Twilight isn't mine. The song Rumors belongs to Betti Gefecht. The other songs belong to Joni Mitchell and Joan Baez.
For those that know my other stories, and for those that don't - you should know that it's the first time I adventured at this kind of writing, from a third person POV.
Many thanks to my beat, kimmydonn.
His hitched ride left him on the hill above the small town. He watched the sun descend as his eyes took in the lights that appeared one by one in every house. The mysterious man stood silent, watching the changes taking place before him, his hands stuck deep inside his pockets. When he became tired of standing, he sat down, watching the lit houses below him as he stuck a cigarette between his lips.
His eyes roamed the buildings until they settled on the small bar. He knew she'd be there. Probably singing with her friends – their friends – if he could still call them that.
Feeling suffocated by the small town, he had left right after her twenty-first birthday. He had tried rebuilding his life in the big city, but found himself unable to be close to anyone else – not even the woman he had come close to marrying. He felt bad for abandoning her at the altar, but for just a second, he saw light and he knew where he belonged – where his heart belonged.
After five agonizing years, he realized that he couldn't keep living as he had been, so he returned to his small town, hoping she'd take him back
Now he was home. Home, where she was – his first love. Isabella.
He took drag after drag from his Marlboro, his eyes never leaving the pub until the lights went down and dawn broke. As the sun started to rise from behind him, he stood and started walking down the hill, toward his town.
He walked slowly inside the town, through the deserted streets with hands in his pockets.
He found himself in front of her house – once full of flowers and life, now it looked dead. Like he felt. He stayed just out of sight as he saw her ancient car – his old car – pull up in front of the house. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, possibly even more. She walked slowly to the door and unlocked it, letting herself inside. He spied her from the window. Her composed façade from a moment ago was gone as she was slumped against the wall, rocking and sobbing. His heart twisted in pain. He wanted nothing more than to be there. To hug her. To soothe her. To love her.
"Newspaper!" Someone shouted from a few feet away, making him realize he was in plain sight right now.
The newspaper boy's eyes widened when he saw him, but before he could take another look, the eidolon, the apparition, was gone.
Rumor has it
That you are back in town
Rumor has it
That you're around again here.
The local music store's door opened and a young man let himself inside. The clerk immediately took him for a thief based on his clothing – dirty jeans and t-shirt and a cap low over his eyes. But wisely, he didn't call the police. He just watched the mysterious person in front of him.
He stopped in front of the '70s section and inspected the vinyl collection, paying close attention to a Joni Mitchell one. The clerk seemed to realize who was in his store and backed away. Only one person looked at Joni vinyl like that. As impossible as it seemed, his old friend was back.
Words weren't spoken as the Joni vinyl was paid for. Just a fleeting look between the men before the customer tugged his cap lower on his face.
Someone said he saw you Monday
Searching that old record store
But how am I supposed to be sure before
You phone me?
The day melted into night and the man ventured into the street behind the bar. The neon letters flashed angrily, making him dizzy. He was hoping to get a glimpse of his love and that made him reckless, allowing people to see him. Some whispered and pointed, some just passed by without a second glance in his way.
Rumor has it
That you've returned home
Rumor has it
That you're finally growing tired of roaming around
He was tired of hiding, and when he saw her parking the car, his heart soared. She was so beautiful. Blinded by his love for her, he missed the details of her appearance, how tired and physically exhausted she was. As she came closer to the back door, he lost his nerve and ducked out of her view.
She turned her head toward his hiding spot, her brow furrowing, a small spark in her eyes. But it was all gone as fast as it appeared there. He wasn't coming back – that was her mantra.
Some said he saw you lately and that you've cut your pony tail
He said you looked bony
I won't remember how to exhale
Until you phone me
As the sounds got louder inside the bar, he let himself in, just next to the door, in the shadow.
She was singing Joni's The Last Time I Saw Richard song. Was there a message in that song? If there was, he got it. Her angelical voice had roughed over the years, probably as a result of the habit she had caught from him. He still couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for putting her first cigarette between her full rosy lips. She had looked so sexy with the white paper in her little mouth.
He had come back, not wanting to become like Richard in the song. They used to laugh at the song. Now it held so much meaning.
I would calm my voice down to the easiest tone
I would tease you and say, 'Hey - what took you so long'
And, 'How's it going?'
I would bite my tongue not to say, 'Told, you so!
And besides, how come I am the last one to be
In the knowing?'
"You're back!" someone exclaimed from his left, making him jump. He hadn't realized there was anyone close by.
Not taking his eyes off the angel on the stage, he answered, "Apparently." His voice was rough for not being used in days.
"For good? I'd kill you myself this time!"
A look between the old friends spoke volumes. Understanding green on determined blue.
"There's someone else, isn't there?" the music store clerk and old friend asked, looking toward the stage, too. He didn't get a verbal answer, just a shrug and a glimpse of an expensive golden wrist bracelet.
Rumor has it
There's someone with you
Guess I should bless it
Guess it was overdue
The night wound down and this time he was determined to talk with her. As people started to leave the bar, he stepped out of the shadow, lighting a cigarette.
She started singing The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down, another classic he loved. Was she trying to torment him? Did she even know he was there?
She kept singing Joan Baez and he wondered when she'd change it to Janis. He remembered how she used to love Janis. In five years, a lot of things could happen, but one didn't change their mind like that.
Suddenly, time seemed to stand still. Her brown eyes landed on his green ones. Her voice wavered for a second then she seemed to sing louder, more lively. As the song came to an end, there were tears in her eyes.
"N-ne-next song is fo-or someone I l-lo-ve," she stammered, brushing a delicate finger under her eyes. "We Shall Overcome."
This time, he knew the song was for him.
Someone said she is supposedly your wife to be
Well, you spend no time, don't you?
Another passing whim; you will come back to me
As the band wrapped up, he slipped out, deciding to just leave. It had been a mistake to come back, to stir old feelings. He was happy for just seeing her. One last time.
It seemed that his feet had something else planned for him, carrying him to her house. After making sure no one was watching, thinking he was breaking in, he let himself inside. He poured himself a glass of Jack and slumped in an armchair.
When the door opened, his heart went into overdrive as it always did when she was around. Her soft footsteps came to the living room and stopped in the doorway. Her breath hitched and tears started pouring down her cheeks.
He was back. He was home. Her dreams came true.
The glass fell to the floor, shattering as they met in the middle of the room. Two lost lovers rejoined.
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