Once.

I'd only talked to him once.

Thirteen years ago. I was six, in the sandbox. My first day of kindergarten was coming to an end and I was waiting for my mom to finish talking to my teacher, Mrs. Shapiro. She'd always gotten along so well with everyone. The sound of her lively laugh vibrated through the particles in the air, casting a virtual blanket of comfort over my shoulders as I dug a hole in the sand.

I dug, and dug, and dug. A boy in my class had said one time he'd dug a hole so deep, he'd made it to China.

Later on in life, I'd learn that had he been able to dig a hole directly through the center of the earth from Nebraska, he wouldn't have ended up in China, but the middle of the Indian Ocean.

"Evan honey, let's go!"

I judged my progress. To me, it was pretty deep. I looked around and saw a long branch and picked it up, stepping on it quickly breaking it in half. I laid the two halves over my hole in an X-shape, hoping no one would fill it while I was gone. I'd keep digging tomorrow.

"Evan!" I looked and saw that my mother was at the front gate, waiting for me to follow. I gave one last look at my work and deciding it was sufficient, started running to my mother.

My lunchbox was buckled to my backpack, bouncing off of it as I ran. I saw my mother turn to look for her car over the gate and my foot caught on something. My heart jumped as I tried to prevent a fall, quickly bringing my other foot forward, but it was too late.

My hands instinctively flew out ahead of me impacting hard with the ground, quickly followed by my mouth hitting the cement.

The feeling of shock was quickly overcome by a burning feeling on my hands and in my mouth. I slowly sat up, the taste of blood flooding my mouth. I felt tears come to my eyes quickly, and tried holding them in. I was too old to cry. But my body felt otherwise and I felt my face scrunch up as tears started pouring.

"Are you okay?" I felt a pair of hands around my shoulders and held in a sob, turning to look at him. I recognized him as one of the older kids I'd seen at the playground that day. He had a wild look to him, his light brown hair ruffled messily and carelessly.

That was the first time I'd met Rowan Williams.

I wiped away my tears with the back of my hands. My palms were bleeding and I could see Mrs. Shapiro walking quickly towards me from afar. I moved my hands to feel my mouth— it was throbbing painfully and I had to spit out blood.

He moved to grab my hands and gently moved them aside as he aligned himself to face me.

"I think..." He started, and gently touched his hands to my jaw, motioning me to open my mouth. I numbly did, trying to read his reaction to see how bad it was. "Yup. You lost a tooth." I made a strangled sound, feeling tears coming back to my eyes and my hands pulled back towards my mouth.

I'd lost a tooth? Where did it go?!

I saw him pick something up in front of me and look at it.

"Here it is." I felt my breathing quicken— it was turning to hysteria. He saw my reaction and put his hands on my shoulders.

"Hey— don't worry, I've lost three this year, it's a good thing." I blinked up at him as he pulled his lips back with his fingers showing off three empty gaps towards the back of his mouth.

"How is it good?" I feebly mumbled through my bloody mouth. He grinned widely.

"If you put it under your pillow, your parents will come in the middle of the night and replace it with money. They'll tell you it's the tooth fairy—but it's not—I stayed up one night and saw my mom do it while I was asleep," I frowned at him, confused.

"I actually pulled this one out—" he pointed to one of the gaps at the end of his mouth, "—just for the money." I felt the corners of my lips slowly pull upwards as I let a small laugh out. He smiled back and grabbed my hands around the wrists, helping me to stand up.

"Oh my god, Evan are you okay?" My mom had made it to me at the same time as Mrs. Shapiro and quickly grabbed my palms, looking at the injuries to them and my mouth. She ran her soft hand along the side of my head, her worried eyes scanning my face. I nodded slowly, feeling calmer after talking to the boy.

She led me to the bathroom and Mrs. Shapiro went to get bandaids for my palms. After swishing water around in my mouth a few times and washing my palms, I felt better. The gap in my mouth felt strange and foreign and I tried to avoid brushing against it with my tongue. Soon, the pain reduced to a light throbbing.

Mrs. Shapiro came with the bandaids and held something out in front of her, a small smile on her face.

"Looks like you've lost your first baby tooth Evan. What a first day of kindergarten, yeah?" I looked around us, confused.

"Where did he go?" She glanced around for a minute before smiling.

"Oh, I sent Rowan to play with his friends, but he gave me this!" My face fell. I felt disappointed, but I brushed it off.

She handed me the tooth he'd given her and I held it tightly in my hand.

When we were walking out of the school, I looked around and saw him on the lawn with a few mean looking boys. He was laughing every few seconds and throwing things at them. He seemed careless and full of joy.

But over the years, he changed.

The carelessness stayed. It was the only thing that did. The rest left. Every year, his lively smile disappeared more and more, until it was gone. The light brown hair turned darker, until it was almost black. His eyes went from wild and carefree, to serious and demanding. He would come to school with marks on his face and bruised knuckles. The rumors that spread about him were endless. That he picked drunken fights with men in bars, that he joined an underground fighting league. I think the rumors originated to bother him, to get him to tell everyone where the bruises really came from. But he remained unfazed.

He was popular— a team captain of the basketball team who led them to an undefeated season his senior year. They'd write about his games in the local paper. Whenever he got in trouble with the law, the cops would turn a blind eye— he was the source of a lot of local pride. His legacy led him to get many scholarships from different colleges, but he ended up choosing the one closest to home. Creighton University.

Girlfriends would come and go like the seasons. None of them appeared to hold any bad feelings about him afterwards, they all just seemed happy that they'd had a chance with him in the first place. They'd leave all their posts of him up on their social media, welcoming eyes that'd jealously scroll through their photos together wishing roles had been reversed. Their relationships served as some sort of achievement that boosted their social status.

I don't think Rowan had noticed me once since that day in kindergarten. He seemed to have a lot of friends, people needed his attention all the time. I didn't expect him to remember me. I mean, after one interaction, I haven't remembered a lot of people.

It's not like I was obsessed with him or anything. He wasn't the only person to show me kindness over the years. I was just curious.

Because under those occasional bruises and behind his dark eyes, there was mystery. It was an obvious one, it'd been lingering for a while. I wasn't alone, everyone seemed curious to know what he was hiding. It's safe to say that he wasn't an open book.

I didn't think I'd ever find out. I just had a curiosity that occasionally took my mind off of government club. It really was just that simple. Curiosity.

Maybe it was born from boredom, maybe something else.

But the year to come turned it into much, much more.