she can see everything he's going to be, not that she'll ever tell him.
It's always made him slightly uncomfortable when she looks at him like that, like she's a kid with a brand-new microscope and he's the unfortunate bug that she's chosen to examine whether he likes it or not. He's tried for a very long time to be the Harvey Specter that would garner the most respect and attention from those around him and he's just unsure of at what point it started being an act that she could see through, although he's pretty sure she always could.
He feels as though he has to say less to her than other people. They can communicate with a look - they joke and banter and flirt but lately, real late night talks with her have been something he's tried to steer away from. Telling Donna even a fraction of how he feels, feels akin to wrenching open a well somewhere inside of himself and she can see the water spilling out before it even reaches the surface. So he's held back from her, he's shut down conversations before they even start, he's closed himself off from even his own thoughts about her when she's around, in case she can just read it on his face. Holding back from Donna means keeping himself in the zone that has been comfortably his for a long time, being a guy - a handsome guy- that's very good at his job, who's very good at picking up women, ones that don't look at him as if they wait long enough the eighth wonder of the world will spurt out of his mouth, that has light and airy laughs with his secretary and pretends not to notice when their laughs falter sometimes at the exact same moment, their eyes meeting and suddenly whatever the joke was doesn't seem so funny, and there's a little less air in the room and he finds another excuse to extract himself from her eyes. That comfort zone is starting to resemble more of cell than anything, starting to feel like the walls are getting closer and closer around him and there's nowhere to properly breathe.
It had been a split second, words from Scottie that would usually have bounced off his psyche started to swim around his head and there was something glaringly obvious, almost too obvious and he was embarrassed that it had taken him so long to realize it. Him being in love with Donna. It seemed laughable and cliché and as if it should have been incredibly easy to understand but he just hadn't.
Feeling tired of hiding from her, from her gaze, and their talks he had decided that he was going to do it, to ask her to dinner away from the office and make it clear that he knew now, how he felt and how clear it had made his mind – a lighthouse's stream of light in a harsh and dark sea – and how he wanted to share his thoughts with her, fully, again and wanted to know whether it was something she would want.
Hands shaking slightly, his heart pounding in his chest he made his way to find her, catching her at the elevators. He wished he had rehearsed what he was going to say, opening his mouth now and just hoping for the best that the right words would come out seemed like a stupid idea now he was in the moment.
"Did Scottie say something to you, about…"
"About what?"
A beat. Their eyes met and he could have sworn there was something in her stare that seemed to match the feeling of fear that was hammering in his chest.
"Oh, perfect timing!"
Thomas Kessler. Perfect timing indeed.