CHAPTER TWO/MELODY.

[ Louis' POV ]
Doncaster.

Don't let me...
Don't let me...
Don't let me go...

That melody got stuck inside my brain for hours while at work.
That humming voice I heard earlier in the park, that words that I just couldn't stop replaying inside my mind.

But everytime I tried to capture it, to freeze the voice and remember it entirely, it was as if it was escaping from me.
I heard it more and more distant each time, slipping through my fingers and making me want it even more.

I wanted to hear it again.

When the clock hit six in the evening, I quickly put my papers back in each folder and tidied my desk before leaving.

But as I headed to the lift, someone grabbed my arm, making me stop and turn around.

"Lou."

"Yes Chad?"

"You shouldn't leave so soon, boss is angry that you got here late, so you'll have to stay an extra hour."

"C'mon." - I huffed. - "I'll be early tomorrow, I want to go now."

"I don't know, Louis. He won't be happy."

I pouted and he sighed.

"You know? Go. I'll stay and cover you." - He said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I have to finish some stuff, so." - He shrugged.

"You're the best!"

"Yeah..." - He trailed. - "Maybe tomorrow we can go get some drinks? On you of course, since I'm saving your ass today." - He laughed.

"Mmmm... sure, yeah. We can." - I smiled gently and he nodded nervously.

"I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Great."

I smiled at him one last time and got on the lift, sighing deeply in relief now that work time had finished.

I hated my job.
It was denigrating, slaving and tortuous.

It was a damn call center.

Where people insult you on the phone, and you're still forced to keep calling, keep offering annoying products and stuff nobody needs.

Still, it was the best I could find, and I was really close to losing it because I never could get there in time.

So, getting out of that building and breathing the fresh air was liberating.

I made my way back to where I had parked my car, walking through the park, and then I heard it again.

That mystical voice that stuck in my head all day.

It was still there.

With the thought of getting to my car long forgotten, I walked deep into the center of the park, following where the voice was coming from.

Eventually I stopped at a fair distance from where this guy was seated.

He had a sad expression on his face, a little bag was placed at his feet and he was playing for only a mother and their kid who were watching him attentively.

His guitar still didn't sound quite right, and now I could see why. It was broken in half and I couldn't understand how he was still able to even play the chords.

He was too invested in his song though, he wasn't even aware that there were people watching him.

His voice was completely hypnotic, different from everything I ever heard before, and even if his guitar wasn't sounding good, his voice was completely making it up for it.

The guy had some dirty and ripped clothes on and it was easy to notice that he lived in the streets.
He had greasy hair and worn out shoes, it was devastating to watch.

Still, his voice was so bright, so beautiful but also contained so much pain.

Sometimes, the most beautiful things are the one that are broken.

And this was the case.
A beautiful soul, with a painful destiny.

The guy kept playing his song, repeating those words and giving each sentence even more meaning if possible.

Don't let me...
Don't let me...
Don't let me go...

It was somehow strange that the lyrics continued being the same, only those four words, but still he made it seem like it was a complete song.

Like nothing was missing.
It didn't need more lyrics, and I couldn't stop listening to him even If I wanted to.

It has hypnotizing.

But I guess I was the only one thinking that way, because eventually the woman with the kid left some money on his bag and left him alone again.

But he didn't seem to mind.
He didn't even take his eyes off his broken guitar, he looked at it as if it was the most precious thing he owned.

Because it probably was.

I took some steps closer to him and started noticing that that guitar also had some missing strings, it no longer had six, but instead only four were remaining.

Yet he continued playing as if nothing was wrong.

I smiled sadly at him, finally stopping in front of him and searching for my wallet.

I took out fifty bucks and left them inside the bag at his feet and just in that moment he looked up and stopped playing.

His green eyes stared into my soul for some long minutes until I gave him an awkward smile.

It was the saddest look I ever had the chance to see.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your song."

"You didn't." - He whispered, coughing slightly.

"You have a really wonderful voice. Don't ever stop singing." - I smiled again.

"Thank you." - He smiled back and his lip trembled.

I noticed that his eyes started watering and he looked down at his guitar again.

"I really hope you can get through this." - I mumbled, noticing the guy was now openly crying in front of me.

His body shaking due to the sobs, made me realize that he wasn't eating much, he was too slim for a body of his contexture, he was probably also suffering from malnutrition, and it broke my heart into pieces.

No soul should go through that.

I, not knowing what to do, and without getting any reply from him, took a cereal bar from my bag and left it on his side.

He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and shook his head.

"No."

"It's fine, you need it more than I do." - I smiled one more time and turned around, leaving the crying boy seated in the middle of the park as the sun was setting.

It felt bad to return to my car, to even drive to my flat where my bed and food was waiting for me.

It felt wrong that some people have to stay in the streets while I get to sleep and eat and have a bath.

Why do I feel like I'm enjoying these privileges when someone else doesn't even have a roof above their heads?

Why do I get the feeling of wanting to help this boy survive in this cruel world?

_______

SO, WHAT DO YOU ALL THINK SO FAR?

MAG 🦋