Tunes | Harry Styles

Fly on

Harry

Cold night, lively place. With her. The beaming smile, her brown scarf around her neck - covering half of her face. Every turn she made to look at me following her strides, her hair follows the wind, her coat easy to catch an eye when I lose track of her.

Now I know this night, she wasn't just a former keyboardist of mine but my friend, not that she wasn't in the first place, maybe now everything changed and I could call her a best friend I never had. This night, I know I won't ever be afraid to tell her anything. I don't know what caused me to feel that or how she managed to make that my mindset. Perhaps it's because we were both in a city, both far away from home. But together, we felt familiar to one another. We felt as though we were home.

Crowded places, but I felt invisible with her, like the rest didn't matter. I've been living these past years so exposed by people and places, everyone knew me. But with her, I felt invisible. Like Harry Potter's cloak, we were hidden under it.

"Why are you quiet?" Her voice rings my head like a hammer upon the wall, nailing a nail - but instead she nailed the softness of her tone. I shove my ringed fists inside my slack pockets, our steps in sync, every ounce of sound blurred out. From the ringing of the bicycle, from the locals calling out to introduce their selling products. All I could hear is her.

"What do you mean?" I question, eyes glued on the pavement, watching my white vans become dirty from the moist air. "You're quiet, then you talk, then you don't."

"Silence is overrated," I say.

"Talking is overrated." She then smiles as I eye her.

"I don't mind though, if you don't speak. Because your aura is nice to be with." She chuckles, tying up her long brown hair, strands falling to her cheeks and eyes.

"Likewise." I cackle softly, nudging her shoulder.

She takes my hand, dragging me across people, I almost stumbling upon my own steps trying to follow her fastened strides. "Where are you taking me?" I narrow my eyes at her, but I didn't mind it. I didn't mind her taking my hand, bringing me in the middle of the crowd without any 'reason'.

Her scent lingers upon the wind as I follow her, gripping her hand tightly in mine, fearing I'll lose her so suddenly. Fearing she'd fly away like the winter air. And so, I hold onto her, trusting her with all of me till I'm nothing but bones underneath all this skin. She lets go of my hand, the touch of that warmth and contact of her skin fading so quickly like smoke, leaving me now empty.

She claps excitedly, getting into her toes and down. I followed her gaze, seeing a man playing a piano, slight crowd surrounding him.
Right there and then, I see and feel how passionate she is about music. How it follows her and how she chases it when it's right in the palm of her hands.

The man suddenly stops playing, people applauding small. "Come on," she drags me over by my coat. "What?" I confusingly ask. The man stands upon seeing us approaching him as Louisa bows lightly, the man motioning us to play.

"We'll play," she says, pushing her coat back as she takes a seat. Again, she takes my hand in hers, pulling me down to sit with her, my legs at either sides of the bench seat - unlike her facing the piano. "Do you know Fly On? Coldplay?" She smiles, cracking her knuckles.

She loves Coldplay, doesn't she.

"Yes, I do." I answer her, loving Coldplay as well, knowing their songs. "Great, I'll play and you sing it, is that fine with you?" She readies her fingers over the keys, looking at me for approval, a tint of hope and excitement in those brown eyes dancing over mine.