Close Quarters (zouiam)

Liam

“Okay, just sign here. Here and then initial here.”

Liam is sitting in a luxurious office in downtown London, singing away all of his privacy. The man that is sitting in front of him isn’t much older than his own father. He’s balding, smells heavily of whiskey, and talks in a thick New York accent. Liam does as he’s told, finally pushing the paper back toward Johnny.

Johnny signs a few lines for himself before excusing Liam from his office. There a petite secretary named Danielle takes him back to the room he had just left before going to Johnny’s office. There are four strangers sitting around a table. None of them have spoken since they were all placed in there.

The one he sits next to has very sharp features. The man almost reminds Liam of a pixie. He’s got wispy chestnut hair, and these bright blue eyes. His smile is lopsided when he grins over at Liam. His teeth are really white; his eyes crinkle as he somehow manages to grin wider when Liam forces to return the smile. He keeps tapping his fingers against the wood of the desk.

The man sitting across from his looks all of 13 years old. He’s got these big green eyes, cherry red lips, and when he smiles these amazing dimples dig into his cheeks. Every so often, he’ll run his hands over his wild curls, shifting them into a position that he prefers. He doesn’t say much, just moves a lot. Liam finds it really annoying.

There is a blonde sitting next to Dimples, he’s got these dark sunglasses on (they’re inside, what the fuck?) and a tank top that does little to cover his pale torso. He’s scrolling through his phone rapidly, sometimes he’ll throw his head back and let out this loud laugh. He’ll lean over and show Dimples whatever it is that he’s laughing at, before pulling back, returning to scroll through his phone.

There is a dark haired male sitting to Liam’s left, he’s got this really artsy vibe radiating off of him. Liam tries not to stare at his amazing jawline that’s has a light dusting of a five o’clock shadow. He’s got tattoos coating the arm closest to Liam. He can faintly make out the word ‘ZAP!’ and little numbers. He doesn’t bother trying to hide the fact that he would rather claw his skin off than have to wait another minute without a cigarette. He’s been lighting his lighter every so often, pulling out a fag then putting it back in the beat up pack. His leg keeps jiggling, shaking the whole room.

“Alright, here is how it’s going to go down.” Johnny enters the room, followed by an equally hairy man. He’s got these thick suspenders straining against his large stomach. The man introduces himself to the five of them as Chuck. They all nod their heads in some sort of Hello. Dimples is the only to actually speak and say anything. Liam finds that annoying too.

“This is Harry Styles, he’s nineteen, from Cheshire, and he’s working as a photographer.” Chuck is looking directly as Harry, an arm extended in a way to show that’s whom he is talking about.

“Niall Horan, he’s twenty. Niall’s from Ireland, unemployed, says here he’s a bit of a neat freak.” He makes the same gesture toward the blonde sitting next to Dimples — Harry. Niall gets up and takes a bow as Chuck finishes his introduction.

“Next we have, Louis ‘The Tommo” Tomlinson. He’s twenty-one, from Doncaster and an assistant coach to a youth soccer team.” Louis salutes the group, sliding a little lower in his chair. Liam checks his watch, praying that this will go on faster. He’s wanted to go work out before lunch.

“Liam Payne, twenty, Wolverhampton native, and he is in training to become a fireman.” Liam doesn’t blush, especially not when the four of them turn to look at him. Liam ducks his head; his fingers start to pull at the thread of his jeans.

“Lastly, we have Zayn Malik. Twenty, from Bradford, and he’s an English Major at the local university.” Zayn makes some sort of grunt before going back to flicking his lighter. Liam watches the flame appear and reappear for the last time.