Fluffylamb
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One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four. He wanted to fucking scream, he almost felt like he was, the impulse so real he could feel his throat burning from it.
One, two, three, four, one, two–and that’s when Harry saw him.
Standing last from his seat in the front of the church, the man slowly turned to face them. As their eyes locked, the thumping in Harry’s chest stopped and he lost count, like tripping on his own feet. Even in the dim light, filtered through floor-to-ceiling stained glass, the man’s eyes were shockingly blue, holding Harry’s with a quiet intensity that was slicing through his skin like a knife.
His stature was strong and demanding, but grief showed itself in the smallest betrayals—the red rims of his eyes, the tight line of his lips, the faint slack in his shoulders.
Harry knew he should look away, but something about those eyes were pulling him along, like a forcefield of strength to help him get one foot in front of the other.
The man looked away first.
or, harry just graduated from college, and on the night his life was supposed to change, everything fell apart.
Bookmarked by Fluffylamb
04 Mar 2026
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Not many years later, Louis will think back to this day while he enters the stage in a sold-out Sheffield Arena. He will think about this day as the day that changed his whole life, but when he wakes up on that Monday morning, Louis doesn’t know this. It’s just a Monday morning, not a good one at that, because he had regrettably agreed to meet Harry for a rehearsal with the band later that afternoon.
or: the rise to fame of indie rock band The Rogue, and the love story between two of its members
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Bookmarked by Fluffylamb
09 Nov 2025
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It’s still that dreamy kind of dark, nothing seeming real, but he knows that it’s time to go, to whistle for Pippa and eat whatever he’s got left in the fridge and start the drive down to Molly’s.
He can’t seem to open the door. Maybe he doesn’t want to face it, this new thing. Having Louis here feels like a betrayal. Harry tries not to think about what his Dad would have to say if he saw the journo sleeping on their pull-out, here to shake a settled sheet and watch the dust fly again.
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AU. Harry's a farmer, Louis writes for The Age, and it hasn't rained in the Bourke Shire for six years.