A/N: i was listening to run by daughter then this fic happened. what can i say? i'm a sucker for destructive relationships. a couple that gets wasted together, stays together. oops. for the purposes of this story, ezra quit his job at Rosewood High as soon as Aria showed up in his class after a less than innocent night together, and got a permanent job teaching at Hollis.
trigger warning: abuse
flashbacks are in italics
. . .
Aria reaches for him in her sleep, only to be met by cold, empty sheets. Her hazel eyes flutter open and she sits up, blinking rapidly as she adjusts to the darkness. The clock beside the bed reads 3:17 am. She immediately spots the open door leading to the balcony and a chill runs down her spine as the wind picks up and drifts into the cozy apartment.
Aria stands and plucks the crumpled white dress shirt from the floor before buttoning it carelessly around her body. The shirt hangs loosely from her small naked frame, hitting her mid-thigh and hanging from one shoulder. Aria pads quietly across the room towards the open door and runs a hand through her messy hair in attempt to tame it. She inhales sharply and wraps her arms securely around her middle when she steps out into the open air.
She steps slowly towards the man resting his forearms on the railing, his eyes locked onto the street below and a lit cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. His hair is dark and unruly, a few of his short, curly locks falling over his forehead and he's dressed in nothing but the pair of jeans he wore the night before. Aria approaches his side, stopping when she's a few feet away from him.
"Ezra?"
Her voice is soft, like a ghost, as it gets carried in the wind. Ezra stands up and glances in her direction, capturing the cigarette between his middle and forefinger and taking a long drag before turning his eyes back to the street and taking the cigarette from his lips. He exhales slowly and places his hands firmly on the railing in front of him, leaning into it.
"You shouldn't be out here," he says, noting the way her body is shivering. "You'll get sick."
"Aren't I already?"
Ezra smirks but doesn't look at her. He brings the cigarette to his mouth and inhales deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs as he leans his forearms against the railing again then releases the puff of smoke from between his lips. He taps the cigarette gently with his fore finger and watches as the ashes float away into the air.
"What are you doing up?" Ezra asks.
Aria closes the distance between them and leans against the railing beside Ezra. "When I reached for you in my sleep you weren't there."
"I couldn't sleep," he admits.
Aria nods in understanding and reaches for the cigarette in his hand, taking a drag and reveling in how the smoke coats her lungs before tilting her head back to exhale. She hands the cigarette back to Ezra as she continues to watch the cloud of smoke rise upwards. He takes a quick puff then steps away from the railing and flicks the last bit of the cigarette over the edge.
"I'm sorry about last night. I hate that it reminds you of your past," she says quietly.
He shakes his head slowly and stuffs his hands in his front pockets as he leans his back against the railing. Ezra is no stranger to nightmares. They used to happen nearly every night—they only stopped a few weeks after he started seeing Aria. Now they only occur if the memories are triggered.
"Never apologize for that. It's that bastard's fault, not yours," Ezra says calmly, though his jaw is clenched in the same way it always is whenever Byron Montgomery is brought up in conversation.
Aria turns her head and looks at him thoughtfully.
"It wasn't your fault either, you know," she whispers.
"I know."
Aria sighs and shakes her head. "I'm not talking about what happened to me, Ezra."
Ezra turns his head and glances at the purple, hand-shaped bruise on her wrist before meeting her eyes. He tilts his head back and looks up. After a moment he feels Aria's small hands slither around his waist and he takes his hand out of his pocket to wrap his arm around her, pulling her to him. Neither of them says anything else for the next couple of minutes, until finally Ezra breaks the silence.
"Come on," he says quietly, kissing the top of her head and leading her back inside.
As soon as he closes the balcony door Aria begins unbuttoning Ezra's shirt from her body, but he stands before her and grabs her hands, slowly lowering them to her sides. His fingers delicately resume her work on the shirt as he bends his head forward and leaves an open-mouthed kiss on her bare shoulder. His hands slide ghost-like up her body underneath the thin fabric of the shirt and he gently pushes it down her arms, revealing another nasty bruise across the right side of her body, from the top of her ribs to her hip.
