Chapter Text
Damon loves his job. Photographing, capturing the perfect moment when the models walk over the runway, making them and the clothes look like their best self - it’s a dream come true.
He has always been interested in fashion and people. In fact for a lot of years becoming a fashion designer was his dream. That was until he held a camera for the first time.
A small Canon, small enough to fit into his pocket. Nothing fancy really. But it was his everything from the first second on. He took pictures of himself, wearing the clothes he made. Again nothing professional - but he always had a vision.
Even the most crooked of garments - because the sturdy fabric wouldn’t let itself sew the way Damon wanted it - even the most blurry picture - because his camera just couldn’t do any better in the dark- they all had a vision. An artistry behind it, Damon couldn’t comprehend himself.
It wasn’t until he started photographing his friends and sharing the pictures with them when he realized that this is what he wanted to do. Nothing tops the happy and exhilirated faces of his friends after seeing the pictures. And Damon slowly started to see just what beautiful art he created.
It was his calling and god be damned if he wouldn’t achieve his dream.
So he kept practicing. Learnt every setting on his camera. Saved up for a better one and studied that too. He kept sewing, kept creating, he improved. And he felt ready to share it with the world.
He got lots of positive feedback on social media, but he never went viral or anything in that direction. But it did feed into his confidence.
So then he took the most drastic step of all.
Moved to New York at 18, spent all his savings on it and went from agency to agency, certain that someone would recognize his talent. Although he hated the wort talent. It’s not talent, it’s art. It’s his vision, his truth.
And then it happened. An agency took him in, gave him a chance.
Not long after he was on his first runway, shooting the models walking in the expensive designer gowns.
It was exhilarating. The lights, the people in the audience, the music. And of course the absolutely stunning models and dresses. All styled to perfection.
Damon knew that was the place he belonged.
And as if the job isn’t perfect enough already, he gets to travel. All around the world, from fashion week to fashion week, from runway to runway. He gets to see all the fashion capitals of the world.
From New York, to Paris, to Venice and London. He’s been to more countries than he can count. And that’s also how he ended up here. In Slovenia, in Ljubljana.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to take the job at first, it doesn’t pay as much as others because the fashion week here is in comparison a lot smaller.
Less people, less famous models, less expensive brands.
But Damon has never been to Ljubljana before, so he took the job.
The audience is smaller than usual, he doesn’t recognize any celebrities in it either. But there’s a certain charme to it all. He positions himself at the end of the runway, camera ready. Some other photographers took place beside him.
He double checks the settings, makes sure everything is correct and ready for when it starts.
Then the first model walks. Damon takes pictures, gets the angles right, the light, everything. Makes the model shine.
He keeps doing that. The dresses are interesting, fabrics draped, colors are simple, black and white. Damon’s favorites.
And then he steps on the runway. Stern look, sharp jaw, cheekbones chiseled by the gods themselves and icy blue eyes that almost make Damon forget to take a picture.
Damon has been around a lot of models. The most famous, the most beautiful of them all. He’s had everyone in front of his camera you could think of but no one was quite as intriguing as him.
Damon doesn’t even know his name. But god he’s obsessed.
His light brown hair bounces as he walks, beautifully. Every step perfect, every angle on point. A posture as intimidating as it’s mesmerizing, the way he carries himself, Damon is addicted.
He’s everything.
He has a certain attitude that can’t be taught.
He’s fierce, he’s cunty.
Damon needs him for a private shoot. Needs him in his studio.
Damon wishes to stop him right there at the end of the runway, striking a pose, hand on hips and turning around. The most basic move and he makes it look like a whole movie, like a poem, like a museum worthy painting.
The simple turn, the sway of his hips, the way his hair moved with him, the look on his face, the eyes so icy, they could make hell freeze over.
And then he has his back turned to Damon, walks away and Damon has to focus on the next model.
Damon knows that every photo afterwards isn’t going to be his best work. Mediocre if even. But he doesn’t care. His mind is still stuck on the model that took his breath away.
The fashion show takes forever. For the first time in forever Damon wishes for it be over. Usually he wished they’d go on until the end of time, but not today. He wants to get out of this suddenly very stuffy room. He wants to go the next building over, where the afterparty is held.
