Falling In Manchester

Chapter Twenty-Two - Louis

Louis had quit his job at the warehouse where he worked, and now he was standing in front of the building where he was going to spend his next three months. It was Hans's company. He was a model photographer, producing pictures and going out to runaways to take them.

And Louis was going to work there.

He had dressed in a fine, yet casual manner—Zayn had come to his aid, and with Harry on FaceTime, they had managed to settle on an outfit.

He was wearing black jeans, a white turtle neck—Harry had insisted on this, and over he wore a blazer. He had shaved his stubble, his fringe falling softly over his forehead. He was carrying a bag over his shoulder, in it was his camera, his lunch, a water bottle, and a picture of Harry because why not? (Just looking at it made his anxiety about today die down a little.) It was one of those he had taken from his "Ordinary People" assignment.

It seemed like ages ago.

He opened the door.

Inside it was all white walls brimmed with photographs of runaway models. Some Louis even recognised from Vogue. Louis had heard that Hans also had an office in America, so he guessed that's how it worked.

"Sick," he whispered, looking up at one of the bigger ones. It was of a woman wearing a black one-piece, her long legs striding down the runway. Louis might actually have fainted.

He was really here. The opportunity of a lifetime.

"Mr Tomlinson."

Louis spun around and there he was. Hans in person. His hair was brown, greying at the temples. Smile wrinkles covered his features, deepening as he greeted Louis.

"Mr Martin," Louis said. "Hello. A pleasure to finally meet you." He extended his hand.

"I can only say the same." Hans shook his hand firmly. "I'm very impressed by your work and I'm looking forward to working with you."

"I can only say the same. I'm deeply grateful for the opportunity," Louis said, hoisting up his bag.

"I'm glad." He cast a glance down the hallway. "Let's walk to the offices, shall we? When there I'll explain to you how these next three months are gonna run."

Louis wet his lips. "You lead the way."

* * *

After many hours of hard work, Louis was tired, slightly sweaty—he needed a shower—but also happier than he had been in a long while. When he opened the door, he was greeted by Zayn shouting, "How was it?" from the living room.

"Amazing," Louis called back, "but so, so tiring."

"Good to hear!" yelled Liam. "I've put fresh clothes in your room. Go take a shower and then we wanna hear all about it."

"Alright," Louis called back, kicking his shoes off. He set course of his bedroom, only to find the door was already ajar. He pushed it open and—

Oh.

On his bed was none other than his boyfriend. Glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, his hair was collected in a small bun, a few strands having fallen out. They framed his face delicately. He had a book in his lap, Louis unable to see the cover.

Louis stopped in his tracks, head tilted to the side. A surprised smile formed on his lips. "Baby, what are you doing here?" That was when he noticed the flowers that lay next to Harry. Red roses.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Just a small surprise for my boyfriend who is now working for Hans Martin," Harry said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He grabbed the bouquet, walking to Louis. "The boys let me in. I hope you don't mind."