Aria holds her breath as his fingertips dance lightly along the still sensitive, purple flesh. It's his way of trying to heal her, even if he can't physically take away her pain. It's almost like he believes a soft touch can somehow counteract the brutal violence done to her skin. In a way, it works. When Ezra does this, the marks that scar her body make her feel beautiful rather than broken. She brings her hands up to cup the sides of his face and takes his gaze away from her ribs. She brushes the stray curls from his forehead and rises to her tiptoes so she can plant a soft kiss between his brow.
"Don't worry. I've survived a lot worse," she reminds him softly, taking her hand and mindlessly tracing the four-inch scar just above her collarbone.
Grabbing her hand, he brings her bruised wrist to his mouth and lays a feather-light kiss there before leading her back to bed. She settles against his body, her back to his chest, and he buries his face in her hair. They both know that the chances of either of them getting a good sleep are close to none, but just the feel of his arm protectively covering her waist makes her feel better even as she replays the night in her head.
"God dammit Aria! Get the fuck down here!"
She flinches against her bedroom door at the harsh sound of her father's slurred voice. It's not the angriest he's ever been, but she hasn't seen him this bad in weeks. Her mother announced that she was getting remarried today which meant her father took it as an excuse to drink extra.
Aria shuts her eyes tightly when she hears her father's heavy footsteps make their way up the stairs. They stop right outside of her room and she holds her breath, staring at the shadow below the door.
"Aria?" Byron's voice is eerily soothing as it calls out her name.
She yelps and jumps away from the door when his fist connects loudly with the wood.
"Aria! Come out of there!" he snaps. "I swear to God, I will break this fucking door down."
She hastily wipes her eyes before slowly stepping towards the door, jumping when he bangs on it again. She opens it just a crack before Byron throws it open the rest of the way, grabbing Aria by the wrist so tightly she's sure it will bruise.
"You think you can steal my money and get away with it?" Byron yells at her. He yanks her by the wrist, spinning her around so that her back is leaning over the stairs.
"Get your fucking hands off of me!" she spits.
"You ungrateful—"
He lets go of her wrist, sending her tumbling backwards down the flight of steps. She manages to stay balanced and on her feet for the first few before her legs give out and she falls the rest of the way. Aria lands on her stomach, coughing as she tries to push herself up before her father reaches her. She's able to get on all fours before she feels a kick to her side causing her to double over with a loud groan.
"Get up!" Byron snaps, leaning over her and pulling her to her feet by the same wrist he was grabbing before.
She yelps in pain as his fingers tighten around the already sensitive flesh. "I didn't take your damn money!" she screams at him.
He shakes her, still gripping her only by the wrist. "Don't lie to me!"
Aria tries to squirm her wrist out of his grasp but it only makes his hold on her stronger. She cries out in pain when his knee comes in contact with her side again.
"Do you know how many people would be grateful to have a father who provides a home and food for them?" he whispers menacingly into her ear. "Do you know how many girls would be grateful to have someone who provides clothing for them?"
"Please..." Aria says hoarsely.
Her father's free hand grabs the collar of her shirt, his knuckles grazing over the scar above her collarbone before he tugs quickly and rips the fabric. He throws her to the ground, finally releasing her wrist.
"Next time you want to take money from me remember how lucky you are," he spits out with disgust.
Aria scrambles to her feet and runs to the front door. She screams when she feels something pull her back. She's pressed back into her father, his hand tangled in her hair.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"
Aria takes a deep breath before swinging her elbow back into her father's side. As soon as he releases her hair she steps forward and kicks her leg back into his groin, then doesn't look back as she flees from the house. She doesn't think, she just starts walking, and soon she finds herself outside of Ezra's apartment.
The door swings open to reveal a disheveled Ezra. His hair is shaggy and his eyelids are heavy but she knows better than to think he's been sleeping. After all, it's only half past midnight. His eyes widen as he takes in Aria's appearance, though this isn't the worse he's seen her. She hates coming to him like this because she knows it reminds him of his own childhood, but he's the only one who can make her forget.
"Aria—" he begins.
