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Harry bounced his head to the music blaring through his earphones. The sun was shining, he was on his way to his last class of the week, and Beach House was telling him the colours were missing upon the dark Spring. 

“Oi!” 

Harry looked over his shoulder and smiled. He mouthed a fond hello back at Niall, then gestured at his earphones and shrugged. 

Niall glared at him. “Rude,” he yelled, loud enough to attract the attention of a few passing students. 

Harry just laughed and offered his arm and his left earbud. He and Niall walked to class like that, interlinked and jamming along to Harry’s playlist. 

Their lecture passed in a blur—Harry almost fell asleep a total of three times, which was a new record—and then they were chasing each other down the steps to the carpark. 

There was a sharp buzzing noise, and both Harry and Niall reached for their phones, not slowing down. 

“Fuck!” Niall stopped suddenly, eyes glued on the screen.

Harry crashed into him from behind, but Niall only grunted. Harry pouted, tucked his phone back in his pants—no messages as usual, since he was already with his one and only friend—and hooked his chin over Niall’s shoulder to read. 

Where’s Fluffy Announces Secret London Show TONIGHT!

Harry stopped breathing. 

“Pinch me, Niall,” he mumbled, nuzzling closer so he could read the rest of the article. 

Niall pinched his hand softly; Harry barely felt it, but Niall was still too distracted for him to bother teasing him about it. 

“Is that it?” Niall groused, trying to scroll down past the end of the page. “Doesn’t even say where they’ll be.”

Harry hummed. “S’probably a surprise, like a treasure hunt or summat.” He bounced on the souls of his feet. “Fuck, we’re going, right? We’re gonna try and find Fluffy?” 

Niall scoffed. “Course we’re going, mate. It’s fluffy. ”

“What’s fluffy?” 

Harry let go of Niall and turned. Shawn was standing just behind them, smiling at Niall. 

Niall grinned back at him. Harry tucked his hands behind his back and stared into the middle distance, because he knew that there was no use trying to interrupt them. 

“ Where’s Fluffy,” Niall corrected. Harry had to admit they were cute together, but he didn’t really fancy the ‘being ignored’ part of the equation. 

“Right. Where is fluffy?” Shawn asked. Maybe Harry should just take a seat and work on the essay he had due on Monday. 

“In London, apparently!” Niall answered. “They’re me and Hazza’s favourite band, and they’re playing a secret show tonight.” 

“Right on!” Shawn said, clearly excited on their behalf. 

“Right on, yeah,” Harry mumbled, trying out his best Shawn impression. 

Neither Niall or Shawn noticed he’d spoken. 

They seemed to be engaged in a weird, telepathic conversation. 

I want to invite myself but I don’t want to be rude, said Shawn. 

I want to invite you but it’s kind of a me and Harry thing, said Niall. 

“Hey, Shawn! Why don’t you come with us?” said Harry. 

Shawn blinked at him. “Oh, hey, Harry! Didn’t see you there. Wait—really?”

Harry smiled politely. “Mhm. It’ll be fun. Right, Niall?” 

Niall nodded enthusiastically. 

“Cool! Well, I have to get home first, get changed,” Shawn said, gesturing to his outfit as if he wasn’t going to turn up tonight in a near-identical white t-shirt and black skinny jeans. Harry couldn’t knock him for that; he’d been a first year once, too. “But I’ll meet you later, yeah? Text me.” With a final glance at Niall—fifty percent flirt and fifty percent nerves—he took off towards the car park. 

Niall watched him go for a moment, then turned to Harry with a big grin. “Mate, you’re an absolute legend.” 

Harry shrugged demurely. “No problem. As long as you promise you won’t go off tonight with him and abandon me like last time.” Harry poked Niall in the chest sternly. 

Niall waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.” 

Harry sighed. He really wanted to believe him. 

Three hours later, and Harry was starting to change his mind. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Niall and Shawn disappeared somewhere together. Surely that would be better than this. 

Anything at all would be better than this—watching Niall and Shawn sloppily make out against their tiny table in the dimly lit back corner of a grungecore brewpub. Harry wrinkled his nose and plucked his drink off the table so it wouldn’t spill like his friend’s untouched pints were currently doing. 

Turning his attention to the band onstage didn’t help much, either—his heart was set on fluffy tonight, and as much as he was enjoying the pop-punk enthusiasm these guys were bringing to the table, it couldn’t match up. 

Harry had started listening to Where’s Fluffy in high school, back when he thought he was a musical savant just because he browsed soundcloud after choir practice on his mum’s crap wifi. It had been a complete fluke, finding what would become his favourite band; he’d seen a sloppily scrawled pink bunny on a plain black background and clicked on their EP. The sound quality was for shit, but Harry didn’t care; for the first time in his short, lonely life he was hearing music that spoke to him. Their songs were about being angry, being queer, being loud, being kind, being bold and unafraid. Their lead singer sung with such passion, such conviction; his voice was a dream, and everything he sung felt important. They were everything Harry wanted to be, and everything he was sure he wasn’t. 

He’d followed their career pretty closely after that, checking in as they got signed to a start-up rock label; he remembered being eighteen years old, sitting in his dorm room at three in the morning, lights off and butt-ass naked, listening to their first official album and experiencing the whole universe at once. 

He might have also been high at the time, but that was neither here nor there. 

