Still submerged in what seemed to be a sea of pitched darkness, with various floor lights illuminating the gleaming catwalk right in the middle of the room, the music and audience began to quieten as they await the entrance of the host.
In moments, a very recognizable, elegantly styled, retired Italian model made her way to the center of the platform from the side entryway, just at the foot of the projecting walkway.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It is lovely to see everyone who was able to make it to this event. On behalf of my good friend, Signora Donatella Versace, we would like to thank everyone who was a part of this design process, all of the magnificent models, and the sponsors for this event," she announced in her smooth, thick Italian accent.
She gave the crowd a dazzlingly white smile, "and without further addio, we begin."
She walked down the stairs on the side of the platform and took her seat, leaving the audience holding their breath for the first model to appear.
Harry had his toes curled as he crossed his feet over each other, anticipating the forthcoming events. But even with his self generated anxiety, he felt at ease once his mind reeled itself back and remembered that Niall had his hand linked in his, gently stroking the side of his thumb.
The music restarts and begins to rattle the chairs beneath them, introducing the first model to walk out onto the runway. Her clothing, just as Louis had predicted, was nothing short of extravagantly unique; the wild colors and circumnavigating patterns subconsciously made the guests' eyes roam over her body.
Harry turned to look at Louis and saw that the iconic photographer had his finger to his chin as he nodded slowly, apparently taking sincere and deep interest in the design of the clothing. And once the model reached the pinnacle of the catwalk, standing in place for a brief second, cameras flashed and captured her stance.
The curly haired brunette really didn't see anything special about the outfit, other than that someone very brave would have to wear them, and so he turned to look at the quiet blonde next to him to see what he thought of the designs.
Niall had pursed his lips and creased his forehead, looking intently at the design as she walked back down the runway, and Harry supposed that he didn't quite get the splendor of it as well.
The young corporate leader snickered quietly to himself; this was another thing that they had in common: they didn't understand fashion, and certainly not designer fashion from esteemed Italian geniuses.
"Wasn't that something?" Louis leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear, to which he replied with a half minded 'hm'.
The women's fashion line lasted a good fifteen minutes with a new model emerging from the sides and strutting down the catwalk in a synchronized pattern, one immediately after the other.
Harry had slumped back in his seat, finally relaxing and sighing out the breath he was holding.
He and Niall had to let go a while later, because their clammy hands grew to be quite uncomfortable; quietly laughing it off together as they wiped their raw, soft skin against their pant legs, Harry relished in the new wave of comfort and relief.
"Feel better?" Niall asked, his eyes bright and big, even in the dimmed lights.
"I guess," Harry responded quietly, "thank you."
"Why were you so jittery, by the way?" He questioned as he leaned in to listen to him.
"I-"
Then, a loud voice sounded from the speakers and announced the men's fashion line, the line that Versace was especially proud to have created.