She walks through the door, snagging the bottle of whiskey from his hand as she passes him. She raises her brow and shakes the bottle, noting just the small amount left. After she takes a long sip he starts again.
"Aria, what happened?" he asks, even though he already knows the answer.
"The fucking idiot thought I stole money from him..." she mutters as explanation, bringing the bottle back up to her lips and wincing from the pain in her side.
"Well... Did you?"
"Yes," she says with a smirk.
Ezra grins at her and shakes his head before his face turns serious again. "Aria... He could have killed you."
"Hey," she protests. "It was only a couple twenties. Plus, I figured I could make better use of his cash since all he does is buy shit beer with it. How was I supposed to know my mom was gonna drop a bomb on us and make him go nuts?"
Ezra sighs and goes for the almost empty whiskey bottle but Aria playfully keeps it from reach.
"Come on, Aria. Give me the last sip."
She flashes him a wicked smile and drains the bottle before beckoning for him to come closer. She sets the bottle down on the coffee table and pulls Ezra's face towards hers, melting her mouth to his. He pushes his tongue past her lips, allowing him to taste the remnants of whiskey in her mouth as she begins unbuttoning his white dress shirt. He doesn't even bother removing her shirt properly and just continues to pull at the spot where her father tore into it, literally ripping the shirt from her body. She jumps up and wraps her legs around his waist, ignoring the way her ribs scream in protest as he carries her to the bed.
Her side aches and she has to tell Ezra to stay away from her wrist, but this is what she wants. This is how she forgets.
Ezra wakes up in a cold sweat, panting as he sits up and glances at the clock. It's 4:49 am. He stares longingly at the girl beside him. She's turned around in her sleep so she's facing him. She's so beautiful when she sleeps. She looks so peaceful, lacking the usual fire she carries when awake. It's not that he doesn't love that about her, because he does, but it's nice to get to see her so relaxed. She's usually sarcastic, drunk, or hurt, or some combination of the three, and he loves watching her in these rare moments where she can be unguarded and... real. For his own selfish reasons, it makes him feel like he's helping her, but he would never tell her that.
Their relationship isn't some grand gesture to put together their broken pieces. They help each other get through the rough times, but they aren't looking to be saved from themselves. They were already lost causes when they met, with absolutely no desire to fix their lives or become better people, but they quickly realized that paving the path to their own destruction was more fun and far less lonely with someone at their side.
Ezra doesn't exactly know what to call their relationship. The term 'fuck buddies' comes to mind but he knows that doesn't fit. They have an emotional connection even if they've never admitted it out loud. They aren't girlfriend and boyfriend either, because even though they've been doing this dance for over a year now and are exclusively dedicated to each other, they agreed that with the course their lives are taking them, a commitment like that—like love—is too risky. It's all bullshit, because despite what they've promised each other their feelings run deeper than a best friend's love. Still, the fear of losing someone they care about is enough to keep them quiet.
He runs a hand down his face and sighs. He hasn't had a dream like this since Aria showed up the night Byron gave her that scar. It wasn't bad enough that it needed stitches, but Ezra hadn't seen that much blood since...
He remembers the fear that flashed across her face when she recalled how he'd held the broken bottle against the side of her neck, pushing down just hard enough to penetrate the first few layers of her skin. It was the day her mother left him. He blamed Aria, screamed that it was her fault Ella didn't love him anymore because Aria was a constant reminder of the son she lost. Ezra remembers how Aria's voice quivered when she repeated what her father had said.
This is the only way. With you gone she'll come back to me.
And then he pushed down harder. She screamed for him to stop, that she was sorry, but he just told her to shut up.
Aria tried to defend him to Ezra, saying that he didn't really want to kill her because instead of slicing her neck he pressed the glass along her skin to her shoulder, but Ezra swore that day to never forgive Byron Montgomery. No matter what Byron tried to do in the future, that sorry excuse for a man was dead to him.
Ezra doesn't even realize how tightly his hand is gripping the sheets until he looks down and sees his white knuckles. He lets go and stretches out his cramped fingers before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Aria's forehead. She smiles in her sleep and shifts slightly, causing a piece of hair to fall in front of her face. Ezra carefully reaches out and tucks it behind her ear before caressing the side of her face softly.
