I Cannot Hide This Even Though I Try ~ A COMPLETED One Direction Fanfic

Epilogue - The Big Day

**A/N**: Well, this is it. This is the crappy epilogue that took too long to write. And this is the last part of this story. I will, however, continue to write little short stories that go along with IISW and ICHTETIT in my work called 'From the Diaries of Niam Horayne.' Those will still mostly just be little fluffy pieces that fall somewhere between IISW and ICHTETIT, but I might include a few that are post-epilogue pieces.

Anywho, just a reminder that I have a newish BBC Sherlock/Doctor Who crossover (One More Miracle), as well as my One Direction Bromances that I will continue to write. And my co-written 1D story on the account @MysteriousInsanity if you want to read that. Also, I do take requests/prompts for the 1D Bromances, so if you have a specific pairing and/or situation you'd like to read about, I'll see what I can do.

Well, enough self-promotion. Read on, my loverlies!

-Abby

P.S. Keep in mind that most of this was written in the middle of the night after many hours of not sleeping.

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*Niall’s POV*

“I can’t do this. Why am I doing this? What was I thinking? I’m only 21, I’m too young for this!” I ramble for the tenth time in the past half hour. I run my fingers through my tousled brown locks, staring at myself in the mirror. Management had agreed to let me grown my hair out so that it could be its natural colour for the big day, but now I kind of miss my blonde hair. I guess after seven years of bleaching it, I got used to being a blonde instead of a brunet.

“Don’t be an idiot, Ni. You’ve technically been old enough to go through with this for over five years now, so age isn’t an issue,” my older brother, Greg, replies from behind me.

I roll my eyes at him in the mirror, but I know he’s right. “I know, I know. You’re completely right. And I know I want this more than anything, but it’s still scary,” I mutter.

“Atta boy, Nialler! Now come on, it’s time for you to get dressed.”

I chuckle quietly, nodding in agreement. There is only an hour left before I have to be there, so there’s no time to waste, especially with how long it takes to put on my tuxedo. I turn around to see that Greg has brought my tux over from the hook on the back of the door and is laying it across the couch for me. “Thank you,” I mumble.

“Alright, I’ll go check on the others, you just see about getting yourself into that thing. If you need anything, shout or text or call one of us, okay?” he says, giving me a reassuring smile before leaving me by myself.

No less than 27 minutes later, I’m standing in front of the mirror again, fumbling with the last part of my attire: the bowtie. Originally we were all going to wear neckties, but somehow Rayne managed to make us all watch Doctor Who, and then got us to agree to wear the bowties as a tribute to the Eleventh Doctor. That woman is insane, but at least it’s a great show.

“Need any help in here, mate?” a familiar voice calls from behind me.

I glance in the mirror and see Louis standing just inside the door, so I turn to face him. He’s in a light gray suit with a plain white button up shirt and a pair of scarlet suspenders, and his hair is styled the way it used to be before our second album was released. “Where’s your tie?” I inquire as it suddenly hits me that he isn’t wearing one.

“Right here,” he explains, pulling it out of his jacket pocket. “And before you freak out, it’s fine; I was very careful with it.”

“Well, unless you can help me to tie my bowtie, there’s nothing I really need help with.”