Author's Note: hello all…umm heh…so it's been a while…how are y'all doing? *Ahem* anyway, I would like to issue a formal apology to all of you dear readers; when I posted the first chapter of this, I was fully intending on posting the next chapter within the same week. However, as I'm sure is quite clear, that definitely did not happen and that is completely my fault, so I am truly sorry for that. All I can offer as an excuse is that there was a big wedding in the family, and everything was kinda crazy for a while. Anywho, I am very sorry for the almost month-long delay in the second chapter of this two-shot, thank you for sticking with me, and without further ado, here is Chapter 2! I hope you all enjoy it and as always, all constructive criticism is welcome :)


She gasps suddenly, shattering the silence and my flimsy composure, "I figured it out, I know who it is!" she exclaims. Instantly, my entire body goes cold, my hands grow clammy, and my breaths start coming a little faster.

What?! How? How does she know? The speed at which my thoughts are traveling increases exponentially, accelerating to the point that I can no longer even process them. It's just a great tidal wave of panic and dread, sweeping away all sense and self-control, carrying it off and leaving only the wreckage of splintered scraps of thoughts and words in its wake.

There's no way. How? How could she possibly have guessed? And that quickly, too? I tried my best to be as vaguely specific as I could, but somehow she sifted through the hazy bits of information I provided and organized them into a very clear image.

Honestly, why am I even surprised? She's basically a detective-ing genius (probably due to all the Sherlock she's watched), although one wouldn't have to be a genius to know the way I feel about her. Goodness knows I haven't been very good at keeping it a secret, I think to myself sheepishly. Charlie and Georgie are always making fun of the quote, "creepy, stalkerish way" my eyes stay glued to her (with or without my permission) whenever we hang out.

The real question here is why I ever let her convince me to talk about this? If I had just kept my big mouth shut, I wouldn't be in this mess. She wasn't supposed to find out this way – actually, I I'm not sure that she was ever supposed to find out because I know the way I feel is not reciprocated, and I don't ever want to make her uncomfortable.

I'm pretty sure I was ready to take this particular secret to the grave. I've felt this way for a long time (longer than 6 months, that's for sure, I was hoping to throw her off the scent with that clue), and I was perfectly happy and prepared to continue repressing these inconvenient emotions for the rest of my life.

However, it appears fate, in conjunction with my pathetic inability to say no to her, has sadistically intervened and placed me in a most awkward position. But how was I supposed to refuse her offer of help? How was I supposed to stand a chance, looking into her impassioned eyes, glittering with excitement and the thrill of the unknown, how could I deny her?

Sooo, I folded, easily, just like a sappy greeting card. The small part of me that was in denial about her complete lack of romantic affection for me was hoping that maybe, just maybe, in some tiny corner of her heart, she cared for me the way I care for her. That delusional part of me apparently gained power for a second and within that brief period of time, was able to reveal too much and, not to sound too melodramatic, essentially ruin my life. This was self-sabotage at its finest.

Now she's smiling widely, eyes alight with joy, chanting singsongingly "I know who it iiis" and she's gleefully doing what I can only describe as a little jig whilst staying seated, celebrating her discovery. I can't help but find it adorable, even as it spells out my doom in clear, distinctly legible letters, I can't repress the urge to smile or the levity I feel at her silliness.

Soon enough, though, her victory dancing winds down, and she slaps her hands on to her knees, her face still jubilant, "Darcy! How come you never told me? I never would have guessed, I thought you said you didn't like her like that."

Up until this point, I was sort of wincing in preparation for the mortification and unpleasantness to come, but at her last few words, I hear the sound of a record scratching violently. Her? Wait a second…"Lizzy, who do you think I was talking about?" I ask hesitantly.

"Well, I'll admit - at first I had no idea, but once I heard your description of her, it was easy, there was only one person in your life who fit the bill. It's a bit of a surprising choice, especially with what I've heard you say about her family, but she seems nice so," she shrugs as she concludes her statement.

I'm shaking my head a little in confusion, still as lost as I was when I first asked my question, I try to prod her along, "Soo, you think it's…?" I gesture for her to go on. "Oh, I don't think, I know. There's literally no one else it could be, it's so obvious."

"Okayyy, well let's just assume for a moment that it's not obvious to everyone in the room, and that some of us may need a little more help in seeing the 'obvious,'" I press nervously, hands fidgeting.

"Alright, Darcy, since you're being weird and you're gonna make me spell it out for you even though we both know exactly who we're talking about because we're talking about the same person," she pauses with a good-natured eyeroll, "I think that it's quite obvious that this mystery lady you have a crush on is…," she draws out the "is" as if there's an imaginary drumroll accompanying her announcement and it only serves to heighten my uneasiness, "…none other than the lovely Miss. Anne de Bourgh!" she finishes triumphantly.

