Run

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.