The other guys weren’t ready either.
The second he sings?—
real, full-throated,
cracked open and stripped?—
they all turn to him at once,
heads swinging his way.
Jay’s gaze snaps up.
Nico freezes mid-hit.
Mikey lets out a stunned laugh mid-strum,
eyes wide, like—who the fuck is this guy?
Because whatever just came out of Andrew Harding’s mouth, wasn’t anything they’ve heard before.
There’s heartache in his lows that settles in your bones.
And heat in his highs that sneaks between your thighs.
It’s an open-wound hum,
twisting you into believing you caused it?—
like you broke him in another life,
and now he’s making you remember.
As if he’s lived through hell and heartbreak,
and waited for the mic to cry about it.
He has no idea what it’s doing to the room.
I melt against the beam,
arrested to him,
and it’s fucking crushing me.
This is all I wanted, the only reason I came,
and now it feels like a funeral.
“Jesus, listen to him tonight, huh?”
Talia walks up and stands beside me,
facing Andrew.
My body goes still.
Don’t look at her lips. Don’t look at her mouth.