So now here he was, twenty one and just as in love as he’d been at sixteen. Not that he knew anything about the members—he’d made a point to avoid finding out anything about them except what they said in print interviews. He didn’t want them to be real, was the thing. Real people disappoint, and Where’s Fluffy couldn’t be allowed to do that to him. 

He chugged down his drink and eyed up the bar longingly. He was going to break his own rule tonight, seeing them on stage (hopefully; please dear god let Harry see them on stage), but he knew it was time. 

If the price of getting to see his favourite band live was that he had to see them live , then. Well. Harry was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid. 

The line at the bar was too long, Harry decided. His eyes caught on one of the people gesturing for the bartender’s attention. He was average-sized, with messy brown hair, ripped jeans, smudged black eyeliner, and an oversized tee with a Jean Michael Basquait painting on it. Harry would have liked him just for that, but. There was something almost familiar about him. 

The table bumped into his sternum, hard, and Harry cursed. 

Niall and Shawn jumped apart guiltily. 

“Shit, sorry, Harry,” Niall said, reaching across to pat the affected area like that would stop a bruise from forming. 

“‘S okay.” Harry pushed his hand away gently, trying not to frown. 

Shawn seemed to see through his attempt. “Hey, so, Harry!” He leaned forward and smiled at him. Harry’s shoulders rose—he wasn’t used to Shawn addressing him, not when Niall was right there. “You’re single, right?” 

Oh, no. Harry gulped. Oh, please no, baby boy—

“Why don’t you try and get laid tonight, man? You’re, like,” Shawn gave him a once over. “You’re pretty hot, you should go for it.” 

Niall looked between them uncertainly. He had that focused look on his face that he got watching golf. 

Harry pasted a smile on his face. He struggled to come up with an acceptable answer to Shawn’s well-intentioned pestering, but all that came to mind was the truth; It doesn’t matter that I’m ‘pretty hot’; I don’t want to get laid. Not with a stranger, at least. And I only found out demisexuality exists a month ago and I’ve yet to tell anyone because it’s a very new and confusing thing to try and talk about, especially in a crowded, noisy pub on a friday night with my best friend’s boy toy, thank you very much. Fuck off. 

“Actually, I invited a date tonight,” is what Harry said instead. 

At the way Shawn and Niall’s eyebrows raised, he knew lying hadn’t been the smartest choice. 

But then he thought, fuck it, in for a penny in for a pound, and continued, “He’s over at the bar right now.”

Niall and Shawn craned their necks in tandem. They looked like greyhounds eye-stalking a squirrel. “Which one do you think it is?” Niall mumbled.

“The tall one with the shaved head, for sure,” Shawn replied, sending a wink towards Harry. 

“Nah,” Niall waved his hand vaguely. “It’s the skinny one with the Justin Beiber hair.”

“What’s that supposed to mean—you know what, never mind. You’re both wrong.”

Harry pushed himself away from the table and started marching towards the bar. 

About halfway there, he thought to himself, this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, Harry, who are you even proving a point to. 

Then he glanced over his shoulder and saw Niall and Shawn snickering to themselves. They stopped and schooled their features when they saw he was looking. 

Niall even looked a little guilty, which told Harry all he needed to know. 

Fuck those guys, Harry thought, turning back to the bar with renewed vigour. I’ll show them. 

He had to bump into a few people, sliding in between gaps that were definitely too small for him, but in almost no time at all he was standing behind the man he’d spotted earlier. 

He seemed to be talking to his mates—an intimidating threesome with some hardcore looks going on—but he turned around when Harry tapped on his shoulder, an attentive expression on his face. 

And what a face it was; this close, he looked like a scruffy Peter Pan, and Harry hoped he would get whisked away to Neverland. Anything to avoid the embarrassment of what he was about to do. 

“Hi!” Harry shouted over the music. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans, and the man followed the action with raised eyebrows. “Sorry, this is a really weird question, but could you pretend to be my date for a second?”

One of his mates snickered to themselves. 

“Sorry?” The man asked. He leaned towards Harry, almost on his tiptoes even though he wasn’t that much shorter. He smelled like cigarettes and vanilla, and Harry. Harry felt dizzy. This is new, he thought. 

He wet his lips and glanced over his shoulder at his friends. Niall and Shawn were staring at him pityingly, probably because it was blatantly obvious he’d just approached a complete stranger. 

The man followed Harry’s eyeline. He cocked his head to the right, then looked back at Harry. 

His eyes look really blue. Harry gulped. “Sorry, this was a bad idea, I–”

The man laughed. Between one moment and the next, he’d wrapped a hand around Harry’s neck and pressed their chests together. 

“How’s this for a fake date?” he asked, eyes sparkling with humour. 

Harry nodded enthusiastically. He realised he’d wrapped his arms around the man with distant horror—he didn’t remember telling his arms to do that. “That’s perfect.”

“I don’t know,” he said. Harry struggled to focus on anything he was saying; his mind was too occupied with the fingers delicately running through his hair and the absolute certainty that he’d met this man somewhere before. “I think we could sell it better, don’t you, love?”

Harry blinked, and nodded, and then there were lips against his. Harry had never in his entire life enjoyed being kissed, so he had no idea what on earth was happening to his body. Worms, maggots, caterpillars, crawling all over his skin. He felt like he wanted to throw up, but in a good way. 

How was there a good way to want to throw up?

The kiss was over before he knew it, and the man was stepping away and licking his lips smugly. “Think they bought it?” 

