I used to think that he was just an insensitive jerk, but at a time when I really needed someone to be there for me, he was the only one.

The boy who I thought only lived to give me hell was the same boy who let me cry in his arms and said nothing when I practically ruined his shirt with my tears. Even when I stopped crying, he held on to me, like he was afraid if he let go, I would fall apart.

At first I was scared that he would use my weakness against me. He was the only one who knew about it. But then weeks passed, and he said nothing. Not to me, or to anyone else.

I didn't expect him to keep quiet about it, and it made me uneasy. I was beginning to wonder if he was plotting anything against me. He usually was.

On Monday morning, instead of heading straight to my locker, the first thing I did was look for him.

"Nash!" My voice stood out in a hallway filled with noisy students, which caused a few heads to turn my way. I ignored them as I approached him.

The boy in question turned around, a smile growing on his lips when he spotted me. I felt my eyebrow twitch in suspicion.

"Rowan Wilson, what a pleasant surprise," he said, in an oddly cheerful voice. "How can I be of service?"

"Shut up. I need to talk to you," I said, tugging on his arm. He followed me obediently, without question. I could almost feel the curiosity radiating off of him.

"What's up?" he asked, when we were finally alone.

"What are you planning?" I demanded.

"What are you talking about?" for some reason he couldn't even keep that stupid smile off his face, even though I was completely serious.

"You... you know about... it," I couldn't even address my vulnerability directly. "Why aren't you telling?"

His smile disappeared, and a confused expression took place. "Am I supposed to?"

I shook my head. "No. I just thought that... you'd use it against me."

Nash's face turned grim. "You really thought I would do that?"

I bit my lip. "How could I not? You've done nothing but torture me since the day we met. I know you enjoy making a fool out of me, Nash, I'm not stupid."

"Rowan..."

"Look, I'm sorry if I made you sound like an insensitive a******, which you kinda are, but now that you know about my secret I can't help but feel like one day you're going to use that to hurt me."

Nash sighed and muttered something I couldn't catch. Then his eyes locked into mine and I thought I saw regret flash in them.

But before he could say anything, the warning bell for first period rang. Nash and I stared at each other for a moment, then he grabbed my hand and led me outside.

"What... Nash, where are we going?"

"We really need to talk,"

The determined yet desperate tone I heard etched in voice kept me from saying anything else. The hand that held mine tightened, and for a second, my heart skipped a beat.

***

We ended up at the park. Nash and I sat down on the swings, and it was silent for what felt like a long time.

"Why are you afraid of lightning?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.

My hands clenched into fists. I didn't know how to answer his question without bursting into tears.

"I thought you wanted to talk to me, not interrogate me,"

"I need to know,"

"Why?"

"I'll let you know when you answer my question."

"I can't,"

"Why not?"

My hands shook, and my lips started to tremble. "I just can't Nash. Stop asking me that already."

"Did you get hit by lightning when you were young? Is that it?"

"No," I almost shouted. "I didn't. I don't want to talk about it!"

"Did someone you care about die because they got hit?" he pressed.

My eyes widened, and the tears came fast as images flashed inside my head like a slideshow. Although I was young then, I remembered every second of that day. I couldn't forget, and I never will.

The only thing I couldn't remember was my savior's name and face.

When I was only seven years old, I almost got hit by lightning. But a boy I once knew saved me. He got hit in my place and almost died because of it. Now every time I heard the sound of lightning, I remembered how someone risked his life just because I got careless.

"N-No..." I said in a whisper, letting the tears drip down on my hands. "He didn't. He almost did."

Nash stood up. "I see,"

The silence returned, but this time it felt almost suffocating.

And then I felt it. At first it was only a drop of water on my head. But after that, the rest followed, and before I knew it, I was getting drenched in the rain.

I raised my head to look at Nash. He had his back to me, and his head was down. I stood up to tell him that we should go find cover before we got sick, but then something caught my eye.

Nash's white shirt was wet, and it was see-through. My eyes then focused on the two circular holes on the curve of his back, and my heart almost stopped.

"N-Nash," I stuttered. He glanced at me over his shoulder, and I pointed to his back, my hands shaking violently when I recognized the holes. "Wh-What happened to your back?"

His eyes widened when he realized that I could see through his shirt. Then he reached towards one of the holes and touched it gently.

"When I was young, I protected a girl from getting hit by lightning," he said quietly.

I covered my mouth, and the tears continued to pour down my face.

Nash was the boy who saved me from getting killed.

He turned around and the smile on his face broke my heart. It was sadness and regret at the same time. Without another word, he wrapped his arms around me, and I felt my hands drop uselessly to my sides.

"I'm sorry," he chanted, over and over. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of his voice. Now I recognized that feeling. It was the same as ten years ago.

It was under the cover of the rain, when the boy who saved my life protected me in his arms just like this.