Meet Me In The Hallway

Horizons

"Hello?" My voice was weak with dehydration and full of moisture at the same time.

"Melly?" Harry's deep voice boomed in surprise and concern and the tears I'd been holding at bay escaped with enough force to shatter the air between us. The sob that followed was more of a hiccup and I couldn't even get out any words.

"Angel," he whispered, "Why are you crying? What's happened?"

Nothing, everything. I fucked up and I want you and I want him and I'm so broken and my body is now too. "I just...Harry!" I breathed out a big breath and tried to sit. Would he have really given it all up for me, had I asked? Did he feel like I wanted that from him? When did he make this promise committed to eternity in rhyme and verse? Was it right away? When the ache was deep? Was it later? More recently? Was there any part of him that still felt this way? And how did I not know it? "H, when did you write that song on my wall?"

The air vibrated over the thousands of miles between us. I didn't even know what time zone he was in. "I'm sorry for calling so late," I added quietly.

"No, Melody, it's alright. You don't sound good. It's morning here. Where are you? It's afternoon in Singapore, right?" Why did he know what time it was in Singapore? Because he was born a ramblin' man, or because that's where he knew me to be?

"H," I didn't want to discuss time zones. There were more than hours separating us. "When did you write it?"

He inhaled, "The song? Or on the wall?"

"Harry," I sobbed. All I could think about was how heartbreakingly beautiful the lyrics were and how much hurt and longing they revealed. The same suffering that echoed through the chambers of my heart and head. I just wanted to know when he tried to tell me.

If it would have made a difference.

"I," he took a breath, "I wrote it for you, after you left, and then I went to find you, when I realized you weren't coming back. It had, um, it had worked before. I wish, um, I wish I was the kinda man for you that didn't need to make grand gestures. But I, like, hoped to win you back. To bring you back to me." He inhaled hard and I could see him biting his bottom lips with force to get himself in hand. "But you were really gone that time. And I'm, I think that um, I think though they wanted to, your parents wouldn't tell me, like, where. So I couldn't even get to you. No matter how far or long I tried. Because you didn't, you didn't want me to." He exhaled like he was pushing out the feelings his revelation brought up.

"Hm?" He said, his voice was muffled.

And then I heard her, in the background. The girlfriend. Her voice was soft and had an English intonation, but different to Harry's own, more clipped than his drawl. It was pleasant and I wanted to reach into my ears and rip out the sound and the kind thought.

"H, the taxi is here. Gotta go, baby!" She ended happily, like something exciting was about to happen.

H, she called him H.

"Yeah, I'll be right, right there. Don't try to carry all the bags, goob!" he called and the affection in his voice stung like a paper cut. The lemon juice was that a sentence from her seemed to be enough to wash away the heartache I'd just brought to the surface. "Sorry," his voice was closer now. He'd returned his attention back to me. "I just, had to try, you know. I think I like thought you'd fall for my big gesture again. I, um, I didn't realize you were already moved on when I wasn't, I thought, we um, were still an us—" he paused.

I wanted to shift on the floor, but my limbs were unresponsive. I felt the need to sit up. That was wrong. I hadn't run because It was over it. And if I thought it was over it was because I had nothing from him to make me think differently. I ran because otherwise I was just gonna sit in one place and slowly crumble. Like the ruins I'd spent so much time photographing for him when he couldn't see it for himself. I couldn't move or speak. No words came out, except a sob.