He calls her.
He wants her to pick up. Scratch that. He needs her to pick up.
He looks into the glass of his book case, he sees his reflection, he looks hopeless, he's been crying for a few hours. His eye are red, and he's trying not to cry now. He's already cried. And now he needs someone to talk too. Scratch that. He doesn't need someone.
He needs her.
She isn't picking up.
She answers on the last ring.
"Aria." He states, trying not to cry on the phone. He sniffles. "I need you." He admits.
And her eyes fill with tears. Because she's never heard his voice like that before. He's never said that he needs her. Her nostrils flare, and she breaths in deeply.
"Ezra, is something wrong?" She asks, but it comes out more like a croak. Because hearing his voice like that, doesn't make her feel good. It's one thing to hear it for ninety minutes a day in the English classroom, but when it's over the phone, and sounding like that.
"I just really need you at the moment." He whispers, not being able to speak properly. "Please." He begs, and she rubs her eyes, trying not to ruin her make up. She's trying to rub away the tears that are in them. She's trying not to cry.
"I'll be over there soon." Aria said. "I promise."
"Promise?" He whispered, and a small smile formed on her lips. They used to do it when they were a couple.
"I promise. I'm in Philly at the moment, so I'll be a bit. Just hang in there." She says, and they say goodbye, and she hangs up, and he throws his phone, frustrated, at the wall. He probably broke it. But, that's the least of his cares right now.
Jake walks outside, and sees Aria leaning against a wall. She's thinking. Thinking of them. Of what might happen. She wants something to happen. She needs something to happen, anything between them to happen.
"Is everything okay?" Jake asks, and she snaps back to reality. She faces him, and doesn't realize the few tears that are running down her cheeks.
"Um, uh." She stutters. "By boyfri…" she stopped herself. "My ex-boyfriend needs me at the moment. I need to go."
"You're ex-boyfriend, huh?" He asks. A bit pissed, that she's missing his fight, for her ex-boyfriend. But, it's a fight. It's not like it's a ceremony or a date. "The teacher?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry." She apologizes, but doesn't really mean it. Words are falling out her mouth, she just needs to say goodbye, and leave. She needs to be with Ezra at the moment.
He needs her.
Knocking on his apartment door, gently. He doesn't answer. She assumed he wasn't going to answer before she knocked. Sighing, she slowly knelt down, picked up the door mat, and after struggling with her nails, slid the key into her palm. She let herself in, and saw Ezra sitting at his desk, his knees up to his chest, and staring out the window. His eyes are slightly swollen, and she wills herself not to cry.
It's the other way around this time.
She needs to be strong for him.
"Ezra?" She asks, and he turns his head. And, she knows he's been crying for almost the whole day. She closes the door, walks over to him. Leaning against the drawers of the desk, she's almost sitting on it. He gives her a beige envelope. "What is this?" She asks again.
"Read it?" He says, his voice croaky, dry, and broken almost. She swallows, and opens it, and sees Malcolm's birth certificate. She doesn't see anything wrong with it. At first. She takes a closer look, and realizes that Ezra's name isn't where the father's name is supposed to be. And, then she realizes it.
He isn't Malcolm's Dad.
He was played.
"Ezra. What does this mean?" She asks, almost crying, she knew how much the little boy meant to him. She looked around the apartment. The toys were gone. The pictures on his fridge were gone. His apartment was back to normal. Normal meaning like it was before Malcolm came into his life.
"It means, that I'm not his father, Aria. He isn't my son." Ezra states. And, decides he needs a change of scenery. He gets up from the chair, and stands up, and walks to the middle of his apartment, and stands there. She's silent. She doesn't know what to say.
What can she say?
"I have nothing left." He whispers, looking in her eyes. She swallows, and walks toward him slowly.
"You have me left." She says, cupping his face in her hands.
"You have a boyfriend. I saw you hugging him earlier at The Brew. I don't have you left. You left me remember, probably for him."
"I didn't leave you for him. And because I left you that day, it," she hesitated, wondering if it was the right thing to say, "It doesn't mean I stopped loving you, Ezra."
"You mean that?"
She didn't say anything. There was no need, because she showed him. She leaned up, and kissed his lips gently. He deepened the kiss by slowly slipping his tongue into her mouth. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, and let it fall off his shoulders. He walked her to the bed, he ran his hands up and down her back. He's on top of her, shirtless, and in his boxers, while she's in her bra and panties. Clothes are strewn on the floor by the bed. She moans in his mouth, and he fumbles around for a condom in his bedside table's drawer. He rolls onto his back, recovering from his high. She's panting. He's breathing heavily.
Neither of them had done it in a long time.
"Does that mean anything to you?" She whispers, and he breathes in deeply through his nose, and out to his mouth.
"Is that still up for grabs?" He asks.
"What's up for grabs?"
"If you're the only thing I have left?"
"If you want me to be yours." She breathes.
"You're mine." He whispers, gently kissing her forehead.
"Yours." She breathes again, and snuggles in deeper in his embrace.
This was home.
For both of them.