Harry's not a twink and he's not a prostitute, either. Louis just brings out a different side of him.
Or the one where Louis hires Harry as his maid and his job entails a bit more than just cleaning the messes.
........
Harry didn't realize how desperate he was for a job until one nearly came to him.
Zayn was an older friend, more so an old friend, or an ex-boyfriend, some may call it. Seven years Harry's senior, Zayn was just shy of twenty-six and a lot more successful than he could've dreamed of. It wasn't fair, because Harry could barely hold a job down and really needed one to pay for uni, which he hoped to attend if he saved up enough during his gap year. But he couldn't do that without a job and always seemed to get fired during the third week. So to say he was happy when Zayn promised he'd find him one was an understatement. And to say he was desperate when he accepted to go in for an interview as a maid for one of Zayn's colleagues, was, well, accurate.
The second Harry arrived in a taxi at the near-mansion-like house, Harry knew that if he got the job, it'd undoubtedly make up for the month of pay he'd missed out on while searching for a new one. The house was nice, to say the least, with an actual gate and bricks holding it up strong. Four floors, and everything he could've dreamed of for his own future home.
It was when Harry actually got into the interview that things turned a bit sour. Mr. Tomlinson was looking for a live-in maid and even though Harry was currently living in a dungy flat on the crappy side of town, having to double lock his doors to prevent getting his laptop stolen, he wasn't sure if he wanted to commit his entire life to a job, especially one as a maid.
Harry was completely capable of cooking and cleaning and doing whatever it was the job entailed, for he wasn't that useless, but the connotations he had with the job weren't the finest. He supposed it was a bit better than physical labor, or the title of a slave, and forced a smile on his face.
The assistant who interviewed Harry was a nice, younger women who smiled with her bright veneers and crossed her ankles in a chair. She asked to take a photo of Harry, for Mr. Tomlinson to see, of course, and Harry complied, before answering more than a few questions about his background and why he wanted the job, et cetera. By the end of the interview, he was told that he'd be called.
And he was. That night.
Harry didn't expect a response so soon and was thrilled to find out that he got it. He got the job and apparently a contract was being dropped off to his place the next day. Harry was relieved to know that he'd get further details on the job and how much Mr. Tomlinson appeared to value communication. It wasn't going to be so hard, after all.
Except for that it was.
The contract was long and Harry wasn't sure if he had the patience to go through it all. He wasn't sure if he even needed to, really. It was all things that he'd expected, no major surprises thus far. He skipped over the section of meals and his duty as a cook as well and went directly to the room and board situation. It was reasonable; he got his own room, his own bathroom that he was responsible for. He was allowed to have friends over, but they couldn't be too loud or disruptive. Reasonable, reasonable, reasonable. Harry skipped over the uniform section and went directly towards the pay.
He could've cried, really, because thirty pounds an hour was a lot. A lot for a job as a maid and that you didn't need much experience in. Harry almost wished that he had more hours, but figured that ten a day from seven to seven with two two hour breaks was enough, excluding his day off on Sunday. Harry couldn't believe how much he'd be able to save so long as he held down the job. He just had to make it past week three, for week three always seemed to stump him.
