NOTES: Lizzy's POV. Couldn't write it any other way. Next will return to Darcy's tho, and that one will be much fluffier :D

Also, finals week isn't even HERE yet, and already the essays and projects are piling up. Ughhhh life of a student, I guess. OOH! But that means I'll be stressed! And when I'm stressed (for some odd reason) I tend to write more! So honestly? Who knows what my posting schedule will be like coming up.

All I know is that I'll be working on the next chapter, and be wishing you all a good night/day, and happy reading! 💕 ~Vinny

Lizzy washed her hands carefully. She scrubbed hard at her fingernails, though they weren't dirty. If she was being totally honest with herself, she was just stalling. It made her.. weird… to have someone else in her space.

But this was just Fitzwilliam, she reminded herself, It wasn't some stranger, ready and willing to judge her every move. He loved her. And she loved him.

So why was she so worried?

Lizzy wasn't stupid. She knew her hotel room was small, and dirty. She knew that. But she also knew that, until that morning, her father had been about to die because they couldn't pay for surgery— she wasn't going to prioritize her comfort over her father's life.

Plus, this was one of the few hotels she could afford indefinitely. She would be able to stay here as long as she needed.

So, there really wasn't anything to worry about, right? Right!

Lizzy took a deeeep breath.. and stepped out of the bathroom. Fitzwilliam was standing exactly where she had left him, staring at the bookshelf. She smiled, and sauntered over to him quietly, tiptoeing.

"Heyo, bookworm," Lizzy said into his ear, after wrapping her arms around him from behind.

It was a good thing she was holding on tight, because Fitzwilliam fairly jumped out of his skin when she spoke. "Ah! God!" He yelped, nearly bucking her over his shoulders. "You scared me!"

"So I gathered," Lizzy said, trying out a shaky laugh. She was.. kind of afraid to let go of him now.

He chuckled thinly, and Lizzy felt him tense under her hands. Oh. Had she made him uncomfortable?

Lizzy immediately let go of him, and stepped back, but that only seemed to make the tension worse; she could see it in his shoulder blades now, scrunching together.

"So…," she said, rocking back on the balls of her feet. "Do you have work today? If not, we can, uh.. watch a movie or.. something…"

"I don't have any meetings today. Tomorrow, I have one in the mid-morning and another after lunch. Today I just have.. uh… emails."

"Mhm." Lizzy looked around, feeling like she had nothing to do with her hands. "So… movie?"

"Sure."

JESUS, when had it been this hard to talk to Fitzwilliam?! What had happened?! Arghhhhh.

"Um. Okay." Why was this suddenly so hard to do?

Lizzy led him over to the couch with an awkward sweep of her arm. He shuffled forward, looking down, as if he was carefully avoiding touching too much of the carpet. When Fitzwilliam sat down on the couch, he leapt up immediately after, with a little sound of surprise in the back of his throat.

She looked down at the place where he had sat, and immediately Lizzy's face flushed in a deep red. "Oh, oh my god," she muttered in utter mortification, "Here, let me just…"

Carefully, she swept off the paperback books, loose change, and empty cardboard coffee cups that had somehow accumulated like dust on her couch cushion.

Oh fuck, was she a slob? She had never thought about it before; she had never brought anyone over to any kind of living space to, well.., live!

As this train of thought was running through her head, Fitzwilliam was, apparently, gathering his own thoughts as well. Drawing himself up to his full height, and taking a deep breath, he asked, very solemnly, "Is your mother in good health?"

Lizzy blinked. "What?"

He reddened. "I mean— for the surgery. Does she have any.. complications? Or… something?"

"Well.. I mean… she's nearing her sixties," Lizzy said, brow furrowing, "and… well, diabetes does run in her side of the family… she has to watch what she eats… but I kinda think that's normal for someone with her build and at her age."

"Mm." Fitzwilliam nodded.

There was a long, awkward pause, which Fitzwilliam eventually.

"So how was your day so far?"

Okay, now he was REALLY scraping the bottom of the barrel. Lizzy put a hand on his shoulder, and guided him down to the (now clean{ish}) couch.

"Is something wrong, Fitzwilliam? You seem… uncomfortable. Or something."

He got up so quickly the couch cushions nearly came off.

"No no! I- I'm good! Uh- Very well! I'm well. Yep. All good and well and good here."

She couldn't help but snicker at that, even if she was starting to get anxious about whatever it was bothering him. She watched him intently from her spot on the couch. His discomfort only seemed to grow. Soon, he retreated to stare broodingly out her window, to where the hotel roof dropped away, leaving nothing but sky and stone beneath.

"Fitzwilliam.. you can.. tell me, you know, if something's bothering you."

He didn't turn around. But Lizzy could see his reflection contort in the window's unwashed glass, his grimace spreading across his face until it almost resembled.. determination?

Without missing a beat, Fitzwilliam spun around, and before she knew it, he was kissing her passionately. "I love you," he gasped, "I love you so much. I love you I love you I love you.."

With every 'I love you,' his hands roamed farther over her body, and his touch became increasingly desperate. There was no warning. No indicator. He just went from 0 to 100, just like that.

Lizzy supposed it was her turn to nearly leap out of her skin.

She didn't want to shove him away violently, so instead she just took his face in her hands, and gently, softly, slooowly…

..YANKED it the FUCK away from her.

"What is wrong with you today?!" She cried, confused, and.. almost scared.

Fitzwilliam froze, his face in her hands. He stared at her, for a long moment. She stared right back. In his deep brown eyes, Lizzy could see panic, fear, and crushing indecision. She could feel his heartbeat through her fingertips.

"I… I…" He gulped. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Wa— what?"

"Be back in a sec!" Fitzwilliam called, already halfway across the room.

The bathroom door shut with a splintering sound before Lizzy even realized what was happening. And even then, for the longest time, she still couldn't puzzle out what had happened.

Was he upset with her? With her place? Was.. was she moving too fast, presuming that they live together— even for a short time? What was bothering him— and why wouldn't he tell her?!

But whatever was wrong, Lizzy was going to find out, and do what she could to fix it. Because… even now.. with the possibility of discourse between them.. the cracks in her just-now healing heart seemed to grow, and split apart…

And she wasn't going to lose him again.

Not now, not ever.

That's when Lizzy made up her mind to creep on silent feet to the bathroom door, and knock on it. And possibly knock some sense into her boyfriend. That could happen too.

But then she heard him talking to someone. And her whole perception suddenly.. shifted on its axis.