Page 122 of Companions of Their Youth
“I love you.”
And then the kiss.
It had been brief. Feather-light. Barely a brush at the corner of his mouth.
But it sent a jolt through Darcy’s body as if he had been struck. His chest went cold. His stomach lurched.
He stumbled back, heart pounding with something too tangled to name—revulsion, yes, but also betrayal. Fear. Anger. Confusion.
“You are disgusting!” he had roared, the words erupting from his chest before he could think.
Wickham had gaped in astonishment at the hateful words spewed by the figure across the room. “Wh-what do you mean?” he stammered.
“I mean you repulse me! Howdareyou, George?”
Wickham shrank back, the look on his face hurt and confused. “But I thought—”
“You thought you could profess your love and thenkissme?” Darcy thought he might vomit just saying the words. “Whenhave Ievergiven youanyindication that such regard from you would be well-received?”
“We have spent so much time together, and I—”
“Yes, because we have been in the same proximity as one another! By your logic, I would have accepted the attentions of many people over the years.”
“Please, I just meant-”
“I know exactly what you meant.” His voice had turned sharp, nearly cruel. “You meant to debase everything between us. You meant to trap me—pull me down into your corruption.”
“I would never! Iloveyou. Does that mean nothing to you?”
What does he mean, he loves me? Darcy thought in astonishment. What would people say about me if they knew my closest friend was a sodomite who thought himself in love with me? What would they think that made me?
“It means less than nothing,” Darcy responded coldly.“Nothingwould signify that I feel indifference, but your attempts at an embrace are utterly repugnant.”
“Is there nothing I can do?” Wickham begged in desperation.
“You can leave and not return. I never wish to see you or speak to you again. Do you understand?”
Wickham scrambled backwards towards the door.
“Please,” he begged, “do not tell anyone of this.”
“Of that you can be assured.” Darcy’s voice was frigid. “And I do not do it for your sake, but for my own. I would not wish tobe tied to you under any circumstances, and I cannot allow your depravity to taint my reputation.”
“Thank you—”
“GO!”
Wickham fled into the night. Darcy stood frozen, breath ragged, hands trembling at his sides.
And then, alone, he sank into the nearest chair, staring at the fire until it blurred. He could still feel the ghost of the kiss on his skin. Still feel the coil of revulsion in his gut.
But beneath it all, buried deep—was something else. A grief he could not explain. A loss he could not name.
Wickham had been his friend. Hisbrother, in all but blood.
And in a single moment, it had all been shattered.
∞∞∞
