Lights, Camera, Action [N.H]

36

I would like to say, as the writer of this story, that I have basically lost interest in my own plot, but for the sake of my own stubbornness and the 5 people that are still choosing to read it, there is absolutely NO chance i WON'T finish this book - that's a promise. However, due to my increased writer's block for this book (despite having the rest of the plot lined out), it may take a while for that to happen. I had planned to do a lot of writing over my uni break, but i ended up travelling to europe for a few weeks. I'll do my very best to post chapters, even if they're short (even though I HATE short chapters), but it's what needs to be done. Again, thankyou to anyone who is still sticking with me and this book, it's the first one i've ever managed to get past the first 5 chapters, so the fact i've made it this far is a huge self achievement, regardless. I appreciate every single one of your reads <3 ALSO, THANKYOU FOR 5K!!! <3

The morning of the MET flew by so quickly, the carpet setting to start at 6pm. Rumours of the performers circulated, everyone eagerly predicting the outfits of the evening. It filled my feed with unusual but appreciated positivity and excitement, rather than the usual threats and disappointing curse words that endlessly occupied my timeline and mentions.

Claire and I once again had the pleasure of makeup artists in-house, as well as hair stylists. It was similar enough to the Victoria's Secret show that I kind of knew the process. Well, I understood the concept.

Sit, get makeup done.

Sit, get hair done.

There wasn't much complication. What was the complication? The time, the effort, and the mere struggle of putting it all together. I was literally sitting on the sidelines for the most part of the VS Show; if not, I was completely backstage for the majority of it. The MET was VS on steroids. I'd never experienced anything like it, and unlike the VS show, everyone was watching this one.

Girls who enjoyed the fashion, the bras, the brand as a whole, or even just thought Niall was hot or fuckable tuned in to watch him perform for VS. While there were several million people who watched it — which is horrifying all by itself, and I wasn't even on the screen — that was a more secluded part of the internet. Not all girls who buy a push-up bra will tune in to an hour-long show that doesn't concern them, especially if Niall wasn't their type, both looks-wise or sonically.

This was different. Far different.

Even if you didn't get fashion, or didn't care for designers, people criticised MET gala looks for literal years post-carpet. There were thousands of comments even today, talking about previous years.

How some people need to up their game from last year, or fire their previous stylist for 'ruining' their career with their shitty dress. Or the beautiful comments that an artist's outfit 'can't be topped from X year, and they shouldn't even try' also plagued my feeds. Everything was noticed, nothing was off-limits. It was the A-game for the A-listers, a grand final event.

Niall had never gone, but with his fame at an all-time high and currently rising, he had no time or opportunity to waste. What started as a joke quickly became a reality, and while I got to occupy my time with mindless, pretty dress-making, Claire and Niall were constantly worried about the logistics. Claire was mostly concerned about everything on the day, but she had to worry for a while thereafter. Her time to relax would come the moment his photos were taken at the afterparty. If they were good photos, the paparazzi would leave us alone for the rest of the night, and they could drink, party, and get loose in peace for the rest of the evening. That's when she'd be calm.

Niall, on the other hand, hadn't broken a sweat. It was all because of Claire and her expertise that he never had to stress. There were interviews that he'd done which claimed his spectacular 16-step skincare routine — yes, it's that long — was the reason for his gorgeous, worry-line-free complexion, but in honest truth, he'd look like a grandpa if it weren't for Claire. She was the thorn in his side, but the thorn cutters as well. She did everything and anything for him, which was her job, but she did it with such pride, love, and care that it was hard not to fall in love with her as a person. She did it because she had to, but she did it well because she truly cared about him. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that she'd always been his biggest supporter from the moment they met.