All Along
He was supposed to be her superhero. He was supposed to be the one that gave her everything she'd ever dreamed of. In those first few months after they left Rosewood, he'd made so many promises...and they just fell through. Not because he didn't want to achieve them, or because he didn't care. He just...couldn't.
The living room was empty where he sat, and he could see the shapes where the pictures had hung on the freshly-painted walls right after they'd moved in and redecorated. It felt so long ago now, but at one point and time, it had felt like yesterday. The thought of it both gave him the slightest spark-like a pile of leaves trying to catch fire from the sunlight-and completely exhausted him to the point of not wanting to move. How could he?
He'd thought he had it all together. He had the new job, a great therapist, their relationship was doing great... Everything was falling in line. Aria was doing well in school, and she was getting to see her friends regularly, which helped her even more. She liked her classes, and she got on well her with her classmates and professors. Ezra really didn't know how he hadn't stayed on the same even keel with her. He was pretty sure it was his own fault.
He glanced down at the bottle of Jack beside him, wondered if it was all meant to be from the first time he'd laid eyes on her. After all, his father had been an alcoholic, once upon a time. But he got drunk to escape the job, and the things he saw day in and day out. The same things Ezra knew from experience. The problem was that Ezra was trying to escape what was going on in his own head. Memories he couldn't erase, and thoughts he didn't want to have.
"Do you ever think about just putting the bottle down for twenty fucking minutes and having a real conversation with me?" Her voice was harsh; she was pissed, and he knew it. He didn't really care though. He didn't have the drive to.
"What now?" He asked, exhausted. When she didn't respond, he sighed, ran a hand through his overly tangled hair. "Come on, Aria. What the fuck have I done wrong now? What am I failing so miserably at now that you feel the need to point it out? What do you need to say so I can go to bed and get this fucking day over with already?"
She still didn't respond. Instead, tears were in her eyes, and...he felt guilty. Still though, he was too tired to fight with her. He walked past her, down the hall to the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
"You ever think about getting off that floor?"
Ezra looked up at Ethan, rolled his eyes, and glanced back over at the spot on the wall he'd been staring at for God only knew how long. He lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips and took a long sip from it, not even bothering to grimace when it went down.
Ethan shook his head at his son, but didn't say anything more, or leave. He leaned against the wall and then eased down to the floor, making one of those 'I'm old but don't judge my aching knees' sounds as he sat down next to Ezra.
"You're not going to find the answers you're looking for in the bottom of that bottle," Ethan told him as he pointed at the bottle. Ezra laughed emptily. Empty of emotion. Empty of hope.
"Good thing I've got half a dozen more then," he responded. There was clearly a comment in that statement about more than two hundred dollars spent on alcohol-for three days-but Ethan didn't state it.
"You're not going to find Aria in there, either son." When Ezra glared at him, it didn't stop Ethan. "Nor are you going to find hope, or the will to live. Just more hell."
"Why don't you get back to me when you can tell me where the fuck I can find some then," Ezra said, forcing the words past the knot in his throat. Ethan pressed his lips together and then moved up off the floor, though he didn't leave. Ezra gave a side glance at him as he moved towards the piano, but he didn't pay him much mind.
Ethan removed his leather jacket, tossed on the top of the baby grand as he ran his fingers across it. He pushed up the sleeves of his red button-down. His mom's favorite color.
It disgusted Ezra that his parents were so happy while he was so miserable. Not because he hated them-not that at all. It was just the fact that he hated that they got to be happy while he was so fucking depressed.
"What's this?" Ethan asked as he sat down on the bench. Ezra didn't even have to look up to see what the older man was talking about.
"Notes," he responded gruffly. "She left 'em there."
Ethan squinted slightly at the sheet music, looked for the key it was in, and then he began to play the sheet music. Each continued beat that emitted from the piano literally made Ezra's heart break.
"Stop it," he said. Either Ethan couldn't hear him, or he just didn't care, because he kept playing. "I said, stop it!" Ezra yelled. He threw the nearly-empty bottle of Jack across the room, crashing into the edge of the fireplace. The glass was too thick to smash, but it cracked, and he could see where the amber liquid spilled out onto the floor.
Ethan turned on the bench, looked back at Ezra.
"Good to know there's something in there, underneath it all."
Ezra shook his head at his father, the scowl in his expression looking as though someone had etched it there from how angry he looked. Granted, he spent more time looking angry these days than he did anything else.