Harry looked over his shoulder. Niall and Shawn were staring at him with their mouths hanging open. Harry waved, and Niall wacked Shawn’s shoulder until he waved back. 

When Harry looked back at the man, he was turned back towards his friends. They seemed to be having some kind of hushed argument that involved a lot of sidelong looks in Harry’s direction. 

Harry was just about to make his excuses and go hide in the loo when the man turned back towards him. 

He smiled at Harry softly, then one of his friends—the one with bright purple hair—nudged him forwards. The man made a face at them over his shoulder, then offered his hand to Harry. 

“I’m Louis,” he said, wiggling his fingers until Harry accepted the handshake.

“Harry.” His hand felt warm in Harry’s, and there was definitely something wrong with him because touching someone’s skin shouldn’t feel like this. 

Maybe I shouldn’t have had that kebab, Harry thought, frowning at their joined hands. Then, he got distracted thinking about what a nice name Louis was. 

“So, uh,” Louis said. Louis, Louis, Louis , how wonderful; there was no way they’d met before, no matter what Harry’s body told him. He’d remember a name like Louis. “What are you lads doing tonight?” Louis nodded towards Harry’s friends, then made a face. Harry didn’t have to turn around to figure out that Niall and Shawn had started making out again. 

“Oh! Well, we’re actually on an adventure,” Harry grinned. 

“Really?” Louis’ friend handed him a drink—they’d managed to get the attention of local cryptid Bartender, good for them—and Louis sipped it delicately. “What kind of adventure?”

Harry shuffled his feet, then blurted, “We’re trying to find Where’s Fluffy, they’re doing a secret show tonight.” 

Louis spat out his drink all over Harry’s shirt. 

“Shit, fuck, bugger,” Louis swore, snatching a napkin from the bar and dabbing at Harry’s chest. 

“I’m sorry–” Harry started.

“Wait, did you say Where’s Fluffy?” one of Louis’ friends asked, distracting Harry from his unnecessary apologising. “No way.” 

Harry looked at them in confusion. 

The friend with Disney Prince hair and a nose ring piped up. “That’s Louis’ favourite band, right Louis?” 

Louis stilled. He glared at his friend, then threw the slightly-damp napkin at him. 

“Really?” Harry breathed, wide-eyed with excitement. 

Louis’ glare melted when he turned back to Harry. “Uh, sure. Yeah. Love those guys,” he said. 

Harry squinted at him. “You sound like you’re lying to me, mate.”

Louis rolled his eyes teasingly. “Honestly, seriously, I think they’re a great band. Mate .” 

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s your favourite song?” 

“Really? You’re gatekeeping me?” Louis poked Harry in the stomach until he giggled and batted his hand away. 

One of Louis’ friends cooed, but Louis ignored them. “My favourite song is Little Black Dress, ‘f you must know.” Louis raised his eyebrows at Harry over the lip of his glass. 

“That’s a great one,” Harry agreed. “I love all their songs about drag.” 

Louis gave him a once over that left Harry feeling oddly exposed. “Do you, now,” he purred. 

Harry sniffed and ran a hand through his hair, then winced at how sweaty his palm was. “Yeah, I do. But not, like. Cause I’m a drag queen, or anything. I love them—I didn’t mean—uh. I’ve just never tried?” 

Louis laughed at him. “Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist, love, ‘m only teasing.” 

Harry grinned.

Louis’ lips twisted oddly, then he finished off the rest of his drink in one go. “So, Harry,” he said around a cough. “Don’t think Fluffy’ s gonna be performing at this dump tonight.” He gestured to the now-empty stage at the front of the pub. “What do you say we get out of here, maybe chase some clues?” 

Harry nodded eagerly, then stopped. He looked over at his friends. 

“How bout this!” One of Louis’ friends jumped in. “We’ll take your horny mates with us, yeah? Then we can see who finds fluffy first.” 

Harry stared at him. “Like a competition,” he said, trying not to get too excited. 

“Sure,” they said. “Winner gets a pint.” 

“I’ll buy you a pint anyway,” Louis told them, wrapping them up in a headlock until they squealed and shoved him off. 

“I’m in!” Harry interrupted the pair by grabbing Louis’ hand and tugging him away. “I love winning.”

“Woah, slow down, there, Harold,” Louis laughed, ducking under an arm as he was pulled through the pub. “You’ll take me arm off.” 

“Shit, sorry.” Harry paused, and Louis stumbled over a beer can and right into Harry’s chest. 

“Hi,” he breathed, looking up at Harry from beneath his eyelashes.

“Have we met before?” Harry asked urgently, because the swooping in his stomach was back and more swoopier than ever before. “I feel like I know you.” 

Louis squinted at him, then opened his mouth and closed it again. “Course not, love,” he laughed. 

“Right, sorry.” Harry righted Louis, then turned back towards the exit. 

“You’re a quirky one, aren’t you?” Louis asked, ducking around a drunken woman and into Harry’s path. 

“I’m not,” Harry pouted, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist so he could move him out of the way of someone’s enthusiastic dance moves. 

“Don’t worry yourself, love, I think it’s cute,” Louis said. The light shone right on him, and for a moment he looked golden. Then, they were out of the pub and onto the street, and Harry’s ears started ringing from the sudden silence. 

“D’you have a ride?” Louis asked, squinting this way and that as if Harry’s car would announce itself.

Harry dropped his arm so he could pat his pockets down. “Yeah, it’s a block away. Aha!” He pulled his keys out and jingled them in victory. 

