Hi everyone! Here's the second series the inner monologues of Aria and Ezra, written by sburke94 and myself. Sburke94 is writing from Ezra's, so she'll kick us off!
"Forgive me" scene in 1x10
~Chance~
If I didn't want a second chance, I wouldn't be here meeting you under the cover of darkness. But it seemed fitting. The black of night is like our relationship— frightening in the secrets it shadows, comforting in the security those same shadows provide, and beautiful in its mystery.
You're beautiful too, you know—even when you're angry.
And you're frightening. You terrify me, or rather the power you wield over me does. I've never fought so hard for one person, given up so much for one person. Sometimes I wonder why I'm doing so, putting myself on the line like this—it's my livelihood I risk, my future—and though I won't admit it, at least not yet, I'm risking my heart too.
I don't do that—the whole risk thing. I'm not a gambler, or at least I wasn't until I met you. So when you slide into the car and I whisper thanks for meeting me, what I'm trying to say is thanks for not crushing my heart…yet.
We're both on the defense, but I don't want to play this game of right and wrong, of lies and deception. So I cave. I swallow my pride and take the blame for everything that's happened. I don't blame you.
There's not even really blame to lay. I don't regret doing it—looking for a job in New York. I regret what it caused, but I don't regret leaving. Because I did it for you, don't you see? I want us without all the complications.
Us. You and Me. Me and You. Aria and Ezra. Ezra and Aria. Us.
That's slightly hypocritical though, isn't it? We are the very definition of complex. There's no black and white with us, no safe ground. It's all grey matter and blurry lines and clouded emotions. Just when we think we've got it figured out, the universe throws us for another loop. But we take it. We take it and don't ask questions.
We take it because we love each other. I won't say it now though. I can't—not when there's a chance it'll be thrown back in my face and you'll walk away. So instead I settle for I was wrong.
It's the beginnings of an apology. And for a moment I wonder if it's going to be enough. Then you're spitting fire, accusing me of playing God with things I had no right to—like feelings. Briefly, the thought of what you're leaving unsaid crosses my mind. I'm messing with your heart.
So you're right. I'm wrong. Can't that be enough?
Desperation's setting in. You're still tense and angry and devastatingly beautiful. And I'm still at fault. There's no progress being made and I'm quite certain I'll crack if you don't change your mind. You have to. We have to compromise. I've given, now you've got to take.
And then you do—sort of.
Forgive me.
When I whisper the words, we're close, and you're drifting closer—though I think the movement is unconscious. Yet still there's conflict in your eyes, that stubbornness that always screws things up. I can't let you screw things up. Not when this relationship means everything to me, everything to you, everything to us. And after a few more seconds, after you've whispered your half-hearted no, I wonder if I'm asking too much. But I've always asked too much of you; why change things now?
Again, forgive me.
We're so close this time, we're practically kissing.
You give this little pained intake of breath, somewhere between a sharp gasp and a heavy sigh. Then your lips are against mine, and we are kissing. It's almost violent, the passion in it. It's rough and there's that desperation I've been feeling all along, and it's so unlike any other one we've ever shared.
But I'll take it. I'll take what you're giving me, for in that kiss you're offering me a second chance.
I'm taking it.