Chapter Text
It was a dreary Tuesday when Louis received the phone call.
“Mr Tomlinson? Hi! Yes, this is Gemma calling from YSL. Congratulations, you’ve been chosen for the internship!”
“Shit- I mean, oh my god, I’m sorry, can you forget I said that? Oh my god, thank you so much, I can’t-“
“It’s fine, Mr Tomlinson.” He could hear her smile through the phone. “Is it possible for you to be at the UK headquarters at 9am tomorrow for your induction?”
“Of course, yeah, anything – thank you so, so much, I honestly didn’t think I’d get it!”
“See you tomorrow, Mr Tomlinson. Have a lovely evening.”
“Please, call me Louis.”
“…Louis.”
Holy shit. After a month of waiting, Louis had given up, and yet he’d managed to do it. He didn’t know how, but he’d done it, and wow did it feel good. With a shaking hand, he slid his phone out of his pocket and unlocked the screen.
ZAYN OH MY GOD I GOT IT
What are you talking about ? x
THE BLOODY YSL INTERNSHIP
Oh ! Nice one x
WHAT THE FUCK DO I WEAR TO AN INTERNATIONALLY RENOWNED FASHION HOUSE
You’re meant to be the expert, you’re the designer x
BUT IT’S YSL
Lou I don’t even know what that stands for ? x
YVES SAINT LAURENT IT WAS MENTIONED IN THAT SONG
THE ONE THAT YOU SING ALL THE TIME
I’M TOO HOT, HOT DAMN
THAT ONE
Uptown Funk :-) your capital letters are giving me a headache x
sorry x
It didn’t sink in properly until later on that evening, when Louis was standing in his bedroom surrounded by various items of clothing hanging on every available surface. What the hell was he going to wear? He couldn’t turn up in anything short of spectacular, and as he surveyed the options, an idea entered his mind. He smiled, took out the black velvet he’d been saving for a special occasion, and got to work.
* * *
Louis stared up at the overwhelming glass figure piece. It was more art than a building; an architectural structure to be admired rather than just a necessity. He took a deep breath and pushed the door to embark on the next step of his career.
As things turned out, the door was a pull door, and he’d managed to make a fool of himself already – congratulations, you bloody idiot – but luckily, the only person watching was the blonde seated behind the front desk. She laughed quietly as he opened the door again, but the right way this time, and grinned when he stood in front of her desk, blushing.
“Louis Tomlinson? Gemma’s expecting you.”
“Yes, that’s me. Um- if we could just not mention the door thing to anyone-”
“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. I’m Hannah, by the way.”
“Well it’s lovely to meet you – you already know my name, so I won’t bore you with repeating it.”
“Go up to floor nine, okay? Gemma – sorry, Miss Styles – should be waiting for you outside the lift. Have a good day, Mr Tomlinson.”
“Please, call me Louis,” he winked. Louis walked to the lift doors clutching his file, and pressed the button. Within a minute the doors opened, revealing mirror-covered walls and, surprisingly, no-one else. He’d expected the place to be at least a little busier than it had been so far.
Stepping into the lift and giving Hannah a smile (answered with thumbs up and a smile of her own), the doors gracefully slid shut, and Louis was uninterrupted until floor two, when the doors opened again and- oh my god, that’s Harry Styles. Harry Styles, YSL spokesperson and generally beautiful model, with tumbling curls and full pink lips and green eyes like a forest that someone could get lost in, like a forest that Louis kind of wanted to get lost in forever. And god, his suit was impeccable – tailored exactly right, the shoulder seams sitting neatly exactly where they were supposed to be, the inseam of his trousers pressed straight and running exactly vertically to lean legs, placing him a few inches taller than Louis himself.
“-in a heartbeat.”
Harry Styles, YSL spokesperson and generally beautiful model, was apparently talking to Louis Tomlinson, new YSL intern and not generally beautiful at all.
“Excuse me? Sorry, I didn’t catch what you said-”
“I said, I definitely haven’t seen you around here before. I’d remember a face like yours in a heartbeat.” A lazy grin spread across his face.
“Oh um,” Louis could feel the flush spreading and smirked in an attempt to hide it, “I’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson. I already know who you are, Harry Styles.”
“Yeah, most people seem to, Louis Tomlinson.” Louis’ name sounded like syrup on Harry’s tongue, his voice slow treacle in the air. “I don’t have to ask what you’re doing here. Inspired by 1991 Rive Gauche, yeah?” Slender fingers gestured towards Louis’ handmade blazer. “Fashion designer. Intern, probably, you’re too young for anything else, plus you’d do better with your own label rather than conforming to Yves, as much as I love Laurent. Did I get it right?”
“Yeah, actually, all of it. Hang on a minute though, you can hardly call me young when you’re only seventeen-”
“Nineteen is pretty young, to be honest, and I never said I was old. Putting words into my mouth, are we?”
Not the only thing I’d like to be putting there, either. “Yeah, I am.”
When the doors slid open once more, Louis was startled. “This is where I get off.”
“Alright. I’ll see you around, Louis Tomlinson.”
“Yeah, see you around,” the older teen murmured after Harry’s face was obscured by thick metal walls. Slightly dazed, he turned around to see there was, just as Hannah said, a young woman with an eyebrow raised in amusement, watching him blink widely.
“Louis, I presume? I apologise for my brother, he does seem to have that effect on a lot of-”
“Your brother?”