"What're you doing?" He asked as he leaned against the counter, scribbling notes into his lesson planner. He'd been sitting for the better part of the day and his legs needed the stretching.
Aria shrugged, though she didn't turn to look back at him as she moved her fingers over the keys.
"Don't really know," she responded. "Just going with what's coming out, and it sounds right. I can't come up with the words, though."
"Maybe you don't need 'em right now," Ezra said as he pulled a history book from his bag, flipped it open to where he'd been working out of it earlier in the day.
"Can you at least try to give me a title," Aria said as she spun on the seat, crossed her legs over it as she looked up at him. Ezra looked up at her, smiled at the sight of her. He considered the question for a few moments and then responded.
"Loving You."
"I'm going to a meeting," Ethan told him as he stood, pulled his jacket on. "And then I have to go in to the precinct for a while. I'll swing back here after that."
He didn't wait for a response, just turned and left.
.,.
"Ezra, please," Aria begged from her spot on the end of the bed. She wasn't sleeping with him anymore. She hadn't in weeks. He wasn't sure if it was because she didn't want to be near him, or what.
It'd started because he was kicking and hitting in his sleep. Not intentionally-the nightmares had started again, and they'd come on with a vengeance. He was supposed to talk to his therapist about it, but all she did was give him suggestions that didn't work. When the suggestion of sleeping medication came up, he shot it down. He needed to be able to wake up in the morning for work. He couldn't risk oversleeping.
He wasn't sure where or when the spiral had started. One minute they'd been happy, planning a wedding and discussing a future. The next thing he knew, the distance between them was like an empty stretch of highway, and he had no clue how to cross it. He was so physically, mentally, emotionally exhausted. He didn't know how to tell her everything in his head. It all made him feel like a failure. He was failing her, and he didn't know how to stop it.
He wanted to open his mouth, tell her he was sorry. He wanted to tell her that he was going to fix it all, that he'd find some way to make up the last few weeks, turn it all around. But he didn't know how. He wasn't sure he wanted to. If she left him-heaven for-fucking-bid-he could just give up. And this time no one would be there to stop him.
He needed help. He knew he did. He just didn't know how to ask for it. He wasn't even sure he was worthy of it.
"You ready?" Ethan asked as he closed the door behind him. Ezra was still in the same spot, this time with a bottle of rum at his side. The upside was the he at least looked like he'd showered, and he'd definitely changed. Granted, the jeans were worn to pieces, and the shirt had several stains on it, but he'd take what he could get.
Ezra didn't respond. He barely even moved. Still, Ethan crossed the room and extended a hand to him. Ezra was slow to respond, after a moment, he extended his own arm, and Ethan pulled him up from the floor. He caught Ezra's gaze only for the briefest second before Ezra's line of sight dropped to the floor, and he couldn't cover up the emotions in his eyes as tears flooded them.
"God, kid," Ethan murmured as he tugged him into a hug. He didn't say anything more, and Ezra still didn't say anything, but there wasn't a need for them.
When they parted well over a minute later, Ethan said nothing, just cupped his hand against the back of Ezra's neck and pushed him towards the door, following behind him.
.,.
He knew where they were going the minute Ethan had shown up. Ezra wasn't stupid. He also wasn't exactly sure he wanted to be there, but he was willing to give his father whatever shot he felt he needed to give this a chance.
The AA meeting wasn't more than two blocks from the penthouse, housed conveniently in the basement of a church. Ezra didn't say anything about it as he walked slowly behind his father into the room. Neither of them said a word as he crossed through the basement, over to where chairs were set up. People were already there, and most of them were seated.
Ezra slipped into a seat, and Ethan followed shortly after, handing his son a cup of black coffee as he did, along with a bagel. When Ezra looked up at him, he just muttered 'eat it'.
They sat there for a good thirty minutes while people talked, taking turns. When a lull finally took place, Ethan stood and walked to the front of the room where the others stood as they talked. He leaned against the podium, turned his coffee in his hands, chuckled at himself.
"I used to tell myself I wasn't hurting myself," he started. "That my drinking could only hurt me, so long as I kept it hidden from everyone. Granted, that was back in the beginning, long before my marriage fell apart, and my kids didn't want to see me."
Ezra huffed, leaned back in chair. This was clearly not a pep-talk.
