"Hello, it's me." - It might be a bit presumptious but Chaerin strongly believed he would know who was calling. He couldn't have forgotten the sound of her voice already, not when his still whispered to her at night, when memories were at their most cruel. 

"I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet." - She knew he had moved on, deep down inside, she understood that there was nothing between them anymore and yet she couldn't help wondering what would happen if they met again, would she feel nothing, would he? Would there be that tide of emotion he could draw from her or just a stark emptiness. 

"To go over everything." - They might be living two very different lives now but their paths were bound to cross sooner or later and she would like it if the past was all water under the bridge when that happened. She'd like to be able to go face to face with him without fear of rebuttal or worse indifference. 

"They say that time's supposed to heal ya, But I ain't done much healing." - Three years, give or take a few months. It should've been enough. She wished it was, it wasn't. Time seemed to have stood still where she was concerned because when it came to Jiyong, she still felt as lost, upset and guilty as she had been 3 years ago. She was an emotional mess and she had no idea what to do about it. 

"Hello, can you hear me, I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be. When we were younger and free, I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet." - She wanted to go back, if only to experience that novelty again. To see if that bliss was reality or a fairytale she had spun in her head. She loved her job, make no mistakes, she loved her life too, but lately it was bleak, lonely. A loneliness caused by her inability to leave the past behind. She had come so far, so fast, in such a small amount of time, she'd had no time to savor it and now that she did, it wasn't as sweet as she'd expected. She had seemingly everything a girl could ask for; a successful career, hordes of adoring fans and a good man, a man she couldn't fully commit to because when she closed her eyes at night, she dreamed of another. She dreamed of what could've been and worried of what could be and so failed to enjoy what is. She didn't want that anymore, she deserved better, she deserved closure and she hoped to get it soon. 

There's such a difference between us and a million miles." - She was an award-winning, multi-faceted, platinum artist, a favorite with Hollywood and the world alike. He was a very successful artist, dominant in Asia, on the radar of the world. No small fry by anyone's standards yet as poles apart from her as there was the distance separating them. It would be a small thing to simply hop on a plane and jet off to Korea, if she wasnt sure of the artic reception that would be waiting for her, she would already be on her way. The distance between them seemed to surpass mere miles but transcend a dimension where they existed in separate worlds. 

"Hello from the other side, I must have called a thousand times. To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done, but when I call you never seem to be home." - She had lost count of the numerous times she had picked up the phone to call him like this. Initially, she had refused to call until the loss of what they had meant to each other threatened to overwhelm her, then she had called in need of restitution, and again in search of a solution, and finally in hope of emancipation. He'd never picked her calls, or even once acknowledged them. At a loss as to how to put down what she felt, she always ended up cancelling whatever it was she had written, so she never sent a message and had never gotten one either. Every missed call she made, hardened her heart, harder and harder, till the pressure built so strongly it cracked from the strain and left her bleeding and gasping for each new breath. Life became meaningless to her. A roller coaster of emptiness. In a world where she was constantly surrounded by people, she felt utterly alone. His wall of silence shut her out more effectively than any of his words or actions could.  

"Hello from the outside, at least I can say that I've tried to tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart." - She broke his heart, she knew this certainly but most times she felt like she was the one with a broken heart. Maybe she was. She wasn't sure anymore. It seemed that in leaving him, in hurting him, in betraying him, she had hurt herself, betrayed herself and left a vital piece of her behind. She had cheated herself out of not only a lover but also her best friend and she felt the loss everyday since. She had a burning hope that she could set right her wrongs and would feel a whole lot better if she could just say sorry. She had tried so many times, Lord knew how much she had tried. 

"But it don't matter, it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore." - He had moved on, clearly, not a day went by without some new picture or article cropping up about his relationship with that beautiful model and no matter how much they stayed quiet about it or denied it outright, they weren't fooling anyone. She hoped he was happy, she hoped his charming boyish smiles were genuine. She knew from experience how much pain could be behind a smile, how much it could hide. If she was honest with herself she could admit that a part of her wanted him to be unhappy, if only to validate that she meant as much to him as he meant to her, if only to reassure herself that she wasn't alone in this misery. Misery really does love company. She wanted him to be happy, really she did, but a part of her couldnt accept that she was no longer the cause of his happiness, or that she might even be the antithesis of it. 

"Hello, how are you? It's so typical of me to talk about myself I'm sorry."- She was so nervous that she had run a little, talking about all the new things she was going through and had experienced so far, like she would’ve done if they had still been together, as she’d longed to do so many times in the past few years, because no one had understood her dreams quite like he had and she’d wanted to share the realization of them with him. He had always been easy to talk to, it was one of the things she missed the most about their past relationship. She wondered if he was happy for her. If he was proud of what she had accomplished. He treated questions about her, about what they used to be, like he did most questions that were too intrusive and not about his music, stoic dismissal. Lately he’d developed an uncanny ability to field off such questions before they were even fully asked.   