"Ezra?" her sleepy voice questions.
Her eyes peel open to see the sheepish smile on his face.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he whispers.
"Too late," she mumbles, sitting up.
"Sorry," he repeats.
She waves him off and crosses her legs underneath her. "'S fine."
She looks at him curiously for a moment before resting a hand on the side of his face and brushing her thumb against his cheek comfortingly. "Nightmare?" she asks softly.
He hates the word 'nightmare'. It sounds so childish and silly, but coming from Aria he knows that she's being sincere rather than mocking him. He nods slowly, leaning into her palm and closing his eyes in shame. He doesn't have to tell her what it was about.
"Ezra," she says sternly. His eyes open to find himself staring directly into hers. "It wasn't your fault," she says, repeating her words from earlier.
"I should have been there..." he says quietly, dropping his head.
"No, that wasn't your responsibility. You couldn't have known, Ezra. You did nothing wrong."
"I should have been there dammit!" he yells, snapping his head up. Aria doesn't flinch.
"No, Ezra. Your father shouldn't have hit his son!"
Ezra sighs and retreats back so he's lying down, his head in her lap. She runs her fingers through his hair. This isn't the first time they've had this argument, and although Ezra is beginning to understand Aria's point, it doesn't stop him from feeling the guilt.
"I just—I tried so hard to protect him from that," he starts. "Dad agreed to never touch him. I made him swear to only ever hit me..."
"We can't always protect the one's we love, Ezra." Aria's mind flashes back to the memory of learning from her hysterical mother that Mike had killed himself. That was three years ago. He was thirteen.
"I wasn't planning on going out that night. Hardy came by unannounced and said there was a party at some kid's house..."
Aria tenses. She knows that Ezra's father beat Wes to death when he was a little boy, but Ezra has never shared the whole story with her. After the initial shock passes through she relaxes.
"I shouldn't have gone. It was a Friday, and dad always had a habit of coming home angry on Fridays. I should have been thinking more about the consequences but I—I was sixteen. I was selfish. Wes was only nine at the time. He was so innocent. I left him with mom, but I should have known better than to trust she would do something. For some reason I thought it would be different for Wes than it ever was for me.
"I came home and found dad crying. I looked closer and he was holding Wes' limp body in his arms. At first I thought Wes had fallen, but then I noticed dad's bloody knuckles. There was so much blood I—I didn't know what to do. I was too afraid to ask what I already knew, and dad kept wailing and saying that he didn't mean to."
Ezra lets out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, he didn't mean to. As if that could make everything better. As if that could bring Wes back. That night I packed some clothes into a duffle bag and after I called the police, I walked out. I crashed with Hardy until I got my acceptance to Vassar, but even then the thought of being so close to home made me sick. So, I transferred to Hollis and changed my name, and that was it."
Aria doesn't say anything back and Ezra's grateful for it. There's nothing to say. They just sit in silence and watch the sun come up and pour into Ezra's apartment.
. . .
"That's incredible," Ezra murmurs into her ear as he wraps his arms around her waist and looks over her shoulder at the painting she's currently working on.
It's of a girl leading a boy down a dirt road at night. In the distance is a big city and the boy has a backpack slung across his shoulder. Aria has always been a good artist. She never shows her artwork to anyone, except for Ezra of course. He's the first person she's ever shared that with.
Ezra writes and Aria paints. She creates images of what he can't say with words and vice-versa. It's a perfect balance—just another reason why they fit together so well.
"It's not finished yet," Aria responds, leaning back into his embrace as she continues her diligent strokes against the canvas.
"I didn't say it was finished," he says. "I said it was incredible."
He turns his head and gives her a kiss on the cheek before admiring her work again.
"Someone might see us," Aria whispers, but she has a smile on her face.
"Hey, you're eighteen now."
"By someone, I meant my father," she explains. "He works here too, you know."
"Trust me, I know." Ezra has to be reminded of that every time he attends a faculty meeting.
