oh, anna [-hs]

sweet thing

"That's awesome. Could I hear it?" I try. He smiles a little and pulls his phone and airpod case out of his pocket.

"Yeah, one second." He offers the case to me and I flip it open, sticking the pods into my ears. He holds his phone out, his thumb dangling over the play button on a voice memo. He looks at me, wide-eyed and fearful. I suddenly realize, this is a new thing for us. Sure, I've heard his music before, but not like this. Not before everyone else in the world has heard it too. This is him opening a door to himself, peeling back a layer, letting down a wall. He exhales through his teeth. We've stopped walking. "Are you ready?"

I nod. His finger taps the play button, and I hear the track softly build. As the music grows, my heart starts to beat faster. Until suddenly the drums kick in, and he's singing the conversation I heard from behind the door months earlier.

"La da da da da," he sings. I can practically see his fingers waving back and forth with each da. A smile spreads across my face, which makes him relax.

And then Charlotte's piano riff echoes in the mix, and he screams, and the chorus shouts, and the hook hits me. I blink, stunned by the brilliance of it all. I can't believe this song was nothing more than a piano riff and some words a couple of months ago. This could be on the radio. I feel goosebumps creep up my arms.

Harry clasps his hands behind his back and bends forward slightly, his head tilted, his lips pressed together, his eyes soaking in my expression.

The verse starts over. I nod my head along, and slowly the song begins to trail off, his screams echoing from the mix, mirroring the chorus's singing. The song ends and I pull out an earbud. He stands up straight again and puts his phone back into his pocket, taking the pods from me. "Well?"

"I love it," I beam.

He gives a curt nod and stuffs the airpod case back. We start walking again, I can tell my words are running through his head. "Good," he breathes to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. I do the same, our steps in time with one another.

"I've never heard a song quite like it. It sounds...unique," I offer. He soaks up each syllable, hungry for more. "It feels different, new."

"Is it a kiwi?" He mumbles. I tilt my head.

"Mm, I don't know, I don't think so."

He nods disappointedly.

"But it's an important song. And it's a good song. You need one like that. They can't all be kiwis. Some of them have to be sad." I try to persuade him.

"Most of the ones I've written are sad," he shrugs.

"But not the one you were telling me about last month," I argue. I have no idea how many he's written. I'm out of my jurisdiction here, but from what I remember he said it could be a banger.

"Well the actual music of the song can be happy, but the lyrics are sad," he explains. "That's what makes the best songs, sad lyrics and a killer tune."

"You've said that before," I nod, thinking back to the first time he listened to Miss You with me.

"All of my songs are sad," he seems to realize, muttering to himself.

"Well I like it," I sigh and let my arms fall, smacking the sides of my legs.

"I think this is the one I want to do."

"What?"

He turns to me. "The music video you owe me. I think I want it to be this song."

A grin spreads across my face. "Yeah?"