“Wonderful. Where are we going, then?” 

Harry frowned. He thought about as he walked, then an idea came to him. “Maybe we should try the Moonlight Sonata? 

Louis wrinkled his nose. “That stuffy place? Try again, babe, they wouldn’t be caught dead in that poser palace.” 

Harry huffed. “Well, if you know so much about it, why don’t you tell me?” 

Louis poked his tongue out at him. “Fluffy’s a band with standards, that’s all I’m saying. I think we should start with Peter’s. They’ve performed there before.” 

“Have they?” Harry asked, jumping on the first real lead he’d had all night. 

Louis sent him a look. “They’re your favourite band, you didn’t know that?” 

Harry’s face fell. “Well, um. I’ve kinda never seen them live before?” 

Louis stared at him. 

“Don’t look at me like that!” He whined. “I love their music, but I didn’t want to know anything about them. It’s kind of silly, but I thought if I never saw them, then they’d, like, stay pure? I know how it sounds.” 

Louis shook his head. “No, no, I think that’s really cool, Harry. You just focus on the music, tune out all the bullshit, yeah?” 

Harry looked at Louis, really looked at him. “That’s exactly it,” he said, unable to keep the awe from his voice. “You’re amazing.” 

“What’d I do?” Louis laughed, pink in the cheeks at the comment. 

Harry grinned and shrugged, feeling pleased with himself. As take-no-shits and Louis seemed, Harry had made him blush . “You understood.” Harry opened the passenger side door of his car for Louis with a bow. 

“If understanding was a superpower, I’d be unstoppable,” Louis said, hopping inside. “Cheers.”

Harry leant his arm on the top of the door, bending so he could reply, “The great UnderstandoMan.” 

Louis wrinkled his nose. “Captain Empathy, that’s me.” 

“Mr. He Gets It, mortal enemy of intolerance.”

Louis threw his head back and laughed. “Now there’s a song idea.” 

“You write songs?” Harry stuck his head inside the car, crowding Louis against the seat in his excitement. 

Louis rolled his eyes and pushed him away. “Get in the car, fanboy.” 

Harry pouted, but closed Louis’ door softly. He’d get the truth out of him eventually. 

“Right, so,” Harry said, arranging himself behind the wheel. “Where am I going again?” 

Louis cackled instead of answering. Harry watched him get comfortable in his seat, folding up his right leg against his chest. 

Harry pulled out onto the street then took the first left towards where he hoped Peter’s was. “No, seriously, where am I going,” Harry asked. 

“You’ll figure it out, curly.” Louis turned on the radio, then cranked it every time Harry tried to ask for directions. 

Eventually, Harry lost it. “We’re gonna get so lost!” he yelled, laughing between words. 

“Bloody right!” Louis yelled back. Somehow he’d found time in his busy schedule of annoying Harry to light up. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re sabotaging us,” Harry deadpanned. 

Louis blew some smoke out the window then smiled at him innocently. “Me?” 

“Who else?” 

Louis pointed to the radio with his cigarette. “Maybe you’re lost because you’re not listening hard enough.” 

Harry frowned. He was just about to ask what Louis meant when the Nirvana song that had been playing came to an end and the frighteningly peppy Friday night host was back. “Alright, folks, you having a nice night on 105.6? Great! Now, we’ve got some exciting news for all you Where’s Fluffy fans out there—” Harry braked suddenly, sending Louis’ cigarette flying out of the window. A car horn sounded behind him, and Harry waved at them apologetically in the rear view mirror as he eased his foot back onto the gas. 

“What the fuck, Harry!” 

Harry shushed him, laying his hand on Louis’ thigh as he focused on the radio. 

“—secret show tonight! And do we have a clue for you: why don’t you guys head on down to Beatrix Potter’s favourite rabbit and see what you can find. Next up: The National.” 

“Peter’s! That’s Peter’s!” Harry cried, squeezing Louis’ thigh in excitement. 

“Sure is, pet,” Louis said, sounding oddly strangled. 

“Oh, sorry,” Harry mumbled, looking between his hand and the road. 

He made to move it, but Louis’ fingers caught his wrist before his could. 

“It’s the least you could do to comfort me in these trying times,” Louis sniffed, playing with Harry’s rings. “I lost my favourite cigarette because of you.” 

“ Cigarette in my left hand,” Harry sang, “ whole world in my right hand.” 

Louis squeezed his wrist. “Fluffy definitely wrote that one about us, Harold.” 

Harry’s eyes widened, but he didn’t dare to take them off the road. It was such a Harry thing to say; he felt like he must have spoken it through Louis’ lips. It was… way too much to say to someone he’d met tonight, which was why only he would have been sappy enough to say it. 

But when he glanced at Louis from the corner of his eye and saw the face he was pulling—the I can’t believe I let my brain convince me that that would be an okay thing to say, dear god he’ll be so freaked out face—Harry knew he’d found a kindred spirit. 

“I wonder if they’ll play it for us tonight,” Harry said softly. He ran his nails across the inseam of Louis’ jeans, right down to the knee then back up again. 

He felt Louis’ eyes on him, as heavy as the bass in the song that echoed around Harry’s sedan. “You know, I reckon they will.” 

Harry sent him a smile. 

He wanted to ask, do you believe in soulmates? But. He was afraid of the answer.

Peter’s was crowded by the time Harry and Louis were walking up. The line stretched half a fucking block. 