"There's the stuff you don't tell your kids, y'know?" Ethan said. Several people nodded. "The days you wake up in your own vomit. The mornings you have no clue what happened the night before. More than once, I woke up after a rager with no clue who was in bed next to me and I prayed every time that I hadn't done something illegal, or worse, knocked someone up. Back then, those were my biggest worries.
"And then I told my son to try harder at killing himself because he had failed, and at that point, I knew I was either going to actually kill myself or get my shit together. Somehow, I managed to. And now, I'm watching my son down bottle after bottle lately, and it's all I can do not to scream at him, because he's the reason I put it down."
Ethan paused, sniffed. He ran a hand through his graying hair, shook his head as he looked around the room.
"Maybe he'll never realize that. I don't really know. But what I do know is that a bottle of alcohol isn't worth anything next to just one person that you love."
.,.
He'd be sober for months before he'd speak to anyone besides his family. It took months just to convince himself to go out and get new furniture for the apartment. He didn't try to look for Aria. Granted, he knew where she was to begin with, but still. He didn't seek her out.
It was a slow climb.
He worked his ass off to get his career back on track, along with his health. He got back to running, and then he got back to writing.
Summer was rolling around again when he finally stepped anywhere near the piano. The sheet music still sat on it, and he spent weeks looking it over before he finally found the courage to pick it up.
.,.
Aria had been packing up the last few boxes to ship back to Rosewood the day the papers came in the mail. She and Spencer had rented a two bedroom flat in Morningside Heights for the better part of the year after everything with Ezra, and she hadn't heard from him in ages. The girls were planning to return in the fall, but they were looking at moving to Brooklyn where the rent hopefully wouldn't break their wallets as much.
"You almost finished over there?" Spencer asked as she sealed up one of the boxes. Aria looked up at her, nodding distractedly.
"Y-yeah. Just a minute." She passed Spencer several envelopes and then walked across the room, sat down on the edge of the coffee table. She turned the envelope over and unsealed it before pulling out the sheets. She stared at them for a few moments, confused, before she realized what they were.
It was the song she'd started so many months ago...and Ezra had written in words. She ran her fingers over the pages as she read the words.
I had big plans for our future, said I'd give you the whole world somehow
I tried making good on that promise; thought I'd be so much further by now
Never could build you a castle, even though you're the queen of my heart
But I've had the best of intentions from the start
Now some people think I'm a loser, cause I seldom get things right
But you make me feel like a winner, when you wrap me in your arms so tight
Please tell you will remember no matter how much I do wrong
That I've had the best of intentions all along
I gave you a ring and I promised you things I always thought we'd do
But my best-laid plans, slipped right through my hands to show my love for you
And if you could read my heart, then you'd know without exception
It was all with the best of intentions
I gave you a ring and I promised you things I always thought we'd do
But my best-laid plans slipped right through my hands, to show my love for you
And if you could read my heart, then you'd know without exception
It was all with the best of intentions
So here I am asking forgiveness, and praying that you'll understand
Don't think I take you for granted, girl I know just how lucky I am
Though you deserve so much better, you won't find devotion more true
Cause I've had the best of intentions, girl I've had the best of intentions
Yes, I've had the best of intentions, loving you
"What're you reading?" Spencer asked as she wandered over towards Aria. Aria quickly flipped the sheets up against her chest, looked up at the taller girl. She smiled at her, shaking her head. "Oooh, is it a love note," Spencer teased.
Aria chuckled, shook her head.
"No. I just need to run an errand quick. Can you get the rest of this done?" Aria asked. Spencer sighed, but she nodded anyway. Aria thanked her and then grabbed her purse off the coffee table and headed out of the apartment.
She caught a cab to Ezra's penthouse. It was only a mile away, but walking would take her longer to get there in the middle of the morning.
When she got there, she was lucky enough to find that the doorman was someone she knew, so he let her in without a key. She passed by the people outside and headed up into the building, caught the elevator up to Ezra's floor. The sheet music was still in her hands, clenched tightly as she stepped off over a minute later. She charged right up to this door and knocked roughly on it. She had a mouthful of words ready for him the second he opened the door.
But then he did, and they were gone. Because he was standing in front of her, freshly showered and clean-shaven. Hell, his toothbrush was still in his mouth, making it clear he'd gotten a late start to the Saturday morning. And he was dressed in those same jeans he'd worn to that first AA meeting.
