Lights, Camera, Action [N.H]

35

I'm so sorry about my extended absence. I should honestly just  stop apologising and write more, but oh well. hope everyone enjoys this short chapter. i'm literally writing the next one as u read this. promise <3

TWO MONTHS LATER; Tears were being shed more frequently nowadays. The end of tour days was approaching, the final 10 shows on the horizon. It was all spaced out, which almost made it worse. Ripping the bandaid off would have probably helped ease the pain, or at least make it more acute. My life had been completely uprooted over a year ago, and I wasn't even sure what it would look like post-tour.

Madeline had requested a meeting with me, which I had unintentionally pushed back twice. The time zones were daunting and I kept messing them up, and accidentally scheduling us to zoom call at 3am in the morning (for me). She was totally fine with it, but I would be chatting with her later in the day after my final dress fitting.

We left our last stop two days ago and home-based back in New York in preparation for the met. Claire had her final dress fitting the day we landed, she dragged me to her appointment with heavy, dark bags underneath my eyes. Thankfully, I had an extra day of rest before having my final fitting. Niall was still being left in the dark, he had no idea what we were wearing, he only knew that our stylist had been in cahoots with his own. While I had no idea what that meant, I once again left all the important decisions up to the respective professionals.

My nerves came and went in waves, and every time I thought about bringing it up to Niall, I became tight-lipped when I remembered he didn't even want us to go to the MET in the first place. We laid low, avoided paparazzi as best as we could, and I kept all my accounts on private. It made people more desperate to know things about me, sparking rumours and unfounded so-called 'facts' about Niall's hot new beau making twitter features every other day.

It was such a weird feeling to know people were actively trying to find things out about you for no other reason other than dating a celebrity. A weird sense of entitlement, like everyone on the internet deserved to know random things about me just because Niall and I were officially boyfriend and girlfriend. Knowing what high school I went to, how old I am, my star sign, how we met, the theories were endless, and ruthless. The worst of it all was when people tried to find recent photos of us, or me. Blurry photos of us leaving restaurants and incognito sneaky cameras were on the internet, but it wasn't enough. The complaints were almost laughable; the photos aren't clear enough, I can't see if they're smiling or arguing, this was taken a week ago, not today, etc.

Amongst the final outfits for the red carpet were custom outfits for the afterparty, a factor I hadn't even considered until Niall told me a few weeks ago.

"You know there's an afterparty, right?"

"Huh? Where?"

"Well, theres actually a bunch of them. We can kind of go wherever you want."

"Do like... all the celebrities go to them?"

He chuckled into his lap, a smirk growing on his cheeks. "You talk about it so cutely."

"Not a word." I poked back.

"Yes it is, sunshine." He cleared his throat, "But yes. Mostly everyone goes to an afterparty. It's usually the younger celebrities, but theres basically parties for every age group."

"Oh, that sounds fun!"

"Yeah, we can get Claire to help you two sort out outfits if you're keen."

"Outfits? For... an afterparty?"

"Theres still photographers there, Daph."

"How do you... y'know..."