Harry groaned.

Louis poked his cheek. “Chin up, love. I’ve got magic powers.” 

Harry scoffed, but Louis was already dragging him towards the front of the line. 

“No, Louis, wait–” Harry stumbled after him. 

Louis shushed him. He smiled at the stone-faced bouncer, and the bouncer cracked a grin right back. 

“Evening, mate,” he grunted, stepping aside. “Nice to see you again.” 

“Likewise, Gerald!” Louis gave the man a friendly pat on the shoulder, then pulled a stunned Harry into the smoky depths of the club. 

There was a band already on the stage, but judging by the chaotic mess of drums and screaming there was no way it was Fluffy.

“How did you do that?” Harry shouted, pressing up behind Louis. 

Louis sent him a coy look over his shoulder. “Magic,” he shouted back. 

Harry glared at him but let it go. “Do you see any clues yet?” 

Louis rolled his eyes and dragged him over to the bar. “Fluffy won’t be on til late, Harry. Have a drink, have a dance, have some fun!” 

He leaned over the bar and shouted out an order to the bartender. Harry sidled up next to him and pressed his lips to Louis’ ear. “But who will I dance with?” 

Louis shivered and blinked at him, something dark and possessive taking over his face. 

Harry liked it. 

He had no idea why. 

There was something about tonight that was making him bolder than he’d ever been before, making him want things he never had before. Hell, making Harry want at all was new. And yet, Louis did; Harry wanted to always be touching him, to be teased by him, to spend an endless night with him driving from place to place. 

He’d be fine without Fluffy, if he could only have this forever. 

Harry downed the cocktail Louis’ ordered him in one go to distract himself from how fucking scary that feeling was. 

Maybe Louis was right. Maybe he really was magic. 

He certainly felt like magic when he danced, lithe and beautiful one moment then goofy the next. He made Harry laugh and he made his head spin. 

Before Harry knew it, they’d been here an hour without finding any clues. 

“Louis, I think we should try someplace else,” he shouted over the latest electric guitar-heavy noise crime. 

Louis looked like he was about to argue, then his shoulders slumped. “Sure, wherever you wanna go,” he said. 

Harry smiled at him, then pecked his cheek. 

Louis looked at him with wonder, and Harry panicked. “I have to piss.” 

Louis barked out a laugh then nodded to the bright neon toilet sign. “I’ll meet you at your car.” 

Harry escaped before he could do anything else embarrassing. 

The bathroom was blessedly empty but cursedly gross; toilet paper on the walls, more graffiti than paint, and a suspiciously large puddle in the corner. 

Harry sidestepped the puddle—he wasn’t afraid of a little watersports but these were suede shoes—and turned the tap on. 

He stared at the running water for a moment, then splashed some on his face. 

He looked up to see a moist-faced green-eyed darling staring back at him.

“Hi,” he said to his reflection. 

Someone stumbled into the bathroom, waved at him drunkenly, then proceeded to empty their guts into one of the toilets. 

So what if you were wrong about your sexuality? Just because you’ve been confused for years and finally thought you’d figured it out only to be proven wrong by some eyeliner-wearing punk rocker in combat boots doesn’t mean—

Harry winced, unable to ignore the heaving noises a moment longer. 

“You alright, mate?” he asked, walking over to him. “Do you need me to get anyone for you?” 

The man waved him off over his shoulder. Harry was about to ask again when he caught sight of a familiar shape on the wall. Harry peered at it, excitement overshadowing the smell of vomit. It was a bunny drawn in bright pink marker, and when Harry pressed his finger to it it came away wet. 

There were words underneath the bunny, and Harry made sure to read them three times before saying, “Hope you feel better, man!” and speeding out of the loo. 

Find us @ the Moonlight Sonata. 

Harry waved to Gerald on his way out of the club, feet pounding against the pavement. 

“Louis!” he yelled.

Louis jumped and looked up at him from where he’d been trying to light a cigarette. “What?” he shouted back around the unlit ciggy in his mouth. 

Harry came to a stop in front of him. “I got a clue!” he panted. 

“Did you now?” Louis purred, threading his arms around Harry’s shoulders. 

Harry shivered, then nodded. 

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” Louis said. “What is it?” 

“You’re gonna hate it.” Harry stole the cigarette from Louis’ lips and put it between his own. 

Louis raised his eyebrows at him but obligingly held up his lighter and flicked it on. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, taking a drag then blowing the smoke over Louis’ shoulder. “We’re going to the poser palace.” 

Louis seemed distracted by his lips, but Harry saw the moment his words registered. 

“Nooooo,” Louis groaned, collapsing back against the car door and closing his eyes. “I’m not strong enough.” He peeked at Harry in suspicion. “Where’d you say you found this so-called clue?” 

Harry took another drag. “Bathroom stall over a guy who was throwing up.” 

Louis wrinkled his nose. “Charming.” 

Harry passed him the cigarette back as a peace offering. 

Louis accepted it, then pointed at him. “Don’t think I don’t know I’m being bribed, pet. Those dimples are hiding a sinister mastermind.” 

Harry giggled and shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from UnderstandoMan.” 

“And don’t you forget it,” Louis grinned. 

“I want to kiss you really badly right now,” Harry said conversationally. 

Louis pulled on the handle behind himself and bundled into the car. “That sounds like a you problem, mate,” he sassed. 

Harry shook his head and climbed around to the driver’s side. “I know.” 

