Take it back
He wanted her back, there was nothing else going on in his mind now that it was being emptied of pride, anger or fear. It remained only loneliness, melancholy and longing for something – someone – that was no longer his and actually never really was. Blame it on the gin or blame it on the love he still felt in her heart for her. And his heart spoke too loud now that the mind was forced to silence.
"Take it back… Take it back" he mumbled, staring at the bottom of his empty glass.
The waiter eyed him from behind the counter and, after some moments of confusion, just shrugged and left the whole bottle of gin in front of him. Isaac smiled bitterly and shook his head.
It was not to the waiter that he was talking to, and it was not the bottle what he was talking about.
"Take it back… Take it back" he repeated, this time a bit louder and in a sort of singing voice. "Just take it back… Take it back… What we had…"
He turned around on his barstool, as if he wanted to bring his pain outside of him, and surprisingly found that some people were already staring at him. With mockery, pity, but also a vibrant curiosity, which was the only thing that in that moment he chose to detect. He smiled once again, again bitterly; his usual reserved composure was gone, everything was a blur and the tongue out of his control just started to let out words he wasn't actually thinking, but feeling indeed.
"Well, we're just two ships passing through the night
Two lost lonely people inside
I wanted to hold you tight
Or get away
Your eyes don't look close to mine
Lonely times and the people the same
You've seen what you've been
And you mean what you say
And you say what it is
Just take it back
Take it back
What we had
Take it…"
His singing almost stood above any other sound and the bottle became his microphone. He was glad to see that those same people were now even more curious and interested, while other were joining the brand new club of his listeners – a public his achy heart kinda needed and required.
"I wanna hold you tight
These days turn so lonely tonight
I wanna kiss your lips and get away
Sometimes lonely people change
And these days get so lonely in May
I try so hard to make what I can't seem to say
And these days get so far away
And I want what I can't say
So take it back…"
Maybe his voice was not that bad, he guessed as he absent-mindedly noticed someone in the crowd starting to clap following the rhytm in his head. But he was sure that the merit was of the words: he honestly believed that a good song could have come out of it, maybe that could have even been his masterpiece of writing.
If only he had a pen, if only he had the ability to frame the flow of his words, if only he could remember those words once they were out of his mouth.
But after all, his aim was not to write a song, but just express his own suddenly overwhelming misery. Desire of having success was coming into the shadow of letting out pure emotions. Probably that was exactly the ultimate message he should have taken from many of his favourite writers: getting drunk and losing rational consciousness for a while was the key to the real art and oneself psychology, something like discovering his own inside while watching himself from the outside. An experience like that could truly open the doors of perception – or so Aldous Huxley would have said.
"Well, we're just two ships passing through the night
Two lost lonely people inside
I wanted your touch, but you can't feel my fingers; I can't say too much
So I (try) try to get away
Oh, why did I stay?
Oh, you got this little lonely-hearted man
And you cry all the time, and I know
That these days, they don't go where they go…"
He stopped abruptly as his hand opened before he could do anything about. As the bottle of gin fell on the floor breaking into pieces, he was forced to close his eyes at the unpleasant sound.
"…And I can't feel my hands anymore" he singed then, ending that way his first and maybe only attempt at being a singer.
He turned around again toward the counter and he did it so quickly that the unavoidable dizziness caused him to lose balance and fall with his arms and head on the table. He remained like that for some minutes, with an endless sadness filling his soul and that stupid motif stuck in his head. Actually, his plan was to remain there all night in those conditions, but he didn't know that someone else had different plans for him; someone approached him in fact and, just speaking, managed to awaken him from his mental travel to Wasteland.
And that someone was not one of his new fans – all suddenly already gone –, also because there couldn't be no one among them who could have such a power on him.
"Darling, how the Hell have you reduced yourself to?"
Isaac snapped his eyes open again and stared dumbly at the figure in front of him. He didn't know which universe he had just entered with that unbelievable vision: dream, nightmare or just reality?
"Cruella… Are you really here?"
The annoyed loud sigh he gota s reply sounded too concrete to be just the product of his imagination and that was answer enough. No, that wasn't a dream and yes, she was really there.
"Oh, good. At least you can recognize me… You are not that bad then" she replied a bit ironically, while collecting his jacket and putting it on his shoulders.
He just continued to stare at her and let her make him stand up as if he were a motionless doll. "What are you doing here, Cru?" he dared to ask in a confusion whisper at some point.
"Mal called me and told me that you were at The Rabbit Hole making a fool of yourself… And well she was damn right, considering that little silly show of yours…"
A stupid little smile appeared on his lips at that. "You heard me singing? Did you like it?"
Cruella didn't answer, rolling her eyes theatrically. But then, she surprisingly took one of his hand in hers. "Com'on fool drunk… Let's get you home"
He blinked and finally, thanks to those unexpected words and that equally unexpected gesture, was actually taken back to reality. For a moment he was awake, for a moment he was lucid, and that was the moment he fully realized how exactly a fool he had been. There was nothing she could take back to him bcause what they had in the past was just a fragile empty lie; but on the other hand, there was something she was offering in that exact moment, something new and totally uncertain but true. She was giving him the hope that some day things between them would have grown stronger, she was giving him the feeling that after all, they could have been more than just two ships passing through the night.
She was giving him hope, she was offering him home.
Oh, it's gonna come a day
Oh, it's gonna come a day
So take it back
Take it back
So take it back
Take it, no, no, no
This one is dedicated to my fellow authella fans on the facebook group who just yesterday asked for a new story. I guess the release of Nate Ruess's new video starring Patrick Fischler gave me the inspiration I needed. The lyrics are in fact the ones of the song of the video in question "Take it back". Reviews are always appreciated:)