Honestly, I don’t know what it is with me and songs lately, but it’s like they’re yelling to be written about. So, have another. It’s very short and probably doesn’t make much sense, but hopefully you’ll read it anyways, ‘cause you love me, and you’ll review it anyways, ‘cause otherwise I might cry.

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Lips of an Angel—Hinder

Honey why are you calling me so late?
It's kinda hard to talk right now
Honey why are you crying, is everything okay?
I gotta whisper cause I can't be too loud

Well, my girl's in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on

It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak

And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

It's funny that you're calling me tonight
And yes I've dreamt of you too
And does he know you're talking to me?
Will it start a fight?
No I don't think she has a clue

Well my girl's in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on

It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak

And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak

And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel
Honey why are you calling me so late?

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The phone’s ring brought him out of an uncomfortable half-sleep. It didn’t help, he thought when he read the series of numbers glowing at him in the dark room, that the caller was someone he should have gotten over a long time ago.

He pushed the Talk button as he rolled out of bed without disturbing the woman who only sighed and slept on, squinting when he stepped into the living room and switched on a lamp.

“Babe, what are you doing calling me this late?” he asked roughly, using his free hand to rub at his face.

“I’m sorry,” came the soft, sweet, far too familiar voice on the other end. “I—I know I shouldn’t have called.”

Something in her tone alerted him, so that his sleepy brain struggled to function. She sniffled and he caught on. “Why are you crying? Is something wrong?”

“No,” she hurried to reassure him. “It’s fine, it’s just—God, I should let you sleep. I’m sorry. You probably have work in the morning, and if she hears you—”

“It’s okay,” he promised, knowing that he didn’t really want to hang up and go back to bed. “She’s asleep. She doesn’t know.”

And wasn’t that a sign, he thought caustically, that this newest relationship was doomed to failure? It was the middle of the night, he had an attractive woman sleeping in his bed, and yet he was sitting in the living room in his boxers, on the phone with his ex, whispering so that he wouldn’t be heard. Wasn’t it a bad sign, when half the time he found himself wishing the woman currently sleeping in his bed was someone else?

“Okay,” she said in a small voice. He heard her sniffle again and could just picture her, sitting on her own living room couch, legs tucked against her chest and head resting on her knees.

“Will he be mad at you?” he heard himself asking abruptly. “For calling me?”

“He doesn’t know,” she answered softly, and sighed. “God, how did it all go so wrong?” she murmured, and when he didn’t answer, sighed his name, because she knew all too well what he was thinking.

God, he’d missed that. Missed hearing her say his name, hearing the way she murmured to him during these late-night conversations.

“I had another dream about you,” she said quietly, and his throat tightened when the question came. “Do you still dream about me?”

“Yeah,” he replied, and could hear his own voice, the way it sounded like someone had taken sandpaper to his throat. “Yeah, I’ve dreamt of you.” Tonight, actually. “You’re hard to let go of.”

He thought he could almost hear the small, sad smile in her voice when she answered. “You’re not easy to let go of, either.”

If he hadn’t been sitting, the words would have cut him off at the knees. Jesus, to hear her say that, as if she missed him, as if he could drive to her place now and take her into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless....

He was going to drive himself crazy with thoughts like this, he thought bitterly.

“We kinda fucked up, didn’t we?” he finally said softly, ruefully.

“I guess we did,” she sighed. “I should probably go,” she mumbled after a tense, humming pause.

He could hear movement from the bedroom, and was forced to concede that it was probably a good idea.

“Yeah, I guess.” He should have left it at that, but he didn’t. Couldn’t.

“You know you can call me when you need to, right?”

“I know,” she said sadly, just before she hung up.

He sat there, staring at the phone, almost wishing it would ring again.

God, would he ever be able to let her go?

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fin.

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So yeah, pretty short, and who knows what you guys will think. But please leave a review, even if it’s only to tell me to get my ass in gear where the rest of my stories are concerned.

— Murphy

P.S. The really sad thing here is that I originally intended to write a bit of a prequel for the “Sometime Around Midnight” one-shot I wrote, but..... this came out instead. Review anyways? Please?