The Other One {Harry Styles AU}

69. Now

Harry catches my chin with his long fingers. "Baby, tell me you're really okay."

"Harry, I am." I kiss him softly, just barely brushing my lips against his. "You worry too much."

"I know. I just can't bear the thought of actually hurting you."

"You didn't. Well almost, when you tried to come in the back door, but..." I smirk at him.

"Oh, you are cheeky," he tries to tickle me, but I am off the bed too quickly.

"You like me cheeky. Too much, I think." I turn my backside to him and wiggle it. "Restricted area, Styles."

He laughs. That loud bursting laugh. "I wasn't trying. I swear."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Mister try-new-things. Let me tie you up he says. No big deal he says. It'll only hurt for a second--" I squeal as he lunges for me, wrapping his long arms around my waist and pulling me back to him. His fingers dance over the skin on my belly and sides, and I fall limp with laughter.

He falls to his knees behind me, cradling me. "I love to hear you laugh." He kisses my hair. "I love to be the reason you laugh."

"Same, my love. Same." I turn in his arms and kiss him. "Now can we please clean up and get some kind of food. I'm weak from all this activity."

"I know. You can't even stand." He tickles me again, then pulls me to my feet.

After a quick shower, Harry makes us cheese toasties, and then we go back to sleep. The next morning, I am slow to get out of bed. Slow to get dressed. Slow to eat breakfast. Harry pokes my side as we sit at the kitchen counter.

"Hey, are you all right? Are your wrists still red?"

I shrug, holding up my hands. "They're fine. I'm okay. Better than okay. I'm happy that this is the end. I feel like I should be sad. But I'm not. I'm just...excited."

"Sort of like graduating," his voice stretches the words.

I shrug. "I guess. I've never graduated from anything."

He laughs and pulls me closer, kissing my hair. "Come on, baby."

Twenty minutes later, we pull onto the soundstage lot. I asked Harry to spend the day with me because it's such a big day. My last day.

My last fucking day.

It's the end of my childhood. The culmination of nine years of work. I guess it is a bit like graduating.

Lou gets emotional as she does my hair and make up, and I do anything I can to make her laugh instead of cry, finally grabbing an eyeliner and drawing on her face as she does my make up.

"I don't even want to know," she rolls her eyes.

I laugh. "It's a masterpiece." It's not. It's a crappy daisy.

"I'm sure." She ruffles my hair, then quickly smoothes it back down. "You're done, girl."

"Thanks, Louise." We hug.

"Full name. That's when you know it's serious."

I laugh as I head into the soundstage, Harry at my side. We don't have much left to film. Mitch saved the last few scenes for the last day. Normally we don't necessarily shoot the scenes in order. We just film whatever we can whenever we can, working around everyone's schedules. But he wanted the last to be the last.

The morning scenes are mostly MOS, or shots without sound. Just filler. Montage scraps to be sewn together with emotional music. The hardest for me to get through is the scene where I have to pack my fake tv bedroom. I break down almost right away, but Cal tells them to keep rolling.