Your Reason To Be ~Part Three~ ((1D fanfic))

Heeeellooooo Quibblonians! Thanks for sticking with me for this long...and if you're new, take a look down there because you'll be confused... (: Enjoy!
Part One:

And here's part two:

Chapter 1

My Fiance

Liam's just gotten my dusty self back into the chair when something glinting on the bridge catches my eye. "There, Liam, near the middle of the bridge. Is that it?" I ask, elated.

He darts over there and bends over. Soon, I hear him cuss, and loudly, too. Wheeling over, I say, "Is that it? The ring?"

Liam swears under his breath. "Yeah, it was the ring."

"So...where is it?" I ask slowly.

"Hang on one minute, love," he says. He takes his shoes off and pulls his shirt over his head. "It fell between the slats of the bridge." Then, Liam straddles the railing and lowers himself into the water. I smile slightly to myself at this opportunity to get an eyeful of my boyfriend.

Er, fiance. My fiance....

Those words tumble around my head as Liam tumbles in the water, trying to find that glint of gold. Liam is my fiance. He's the one I'll be spending a lifetime with, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part.

I'm suddenly really, really excited about this. Like, majorly above-and-beyond. Webster's Dictionary ((haha typed this directionary the first time...)) should make a new word.

"Damn," I hear him say.

"What? What is it?" I yell down.

He turns to me and says, "It got wedged into a crack in between two huge rocks. I'll be just a minute." Liam takes a deep breath and starts ducking under.

I get as close to the edge as I can get. "Babe, stop," I say. "It's only a ring. It can be replaced." That's when I notice the water's tinged with red. "You, Liam, aren't. If you slice your hand off, you can't get another." He's about to argue with me, I can tell, until he looks into my eyes and sees how serious I am about this.

Liam sighs and pulls himself up onto the bridge beside me. His hands are dripping with bloody water--or watery blood? I dunno--and he has a few cuts on his bare arms. I gasp and grab his soggy belt loop, pulling him closer to me.

"You idiot," I say, and using his teeshirt, begin to wipe the blood off of him. "C'mon. We're heading back to the apartment, and I'll drive." When he gives me a look of pure mule-headed stubbornness that "I'm injured", I announce, "I was given permission to drive, Liam, so don't act all superior!"

"When did that happen?"

With a wave of my hand, I reply, "Oh, last week, when you left to use the bathroom. I decided I wasn't going to tell you." I fling his shirt at him and start for the hill.

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