"I hope that you're well,"- what a mundane question, what she wanted to ask was if he still remembered what it was like to laugh with her? If he remembered where she was most ticklish? If he missed cuddling with her on cold winter nights when they were content with just being in each other’s arms? Did he still have the same taste in music, the same habits, the same routines? Did he miss her they way she missed him or was he content with the way things were? Had he ever tried to reach out to her, or felt bad for not answering or returning her calls, would he even listen to this message or delete it outrightly? Had he forgiven her?!   

"Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happens,”– It was a shallow jab, bellow the belt, a nod to the difference in social strata of their lives. She wanted him to acknowledge who she was, because her triumph wasn’t entirely complete without his validation. She also wanted him to acknowledge that she had gotten to where she was without him, that she could be more without him. A total contrast to her desire for his validation and to the need she had for him to be in her life again, she supposed it was a thing of pride. Pride, it had been her downfall three years ago, a trait, an emotion she’d been unaware she possessed till it had spiraled out of control and left lasting damage in its wake. Would she never learn?!   

"It's no secret that the both of us, are running out of time."- She could almost hear the clock ticking on them, counting down to their inevitable meeting, counting down on the opportunity for them to mend their broken fences, counting up to the day when she would wake up, numb and empty and his name would be a faint memory, a legacy of the past and all hope of reclaiming even a fraction of what they’d had or if not, at least shutting that door on terms she could live with, would be lost. She couldn’t let that happen and if it took a drunken message on his answering machine to get the ball rolling then she wasn’t sorry she’d called. 

"So hello from the other side, I must have called a thousand times to tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done, but when I call you never seem to be home. Hello from the outside, at least I can say that I've tried, to tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart, but it don't matter it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore."- Jiyong was about to give in and pick the call when she cut the line, her voice faltering on the word 'anymore'. He sighed. It was just as well. He had no idea what he would have said if he picked the call. 

He played the message again, closing his eyes to take in her voice. That voice. How was it that it was still so familiar after all these years, how was it that it still had the same effect on him that it's always had. So much for bygones.  

He smiled sadly as he listened to her, it shocked him how much he could read into the things she'd left unsaid, how in tune he was to all the nuances of her voice so much so that it was very easy to fill in the blanks. She was unhappy, it was a surprise. The life she lived, so readily publicised by the media in so far as she would allow, had no room for unhappiness, no room for drawbacks, she was on the fast lane to conquering the world and she was loving it or so it seemed. He didn't want it to matter but it did, he didn't want to care but he did. He had tried so hard to forget her, to move past her, to move past what she had done to him, to them. He'd tried to cut her off completely because it had been the only way he could cope with the loss. It had not helped that she had been constantly shoved in his face, shoved back into his life, by the media, by close friends until he had made it very clear that the subject was off limits. Then the calls started. The first time she called him, he'd broken into a clammy sweat, anxiety causing bile to rise swiftly to his throat, he had literally been shaking. He had been so disgusted afterwards that he had been more determined than ever to shut her out of his life, so he refused to answer or acknowledge any of her calls. If he was honest with himself he could admit that he had been afraid, afraid of what she wanted to say, afraid of what he wouldn't hear, afraid of what he would say, afraid that he would break down and beg her pathetically to come back to him. So he kept his distance, blocked all avenues to her until the pain deadened to a bearable ache and he found someone who helped him forget. 

Should he meet up with her, he wondered. Did he have the strength to face her after all this time. It had been three years, if things we really over as he liked to think then he should be able to see her without fear of what could happen. But he was afraid that things weren't really over between them, that things would never really be over between them. That he would see her again and everything she said would become justifiable. That he would see her and be willing to sacrifice anything to ensure he didn't lose her again, even the new relationship he had formed and Kiko didn't deserve that. She was a good woman and she deserved someone who was fully committed to her. But then again maybe he was being too emotional about this, maybe he would feel nothing when he met her, he couldnt deny that he was curious to hear what she would say, to know what would come about from the meeting.  

He listened again, marveling at her own unique way of delivering a message. She'd always had a way with words, always had the ability to convey the most profound messages in the simplest yet creative ways. There was almost a melodious ring to her words, and he wondered how it would sound as a song, from a woman to her ex lover. It would be profound, simple but profound  if sung by the right artist. Lee Hayi would be perfect for the job. 

The thought took root and grew in his head and he spent the next couple of minutes fine tuning it, he wondered briefly what she would think if and when she heard it, would there be any copyright issues? At least she would know that he had received her message, he hoped she wouldn't misconstrue it beyond what it was, an artistic expression of the appreciation of her way with words and the emotions behind them. The last thing he needed was her thinking he was so hung up, he had turned her message into some sort of ode to the past. He sighed, he was afraid that might partly be the case.  

After a while, Jiyong found himself stretched out on the plush carpet, listening yet again to the message and he realised the decision had already been made, he would meet with her. He couldn't put off the inevitable any longer, irrespective of the consequences, he would call her back. 

That's it, lol. I think Lee Hi would slay a Hello cover, or Minzy, don't you? Just think, those rich tones belting out the song, it would be divine. Anyways, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.