Harry didn’t say anything else as he started the engine and navigated through the late night Camden streets towards the Moonlight Sonata. 

Louis sent him an impatient look about halfway there. 

Harry raised his eyebrows at him, refusing to stop his singalong. He’d insisted they play Where’s Fluffy instead of the radio, and Louis hadn’t argued. 

He looked like he wanted to now, though. 

“ He asked me what should I do —What?!— I said hey, it’s alright,” Harry sang. 

Louis rolled his eyes then pulled Harry’s hand off the steering wheel and placed it on his thigh. 

“Creep,” Harry mumbled, giving up his singalong. 

“What of it?” Louis asked. “I’m just doing what the song says.” 

“Oh, do I make you feel alive?” Harry asked, his monotone speaking voice accidentally harmonising with the lead singer’s honey-toned one. 

“Summat like that.” 

Harry slowed to a crawl and glanced over his shoulder. “We’re here and I need to parallel park, can I have my hand back please?” 

Louis clung to it. “I don’t bloody think so. ‘S mine now, you’ve gotta suffer without.”

“Alright,” Harry said easily, reversing into the only available spot he’d seen for several streets. “But if I crash, you’re paying for it.” 

“Deal.” 

Harry didn’t end up crashing, thankfully—a tiny dent in his bumper was not a crash—but Louis looked like he wished Harry had totalled his car when they stepped inside the Moonlight Sonata. 

“Fuck, I hate this place,” he grumbled, making a face at the chandelier and the pearl necklace of a passing woman and the selection of wines behind the bar. 

Harry squeezed his hand. “And yet the bouncer let us just waltz in. Why is that, Louis?” 

Louis shrugged cagily, then pulled him towards the dance floor. 

“If I have to be here, you might as well make it worth my time,” he crooned, placing Harry’s hand on his waist. 

“Is that right?” Harry asked. 

The music wasn’t quite right for dancing—the all-female band on the well-lit stage were droning away over their acoustic guitars and electric keyboards about taking cocaine and gardening on a Sunday morning. Harry couldn’t exactly relate, but he was into their style. 

“Yes, it is.” Louis pressed closer, and Harry swore he could feel Louis’ racing heart against his own. “I might even let you kiss me.”

Harry frowned and pulled back. “I won’t if you don’t want me to, Louis,” he said fiercely. “I really like you, not just–”

Louis had looked like he was waiting to make fun of Harry when he’d started talking, but his face transformed into something too sweet to handle. “I know that, darling,” he interrupted, smoothing his hand down Harry’s neck and sending a path of wormsmaggotscaterpillars in his wake. 

“Good, because I—um. I’m not really good at…this, I’ve never done anything like it before,” Harry said. “I’m pretty sure I’m–”

“Alright, Moonlight Sonata! You’ve been a great audience tonight, thank you so much for having us. You’ve got an amazing band up next, so get ready!” 

Harry’s head snapped towards the stage. The band was taking unplugging their guitars and keyboards, and Harry forgot everything he’d been saying. “Louis, they might be on next!” 

Louis hadn’t even bothered to look at the stage. “Yeah, maybe, but Harry—what were you saying?” 

Harry blinked at him. “Uh…” 

Louis huffed. “You were about to tell me something? It sounded important, love.” 

Oh. Right. 

Harry looked down at his feet and cleared his throat. 

“Good evening London!”

Harry looked back at the stage. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Louis swore. 

“Up next we’ve got a special surprise for you lovely ladies and gentleman! But first, I have just one question for you….” The hype man lowered his microphone. 

“Where’s Fluffy! Where’s Fluffy! Where’s Fluffy!” the crowd chanted. It was rowdier than Harry had expected the crowd at Moonlight Sonata to get, and he joined it without a second’s thought. 

“The question is…. Are You Randy?!” 

Four middle aged men leapt onto the stage and plugged in their instruments with lightning precision. The lead singer was already belting out an offtune hook by the time the audience had realised what had happened. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry groused, throwing his hands up. “These guys suck!”

Beside him Louis was practically pissing himself with laughter. 

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Harry asked as he was jostled this way and that by angry fans making for the exit. 

“This is what you get for following toilet stall clues, baby,” Louis said, batting his eyelashes. “Aw, don’t pout, I’m sorry.” 

Harry sniffed, turned, and started moving with the crowd towards the door. At this point there were only a few enthusiastic stragglers left behind, anyway—Are You Randy was not a popular band.

“I’m just so mad I fell for a bait and switch. Shit.” He was knocked from behind and stumbled into Louis’ shoulder. 

“Careful, there, curly,” Louis said, pulling him against his chest gently. “Nearly took me eye out.” 

Harry pressed his face into Louis’ neck because it was there and he wanted to. “Sorry.”

Louis patted his back in a comforting way. “I’m sorry, too.” 

“We’ll find them,” Harry decided. “I know we will.” He straightened himself up and adjusted his hair. “There’s a pint on the line, don’t forget.” 

Louis laughed. “I definitely haven’t forgotten.” 

“Well. Good.” 

“Yep.” 

“I have no idea where to look next.” 

“Sure.” 

“Do you wanna just go get some chips?” 

“Absolutely. That’s the best thing you’ve said all night.” 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

“So, Harry,” Louis asked half an hour later as he licked the salt from his fingers. 

Harry was still picking at his chips, but Louis had demolished his in record time. It was definitely a sight to behold. 