Aria doesn't own an easel, so she has to use the ones in Hollis' art room. Technically she's actually allowed to use them now since she's set to attend Hollis in the fall—her father wouldn't let her apply anywhere else—but until then she had always just snuck in using her father's or Ezra's keys.
"I'm serious, do you know what my dad would do to you if he found out?" Aria's tone is teasing but he can sense the underlying worry in her voice.
"It's not me I'm worried about," he mutters to himself, but Aria hears it. It's been five days since Byron had his last episode. The bruise on her wrist is fully healed and the one on her side is now a soft yellow rather than an angry purple.
She continues painting for over an hour, and the whole time Ezra watches in awe. He loves seeing the world through her eyes. It's inspiring how she is able to find beauty in even the ugliest things. A bruise, a scar, broken glass—all beautiful the way she portrays them.
This one, however, makes him feel something different. This one makes him feel free. It's unlike anything he's seen her paint before. A symbol of hope, almost. As close to hope as two souls like them can get.
. . .
Ezra sits back into his couch, his eyes dancing between Aria sifting through his CD collection and the finished painting on his coffee table. It's the one she was working on a few days earlier—a girl and boy running away towards the city. The gentle sound of Happiness by The Fray fills the apartment and Ezra locks his gaze on Aria, who turns to face him wearing a devilish smirk. He grins as she begins to sway her hips softly to the music and bring the bottle of wine to her lips.
Aria isn't much for romantic gestures—neither is Ezra, for that matter—but tonight feels different. She can't quite put her finger on it, but she knew as soon as they opened the fresh bottle of wine that they needed this; whatever this was. Ezra stands up and walks towards her, taking the bottle from her hand and raising his brow at the remaining half.
"I could've sworn this was full at the start of the night..." he says teasingly, setting the bottle down on the shelf by his CDs. Aria bites her lip sheepishly and Ezra chuckles. He wraps an arm around her waist and takes her hand in his, pulling it close to his chest as he sways with her, his mouth hovering near her ear.
"You're a bad influence on me, Miss Montgomery," he whispers.
"As you are on me, Professor Fitz," she replies, resting her head against his chest.
They dance peacefully for the remainder of the song, and when it finishes Ezra can't help but let out a small laugh. Aria lifts her head to look up at him.
"What?" she questions.
He stares directly into her eyes. "We're a couple of fuck-ups, aren't we?" he says softly with a sad smile.
Aria returns the smile. "The best kind."
Ezra lifts her hand and gently kisses the inside of her palm before lowering it back between their chests. He slides his fingers along hers, connecting their hands, and then releases her waist to do the same with the other hand. He lets their hands drop to their sides and leans down to press his forehead against hers. They both close their eyes and her painting flashes through Ezra's mind.
"Run away with me," he breathes out, unintentionally voicing his thoughts out loud.
Aria laughs. "What?"
He's about to laugh as well and play it off as a joke, but the more he thinks about it, the more sure he is. He steps away from her, opening his eyes into hers.
"Run away with me, Aria," he repeats with more confidence.
The realization that he's serious registers in her mind and her jaw drops. "Ezra... I—" she stammers, taking another step back and looking frantically around the apartment. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying," she reasons.
He shakes his head determinedly. "No, I'm not. Aria, we can do this. We can get the hell out of Rosewood and leave all of this behind. You can get away from your father. There's nothing here for us anymore. We can be free, Aria. We can run."
Aria looks at him with wild eyes. "Ezra, we can't run away together. I can't promise that—I don't—"
"Please," he begs. "Aria, I love—"
"Ezra, don't," she warns.
"I love you!" he shouts. "Dammit, I love you!"
Aria drops her head to the side and closes her eyes, shaking her head slightly. "Don't," she whispers, her voice breaking.
"Tell me you don't love me, too."
She lifts her head and Ezra can see the tears staining her cheeks. "We agreed, Ezra. We promised..."
"You alright down there?"
Aria turns her head to see a young man looking at her with concern as the bartender sets five shots of tequila in front of her. She smirks at him and gestures to the line of empty beer bottles in front of him and the tumbler in his hand, filled halfway with what she assumes to be scotch, judging by the color.
