Assault With a Deadly Weapon || N.H / 1D

52.

He would argue differently. I know he would.

He was my self-proclaimed protector. I didn't ask for a protector. I certainly didn't ask for it to be him, but there he was, bent into a pretzel, staying with me while I recovered. I felt like I'd been a burden. He was so smart, he should be using his energy to further the case, not to be worrying about me and my stupid, reckless, decisions.

But that humble motherfucker, that absolutely angelic dickhead, would never give up on me. He just wouldn't, and I don't know how much of that my heart could handle.

I've never had someone love me this much. Or at least, nobody has ever shown that they loved me like he has. My heart swelled with adoration, gratitude, and pride. I was proud to say that Niall was mine. As a piece of hair fell over his face, all I could imagine was introducing him to Gran, if I ever could have. I would've brought him back to Portland, and he could've stayed in my house with me. Gran would've made us breakfast, and she would've loved him. She used to warn me about the smart boys, and how they'd inevitably wrap me around their fingers. She was right. I was clinging to Niall's finger for dear life. I was never letting go.

As I thought of this, my heart rate rose, and it showed on the monitor.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beepbeepbeepbeep!

Niall started shuffling. He heard my monitor going crazy. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up in the chair, squinting at me.

"Shit!" His eyes went wide when he realized what was going on. My heart rate was in the triple digits.

He practically fell out of the chair, his hair falling over his eyes in the process. He hadn't been for a haircut in several months, so when he didn't style it, it liked to just flop and fall wherever it pleased. I couldn't help but smirk as he fumbled around, trying to regain his balance and grounding.

"What's going on?" He huffed after he'd stumbled over to my bedside. "Why are you smiling?"

I didn't say anything, I just stared up at him in adoration. His chest was rising and falling quickly, I could tell how flustered he was. He pushed back his hair, revealing his eyes that sparkled with the reflection of the flames coming from the fireplace. He'd changed from his dirty, blood stained, clothes, into a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It was the classic outfit that could drive any girl crazy.

"What's happening?" He quickly realized that I was clearly not in the right state of mind.

"Niall, am I on drugs?" I asked. Even my voice was foggy and slurred.

"Yeah." He nodded, keeping a tight smile. He was trying not to laugh at me. "One of Daniella's Dads, Henri, uh- his sister is a nurse. She got you hooked up and everything. We've got a steady stream of morphine flowing into you. Apparently you lost a lot of blood, so there's lots of fluids in there too."

I blinked.

"You're just staring blankly at me, are you... okay? Is there something wrong?" He looked confused, and a little afraid.

"I like you Niall." I said as if it were some big announcement.

"I would hope so." He let out a laugh.

"Do you like me too? If you don't, it's not a big deal. Like don't feel like you have to say it back. I just needed you to know." I stared at him intently. I was like a sixth grader telling her crush about her real feelings.

"How much morphine is in there?" He muttered before checking the monitor. His eyes went wide for a second before he looked back at me and put on a smile. "I like you a lot Ophelia."