Changing Styles - A Harry Styles/One Direction Fanfiction

Epilogue

So, it’s been ten years. That’s weird to think that it has been, because I’m still me. Acacia. I’ve learnt more things as the years went by, and that’s been one of the only changes. Memories were created, along with embarrassing moments accompanied by traitorous blushing. I’ve envisioned things, created things, thought of ideas that have turned into a ‘Need to Accomplish Before I Die’ list. 

The foundation was one of them; using the profit I had made from designs on the runway, I was able to start up a charity of mine, and it took me a long time to finally stop the urge of breaking into Queen’s iconic ‘Is this real life? Is this just fantasy?’ line because I now have my own charity. It’s focused on diseases such as anorexia, bulimia, depression and self harm over body issues. The aim is to spread awareness, provide action plans and fund for psychological support. More and more people are being diagnosed with this every day, and if I can do anything to make a difference I will. And it has made a difference, and if people keep campaigning and people keep donating it will continue to do so. And the odds so far, are looking good.

Oh, and my last name is Styles. That’s a pretty big change.

I know that married couples are notorious for losing that spark, arguing constantly, being miserable. Maybe we’ve bickered because it had been a long day and Annabelle was tired and throwing a tantrum. Or maybe I was annoyed because Harry was late at picking Darcy up from school. But that’s just what a normal, healthy couple does, and at the end of the day we’ll crash into bed, and he’ll wrap his arms around me, and that’s that. 

It’s not a worry, it’s not something in the back of my mind, but I am aware I’m getting older. That in a few years, or a decade, there will be a grey hair followed by a second and a third and then a fourth. And I know that one day I will notice that Harry’s hair isn’t as thick. And I might see that wrinkles are getting more prominent. 

And then Darcy and Annabelle will grow up. They’ll get careers, they’ll have their first drink, learn how to drive. I hope they will find friends that will last them forever, be able to travel the world and see everything it has to offer, and then hopefully they will find someone that loves them and clicks with them. Someone they can say anything to, feel safe in their arms when the sky becomes dark, and create stories - some that will never be told and some that will be repeated every Christmas dinner. Someone that looks at them like they are their world, because they really, really are, and the look is mutual. Takes them on a whirlwind of their own adventure, of tears, laughter, and joy.

Because that’s what I have been able to have, what I’ve been able to experience, and even now I’m still going through it. And I feel so, so lucky. We don’t feed each other ice cream while giggling, or stare at each other with heart eyes when we’re unable to talk to each other, or sneak in quick kisses every waking moment anymore. The girls will groan about how disgusting it is and mime throwing up, and we’re supposed to be out of the honeymoon phase by now. And we are, kind of. But in a way, we’re still in it. 

Some days, I wake up with the sun shining down into our London home and I roll over and he’s still sleeping there, hair disheveled and, yes, asleep in all his naked glory. And when he wakes up, he’ll look at me with those green eyes and dimples and cheeky smiles, his low voice and soft touches. And in that moment, I feel that even when I do have those grey hairs and wrinkles and grandchildren, I will have him alongside me. And that's what matters.