"Aria," he murmured softly as he stared down at her.
She lifted her hand, waved the pages at him. Her throat was tight as he stared at him.
"These-...What you wrote-..."
"I meant it," he replied just as softly as she had.
"Are you sober?" She asked him. He nodded.
"How long?" She asked.
"Six months, three weeks, two days, fourte-"
"Okay," she said, lifting a hand to stop him. "I get it." She looked back down at the sheet music, and then back up at him. "What does this mean?"
"It means I'm sorry," he replied, shrugging. "I don't know how else to be. I'm still trying to figure my way through everything even now. But I am sorry."
She stared up at him, mouth opening and then closing, trying to find the words to respond. She shook her head, trying not to cry.
"I didn't get it," she said, her voice still soft. "I couldn't wrap my head around why I wasn't enough to make you want what we had. I eventually figured you just never loved me."
Ezra gulped, shook his head.
"It was never about you," he said, opening his door further to allow her access. She stared at him tentatively, but then stepped into the apartment, watched as Ezra closed the door.
"Then what was it about?" Aria asked, trying not to snoop around at what Ezra had done to the apartment, though it was hard not to notice that the sitting room had been painted again. He'd rearranged the new furniture he'd gotten, and the piano was angled towards the fireplace now instead of against the wall.
"It was about needing to love myself," he told her honestly. "Not because I didn't love you...I just..." He shook his head, looking around the room.
"Didn't like what you saw when you looked in the mirror," Aria offered nervously.
"Pretty much," Ezra responded. "Honestly, by the time you left, I was looking for any reason to be done. But then, for whatever reason, I couldn't actually bring myself to follow through on how I felt, and so I just stopped...functioning."
"What made that change?" Aria asked as she stepped around him. She needed to put space between them. She needed air. She walked towards the other side of the room, narrowed her vision onto the piano. "And what happened here?"
"My father, honestly," Ezra replied as he turned, watched her. "He gave me his journals about two years ago, but I didn't really start reading them until he started taking me to meetings. I spent so much time living inside my own head, that it wasn't really until I started getting out of it that I realized it wasn't just me."
Aria nodded, but she didn't turn or respond to his statement. Everything he was saying was obvious on some level or another, but she couldn't tell him that. She couldn't even be angry at him for it, because at the core of it, he had told her the truth-that he needed to love himself. She couldn't do that for him. He had to figure it out on his own.
"As far as the piano...I got pissed off one night and threw a bottle of vodka at it. 'Lijah was here spending the night, and he came out after I'd set it on fire, and put it out. I felt like everything was failing, and I really wanted a drink, and every time I had tried to play after I first stopped drinking...I mean, it never was entirely the same after my wrist was broken, but I swear it was worse then, and I hated the fact that I felt like I couldn't even play.
"Anyway," he said softly, exhaling a long breath. "I talked to my doctor, and he talked to a PT, and they gave me some exercises. I still get aggravated on the bad days, when my fingers won't move the way I want them to, but most days I can play for a while."
"Can you play today?" Aria asked as she rested her hands on the edge of the side of the piano.
Ezra rubbed his wrist, flexed his fingers.
"I can give it a shot," he said with a nod. "No promises, though."
Aria nodded back at him, and Ezra crossed the room, moved around the bench and sat down on it. Aria offered him the sheet music, but he shook his head.
"I remember it," he murmured. Aria nodded.
He pressed a few keys to make sure everything sounded right, and then began to play the song. Aria nodded along with the beats, ran her fingers over the words. When the notes for the lyrics started in, she began to sing.
Ezra nearly stopped playing at the sound of Aria's voice, stuttering on several notes as he did. He flinched in the movements, tried not to think too much about the mishap as he continued to play, or it would impede him further.
The missed notes didn't stop Aria's singing, though. She continued on, forcing the words out of her mouth as a knot grew tighter in her throat from the words she was singing.
Her voice fell off somewhere in the middle of the second chorus, but Ezra picked up right where she fell off, singing the words he'd intended her to hear. She watched him tearfully, swatting away the salted drops as they fell from her eyes until the song was over, and he was done playing.
"I mean it," he told her. "Everything I did...it was only with the intention of loving you. I'm sorry I keep screwing it up, and you probably deserve a hell of a lot more than anything I can ever give you, but I ju-...' He paused, breathed. "I'm just sorry. I'm sorry."