Pretty Little Liars one shots

Never lies - Aria/Hanna

Credit to speakpirate

Aria never lies anymore, not ever. She has a list of things she would be willing to do before she would lie: Eat red meat. Take dictation for Ezra's next novel. Watch commercials about how to cure toenail fungus for 24 hours straight.

Once, in the middle of an art history lecture, she was so clearly staring out the window that Professor Troyer interrupted his discussion of Warhol to ask if Miss Montgomery was paying attention.

"No," Aria said. She didn't apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She's strict with herself, she has to be. Like how Jason can't have a single drink. She feels herself always teetering on the precipice of the slippery slope, balancing as best she can in her high heels, knowing any lie that comes out of her mouth would be the black ice that twists her ankle, sends her plummeting back down into the abyss. (The abyss is basically the Dollhouse. A place for bad girls who shouldn't have lied to their parents, to the police.) But she doesn't need to worry about that anymore. As long as she sticks to the truth, everything will be fine.

She'd been dating a journalism major for awhile in the winter. He was interested in facts. Up until the moment he rear ended a red Honda Civic on the way to the grocery store, and the cop on the scene asked Aria what happened. She stared at the buttons on his uniform, thought of Garrett, Wilden, Holbrook, Tanner. (People die when you lie to the police. People get arrested and kidnapped and tortured.) She pointed at Richard. "He was texting and changing lanes at the same time." He was so angry that Aria got out of the car, took the bus back to her dorm and never looked back.

She realizes her lines are firmer, darker, than most people's - that they divide the world mercilessly into good and bad, truth and lies - but they have to be. It's the way the world works for her, now.

Some people love Aria enough to not mind hearing the truth all the time. She's closer to her mom than ever. Mike, although he's not crazy about her honesty when it's directed at Mona over Thanksgiving dinner. Others, like her dad, grow distant, unwilling to hear the gory details of how she's really doing, who would feel pretty good about things if every time they ask "How are you," she responded with a polite but dishonest monosyllabic fine.

She's not as close to Spencer anymore, hasn't talked to Emily in months. She understands this is more about them than about her, even if it does break her heart. She can't really be around people who lie to themselves a lot of the time. It's like a disease, highly contagious.

Hanna is the only one of her old friends who gets it, who's strong enough to handle the new version of Aria, who thinks she's great company. The two of them text back and forth constantly, talk on the phone a few times a week. Aria tells her she's planning to withdraw from SCAD, maybe transfer to Brown next semester. She wants to work in publishing, where she might still be surrounded by pretentious assholes, but smarter ones with better accents.

"You'll need help packing up all your stuff," Hanna tells her.

"You don't have to do that," Aria responds.

"Your closet is as bad as mine," Hanna says. "Seriously, I can take a couple days off."

"Promise not to throw out any animal prints when I'm not looking."

"I wouldn't throw them away," Hanna protests. "I'd like, donate to them to charity. A time travel charity that could take them back to the 70's where they belong."

"Be here next Thursday," Aria says, with a smile.
__________________________
Hanna shows up wearing leather pants, a white sleeveless shirt, and gigantic aviator sunglasses.