Liam walks uncomfortably through the flashes, feeling like a fish out of water. "What the hell am I doing here?" He thinks, looking around, seeing all those guys modeling clothes he would never wear. He was invited to this fashion show, and although he doesn't quite understand why, he decided to attend out of pure curiosity... and because his manager insisted. The music plays loudly: "New Bottega, Prada-da," Azealia Banks repeats over the speakers as models strut with attitude. Liam thinks it's fucking crazy, the excess of luxury and superficiality in the air.

Look at you as the only reason you put up with this whole circus. The way he walks, the way he looks in those designer clothes, makes everything make sense, at least for a moment. Among so much extravagance, you are the one who really shines. But of course, Liam isn't going to admit it that easily, not without first rolling his eyes and scoffing a little.

—Fuck, what's next? A line of Gallagher leather jackets? And although it's hard for him to admit it, part of him is starting to enjoy this little detour into the world of fashion, as long as he sees you.