“Yes, Louis?”

Louis crumbled up the paper cone his chips had been in, looking around for a bin. They were walking through a deserted park as they ate, since Harry refused to get chip mess all over his car when he’d just vacuumed it. 

“What’s your favourite thing about Where’s Fluffy? I’ve known them forever, sometimes it can be hard to see what other people do.” 

Harry frowned. He plucked the paper from Louis’ hands and threw it in a bin as he passed. “I’ve known them forever, too. I started listening to them in high school, back in their soundcloud days. They’ve been with me through it all, you know? Every time I felt lost or alone, they’d be there to tell me that I was, like. That I was alright. That I was entitled to my feelings, that I was allowed to be angry and sad and lonely, and that I was loved for it anyway.” 

Louis was staring at him like he’d never seen him before, but Harry couldn’t make himself stop talking even if he wanted to. “They helped me realise I was queer, and then they helped me realise that I was...um. I’m—” he looked up at Louis, then away again. “I’m demisexual. Plus, they’ve got some sick harmonies. And their guitarist is wicked talented.” 

Louis didn’t say anything for a while. Harry walked, ate the rest of his chips, then threw his paper in the same bin he’d thrown Louis’ in. It was on their third lap of the park that Louis finally spoke up. 

“Hey, Harry?” 

Harry looked at him, halfway through licking his fingers free from vinegar. 

“I think they’d be really proud to hear you say that.” 

Harry stared at him, finger still in his mouth. 

Louis laughed and pulled at his palm until Harry let him have it. Then, he did something that made his brain short circuit: he stuck Harry's fingers in his mouth. 

“What the fuck,” Harry giggled as Louis licked them clean. “You don’t know where those have been.” 

Louis released Harry’s fingers with a wet pop then made a face at him. “Gross, Harry.”

“I’m gross?” Harry wiped his hand off on Louis’ shirt. “You just stuck my hand in your mouth.”

Louis shrugged. “I did, yeah.”

“You’re really weird,” Harry said, delighted at the revelation. 

“That may be true, Harold,” Louis said, leaning into his space menacingly. “But I also made you stop moping, so…” 

Harry blinked and realised Louis was right. “Thank you. For that, and for what you said.” 

Louis looked away. “Sure,” he muttered. Then, he cleared his throat and asked brightly, “where we off to next?” 

Harry groaned. “I have no idea.” 

“Perfect,” Louis said. “Because I know exactly where we’re going.” 

Louis remained tight-lipped on the car ride to this mysterious location, only breaking his silence to give Harry directions and tease him for knowing all the words to every single Where’s Fluffy song, even the ‘shite early ones’. 

“Well, don’t you know all the words?” Harry shot back once. 

“Course not,” Louis scoffed. “I forget them all the time.” 

It sounded like there was more to that story, but Harry didn’t ask. 

It was past midnight by the time Louis told him to pull over. Harry obliged, then followed Louis out of the car and into a dingy pub he’d never heard of. 

Louis nodded to the bouncer and whisked Harry inside, past the bar, up a flight of badly-lit stairs, and out onto the rooftop. 

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he took it in. There was a bar on one side, crowded with people shouting orders. The whole roof had been cleared of furniture, and there was a stage set up on the far end. Speakers, lights, an empty drum kit with a pink rabbit spray painted onto the back of the bass drum; Harry knew the second he saw it that this was the place. 

“How did you know this was here?” Harry asked, whirling on Louis. “And don’t you dare shrug.” 

Louis looked caught off guard. “Look, Harry,” he said. “It’s like this–”

“Tommo!” 

A flying purple-haired monkey attached itself to Louis’ side. Louis laughed and caught his friend around the waist. “Alright, Liam?” 

Tommo, Harry thought, why does that sound so familiar? 

“You beat us here, what beer d’you want?” Liam asked. 

Harry saw Niall, Shawn, and Louis’ other two friends trailing behind, laughing amongst themselves.

“Oh, hey man!” Shawn called, waving to Harry. “Babe, it’s Harry!” 

Niall caught Harry’s eyes and grinned. “Sunshine! You made it!” 

Harry smiled at them. “Yeah. I win.”

He looked back at Louis, but he wasn’t where he’d been a moment ago. The rooftop was starting to fill up with people, and it took a second to spot where he’d gone. 

“Louis! Wait!” Harry called, shoving his way towards him. Louis stopped and turned towards him, something heavy on his face. He gestured to his friends to go on without him, and they disappeared into the crowd a moment later. 

“Where are you going?” Harry asked once he’d caught up to Louis. 

People moved on either side of them, but Harry only had eyes for one man. The lights clicked on, and then Louis was bathed in gold again. He looked fierce, untouchable; even so close, Harry wasn’t sure he could reach him. 

“You’ll see,” Louis said. “It’s gonna make sense in a moment, yeah? Trust me.” 

Harry frowned. “I do,” he answered, even though he couldn’t articulate why. 

Louis smiled at him. There was something sad in his eyes that Harry wanted to smudge away, but he’d ruin Louis’ eyeliner if he did that. 

Louis opened his mouth to say something, then he looked over his shoulder at the stage. “I’ve gotta go, Harry. I’m sorry.” 

Harry didn’t have time to say he understood, because Louis had already melted into the crowd. 

It was a good thing, too, because Harry definitely did not understand. 

“Where’d they go?” 

Harry glanced over his shoulder to see Niall and Shawn carrying two beers each. 

