Kiwi was a song you never got tired of. It ignited something in you; and in him as well. Maybe you saw it as your song, perhaps because you fell in love with a pop-rock star singing to it.

You watched from the crowd, surrounded by ecstatic fans as they cheered and danced to the music. You sang the lyrics as if they were your national anthem—you knew all of his lyrics, from watching his almost every concerts to listening to his murmurs, singing beautifully through your home.

Harry stood at the stage, rocking the electric guitar while pouring all of his energy into the song. He was insane when he was playing to a crowd. Wild.

And you freakin' loved it.

Mid-song, Harry knelt on the edge of the stage, the microphone steady in his hand.

"Come here, love." He gestured you closer—which absolutely drove everyone mad—, and once you were directly in front of him, only a whisper away, he passionately sang the lyrics with the biggest grin on his face.