Anne? She thinks the person I'm in love with, have been in love with for months, is Anne? Anne de Bourgh? Anne, person I think of as a cousin? Anne, the daughter of the most intimidating and pompous woman of my acquaintance who unfortunately insists on my calling her "auntie" even though we have neither blood nor a real loving relationship between us? I mentally shudder at the thought of "Auntie Catherine," it's like I can hear her shrill, disapproving voice right now and I can practically feel her offensively cloying perfume wrapping around me, entering my nostrils, and crawling its way into my throat, suffocating me.

I shut my eyes in revulsion, shudder again, this time physically, and Lizzy catches the movement. "Uh…Darcy, you good?" she asks with a weirded-out expression on her face. Her face clears in understanding, "Wait, is it not Anne?" she asks disappointedly, "I thought for sure it was her, it all made sense, but going off that seriously disgusted reaction - I mean, sheesh, Darcy, it's okay if you don't like her like that, but she's not that bad is she, to warrant such a severe physical reaction?" she asks laughingly.

I'm still recovering from the strikingly realistic daymare of "Auntie Catherine" that my mind was able to conjure up, shaking off the last few tendrils of horror that still cling to me, when I respond very articulately, "Huh?"

My face must be conveying the remains of Catherine-induced nausea mixed with disorientation because to be perfectly honest, I had not really heard or processed any of what she had said, and the combination of these two expressions must have looked ridiculous because Lizzy bursts into laughter.

She's beautiful when she laughs. I mean, she's always beautiful, but when her eyes crinkle at the corners and brighten with the warm light she seems to carry within her, I can't look away even as I'm blinded. I can't believe there was a time I actually believed (and said aloud) that she was anything less than dazzlingly gorgeous, it's been so many months since I've considered her to be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, resplendently lovely.

Her laughter begins to dwindle down and I'm still staring at her, stunned, my eyes trying to adjust as the light in the room begins to die down with her laughter. She's still grinning as she says, "Darcy, are you quite alright? You look like someone just came in here and punched you right in the head."

I shake off the daze and come back to myself in a flash, "Yup, I'm fine, toootally fine, sorry about that, what were you saying?" I ask clumsily as my eyes meet hers.

"What I was saying before you so rudely ignored me," she begins giving me a look of mock offense, "Well, I guess I was just rethinking whether Anne was your ladylove after that absolute stank face you made just at the mention of her name. Speaking of, I know you've known her for a long time, and I know you don't like her mom, but I thought you were cool with Anne so what was that about?" she asks.

I decide to subtly dodge her question by asking an intriguing question of my own, "Hang on a sec, what made you think I liked Anne in the first place?"

"Well, your whole speech of love!" she exclaims, "Ya know, the whole beautiful, long, dark hair, big eyes, good at what she does thing! Didn't Anne win that big award last year for that painting that she did? And I saw some of her pieces hanging in the halls on my way here, she's amazing! Not to mention, the fact that you've known for her since you were basically fetuses, so I thought maybe it was a friends-to-lovers type thing. And also, no offense Darcy, but it's not like your social circle is exactly huge, I went through every single person on the list, and she's the only one that fits all the criteria, she's the only person it could be," she finishes fervidly, running out of breath a little towards the end.

I process her deductive reasoning and see how she came to this reasonable, but completely inaccurate conclusion. I can't decide whether to feel proud of my powers of disguise that she doesn't seem to have a clue that I was talking about her or to feel discouraged at this ultimate sign of the friend zone, that she didn't even once consider including herself in the possible candidates because she probably can't picture us ever being together, even hypothetically.

I look down and smile wryly, embarrassed, and regretful of ever putting myself in this situation, but still resigned and resolved to finalize this round of self-destruction. Welp, in for a penny, in for a pound. I take a deep breath, tip my head back up and force myself to meet her eyes determinedly, "She's not the only person it could be," I reply quietly, but unwaveringly.

Lizzy looks indignant, "Then who else could it be?" she shoots back doggedly, "I've literally thought of everyone!"

"Not everyone," I respond in the same subdued tone, eyeing her face warily, terrified at what's to come but ready to finally get this weight off my chest.

"Oh yeah? Then who? Please tell me who I've missed," she challenges fiercely, crossing her arms.

It all ends here, years of a perfectly good friendship come to a catastrophic halt at my hands. I steel myself and take one last look at the Lizzy of old, my best friend, I memorize her every feature as it is now, because everything is going to change in the next few seconds.

"You," I say softly and fervently, my heart beating wildly as I gaze into her lovely eyes. I watch her face melt from righteous and fierce opposition into confusion and then into astonishment. Her crossed arms loosen, and she continues to stare at me in shock, it's her turn to be speechless.