“Haz, yeah. Didn’t you connect the surnames?” Her eyebrow raised even further as she laughed quietly. “And the good looks, of course.”
“You are gorgeous, but excuse me if I’d rather go for more of a… male figure. Living up to the stereotypical view of male fashion designers and all, you know?”
“It’s a stereotype for a reason,” she answered, and glanced down at the sheaf of paper in his arms. “Designs?”
“Yeah, I thought it would be a good idea to bring them.”
“You were right on that count. Now, follow me, and you’ll meet the person you’re gonna be spending the next six weeks shadowing. You’ll do everything they tell you to if you know what’s good for your career.”
Louis mirrored Gemma’s earlier movements at that, raising his own eyebrow, but stayed silent. Gemma turned the handle, and slipped through the gap into the office leaving just her head poking out: “I’ll be two minutes, okay? I’ll call you in when I’m ready.”
Okay, that’s strange. But wait- I’m in fucking YSL, this feels like I’m dreaming anyway; maybe I am and none of it’s real and I imagined Harry-
“Come in, Louis!” Gemma called, and Louis entered the room. Gemma was sitting in a tall chair behind the desk that Louis would have killed for, if only to spend a day making himself dizzy with spinning it.
“Wait, what?”
“Someone didn’t do their research, Louis – it’s me! You’re gonna be shadowing me.” She grinned. “Welcome to my office.” Gemma stuck her hand out and Louis shook it dubiously. “Gemma Styles, creative director for YSL UK. Enchanted to meet you, Mr Tomlinson: I’m sure you’ll fit in well here.” He couldn’t help but let out a tiny, stifled laugh before regaining his composure. “I’m sorry; this just wasn’t what I was expecting. Not because you’re a girl, or anything! I was expecting some intimidating guy in a suit and tie with a cat called Lucifer or something.”
“Nope, the cat’s called Dusty,” she replied, gesturing to the previously unnoticed feline stretched out on the black leather sofa. “But I should hope the rest isn’t true. I’d like your time here to be interesting and educational rather than intimidating. Do you have any ideas about what you’ll be doing?”
“Well, not anything big I’m thinking? Probably just making tea and photocopying, that’s what I was expecting.”
“And you expected right! But observe everything, Louis – I could call on you anytime to do something else, you know. Surveying a shoot, writing publicity, designing publicity: be prepared for whatever Yves throws at you, and you’ll do well. I already have a feeling you’re going to fit right in here at YSL.”
“Thanks,” Louis smiled.
“You’re very welcome! Now, I’d like to take a look at those designs. The ones you sent in with your application were extremely promising. And I like your jacket today too, Rive Gauche? Why did you choose that?”
“I had some velvet and I loved the contouring. One of my favourite pieces, and I thought it would be lucky if I wore a Yves-inspired garment for today, you know? Do you like it?”
“How long did it take you to make?” She avoided his question.
“A few hours last night; five or six?”
“Impressive.”
She was midway through casting a hopefully approving eye over the rough sketches when there was a knock at the door. “Gem?”
“Come in, it’s only Louis and I in here.” She didn’t look up from the pile as Harry Styles took a seat in between Louis and the cat – sorry, Dusty.
“Alright, Louis? Anyway, Gem, I wanted to see if you were free tonight. I happened to come across two tickets for tonight’s gig, you know the 1975 one? And I really wanna go, but the lads said they were busy.”
“I told you already, I’ve got that conference call with New York! I would, but I really can’t miss it; it’s important.” She finally looked up at her brother and her intern. “You’ve gotta be able to find someone else to go with you. Also, aren’t you meant to be at a shoot?”
Glancing at the ornate clock on the wall behind her, he laughed easily. “Not for another ten minutes, but I s’pose I’d better go now… walk with me, Louis?”
Louis shot a questioning look at Gemma, who nodded. “Don’t be too long. Bring me a hazelnut latte while you’re out, though? No sugar, thanks.”
Louis nodded back at her and walked through the doorway, Harry by his side.
“So, Louis, you free tonight?” Harry asked in his signature drawl. When Louis shrugged, his eyes brightened. “Wanna go with me to a gig?”
“Sure, but just so you know, I haven’t heard much of their stuff so I won’t be singing along.”
“Okay, that’s it, we can’t be friends anymore. I can’t believe you, Louis Tomlinson!” They both laughed. “Eh, no worries. I’ll be singing enough for both of us. As long as you don’t mind possibly being papped, which you should get used to if you wanna be famous someday.”
“Let’s face it: if there are pictures, no-one’s gonna be looking at me! They’ll be looking at your gorgeous cheekbones,” Louis got out before he realised what he was saying, and promptly blushed, his cheeks rose-coloured. “Um, I mean, I’d love to dress you someday. No, that’s not what I meant! Design for you. That’s what I meant. Design. Yep.”
The amused look he received from the model suggested he knew exactly what Louis had meant. “Yeah, course. You’d better go get that latte for Gem – I’ll see you later, kay? Wait, hang on, give me your phone.”
Louis unlocked his phone and handed it over; Harry tapped the screen for a while before holding the phone up and posing for the flash that came next.
“There. Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at eight. Until then, Louis Tomlinson.”
“Yeah… that,” Louis called after him, absolutely sure he was in a dream right now. “See you then.”
The new contact in his phone read “the most gorgeous model in the world .xx”, but Louis couldn’t find it in his heart to change it.