Falling | h.s

thirty-five

HARRY'S POV

"Okay," Janie sighs, flipping open her leather-bound notebook and uncapping her favorite blue pen. "What are we going to write about today?"

"I have no idea," I respond immediately. "My head is empty right now," I lie. In reality, my head is too full. I can't stop thinking about what's going to happen in a month. I can't stop wondering if she's thinking the same. I can't stop thinking about her eyes, her laugh, the way she says my name. I can't stop thinking of her.

"Oh, c'mon. Let's do what we always do. Start with the first thing that pops into your mind."

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, the sea breeze washing over me euphorically. I can practically smell the sunshine, the sand. I catch a whiff of her perfume, the one that smells like honeysuckles and orange sherbert.

I open my eyes slowly and look over at her. She's staring out at the ocean, a faint smile on her lips. Her arms are wrapped around her legs and her chin is resting on her knees. The scarf in her hair flaps in the wind as her hair rests perfectly on her sweatshirt clad shoulders. The sun was setting perfectly, illuminating everything around us. I feel warm, content, pure joy. And looking at her, she's pure gold.

"Golden," I break the silence and she looks at me with warm eyes. "Golden, as I open my eyes."

"I like that," she responds softly and writes the words down with precision on a fresh piece of paper. "It should be upbeat, I think. Excited."

"Hold it, focus, hoping," I start, trying to get the words I'm feeling out of my head and onto the paper. She hums out in agreement as she scribbles my thoughts down. "Take me back to the light."

She grabs the guitar gently and begins to play a quietly beautiful strumming pattern. I nod along to the rhythm and watch her.

"Your turn," I nudge her softly, wanting to crack into her brain and pull out the thoughts that are surely swirling around. She's looking at me like there are a million things she would say to me if we had the time.

"I know you were way too bright for me," she says after a moment, barely above a whisper and I feel my heart pounding in my ears.

"I'm hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky," I sing out lightly to the soft strumming. "Brown my skin just right," I continue. I look her dead in the eyes, breathing heavily. "You're so golden."

The air between us is soft, gentle. Tender and tentative.

We were in our bubble.

We had never written a song quite like this: wordlessly spitting out perfectly poetic lines. We had never written something so honest.

She hums out a few "da da da da!"s before grinning in satisfaction.

"That's good," I confirm with a nod.

"I think there should be a sort of echoing, repetitive series of "da da da da!" throughout the song."

"Write that down," I say, repeating the words I said to her as we wrote "Cherry." She balances her notebook on top of my guitar, doing her best to write my words and her notes as quickly as they're coming. After a moment, she begins strumming again.

"You're so golden" I sing out confidently and lovingly. "I'm out of my head and I know that you're scared..."

"And then there needs another line," I interrupt myself. "Maybe something like--"

"Because hearts get broken," she finishes for me smoothly, her eyes boring into mine.