chance | darcy/pietro, making up
It was dark when he came back to their apartment. She could hear the sound of him, moving in the living room, and she buried her face into the pillow, hands clenching at the goose-down comforter. His footsteps were slow, steady as he padded down the corridor, and the door creaked slightly as he pushed the bedroom door open.
She waited, as he stood there, watching her, and she thought to herself that it felt odd – unnatural, even, for him to be so quiet and still. He sighed, the sound heavy and loud in the silence, and she closed her eyes, waiting.
She felt the bed dip, his weight settling into the mattress. He was looking at her – she could feel his gaze on her back – and slowly, quietly, he reached out to touch her. She had to fight to keep herself from flinching when his hand neared her, but didn’t quite manage it. He pulled back.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. She didn’t answer, and she didn’t have to see him to recognize the defeat, written into his voice and heavy on the lines of his shoulders.
“I… I’m not good with words.” He swallowed, and she could hear the sheets rustling as he shifted on the bedspread. “I don’t know what to say, and I can never say the right things – it comes out wrong, even when I mean something else.”
She closed her eyes, hands clutching the blankets tighter.
“I know I’m selfish and inconsiderate. I say cruel things and make you cry, and it isn’t fair to you. Everyone says so, even Wanda, and they’re right.” He paused, and he laughed a little, short and sad. “They tell me I’m lucky to have someone, like you. They tell me that you deserve better.”
“You do, though.” He swallowed again, loud enough for her to hear it. “Deserve better than me, that is. But you didn’t tell me to go, so I thought, maybe… maybe you…” He sighed heavily. “… I don’t know.”
“But, you were right.” Darcy bit her lip, letting a tear fall. Knowing it was one thing; hearing him say it was so, so much worse. “I tried to use you to replace her – only, what I feel, when I’m with you… it’s not the same. It was, at first, but then I could feel myself—” he stopped, letting his voice trail off, and Darcy held her breath. When he started again his voice was quieter, rawer – and she thought she was imagining it, but she heard the slightest twinge of hurt. “I watched you laugh and smile and look at me, and I told myself, you don’t know how lucky you are. And I didn’t.”
There was silence for what felt like hours, until he spoke again. “You said that you were tired of trying so hard for someone who didn’t really want you,” he said softly, and when he reached towards her this time he ignored her tensing as he laid a hand on her shoulder, pressing his lips to her temple, speaking the words into her hair. “Give me the chance to prove you wrong.”
He drew back, his mouth disappearing and his touch pulling away, but she reached up, catching his hand in hers. He froze, and she exhaled shakily as she rolled over to face him – his gaze zeroed in on her wet cheeks, regret and shame filling his features.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. She stared up at him for one heartbeat, and then another, before she let go of his hand, nodding slowly.
“Okay.”