The latest installment in my PLL's kick. I realized the difference between Ezra in seasons 1-3 and Ezria in season 4 is that Ezria in season 4 was a lot more dangerous as far as the characters, the social repercussions, and the secrets.
This is Aria's thoughts as she thinks about them sitting beside Ezra's hospital bed.
I do not own PLL or any of the characters.
Current to 5x1.
Please Review!
He had crossed the line.
But then again, she had too.
Threatening to tell the principal, trashing his apartment, smashing everything within reach, tearing out pages of his journal. Crying, yelling, screaming, shouting, hooking up with strangers just to get back at him. She had wanted to get back at him. To make him pay for everything he had done to her.
He had lied.
And so had she.
Make-out sessions in public bathrooms, kisses in the pouring rain, hugs and touches and embraces in his apartment. Chinese take-out cartoons and old black and white movies. Poems and scribbles and short stories. Silent lustful looks between them. Whispering words of love and affection. Caresses in the dark. It wasn't worth much now.
He had used her.
She had used him too.
Confessions by candlelight, tears shed on his shoulder, explanations and conversations and descriptions. Whispers about her life in detail. Screams about what other people had done to her. Anger and hurt and resentment poured out as he made her feel better. He had soaked up her words and stored them away for later. She had thought he was trying to comfort her.
He was silent.
And so was she.
Glimpses during class sessions, after-school tutoring sessions, parent-teacher conferences, play practices. Each person playing their part, each actor performing on a stage. Dodging parents, making up stories, telling each person what they wanted to hear. Silent about everything else. Quiet. Noiseless. Muted. She wanted to scream to the world what she wanted.
He had walked away.
So had she.
He was too old, had too much life experience, had outgrown her. Son. Girlfriend. Brother. Mother. The past coming back up to swallow them. Too much, too little, too late, too soon. Getting lost in the woodwork, the details, the little things, stories, incidents, accidents that make up a life. It was too much for her. And for him. They had wanted to spare each other.
He had heard the rumors.
She had too.
Whispers, backstabbing, unwanted kisses and touches and words. Angry brothers and lying strangers. Student and teacher relationships. Forbidden romance. Dirty insinuations. Age differences, doing anything with anyone. Afraid to remember what had happened before. She was the one who had had to live with it. Everyone whispered. Everyone knew. No one said much out loud. They avoided the problem.
He had watched her.
But then again, she had watched him too.
Looking at him as he lectured in class, stealing looks as she saw him in the hallway, hushed conversations on staircases. Unanswered phone calls and ignored texts. Emails that were never opened. Veiled words about masks and emotions and characters. Misplaced passion and silent tears. Moving on while being stuck. Remembering while trying to forget. Drawn toward each other no matter what. She hadn't stopped it then. She doubted she would stop it now.
He had wanted her back.
She had wanted him back too.
Late night car rides. Sneaking, lying, story-telling, cozying up in a far-flung cabin. Wondering where it was going and where it would lead them. Ignoring warning signs and gut feelings and troubled thoughts. Doing what he asked. Being what he wanted. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. Teacher. Student. Adult. Teenager. Thinking thoughts that shouldn't be thought.
He had hidden everything from her.
And she had hidden things from him too.
Lying about who he was, what he was. Lying about why she was afraid. Finding computers, suits, journals, and drafts. Feeling the shadows that seemed to creep around her. Hairs rising on the back on her neck. Shouting, screaming, sobbing, crying, hiding, tiring. He had known who she was all along. She discovered that she had known nothing about him.
He took a bullet for her.
She couldn't have asked for more than that.
Watching, protecting, finding following, looking, leading. Discovering who it was that tortured her in the darkness and oblivion. Fighting the evil that plagued them. Collapsing on rooftops, bleeding on concrete, yelling for help. Ambulances that came and EMTs that took him away. Following him to unconsciousness, holding his hand in darkness. He had given up everything for her. She clutched his hand and prayed.
He had played it safe the first time through.
She had hated it.
He hadn't done things by the book the second time.
She had wanted it to end.
Secrets, smiles, quiet laughter, silent tears. Knowing everything, forgetting nothing. Late night kisses and early morning sex. Sleeping with her boyfriend was one thing. Screwing her teacher was another. He had crossed a line, he had crushed her heart. He had kept her safe. He had held her close.
He loved her.
She loved him too.
Hospitals and sheets, monitors and beeping. Praying, waiting, hoping, sleeping, breathing. She wanted him to wake up. To hold her, touch her, grab her close and never let her go. Whisper in her ear everything she meant to him. Muttering apologies. Giving forgiveness. Moving past everything. To a place where they could be Aria and Ezra. Alone. Just the two of them. No parents or siblings or ex-girlfriends or surrogate sons. No teacher and no student. Aria and Ezra. Ezra and Aria.
He had crossed a line.
She had crossed one too.