Chapter Three: Week Eighteen

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     “No, I don’t like that one, it’s too flashy. I just want something simple, not necessarily small, but simple. When people see it, I don’t want them to think that I was full of myself or anything.” Niall said frowning as he repeatedly shook his head ‘no’.

     Today had been a long and tiresome day between Niall picking out all of the specific things that he wanted for his funeral, and the many visits he had been receiving. He had insisted that he would be the one to do it, because he had a feeling that we wouldn’t be capable of doing ourselves. At first, I was offended, and thought that he meant it in a rude way, but now, seeing him in the state that he’s in, I know that I wouldn’t have been able to function properly.

     I only wanted to take care him; it seemed like the only logical thing to do. No one in his state deserves to be put under stress like that. The other thing is, if I didn’t take care of him, then no one would! Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. It’s like when your family has made a huge mess in the kitchen. If you don’t do at least something, then no one will. Maybe they’ll be kind enough to place their dishes in the sink, but that’s about as much as you’re going to get.

     It’s not like the boys weren’t trying, because believe me, they were. Modest! Had just been extra, I don’t even have a word to expl- insolent. That’s the word. Their head manager told the boys that they couldn’t visit him that much because they had other, more important things to do, such as making more public appearances so that the fans don’t go crazy. As if that was a good enough reason.

     When Niall had first started noticing that they weren't coming as often, he told me. He thought that maybe because he was dying they wouldn’t want to be around him anymore. Of course, I had to tell him that was nonsense, and explain that they just had a lot of things on their plate. I couldn’t believe thought he thought his own best mates would rather be out there, frolicking around then being with him.

     “I like this one.” I said, pointing to a darker casket than what the women was showing him. Her first choice had been a white one encrusted with jewels on the side. If you were to ask me, I would say that it looked fit for a king. Not that Niall didn’t deserve the absolute best, but he was right, it was a bit flashy. The last thing you would want at your funeral is people thinking bad things about you.

     “I agree with Kodee; that one’s  really nice. It’s gonna be a closed casket one, right?” he asked, turning slightly so that he could face me, causing the thin blankets to bunch up at his side.

     Honestly, he looked adorable with his hair facing every which way, due to him not having anything to do it with, and his eyes were open wide, the blue and grey in them being more prominent from the light coming in through the window. Even though it was almost too bright in the room, his pupils were blown wide, causing only a smidge of blue to be seen. His cheekbones were standing out more because it was getting harder for him to eat without hurting himself. Liquids and only soft solids are pretty the only things that he eats now.

     “If you want it to be.” I shrugged. I had been in many funerals, some were open casket, and others were closed.

     To some people, seeing their loved ones brought a sense of comfort, closure even, but for me, it was like opening up healed scars. Whenever I would see their faces that had already been embalmed, their eyes that seemed to be almost hallowed in because there wasn’t much left, and felt their cold chests that produced no heartbeat- if I felt up to it -I would break down. Being around people who give off body heat, and you can hear their heartbeat whenever you hug, it becomes a shocking reality of just what death is.

     No one is promised tomorrow. I guess you could say that I lived my life staying in my shell, a hermit my mother called me. I wasn’t afraid of the world, by all means, no, and I wasn’t paranoid either. Growing up, I was surrounded by death, and I just didn’t want that to be me. Maybe I took extra caution while doing certain things, and maybe I checked behind me to see if I was being followed too often, that was just me. I suppose the word to describe me would be uptight. Whenever people would ask me why I was the way I was, and what I hoped to accomplish by not doing anything, I would look at them and say, ‘Well, I’m still alive, aren’t I? I must be doing something right,’.

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