Damon likes afterparties, he likes hanging out with the models, celebrities. He likes discussing the outfits, the best walks of the day, show a few previews of the pictures he’s taken, but only to the people who were interested.
He always has lots of reasons to go to the afterparty and enjoy it. But today he only has on reason. Him. And Damon wishes and prays that he’ll be there. That he’ll see him again. Maybe even get the chance to talk to him.
He wonders if his voice is just as sharp as his features. Is it cold and condescending the way his eyes looked in the audience? Or maybe it’s surprisingly warm and sweet, contrasting his looks.
Damon wonders how his smile looks. Will the icy eyes be squeezed together and not look that fierce anymore? Will his cheeks get all round and cute or is even his smile chiseled?
Damon wonders and wonders, imagines everything there’s to imagine about. Until it’s finally over and he can pack up his things and walk over to the afterparty.
It has already started. Loud music, colorful lights. Servers with drinks and appetizers walk around. It surely is smaller than other afterparties Damon has been to, but he’s glad about it. Makes it easier to find him.
Damon walks around, mingles between the people. Apparently no one knows him here, no one stops him to talk. But it’s alright. Because Damon is on a mission.
He walks around the whole room, looks in every corner, but he can’t find him. He grabs a drink - alcohol free - from one of the trays, stands at some table and keeps watching the crowd.
He just has to be here.
He just has to.
Damon waits. And waits. It’s already late, after midnight. The party is still going on and probably won’t stop until the early morning.
His feet slowly start to hurt in his silver glitter high heels as he paces nervously around. He has to be here, Damon keeps telling himself.
But his hopes are subsiding with every minute that passes. The first people are already leaving again. How can Damon hope that he’ll still join the party this late?
He saw him once and now probably never again. Maybe next year, maybe then he can come back to Ljubljana fashion week.
Damon doesn’t want to believe that it’s over. Just like that. Without even a chance to talk.
He’s just about to leave - every step hurts in these heels - and then he sees him. Walking through the main entrance, all proud and confident. Black sunglasses on. Adding to the mystery.
And he walks in like he owns the place - maybe he does, who is Damon to know. He greets the people standing around him. Quickly, smoothly, like he’s done it a hundred times before. He talks to the people for just a few seconds but he makes them laugh or smile, everyone looking at him with adoration.
Damon is stunned. To say the least. He looks at him, he changed from his runway look. A simple loose white shirt and black pants that seem like they’re made for him, that’s how perfect they fit.
And he walks over to him. Is he really? Damon can’t believe it. Nevertheless he straightens his posture, tries to look content.
He doesn’t walk to Damon, he walks straight past him. Damon looks after him as he disappears in the crowd.
Damon’s heart is beating too fast and he curses himself for being so nervous around him. For god’s sake he’s been around Taylor Swift and Kristen Stewart and his heart has been perfectly calm then. What’s so different about him?
Damon tries to collect himself again, few deep breaths. He’s okay, everything’s okay, he’s just the most beautiful person Damon has ever seen, but everything’s fine.
Damon groans internally, yells at himself to pull himself together. He walks through the crowd and soon spots him at a table, talking to someone, a guy with a big smile, brown hair, but his vibes are very different from him.
Damon’s just two meters away from the table, if the music is wasn’t as loud, he would hear them. He would hear his voice.
And then the shorter guy with the huge smile walks away and he’s alone there. This is Damon’s chance. He just has to walk over there. Say something.
It takes a moment until his legs do what he wants, until he walks over. He’s trembling. Oh fuck how is he this nervous.
« Hi, I saw you on the runway, you were great », Damon says, as stable and confident as he can. His thoughts tumble, is that even something he can say? Is that appropriate? He’s done this so many times before, but right now he feels like this is the first time.
« Thanks », the guy nods. His voice is cold. Condescending even. Sounds like he takes Damon’s compliment for granted.
« I’m Damon », he reaches his hand towards the model, he frowns, so Damon quickly adds, « Damon Baker, the photographer from earlier. »
It takes a second for the other guy to shake his hand. And god his hand is soft and warm.
