I opened the door just as thunder pealed like a bell overhead—a crashing, unforgiving bell. A man was curled on my porch, head cradled in his bloodied, bruised hands.

"What the heck, Noah?" I asked, bending down to observe his battered state. He moaned in response. Okay, so it wasn't usually bad enough for him not to be able to answer, but I could handle this. I sucked in a breath and ran to get a soft towel, a bowl of water, gauze, and a water bottle.

"What happened?" I asked, gentler this time. The rain fell around us as I pried his hands away from his head. A gash about seven inches long spanned the length of his head, carving a chasm in his skull. I winced. He finally looked up at me, eyes filled with pain, but even more so, worry.

"What's wrong?" He croaked, ignoring my question. I smiled a little, then dipped the towel in the bowl of water.

"Nothing," I said. "Except for the fact that you're covered in blood, you have a canyon in your skull, and it's pouring rain all over us."

He cracked a little smile, too. I then held my breath, and pressed the wet towel to his head. He gasped, but made no other sign that it hurt him. I knew it did. I knew Noah well enough by now to know when he was hurting bad. Right now, with me cleaning the blood off of him, I knew he was hurting really bad. Much, much more than he let on.

I tried my best to be gentle, but with cut and scraped hands, a canyon in his skull, and practically tattoos of bruises littering his back and chest, it was a little hard not to hurt him.

"I'm so sorry." I whispered. I don't know why I whispered. I scooted closer for a moment, persuaded him to take a sip of water, and then leaned against his shoulder—mercifully unbruised. "I'm so sorry, Noah. What happened?" I repeated.

He rocked us back and forth for a few minutes, wrapping his arm around me. I leaned into him tenderly, trying not to aggravate any injuries. He cradled me to him. "I..." he trailed off, looking out at the rain. A few drops fell down onto his face, and they were illuminated against the dying light, streaking his skin like tears. I think there were a few tears as well.

"Noah?" I whispered. I reached up and brushed his hair out of his face. He didn't look at me, but he flinched as though I had punched him.

"I was in a fight." He began. He finally looked away from the storm. "It was him. He was there. He was against me. He beat me. He broke me. He killed me." Tears were openly falling down his face, and one dripped on my shirt. I swept his tears away with my thumb, and he flinched again. "He killed me."

I held him to me, trying my best not to touch him very much. "You're not dead, Noah. You're sitting right here with me, just injured, but not dead. Not broken."

Not on the outside, anyway.

"You're going to be okay. I'm going to get you all patched up, and you'll heal in time. You'll keep fighting." I continued, trying to reassure him, but I knew what he meant.

The man had broken my Noah on the inside long ago, and only I had been able to heal him a little bit. He was broken again, though, and I wasn't sure I could fix him this time. He bruised, bloodied, and battered on the outside, but on the inside he was broken.

"He killed me on the inside." Was all Noah said for a minute. I hugged him as best I could. I was surprised when he eventually continued. "But only you can bring me back to life, Sophie."

My mouth flew open. So maybe I did have a chance at fixing him. "I'll try." I whispered, my voice a little hoarse with emotion. I finally got up to put the gauze on his head. He looked sort of like a mummy.

An adorable, cute, nice, sweet, caring, mummy.

Shut up, brain.

"And that's a start." I added out loud, finishing with the gauze. He hugged me tenderly.

"Thank you." He murmured. I sat down next to him again, forced him to drink some more, and then finally thought of something.

"Why don't you go upstairs and get a nice, long bath?" I suggested. "I'll wash your clothes, and then you can be clean and bruised, but not bloody anymore. I know it would hurt, but it will also help."

I started to gather up the towel and stuff, but he squeezed me tightly, making me drop the bowl with a clatter. Thunder seemed to echo after it. "Thank you." Noah repeated. "I'm alive again, at least barely. Thank you, Sophie."

And with that, he wrapped me up in his arms, pulled me onto his lap, and kissed me for the first time. When he finally pulled away, my cheeks were bright red, but I was happy. If Noah was hugging and kissing me, that meant he wasn't dead. And right then, that was the only thing in the world that I wanted.

"How about that bath?" I asked, suddenly a little shy. Noah smiled slightly—another good sign.

"Yeah, I'll take it." He agreed. I helped him to his feet, and lead him to my bathroom. When I was sure he'd be alright, I went and threw his clothes in the washer. I sat outside the bathroom door to make sure that Noah wasn't going to pass out or anything.

"Noah?" I said after a while. He was dead quiet, which was a bit unusual. Usually after his fights, he would tell me the story while I dressed his wounds. I knew tonight was different, though. "You alright?"

"No." Noah called back, his voice almost lost on its way through the door. I heard a little splash, and then he said, "Will you come in, please?"

"Yeah. Give me a moment." I went and grabbed his now clean clothes. I came back and opened the door to find him huddled on the floor with a soft white towel wrapped around him. "What can I do for you?" I asked him gently, setting his pile of clothes next to him.

"Just be here." He mumbled into the towel. "I just need you here."

I turned away from him so he could dress himself. He kept his shirt off because of the bruises and cuts. "Noah," I began quietly. "Will you continue to fight?" I felt his arms around me, and I leaned back into him again. He smelled clean, a little less tangy with blood, more like cinnamon and apples. I welcomed his arms around me, inhaling his comforting aroma.

He didn't respond to me immediately. Instead, his arms were stiff around me for a moment. "Yes." He replied. "I have to. You know I have to."

"I know. I just wish—" I was cut off by Noah as he squeezed me a little.

"Don't wish, Soph. It is what it is. I have to, and that's that." He looked down at me, his dark eyes, almost black, meeting mine.

"I know, but I just...I hope that someday you won't have to." I met his gaze evenly. I could see sadness shimmer across both of his eyes.

"I know." He said simply. We sat there silently, cuddled together, until long after the storm ended, around four in the morning.

"I love you." Noah whispered, just as I was starting to doze off. I heard thunder fade away in the distance, taking the rain and lightning with it.

"I..." I was so shocked by his words that I couldn't answer for a moment. Noah had never told me that he loved me before, though I knew he did. I loved him too. "I love you too, Noah."

He hugged me hard. I hugged him back more gently. He kissed me again.

"I'll try my best to fix you, to heal you. I'll try, because I love you."