Vigilant | N.H.

Seventeen.

February 20th, 2016.

BLAIR'S POV
I haven't seen Niall since the day of the incident, but we talked it all out the day that it happened. I genuinely don't think I've ever felt fear and anger as intense as I did at that moment. I know he thinks he's immortal, but he's not—and one day, he will die. He'll die and that'll be it.

He'll be gone for good.

I know that people die all of the time, but I never actually thought about losing people that way. Normally, people walk out of my life—like my Dad. I think it's harder that way, though, because they can always come back. They typically never choose to, which makes it hurts the worst. One day, I want Niall to break my heart into a million pieces and leave. That sounds weird to say, but I would rather do something wrong to make him leave than not be able to do anything at all to bring him back from the dead. If we parted our ways and lost contact, I would never have to see him laying in a casket. I would never have to speak at his funeral and bear the weight of my heavy heart that's full of sorrow and loss. It sounds selfish, but I don't think I could do it.

I care about him so fucking much now and I think that's what terrifies me the most.

I let my car come to a rolling stop in front of his apartment complex. I make my way upstairs and knock on the door before I'm greeted by his soft blue eyes. "Hi," I say as I make my way into the room. "Hey," his coarse tone calls out as he shuts the door. I sit down at the island counter in his kitchen and fiddle with my car keys as an awkward silence fills the room. He rests his body on the seat next to me and attempts to get me to look at him.

"Are you okay?" he expresses his concern. I smile and shake my head 'yes'. "Of course, just thinking." He lets out a faintly audible sigh of relief and smiles. "About what?"

I loosen my grip on the keys as they quietly rest on the marble counter. "You know what," I say as I softly press my lips together. He sits in silence for a moment before grabbing my hands. "Can I show you something?" his tone perks up a bit.

"Of course," I smile as he makes his way into his room. He begins to dig around in his closet which produces loud sounds of rustling paper and boxes. Shortly after the noises fade, he reappears in the hallway—this time, with a brown shoebox. He silently sits back down next to me and delicately places it on the table. His eyes remain fixated on the box as mine shift focus between him and it. The thick snow clouds cast a dark shadow over the room and cause our faces to become pale.

He removes the top of the box and reveals what appears to be dozens of little paper notes. He shuffles them around as he digs for one specific one. His fingers gently grab it and pull it from the bottom of the pile. It remains in his hands as he skims over the words, almost as if he's double-checking that it's the right one. Without saying anything, he hands it to me. I take it and shoot him a puzzled look to confirm if he wants me to read it or not. He gives me a nod as my eyes begin to read the words inked onto the larger piece of fragile beige paper.