“Cheers,” Harry said, stealing one. “No idea.” 

Niall shrugged, then nodded towards the stage. “Can’t believe we’re about to see Where’s Fluffy!” 

Harry forced himself to smile, but without Louis… He just wanted to go home. 

“Good evening, everybody,” a familiar voice purred from the stage. “How are you doing tonight?” 

Harry looked up. He froze. 

Louis was standing at the microphone, an electric guitar slung around his waist. Next to him was his purple haired friend, fingers settling on the string of his bass and smirking into the crowd. Harry recognised the blonde on keys and the man on drums, kicking out the opening to Rock Me. 

“We’re Where’s Fluffy,” Louis said, then paused as the rooftop broke into enthusiastic cheering. “Thank you, thank you.” His eyes searched the audience until he found Harry. He grinned wickedly at Harry’s gobsmacked face. “This is Rock Me.” 

Harry almost passed out.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Niall was screaming, shaking Harry’s body like a tambourine. “ They’re Fluffy!” 

Harry nodded, struggling to process. Louis was singing on stage, playing the crowd like he was playing his guitar, belting out the words like he was made for it. Harry felt like a fucking idiot. He should have realised—all those places Louis just walked right into, how cryptic he’d been. Fuck, what Harry had said in the park; how embarrassing. No wonder he’d felt like he’d known Louis for years. Because he had. 

He wanted to leave, but there were too many people between him and the exit, and Niall and Shawn were losing their minds next to him. He turned back to the stage and just tried to enjoy listening to his favourite band. It worked for a few songs, until it didn’t. 

“You’ve been a wonderful crowd so far, London. Haven’t they, Liam?” Louis asked, stopping to take a drink while Liam answered an enthusiastic, “Yes!”

“Lovely, lovely. I’ve got something to say before this next song, if you’ll indulge me,” Louis grinned. 

The crowd fell silent. Louis blew someone a kiss, and Harry had to stop himself from getting jealous. 

“There’s someone special here tonight, did you know that, Zayn?” Louis plucked out a sharp note and Zayn laughed and hit his cymbal in response. 

“Who is it?” Zayn said into his mic. 

“Well, his name is Harry—” someone hollered from the audience, and Louis laughed, “—not you, a different Harry. And I want him to know that I think he’s wonderful.” He looked back at Harry, and even through the stage lights in his face and the fifty people between them Harry felt like Louis was staring right into his heart. “And I’d like to dedicate this next song to him. This is Just Like You. Two, three, four...” 

This isn’t happening. 

Liam and Louis started playing the opening riff, synchronised notes drowning out the screaming of the crowd. 

“Harry!” Shawn shouted, slinging an arm around his waist and bouncing on his toes. “Your boyfriend is so cute!” 

Harry shot him a queasy smile. He didn’t bother denying it; he didn’t trust himself to speak. 

Watching Louis sing to him the lyrics that had been there for him in his darkest moments was an out of body experience. He didn’t recover from it once the song was done, nor the next four songs. 

He only really remembered who he was once Louis and his band were shouting their goodbyes and departing the stage. The band was hidden behind a few security members, and Harry could see them hugging and laughing. He watched Louis dump an entire water bottle over Liam’s head. His laughter echoed across the rooftop, even over the sound of the departing crowd. 

“You gonna go over to him?” Niall asked, pulling Harry and Shawn out of the way of the stampede. 

“I don’t know,” Harry said. 

“I think you should,” Shawn urged. 

“I do, too,” Harry agreed. “Do you guys believe in soulmates?” 

Niall and Shawn shared a look. 

“Yes,” Shawn said. 

“I think they’re rubbish,” was Niall’s answer. “But you should go to him anyway.” 

Somehow, that made the most sense to Harry out of everything he’d heard all night. 

He started walking, pushing his way through the thinning crowd until he was in front of the security guards. 

“Um, hi,” Harry said, looking up at the intimidatingly buff man before him. “Could I please talk to Louis?” 

The man grunted out a sharp no, but then a moment later Louis’ head appeared in the gap between two of their shoulders.

“Harry!” he said. He sounded like a child on Christmas, face alight with joy as he pushed through the guards.

Then he was right in front of him, standing there and shining like an angel. His shirt was clinging to his chest, hair dripping down his face. The smudgy eyeliner had managed to survive Liam’s watery vengeance, however.

It felt like a sign. 

Louis, Louis, Louis. Just because he was also Tommo, the charismatic lead singer of Harry’s favourite band, didn’t mean he wasn’t still Louis. 

“Did you like the show?” Louis asked. 

Harry nodded wordlessly. 

Harry watched as Louis’ enthusiasm began to dim little by little; the longer Harry went without saying anything, the more somber his face became.

“Look, Harry, I’m sorry I didn’t tell–” 

Harry shook his head fiercely, and Louis shut his mouth. He looked down at his boots as if expecting to be scolded. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Harry said softly. He stepped closer to Louis and cupped his cheek, glad for the water already on Louis’ face disguising how sweaty and gross his palms were. “You’re perfect.” 

Louis looked up at him from under his eyelashes. He licked his lips, and Harry’s eyes tracked the movement involuntarily. Louis started to smile, and Harry pressed his thumb into the little crinkles appearing at the corner of his eye. “I think...” Louis whispered, leaning into Harry’s hand. “I think you should kiss me now.” 

Harry agreed. 

So, he did. 

The End.