Rafe wasn't one for selfless actions. It was quite opposite, actually, when he was so willing to save his own ass he'd leave everyone else to figure it out themselves.

He *wasn't* your friend, he wanted to salient. Saying that he was your enemy was getting ahead of yourself, but Rafe just wanted you to know that he wasn't your friend.

He didn't have friends other than some rich kids from Figure Eight. Everyone else? They didn't matter. Most of them were annoying till the end, like useless things getting in his way.

When the storm hit Outer Banks, it came in full force. The wind could almost fly you off the ground, taking down trees, roofs and even strong enough to break glasses.

You had never seen so many people rushing inside their homes so fast.

Then the rain came. It was powerful and violent, crashing against the ground with a little too much strength. This happened in a matter of seconds, and yet, you couldn't bring yourself from leaving your spot, frozen.

Your fear of storms was something that it was known by every of your friends. It was something you had grown in your gut, no reason at all. The thunder made your skin crawl, the sense of danger sending you into a spiral of despair.

Rafe, like any other conscious person, was already dropping everything to go somewhere safe. Then he saw you there, panicking, and the realization hit him too hard.

He didn't think while he grabbed your wrist and led you towards some place safe, away from the flying bushes. His place was too far, but there had to be someplace nearby, not even if he had to drag you all the way there.

The museum was the first place he encountered. Empty, of course, but a little rescue from everything else. He burst in with you, leading you towards the couches of the entrance hall.

As you sat down, he stood back, running a hand through his wet hair.

"Goddamnit," Rafe muttered under his breath, beginning to pace around.