« Nice to meet you », the guy says. Is he just stupid and forgot to introduce himself or does he just assume Damon’s knows him?
« And you are? », Damon asks, carefully. Knowing damn well he walks straight into the trap.
« You don’t know me? », he lifts his eyebrow, looking at Damon with his icy eyes.
« No, I’m sorry, I don’t », Damon admits. He can feel himself blush and heat up. So much for making a good impression. He feels like everything he said is the wrong thing. Ugh.
« I’m Kris Guštin », the guy introduced himself. Kris. Kris Guštin. What a pretty name. How fitting to him.
« Nice to meet you, Kris », Damon smiles. The name rolls of his tongue.
Kris doesn’t smile. Maybe he lifted the corners of his mouth from the slight frown to a straight line, but nothing more.
Gosh he’s cold. Got his model face on all the time. Damon wonders if it’s just his face or if maybe his features soften, when he relaxes.
« So, you’re from here, Ljubljana? », Damon asks. Keeping the conversation going because Kris definitely will not.
« Born and raised », Kris says. Brief and quick.
« That’s nice, it’s my first time here », Damon continues. He smiles at Kris, but Kris seems to be elsewhere with his thoughts. Maybe his outer beauty doesn’t match his insides.
Kris nods at Damon’s words. He understands but got nothing to add.
« I wanted to ask, if you might be interested in a photoshoot? », Damon then says. Now or never. Before Kris decides to walk away because he’s bored or whatever.
« Ask my manager, he’s in charge of any bookings », Kris replies. Right. His manager. But it’s not a no, so Damon takes it as a win.
« Yeah, sure. Who’s your manager? », Damon asks. The nervousness coming back again.
Kris slides his hand in his pocket and pulls out a business card and gives it to Damon.
Wordlessly.
« Thanks », Damon says and puts the card safely in his his pocket.
« But you would be interested in a photoshoot? », Damon asks. He wants to make sure. Photoshoots aside from runways only work if there’s a certain amount of trust on both sides.
« Maybe », Kris says, musters Damon’s face, « Depends how good your work is. »
Damon gulps. « Yeah, of course. »
The guy from before calls Kris over. Kris turns around, about to leave, but looks back one last time, « Was nice to meet you, Damon Baker. » And he smiles. Just the tiniest bit of a smile. But a smile nonetheless. Damon looks at him like he’s starstruck. He can’t even say anything before Kris walks away. His name never sounded so pretty, so sweet. He wants Kris to say his name again.
_____
Damon groans as he gets out of his god damn heels. It hurts standing flat on the floor again, but better than still in heels. After Kris walked away, Damon went out, back to his hotel.
He’ll call Kris’ manager tomorrow right away. Hopefully he’ll have time. Hopefully he’ll like Damon’s work. Damon wonders if Kris will check out his work, his instagram or his professional portfolio.
What if he doesn’t like it? What if he’s not good enough?
Damon drives himself crazy thinking about Kris.
Because he cannot get him out of his mind, he loads the pictures of his camera already on his laptop. Usually he doesn’t do it on the same evening as he took the pictures, but now it’s different. Because he’s got pictures of Kris on this camera and he can’t wait a minute longer to see them.
He scrolls through the pictures, past all the models that don’t interest him until he reaches Kris’ pictures.
From the second he stepped on that stage he owned it. Damon’s just mesmerized looking at that first picture, Kris is just halfway across that stage, walking confidently. The look on his face cold, stern and focused. The blue eyes - oh these beautiful blue eyes - are just as fierce as Damon remembered them.
Damon goes over all the pictures of Kris, stares at them for what feels like hours, memorizing every little detail of his face.
It takes Damon a long time to fall asleep that night, his mind stuck on Kris’ pretty face.
_____
« Nick Zidar, hello »
« Hi, here’s Damon Baker », Damon greets Nick on the phone.
