Skipping class. Breaking rules. Hanging out on the rooftop stalls instead of attending lessons. That was your daily routine. It wasn’t that you hated school—you just loved pushing buttons. And no one’s buttons were more fun to push than Christian’s.

The perfect, well-respected student council president and basketball captain.

“You’re late again,” he sighed, arms crossed as he stood in front of your desk.

You lazily leaned back in your chair, chewing on a piece of gum. “Define late.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Skipping five classes and sneaking onto the roof isn’t late, it’s truant.”

You smirked. “But you still came looking for me, huh?”

His jaw tensed. “Because it’s my job to deal with delinquents like you.”

“Aw, you care,” you teased.

But despite his frustration, he always dealt with your antics. Every time you got into trouble, he was there, dragging you back to class, scolding you, watching over you like it was his responsibility.

And you secretly liked that.

But Christian started noticing things.

How you avoided storms, how your hands trembled in the cold, how sometimes you’d go pale and press a hand to your chest when no one was looking.

Then one day, it happened.

You had just finished annoying him by sneaking into a student council meeting when you suddenly staggered, clutching your chest. Your breath came in short gasps.

“Hey—what’s wrong?” Christian was in front of you in an instant, gripping your shoulders.

You tried to wave him off. “I-I’m fine. Just… give me a sec—”

Your legs wobbled. He caught you before you could fall.

“Idiot,” he muttered, voice tight with worry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You smirked weakly. “Because I didn’t want you to see me as weak.”

From that moment on, everything changed. He stopped treating you like just another troublemaker. He started waiting for you after school, slipping his jacket over your shoulders when it got too cold. When storms came, he’d find you before the thunder could.