I'm still seated in front of my easel a few feet away from her, so I push myself up and begin to walk towards her. As I rise out of my seat, her stunned eyes never lose their firm connection with mine and her head tilts up as her eyes stay glued to mine and she follows my trek towards her.

As I draw closer, she doesn't shrink away which I take as a good sign. I walk until I'm right in front of her and I reach for one of her hands, she allows me to gently grasp her much smaller and softer hand in mine and as soon as her hand is in place, it feels right. I never want to let go. I keep hold of it as I tell her in a voice barely above a whisper, all the things I've wanted to tell her for months now, "I like you, Lizzy, actually no, I'm in love with you, Lizzy, actually I've been in love with you, Lizzy."

"I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable and I'm sorry if I'm ruining our friendship, which is very important to me, but I don't think I can go on without you knowing the truth, and the truth is that I want you," I say simply with a one-sided shrug. "I want to be with you, and not just as friends. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine. You're the coolest, loveliest, strangest, strongest, kindest, best person I've ever known, I love you," I say in a slightly shaky voice.

Throughout my entire speech, her eyes have been locked on mine and they haven't lost their look of utter shock, buy they have increased markedly in diameter. She blinks for the first time in the past few minutes, but when she opens her eyes, they are still stricken with surprise, although back to normal size thankfully.

"Please say something," I implore her desperately clutching her hand in mine, "If you don't feel the same way, that's completely understandable," I say in a rush looking down at her hand, "It's okay, I mean it'll suck obviously, but I'll get over it, I'll be okay - I never expected you to return my feelings anyway especially since I used to be such a jerk so I'm more than prepared to deal with it, please just go ahead and say it, tell me you don't feel the same and I promise I'll get out of your way and out of your life, I'm nowhere near good enough –"

Suddenly, Lizzy launches herself at me and cuts me off right in the middle of my self-belittling soliloquy and soon all thoughts, self-critical and otherwise, are silenced by the press of her lips to mine. At first, I don't respond because frankly, I'm incapable of doing anything other than standing still, my arms outstretched to the side in complete bewilderment.

Her floral scent floods my senses and sends my self-control into emergency mode, and the pure closeness of her nearly does me in. But soon enough, I come to my sense and my arms, no longer deprived and empty, gradually drift up and rest on either side of her waist, my eyes flutter closed, and I kiss her back. It's hesitant, soft, sweet, uncertain, but without a doubt the best and most complete sense of right-ness I've felt in a long time.

Too soon, she lowers back to her heels, she pulls back from me, and I immediately feel the loss of her like the loss of limb or something else that's inherently a part of me. Her eyes open and she's looking at me unsurely but hopefully, a small, crooked smile on her face. Before I can figure out what to say or do next, she punches me in the arm not lightly, but without enough force to do real harm. I yelp, more from surprise than from pain. She frowns somewhat playfully and says forcefully, "Hey! Never talk about my best friend like that again."

"He might be kinda dumb and oblivious sometimes, especially about not realizing that his best friend is in love with him, too, but he's still one of the best people I know, and anyone would be beyond lucky to have him," she concludes fiercely, her eyes trained on me and completely serious.

I'm rubbing my arm, my head tipped down, still focused on the lingering soreness there until my brain processes her words fully and it finally clicks. My head jerks up, my eyes flying to hers and sticking there, "Wait…so…then…," I trail off incoherently, but she understands, "Mhmm," she hums, her eyes beginning to twinkle. "So, then you…," I falter, "Yup," she says popping the "p."

I can't believe it, there's fireworks going off in my head, my heart hasn't maintained a normal rhythm in the past ten minutes at least, and I feel like I'm delirious. This has to be some sort of fever dream in which everything I've ever wanted has just been handed to me on a silver platter. I don't know what to do with myself, I'm truly baffled as to the proper or right way to proceed is, I don't know what I should do, but I know what I want to do.

My face relaxes and at a loss for words, all I can say is "Lizzy," hoping to convey the extreme level of joy, relief, elation, wonder, and love I feel on that one word, and I gather her into a tight hug, burying my face in her neck. She returns my embrace, and she feels so small and warm and perfect and that feeling of right-ness sweeps back over me and threatens to overwhelm me.

I want to just stay here, right in this moment, for the rest of my life – forget figure drawing, why would I want to have to keep my distance and attempt to capture her beauty in graphite when I can be up close and capture her beauty in my arms? As much as I'll always be indebted to this class for making this happen, I am quite content to leave my pencil over there and remain in this exact position for the rest of my days.

The End :D


I wanted to apologize again for the tardiness of this second chapter (as well as the lack of quality, this was hastily written, I wish I could have done this better, but school is starting tomorrow so I unfortunately don't have the time :/ ) but thank you all very much for reading!