Songbirds

sun [two door cinema club]

a/n: yes, the ending is rushed. yes, i started in the middle of the song. yes, this is the first version of a possible three. yes, i could have made this an angsty fan fiction and changed logan's name to jim. no, i did not think that would be a good idea. 

partly dedicated to mariam (@defend) because of our football pact. 

i built a hive

voicemail #10

Hi, Callie. This is Lo. I mean, I guess I’m going to have to keep leaving messages after the tone, because that’s what your machine keeps telling me to do, and I honestly don’t know of any other way to talk to you. So here is my impression of Cole St Clair’s pear shaped message. I just need a Sam to keep me grounded and a Grace to remind me that raccoons have rabies. But other than that, I’ve got the full cast and crew here.

It was raining outside. That was the real reason why Logan was calling Callie. Callie’s eyes, as best as Logan could remember them, were made of rain. Not happy, kissing-in-the-rain kind of rain, but I’m-going-to-make-you-some-tea-and-put-on-a-movie-so-you-won’t-cry-anymore-because-I-love-you kind of rain. So because it was raining, he called her. She, of course, wasn’t there; she hadn’t been the past five times, so why should she be this time? Logan had given up on “third time’s the charm” because it was well past the third time.

Well, I guess I don’t have a Vincent, but he’s not really that important, is he? At least not to me. Anyway, I might as well tell you what I did today. Or who I ran into. You remember Alice, from Year Five? Well, she stopped by the shop, and I happened to be on my shift, about to take my lunch, but she kept talking and talking and talking and talking like she used to. Except, somehow she seemed to talk even more than she did when we were younger.

Remember how we met? I was thinking the other day (okay, today) if we didn’t. If you hadn’t switched the radio from the news to that new station, The Sun, or something. If you hadn’t listened to that advertisement. If you hadn’t gone on their website when you got home. I can go on and on and on and on.

You know what?

Maybe I will.

 

voicemail #15

It was still raining outside, so Logan decided to leave another message. He had tried to leave the house to go somewhere, but he would break his daily habit of leaving those messages, so he stayed by the door with the phone clamped between his shoulder and cheek. The car honked outside, and he knew he shouldn’t keep Mike waiting, but he just couldn’t not leave another message.

Hi, Callie. This is Lo.

Remember? That’s what I asked myself this morning. Remember when we first met? I had been asking myself this, and, in extension you, since I thought about it yesterday, and I guess the thought just carried itself through the night and the rest of the day. It’s almost dark here, if you’re wondering. You probably aren’t, because you choose to fill your mind with sophisticated and important things, like fine art and photography, while the rest of us are forced to let ours fill to the brim with useless tidbits, like the phone number I was supposed to send a text to when I heard a song I didn’t like on The Sun.

Isn’t it weird that I still remember it? It’s engraved in my mind: 35684. That, eventually, was the number that led me to you. It couldn’t have been the other way around, because I’m the reacher, and you’re the settler (and might I mention how much I appreciate you settling for me?).