And that was the last thing I remember before the ambulance siren woke me up, and I found myself dangling upside down like a bat.

2011

 IT'S RAINING CATS AND DOGS, but we—or dad—wanted to leave even when passersby advised us to wait until the weather cools off. Drenched and freezing, we made it into the dad's S.U.V by speed walking. We didn't think to take an umbrella before entering Chuck. E. Cheese because a cloudless sky, painted in orange, red, and yellow, accompanied by a warm breeze doesn't exactly say take an umbrella, for it'll rain cats and dogs.

Mom's number one habit whenever she enters the car isn't to fasten her safety belt but to turn on the radio, specifically the Seattle news channel, for any information that might be important. And often, she's not wrong. The reporter announced that traffic would last for hours due to the weather, and everyone was to follow the rules of the road properly to avoid any accidents. One thing my family and I have in common is that we hate staying in traffic. Then again, who doesn't?

One of the best things about my neighborhood is that it's connected to a forest path which we can take to avoid massive traffics in times like this. However, the downside is that it's quite a drive from town, but everyone preferred that over getting stuck in traffic.

It wasn't encouraged to drive there once night falls as there are no streetlamps to light the way. It was also because the forest is a habitat for certain wild animals that occasionally cross the road. People claimed to have encountered an alligator crossing, a Komodo dragon, an anaconda, and some small animals such as ducks, turtles, and sloths.

Dad knew of the risk of taking that road at this hour, yet he went for it. He drove past the entrance of the forest path with no one else tagging behind us. Apparently, we're the only ones who are stupid.

Dad switched to a brighter headlight that allowed him to see a farther distance and stop, shall there be any threat. The car drove smoothly for over half an hour with nothing but the sound of rain filling my ears.

And that was the last thing I remember before the ambulance siren woke me up, and I found myself dangling upside down like a bat. A drenched and bloody bat. My eyes struggled to move, but I quickly realized I was stuck in the car sitting on its roof. Shattered glass penetrated my knees, and I felt them in my back too. I looked around and realized I was alone. Everyone else was gone.

"Jon, hold on, they're coming," mom's panic voice was vague, which made me wonder if I'm hallucinating.

The weight over my body became lighter when someone pulled me out. The blue and red light blinded me, and I couldn't tell who was carrying me. I felt my back laying on a soft surface as someone had placed a mask over my nose. Everything I felt before now slows down. My throbbing head, my ringing ears, the blistering pain in my thighs. My eyelids became heavy every second, and my body went numb as I drifted to sleep; everything around me became quiet.

...

I know I don't exactly fit anywhere in this world... but does the universe want me dead that badly?

Mom told the principal I won't attend school for the next two weeks. Honestly, that would've been a dream if I weren't a car crash victim. All of us were; only I was the unfortunate one with a fractured right arm.

Whatever. The damage is done, and there's no way to undo it. Ultimately, I chose to continue schooling because I'd rather go with a broken arm than have homework and assignments pile up each day. Mom is against it, but she doesn't have a say because, in the end, it's my arm. Therefore, it's my fucking choice.

Though, I can't say I'm not regretting my decision. Everything I do on a regular basis is a struggle. My right hand is my dominant hand, and now that it's encapsulated in this hard shell of a cast, I can't write anything. And that's one of the main purposes of going to school. Even so, I refused to skip any classes, and this led mom to get me a recorder where I could record the in-class lesson and revise them before and after my arm healed.

...

"I'll walk you home," Alex's voice is no stranger to me. He was behind me, but I didn't turn to see who he was talking to. Or rather, I was hoping he wasn't talking to me.

Surprise, surprise, he was.

"Jon!" He appears by my side with his hand on my shoulder. They are hot as he's just finished P.E class. The ends of his hair are sharp, and sweat races down his forehead like raindrops rush down the window during a storm. His eyebrows are thick, but his sweat manages to slip past them and interrupt his visions.

"My arm's broken, not my legs," I try to smile, but it comes out as a scowl.

"I would feel better if your parents were coming to take you, but they haven't been since the beginning of the week," he takes his hand back.

"So, you've been spying on me," I made a smug look, and his cheeks flushed.