"I should be asking you the same question," she counters.
He grins and raises his glass to her. "Touché"
Aria raises one of her shots and downs it effortlessly as he sips from his drink. She doesn't miss how attractive he is. His deep, ocean blue eyes fill her with warmth—although that may just be the tequila talking—and his dark brown hair is short but still enough to grab on to. His smirk gives off a boyish charm that, while currently playful, when used right has the potential to be deadly. She's distracted by the sound of a familiar melody. When she listens closer she hears the start of Happiness by The Fray.
"I love this song," she says quietly.
"B26."
She looks at the man beside her in shock as he smirks at her.
"So, what are you here to forget?" she asks.
He blinks, surprised by her bluntness. "I, uh... Family issues."
"That sucks."
"Yeah," he agrees and slides down the bar to the seat next to her. "What about you—"
"Did you just move here or something?" she interrupts his question. "I've never seen you here before."
He finishes off what's left in his glass. "No, actually I just graduated from Hollis."
"Oh? What are you doing now?"
"I just got my first job as a teacher."
"Yeah? I think I'd like to teach," she replies, smiling at his sheepish grin.
"What's your major?"
"I'm leaning towards English."
"That's what I'm teaching," he says in disbelief.
They grin at each other until the song ends. Suddenly, a dance beat fills the room at an excessive volume and the lights, minus the colored ones, shut off. Aria senses Ezra's confusion and leans in.
"Friday from twelve to two am is club night," she yells over the music.
"They don't waste any time transitioning, do they?" he replies.
She laughs loudly. "Doesn't look like anyone really cares," she says, looking at the group of people already dancing in the middle of the college bar. Ezra then watches in awe as Aria finishes off the final four shots within seconds of each other and hops off her stool, extending her arm towards him.
"Come on," she pleads.
"I'm Ezra, by the way."
"And I'm waiting," she replies, looking to her hand and back at him.
"You aren't gonna tell me your name?"
"Dance with me, Ezra."
He doesn't even care that she just avoided his question. All that he can think about as he follows her onto the dance floor is how nice his name sounds coming from her lips. She stops when she reaches the mass of college kids and presses her back into Ezra's chest, looping her hands around his neck as his find purchase on her hips. She lets the alcohol running through her veins control her movements.
They must dance for over an hour before she finally says something. They're facing each other now, their bodies moving together as one. Aria lifts herself up on her toes and whispers in his ear, "My name's Aria. Let's go to your place."
Ezra's eyes widen at her statement and he closes his eyes for a moment to make sure he isn't dreaming. She looks up at him for an answer and he nods quickly.
"Aria," he says, testing the taste of her name in his mouth. He decides he wants it there forever.
Aria collapses on top of Ezra; both of them are breathing heavily. She rolls off of him quickly and settles beside him.
"Damn," she pants, laughing quietly.
"Yeah," he agrees.
She looks to the side and sees the bottle of scotch they finished off that night. She hasn't had this much genuine fun in a long time. She's never connected with someone who understands her so well—someone who knows her pain and shares her way of dealing with it. This was more than just a drunken one-night stand and they both know it.
"We should do this again sometime," she offers.
"Gladly." Ezra flashes his boyish grin and she feels her insides melt.
"I'm not looking for anything serious right now," she adds.
"Me either. There's a lot of unstable shit in my life, Aria."
She nods in understanding. "Then we're on the same page. We're good together, as friends. No falling in love with each other. Promise."
"No falling in love," Ezra repeats. "Promise."
Aria smiles widely and removes herself from Ezra's bed. She throws on her bra and panties and begins pulling up her skirt.
"When can I see you?" Ezra asks. At least he was smart enough to get her number.
Aria shrugs then pulls her shirt over her head. "Whenever. I'll see you around, Ezra."
"Goodnight, Aria."
"That promise meant shit and you know it!" Ezra yells.
"I'm sorry, Ezra I—I can't."
He drops his head in defeat and walks towards the balcony.