« Uhm … I’m interested in a photoshoot with one of your models, Kris Guštin? »
« Kris, yes. »
« He told me to contact you to book him. »
« That’s right. »
« So, is that possible? »
« Hold on for a moment. »
The line turns quiet. Damon waits. It’s unusual planning a photoshoot like this. Official photoshoots are planned over his agency, and these unofficial and personal photoshoots are ‘booked’ with the model directly. Basically a deal with friends.
But obviously Kris doesn’t want it that way.
« It’s possible », Nick turns the line back on.
« Perfect. »
« I’ll send you three possible dates as well as the hourly rate per email. »
« Okay, yeah that’s great. »
Damon gives him his email address, thanks him again and ends the phone call.
It’s weird. Everything’s weird. Usually people pay Damon for a photoshoot, not the other way around. But if it gives Damon the chance to shoot pictures of Kris, he’ll pay whatever Kris wants.
He just desperately wants to capture Kris’ beauty on his camera.
Damon feels like he’s going insane in his hotel room, waiting for Nick to send the email. So he gets up and goes outside to take a walk. Discover Ljubljana.
It’s a really pretty city as it turns out. Colorful buildings, restaurant after restaurant, coffee shops and stores without an end. There’s lots of people but it isn’t crowded. Just enough to make the city lively, but not too much to make it overwhelming.
The river is beautiful, tons of bridges crossing over it, each decorated differently. The castle is visible from almost everywhere he goes, up on the hill, all proud and pretty.
The weather’s beautiful too, despite it being September. It’s comfortably warm, barely any clouds in the sky.
Feels kinda magical.
It has to be a magical place after all, if Kris Guštin is from here.
Damon, the photographer he is, takes a bunch of pictures at all the touristy spots as well as places where barely anyone else looked. Like the carvings and ornaments above windows and corners of houses, the little alleys going off from the already tiny main street. Patterns Damon finds interesting. Angles that make the ordinary special.
Damon enjoys Ljubljana. Way more than he thought before he came here. And he’s glad that he planned a few extra days here as well, so he’ll have the chance to travel around and explore. And most importantly, meet Kris again.
It’s already late in the afternoon when Damon receives an email.
The three times are all spread within the next week, the first one tomorrow already.
Damon has to chuckle at the price, 250 € hourly rate. Not that Kris doesn’t deserve it, Damon would pay double, tripple even. But it seems unusually high for someone who as it seems has at best a national career. A few fashion shows within Slovenia, deals with local brands, but nothing that crosses the border.
Damon wonders if maybe he’s a bit in over his head or maybe just started out. It all seems a bit unprofessional, but Damon doesn’t mind. Absolutely anything to get Kris in front his camera.
He calls around to find a photo studio for tomorrow, some place he can rent.
Once he found one, he replies to Nick’s email, sets the date for tomorrow, because Damon cannot wait. He’s very impatient when inspiration strikes.
So far so good. It was surprisingly easy to find a studio, Kris having seemingly no schedule is perfect for Damon as well.
Now he only has to survive until tomorrow. Which is easier said than done because Damon’s nerves are wreaking havoc inside him.
He wonders if Kris is truly interested in the photoshoot and won’t just look at it as another shoot to just smile and look pretty. No, Damon has a pretty clear goal and vision for his photoshoots.
It’s a truth, it’s authentic, it’s emotional and sometimes messy and it won’t work if not both parties are totally comfortable.
He’s done photoshoots where he just met the model once before. But then they always were right on board with Damon, insanely interested in the shoot, in Damon’s art, in his vision. So it always worked out really well. But now Kris seems different. He didn’t seem that interested in Damon at all - almost disinterested even.
So now Damon worries.
And then there’s this, that even if Kris is going to give him a fair chance, what if Damon messes up? Yesterday at the fashion show, Damon almost forgot how to hold a camera when he saw Kris and at the afterparty he was stuttering and stammering, it was straight up embarrassing.
Damon makes sure that all his things are ready for tomorrow, camera charged, enough storage left. All his other equipment ready.
He tries to get his mind off things, but nothing really works. His thoughts always wander back to the icy blue eyes, the pretty but sharp voice. His beautiful jawline. Fuck just everything about him is beautiful and pretty. Damon can’t wait for tomorrow.