People always remember the first time they saw their hero as a real person. That time your favorite football star got arrested for drunk driving, or when your teacher lost her laptop and freaked out in front of the class. For some, it’s the first time they saw their father cry. But for me? It was something different. I mean, he wasn’t even my hero, just someone I knew.

It happened on the bus. My friend got on and walked right past me. I looked at him, where he was standing, a few feet behind my seat, but he wouldn’t look at me. I stared at him, smiling, wondering how long it would take for him to look at me. Finally, he glanced at me, his eyes purposely avoiding mine. And then he looked away. I turned around in my seat, confused that he wouldn’t acknowledge me. I mean, I see him every day. I spun back around to face my friend, but I saw something different in his face this time. His eyes were blinking and red, his lip was quivering. I stared at him, puzzled. What is happening? I wondered. I saw him sniffle, and his bangs fell in front of his eye.

Fear enveloped me as I realized what was happening. He was crying. He was crying. He was literally about to cry. Him, the boy who rarely showed emotion, with a stone-hard expression. My friend was about to cry on the bus, on our way to school.

The fear I felt was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Worse than the time I lost my phone and had to run all over the neighborhood to get it back. Worse than when my best friend and I lied to my parents and went to an adult concert on our own. This fear was worse than anything I’ve ever felt, and I didn’t know why.

He just couldn’t be crying. Not there, not anywhere. I mean, he gets angry. He smiles. He doesn’t cry, though. What happened to cause this phenomenon? I could feel myself shaking. I thought I was going to be sick. How could he be this upset? If he can fall apart, then what could happen to someone like me?

I felt tears stinging my eyes and a lump in the back of my throat. I turned and saw he was still trying to look normal.

This time, he met my eyes. “You okay?” I whispered. He nodded. I turned back in my seat. I didn’t want to push him. But the terror I felt persisted.

I’m not sure what exactly about this situation made me feel like this. Maybe it’s because I care about him and didn’t like seeing him upset. Maybe it’s because I’d never seen him like that and didn’t like change. Maybe I was scared of whatever was making him cry. Or maybe it was that the pedestal I guess I had put him on was crumbling.

Whatever it was, the feeling has stayed with me. What I realize now is that he’s just a person. He’s not anything more because he’s strong, not anything less because he cried. He’s not a hero, just like the rest of us. We’re all just human.