"Well, who wouldn't when their friend suddenly returns to school with a cast around their arm."

"Thank you," is all I could say as I am speechless. I never had anyone who cared for my well-being behind the scenes before. Hence, I didn't know what to say. "I'll be fine. You go on ahead."

"Why aren't your parents coming to pick you up?" He completely ignores my response.

The stillness in his eyes shows that he's serious and that I can't outrun him to avoid answering. School concluded fifteen minutes ago, and most students had already fled the grounds. Apparently, we love being punctual when school is done than when it starts.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I live just a few blocks from our school, so I chose to walk home," he crosses his arms against his chest. His white shirt is drenched in sweat that it's now see-through. Fuck, avert your eyes, Jon. "Your turn."

"I'm afraid of getting in a car," I avoid his eyes.

"Why?"

"I got into an accident last week. My family survived, and no one had any fatal damages," I glance down at my cast. "I can't say the same about me. A broken arm isn't as fatal as everyone thinks. Sure, it'll heal in time, but to me, it's my first real injury, and for that, I'm scared to enter any cars, thinking another accident will take place, and this time, I won't be so lucky."

I didn't want to meet his eyes, but I felt them on me. I know that if I look up, I will cry, and I've never cried to anyone before. I have held the tears back since the time I woke up in the hospital and saw my arm in a cast. I refused to cry no matter how much I wanted to because I knew nobody cared. Not even me.

"Why haven't you told me this?" He finally asks.

"Even if I did, was there anything you could've done to improve things?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe I could've met you at your doorstep every morning so we could walk to school together? Or help you with your lunch during recess?" I'm surprised he knows how to be sarcastic, while most kids our age still didn't know the differences between your and you're. "You know, be there for you."

"Yeah, and treat me like a patient?" My voice cracked, and I held my breath, pretending that I was holding my sneeze in.

"Like a friend, asshole," he steps closer, and I'm ashamed by liking his scent of apricot, magnolia, and sweat. He takes my hand in his. "My best friend."

I refuse to meet his eyes still. His touch is sure to break the bottle that's overflowing in me. It's as fragile as a newborn hamster.

"You're not the brightest person in the school like really, you're not. But hell, so is everyone. But you are to me. We've been friends for five years now, and I've seen many aspects of you. I want us to be friends forever. I don't know if you do—"

"I do," I cut him off.

"Then learn to open with me," he forces my chin up, forcing our eyes to meet. "You know, sometimes, I wish we were still kids. I wish I could've met you before the world got to you. Before they convinced you that the only way to survive is to always be on guard, locked in a tower. I wish I could've been there from the start. But I wasn't."

He smiled, and the joy in his eyes could light up the world.

"But I'm here now," he assures. "Tell me things; let me help you. Let me be there for you as how you've been there for me."

"Me?"

"You have no idea," he chuckles, and it's the cutest sound I've ever heard.

And at that moment, the bottle explodes, and my eyes betray me, but they aren't tears of sorrow. I wanted to hug him so badly and cry on his shoulders for a moment, but the last thing I need is for him to think I was a clingy weirdo.

"I'll try," I drag my arm over my cheeks.

His arms then embrace me as if he read my mind. His hair tickles my cheeks, but I'm reeled by his overpowering scent. I never knew anyone who could sweat and still smell good. If I could, I'd bottle his scent and keep it for a rainy day, especially on days when I yearn to see him but didn't have the guts to ask.

"That's all I needed to hear," he squeezes me gently. I keep my good arm on his back, wishing I could've used both of them to really feel him. "I'm just really glad you're safe. I don't know what I'd do if you didn't survive that."

My hand strokes his back, as I close my eyes for a moment to accept that this is really happening. There is somebody who actually cares for me that they're grateful I didn't die. Today is the first time I have felt a new kind of happiness, and I want to continue feeling this with him.

"Does this mean I have to tell you everything?" I joke.

He releases me and takes a step back to wipe his shiny cheeks with his hand. His eyes were pink, a rare color when you're happy. I heard the softness in his voice when he said, "Only if you want to. I just don't want you to feel trapped in your mind. Maybe the world doesn't give a damn about the things you have to say. But I will, always."