Empty Frames

Out of Focus

The photo shoot itself is a sexual encounter, the lights dance on his skin, the clicks on the camera play music, and the deep voice guides him into an orgasm.

Louis leans back against the wall. The flashlights enveloping his body, while he recalls his first ever photo shoot with the famous photographer.

Meeting him was like making love for the first time. Louis laughs at how he puts it, but it truly was. He remembers how nervous he was about meeting the famous Harry Styles. Louis had his share of fame at that point, but every model in the industry is never a model before he stands in the hands of Harry Styles.

Louis remembers arriving late like usual. He is a special case. He wakes up with perfect hair. He never had a bad skin day in his entire life. There is never a need for touch ups when it comes to Louis. The lack of need to see the hair and makeup department always bought him time, which is why he was never in trouble for being late.

He stands there next to a German model examining the beautiful setting. A man comes and stands next to him, inquiring a lady about the possibilities of changing the setting. He is the most beautiful thing Louis laid eyes on. He sports a head full of neat curls, jade-green orbs and soft features. And when that model smiled, reveling a set of dimples Louis forgot about the nerves, to hell with Harry Styles, Louis had just fallen in love.

To heaven. Harry styles must go to heaven, because Louis intends to go there. He wasn’t a model, but he should be. He was the famous Harry Styles. Behind the camera stands the beautiful man, while he should be standing in front of it. But again, the way the photographer walked around rearranging wine glasses and clothing articles; maybe he belongs behind the lenses after all. He had a beautiful vision that emptied Louis’s supply of air.

The experience is nothing like he pictured it would be. He watches a model after another, Harry’s chin up, eyes down, this way . . no that fill the silent air. The man instructs and every photo comes out a masterpiece.

When Louis stands in front of the camera, he tries hard not to melt into Harry’s studying eyes. He stands there waiting for instruction, but he receives none. So he leans to the wall and throws his head back, maintaining eye contact all the way. And in less than a minute, Harry says he had enough. It isn’t the experience he wanted it or thought he’d have. He thought he’d be molded into the almighty Styles hands and boy are they mighty. But it doesn’t happen, he is the only model that receives no instruction and is the only one done before it starts.

Louis stays in the studios during the three days; he always spends his time watching the whole process. He was always fascinated by how is it that the photos of the same person, looks like they are taken of a completely different one even if it’s taken from the same angle. Always fascinated by the eyes and the vision of a photographer and Harry had the most striking of them all.

He remembers sitting there at the set holding up the photos that were left behind and staring at them. They are so beautiful. Not the models but the angle, the posture, the light and the setting. There are photos that make Louis wonder if it’s possible that heaven can outdo Harry’s work. He’ll know one day. All he can do now is wonder. 

He sits there emotionally invested in the photos while everyone else is at the after party. Not everyone.

He isn’t surprised that Harry Styles didn’t do parties. He never seems the type to anyways. He is rather surprised when Harry’s arms are wrapped around him as the cameraman is guiding the camera in Louis’s hands.

He guides Louis’s hands into taking beautiful photos. Louis thinks it is very absurd. The very first photo is of the dirty torn clothes left behind on the set and it is a masterpiece. How is it, that Harry’s ability to find beauty in the most ridiculous places, still takes his breath away?