ice cream; hes

nine

"don't you want to get ice cream?" isha offers meekly, trying to take hold of his hand, wincing as he pulls it away, "please."

"no," harry says, voice soft, broken, trembling. isha doesn't miss any of this, but she doesn't have the heart to address the issue, address whatever's bothering him, since it so clearly has to do with her.

"but you love ice cream."

"not at the moment," he replies, and isha frowns, staring at the back of his head, of his hair that he let her fingers run through when he first met her, gifting her the leaves that she still keeps in her phone case.

"harry," isha sighs, moving in front of him, between his legs, trying to hold his face in her hands, only to have him pull away, "mint choco-chip solves everything, doesn't it? come on."

"not everything," he says, warm eyes now cold, staring into hers, "not this."