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the love i meant to say

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''Hey Har.'

'Babe? What's wrong? I've still got ten minutes left of my shift.'

'I won't keep you, I just wanted you to know that I love you.'

'I love you too, you know that. Are you sure everything's alright?'

'No, everything's fine, don't worry about me. I just need you to promise me something, ok?'

'Anything.'

'When you get home, I need you took under the mattress, there should be a box that I need you to open. Can you do that?'

'Of course I can Ni.'

'Remember that I love you more than anything. I'll let you go now, I'll see you soon.'

'I love you too, so much. See you later.'
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Blades whirring past his neck, barely missing their intended target, Niall knew that for once he had a worthy opponent. His suit had thankfully been spared, tie unfortunately not having the same fate. He ducked again, this time the sharp metal caught his cheek. Sweat pouring from his body and tiring fast, Niall realised that there was only two ways this could end: him taking her down within the next minute or her skewering him.

Despite popular belief, Niall's job generally did not require constant danger and regular shoot offs. In fact the majority of his days were spent doing research, and only around once or twice a year was he ready to leave his desk and finally take down the targeted villain. Most movies were actually an entirely unrealistic portrayal of a spies daily life. Although his fighting and weapons skills had earned him an worldwide name, it had been too long since they had been put to the test.

He fell. A spectacular, well aimed punch had knocked him off his feet. Niall reacted quickly, rolling away from her advances and standing his ground. His gun, he realised, had been thrown out of reach. Diving to the ground, he reached for it, hands clasping it tight. Turning onto his back he prepared to fire one lethal shot.

The sound of the gunshot resounded throughout the London warehouse. Hitting its target almost perfectly, she lay motionless on the ground, a single spot of blood at the centre of her forehead. She was dead. In his victory Niall almost wanted to celebrate, throw himself into the arms of his loving boyfriend, stroke is soft curls and meet beautiful green eyes in an embrace. But this victory, however, was not without consequence. His abdomen was stained red with blood, a single blade embedded into is torso.

He staggered through the streets in the vague direction of the bakery his Harry had worked at for all the years they had known each other. Suit wrapped tight around his stomach, expensive material keeping the bloodshed hidden from the public eye. Streets bustling with life as we staggered through the centre of London, civilians rushing through their day unwilling to spare a glance at Niall. Only one mile left to go. He could make it. He knew he could. He could make it.

Minutes passed, feeling like hours to his weary body. Strength fading and stumbling in effort, he knew that there was only one thing he could do. He was not going to make it. Veering from the crowd he put his weight on the solid block of a wooden doorway. Surprisingly, throughout his misadventure his phone had remained secure in breast pocket of his tailored jacket. Pulling it out, there was only one called he wanted to make. Niall dialed the all too familiar number.

''Hey Har.'

'Babe? What's wrong? I've still got ten minutes left of my shift.'
Harry was confused, surely Niall knew he was at work, and although unexpected phone calls were not unfamiliar, he had never received any at this time of day.

'I won't keep you, I just wanted you to know that I love you.'
Harry knew. Of course he knew. Niall had never failed to remind him exactly how much he meant to the other boy. And so although, once again, this was not unprecedented, the panic set in. Why was he telling him this?

'I love you too, you know that. Are you sure everything's alright?'

'No, everything's fine, don't worry about me. I just need you to promise me something, ok?'
Niall knew that it was now or never. He tried to keep is voice strong, solid. Knowing that this was the last time he would ever speak to his beautiful boyfriend, he could not waste it. Leave Harry to stumble across it once he was gone.

'Anything.'

'When you get home, I need you look under the mattress, there should be a box that I need you to open. Can you do that?'

'Of course I can Ni.'

'Remember that I love you more than anything. I'll let you go now, I'll see you soon.'

'I love you too, so much. See you later.'

The phone line went dead. Harry rushed to hang his apron, shouted to Barbara that he was taking an early leave, that it was an emergency. He ran. Sprinted home and rushed to upturn the bed he and Niall had shared for almost 5 years.

At that same moment, little did Harry know, Niall had finally fallen. His lifeless body slumped against the door, blood finally seeping through the material of his jacket, ambulance sirens blaring in the distance.

Harry stared. Tears and emotions overwhelming him. At the small ring sat, now on his finger, velvet box long forgotten.