"Ezra, what are you—"
She follows him outside and her breath catches in her throat when she sees it. It's a new easel, one she can finally call her own. Ezra already bought the paints and brushes he knows she likes. It's in this moment she realizes denying her true feelings is no longer an option. Not when Ezra has so carelessly dragged them out in the open. This is what she's worked so hard to defend herself from, and now she can feel her walls crumbling down.
"Ezra, I—"
He raises his hand to stop her. "You don't have to say anything."
She stares bewildered at the object in front of her. She couldn't say anything even if she wanted to right now. He stuffs his hands in his front pockets.
"I just thought maybe you'd wanna be able to paint wherever we went. It was stupid, I know. And I'm not expecting anything from you, Aria. I don't want to guilt you into going with me. I just thought that maybe you felt the same way and that you'd actually want to come. It's okay that you don't. I understand. We did promise after all. I was the one who broke it."
Ezra walks back into the apartment and Aria follows.
"Ezra, wait!"
He faces her. There's no sign of anger in his face, only acceptance. He knew this was a possibility, but he was so certain that he couldn't be feeling what he felt alone, that she had to share some of it. He wants to be angry with himself for not keeping their promise but despite what he made himself believe, he fell in love with her that first day in the bar, long before any promise was made. He was doomed from the start.
Ezra waits for Aria to say something but to his surprise she leaps at him, throwing her arms around his neck as he easily lifts her up into his arms. She buries her face in his neck, finally releasing the sobs that have been held captive inside her. Her earth shattering cries cause chills to run down Ezra's spine. She's holding on so tightly that if he were to let go she wouldn't even budge, but still he doesn't loosen his grip on her waist. He can count on one hand the amount of times he's seen Aria cry, and now, to see her like this is terrifying.
"I—I can't lose you," she cries into his shoulder. He can barely make out the words through her sobs. "You're all I have left. If I go with you and I—I lose you..."
"You will never lose me. You are my everything, Aria. This life—our life—is all that matters to me. I love you, Aria."
Aria relaxes into Ezra's embrace and he finally brings her down so she can stand.
"I want to run away with you, Ezra. It's all I've ever wanted—to be free with you. I was just so scared. I still am. I wasn't supposed to feel like this. This wasn't part of our deal."
Ezra doesn't realize he's been holding his breath. He exhales slowly. "Aria... Are you saying yes?"
"When can we leave?" she asks quietly.
"Whenever. We can leave tonight if you want. I can send in my resignation to Hollis and we can be done with Rosewood forever," he says in a rush. "I—Is this real?" he questions softly, and slower than his previous statement.
"We're starting our life together, Ezra. Just the two of us, no one else."
"You don't want to let Ella know you're leaving?"
Aria shakes her head. "It's better she doesn't know, at least not until we're somewhere safe."
"We're really doing this," Ezra breathes, unable to contain his joy.
"Together. Until we're old and gray. Promise."
Ezra cups her cheek and wipes away her tears with his thumb. "Until we're old and gray. Promise."
She laughs. "This is crazy, you know that right?"
"It's a good thing we're already mad."
. . .
Every time Aria sees the scar resting above her collarbone she's reminded of the life that she and Ezra left behind. The life she would have been stuck with had they not escaped Rosewood and all of the demons inside of it. She owes her life to Ezra, because she has no doubt that one day Byron would have been pushed too far and Aria would have suffered from it.
She still hasn't been able to say how she feels about Ezra out loud. If she says those words—I love you—then it suddenly becomes real, and she's lost too many loved ones to know what happens from there. She can't risk that with Ezra. Besides, he knows how she feels. He doesn't need her to say it out loud.
They left Rosewood two years ago. Ezra had been saving up money to rent an apartment so they headed to New York, a city they both love, with nothing but a few of Aria's and Ezra's journals, her new easel, some clothing, and a collection of their favorite books, CDs, and movies packed in Ezra's Toyota Camry. Since then Ezra has found success in writing while Aria has been able to sell some of her artwork. They make enough to pay rent for their pea-sized apartment, along with their daily dose of alcohol, drugs, and cigarettes. They know at their current rate of decay they aren't set to last much longer, but that's something they've long since come to terms with.
Some demons are inescapable, and some promises are meant to be broken.