NOTES: Darcy's POV. The mood jumps around a lot. Difficult to explain. Interested to see how y'all react tho... ;) I'll post again soon! Love y'all! ~Vinny
Fitzwilliam Darcy usually took care with his appearance. He usually slept for at least 8 hours every day, at minimum. He usually worked hard and late, and did not indulge in selfish activities.
Usually, strictly speaking, he gave a damn about his life.
Darcy scratched his cheek. There was a cut there, around the accumulating stumble. He had nicked himself shaving, then given up. He had no one to dress up for anyway.
Not that they would be impressed.
He was slumped down in a wrinkled suit, head on the desk, as he ignored his paperwork and absently flicked through his camera roll.
Pictures from his birthday party.
Williams had stolen his phone at one point (that little shit), and taken a bunch of terribly blurry photos. Candles fizzling in the dim library. Blue icing smeared on someone's face; he couldn't tell whose, the camera was too close. A few shots of the floor, of unfocused smiles, and then two of the actual party.
One of them was taken by Lizzy, him blowing out the candles on the M&Ms cake she had gotten him. Williams on his left, Georgie on his right. He was looking at the camera, grinning at the lovely woman behind the camera.
The last was the one he kept going back to. The one that hurt the most.
It was just him and Lizzy.
He remembered it.
A song had come on— Mozart, or Beethoven. Something soft, with piano and violins— and Lizzy had admitted to only ever dancing to modern songs. Teasing her, Darcy had held out his hand and asked her for a dance. To his surprise, she took the offer.
In the picture, Darcy was facing away from the camera, his curls outlined by the dim lights. Lizzy had needed to stand on his toes to do the dance, but even so, she had snuggled down into the crook of his neck, holding him close.
Only half of her face was visible. Her freckles cast peach-colored shadows along her button nose. Her bright green eyes were crinkled in a smile as she raised an eyebrow at the camera.
It made his heart ache, to see that smile again.
A fat tear smacked into the screen, droplets blurring her eyes. His hand gripped the phone so tightly, his knuckles began to shake.
Why. Why. Why had he found the love of his life— the one person he ever really cared this much about— only to have her ripped away from him. WHY was he so STUPID as to let her go?! WHY was SHE so blind that she didn't know he loved her with all of his being?!
Fitzwilliam Darcy had never been an emotional person. He had never wanted to be. He had lived life far, far from the razor's edge; no surprises. The ONE time he had let his guard down… the ONE TIME he had trusted someone…
And she had broken his heart. Torn it to shreds. He had loved her so much, and yet she had left him anyway.
Darcy turned to the window in his office, rising out of his chair, and pressed the phone to his lips. He was shaking. His head hurt. He had never felt this… this much pain before.
"Knock knock! May I come in?"
His aching head shot up. Whoever it was at the door didn't wait for an answer. They just waltzed on in.
"Sorry to barge in on you like this, darling," the absolute LAST person in the world he wanted to see right then said, in a whiny falsetto, "But I just got the memo abou— oh. Oh dear."
Darcy hurried to turn his face (which he knew was puffy and red from crying). "What is it, Caroline?"
"I just.. Oh…. I'm so sorry to bother you like this…"
She didn't sound sorry at all. But Darcy didn't have the strength to say so. He just laughed out loud, brokenly, choking on his own saliva.
Caroline walked up behind him, tutting softly. "Oh, you poor dear… I bet you're all broken up about… well, the break-up… aren't you."
"Good guess," he bit out sarcastically, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
"You know.. darling," Caroline murmured, walking up behind him, her claw-like hands coming to a rest on his shoulders, "If you ever need help.. getting over her… Well. I'm always up for a 'sick day,' if you catch my drift…"
He swatted her away, glaring. "Drop it, Caroline."
She drew back, her too-red lips pressing together in a pout. "What? You did it for her, didn't you?"
"I said, drop it."
But Caroline had had enough. Even now, even when he was single again and she was ready and willing— he wouldn't have her! Unbelievable! You know what? She was done. Fitzwilliam Darcy was not good enough for her. He never was.
"Fine," she hissed, her sapphire eyes screwing up in tight fury, "but I'm quitting. Yeah. You heard me! I'm DONE putting up with that— that— ATTITUDE of yours!"
"Excuse me?" Darcy asked, recoiling.
"That!" She shrieked, pointing at his face. "Right there! That self-important sneer you always have when something doesn't go your way! You always ALWAYS have to have what you want— well guess what, buster? THAT'S NOT HOW LIFE FUCKING WORKS!"
"Get out of my office," he said, through gritted teeth.
"And THAT! You order people around like they're nothing! Here's a crazy thought— what if (just MAYBE) Elizabeth left you because you never treated her LIKE AN EQUAL! Only something to flaunt! A woman to hang on your arm, a WHORE to see only when the nights got cold! A—"
"GET OUT!" Darcy roared, throwing his fist towards the door.
His phone slipped from his shaking grip, and hit the wall with a loud crACK. Caroline yelped, and shot him one last glare. "Go to hell."
"See you there," he snarled.
Then she was gone. He was alone in his office, shaking again— but this time, with rage boiling over.
Had he been a teenager, he would have put his fist through a wall.
Instead, Darcy just clenched his fists so hard his nails left half-moon slivers in his palm, and ground his teeth until he heard a crunch. He wore a hole into the carpet with pacing.
How DARE that.. that… bitch talk about him like that! About Lizzy! Speculating the worst kind of things onto a relationship she knew NOTHING about… He— He had treated Lizzy well! He had!
'But not well enough,' was the brutal truth.
He hadn't given her his all. He had expected her to love him immediately. He had wanted everything from her so badly, he hadn't stopped to think about how their relationship was for HER.
It hurt, but it was true. He had been selfish.
He had been the idiot who didn't prepare her for the gala, who didn't listen to the warning signs she showed him. He had gotten irrationally angry, and stressed about things, and when she wasn't there to call him down… well…
He picked up his phone gingerly from its place by the wall. The screen was cracked, and green light spilled out from half the case. Fuck.
The only thing he could see, besides the time, was the first text of 3 from Williams.
'Lizzy's dads rly RLY sick. Getting surgery. Samantha + I think u should bring her flowers'
His heart dropped.
Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach; he had forgotten all about Lizzy's ailing father. She— she was probably unhappy as he was, WITH all the added stress of taking care of her father!
Darcy nearly smacked himself. AGAIN, he had been incredibly selfish. He shouldn't be worried about himself— He should be there, helping her!
If she would have him.
Without much planning at all, Darcy was out the door, fumbling his excuses to the secretary, and grabbing his car keys. Then he ran back inside and called Williams, using the office phone.
"Where is Lizzy?" He said in a rush.
"What? Dude, what's with the signal?"
"WHERE IS SHE, PLEASE!"
"Jeez! Darce! She's at her parent's house— stop yelling!"
"WHERE IS THAT PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW."
"In Hertfordshire! Not far from where Samantha works. Now, what's this interrogation all abou—"
Click.
Darcy hung up the phone. He didn't have time to chat with his cousin. The love of his life was in trouble, and he would stop at nothing to help her, however he could.
Well. Maybe he would stop at a flower store.
But other than that— nothing.
Hang on Lizzy, don't worry, he thought to himself, pulling out into traffic and stepping on the gas, I'll be there soon.
And then, it'll all be alright.