Amnesia • Calum Hood

•Prologue•

It was the middle of the night when she told him she was leaving.  The moon was high in the velvety black sky, casting cool streams of light onto the empty streets below.  He had gotten her call a while ago, the vague message bringing a furrow to his brow.  He was told to wait for her outside, on the hillside they had met so many times before.

When he had arrived, no one was there.  The grassy slope was vacant of any life, and the only sound interrupting the night was the rumble of the old station wagon engine.  He twitched the keys and turned off the car, letting silence settle onto the landscape once more.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous.  The tone of voice she had used was terse, and very unlike how she usually spoke.  There was always a glimmer in her hazel eyes, one he had grown to love.  Whenever she laughed, it filled his chest with light.  All he wanted was to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

But as he moved to sit atop the hood of the car, pulling his jean-clad knees against his chest and thumping his black converse against the metal, he realized that was all going to change.  He didn't know, of course, exactly what would happen.  He didn't know what words would leave her beautifully soft lips, what pain he would feel deep in his heart.  But he knew, all the same, that his life was going to be different.

She arrived quietly, unannounced.  Her footsteps were softened by the dirt ground, her breaths coming in short, quiet intervals.  The wisps of brown hair that framed her face blew gently in the breeze, lifting from her neck slightly.  She wore jeans, and a hoodie with deep pockets which she stuffed her hands inside.  Her heart was hammering so loud it was a miracle he couldn't hear it.

She watched him for a while.  She took in the curve of his back, highlighted against the lights of the city below.  His broad shoulders met slim hips at a perfect angle, tanned biceps rippling out from his ripped muscle shirt.  The dark hair adorning his head, curly when it was long, looked just as soft and inviting as it always did.  His slim legs were bent up against his chest, in the position he always adopted whenever he was nervous.  His hands, large and warm, practically begged to be touched.  All she wanted was to tangle her fingers through his, and never let go.

But she couldn't.  Not now.  Instead of taking his hand, whispering in his ear, kissing his lips, she ignored what her body craved to do and merely called out.  Her voice was fragile and glassy, on the verge of cracking into a million pieces.  Her breath hitched inside of her throat when he turned around, dark eyes meeting her own in the dimness of the night.

Unspoken words passed between them, dancing through the night air with ease.  He wanted to say something to her, anything that would change her obviously made up mind.  He wanted to throw himself off the car, rush up to her and take her into his arms.  He wanted to kiss her until he couldn't breathe, hug her until his limbs grew numb.  He never wanted to let her go.

Her bottom lip was trembling, the one he always ran his fingers across when they were intertwined among his sheets.  Her eyes were glossy, and fearful emotion threatened to break free from the hazel orbs.  He didn't say anything, nor did she.  In a way, they didn't need to.  And yet, at the same time, the silence was killing them.

Finally, she spoke.

"Calum."

Hearing his name roll off of her tongue was enough to send him striding across the hill.  His steps were long and even, and when he reached her he stopped mere inches away.  His height towered over her own, shadowing what little light was left inside of her.

His voice was barely a whisper when he replied, the sound lost on the breeze.  "What are we doing here, Jo?"

Her eyes squeezed shut.  The nickname he used just for her sent a pang of hurt into her chest, like a spear from the clutches of a gladiator.  It tore at her, bit by bit, and it took her a minute to center herself.  Opening her eyes once more, she saw his brows pulled low on his face.  He always had that look when he was concentrating, and she had no doubt in her mind that his brain was reeling.