unbreak the broken ✘ shawn hunter (BMW)

E I G H T E E N

Almost every single photo has been ruined. I look at the two piles in front of me; one of a stack of pictures that are so burnt, they're unrecognizable and I'm going to throw them away, the other with maybe a dozen pictures that are slightly burnt on the edge, but not enough for me to let them go.

Looking at the pile I'm throwing out hurts, almost making me physically ill. Years of my life I will be putting in a trash can, never to be seen again.

In the pile of okay-photos, the majority is from Halloween. I guess they landed at the top of the pile or out of the fire, because most of them were saved and just have a dark shadow from smoke damage, small crispy edges.

I get up and bring the destroyed pile to the kitchen, letting them fall out of my hand into the trash, but not from my memory.

The smell of bleach wafts in the air; I spent the last day cleaning up the apartment. I'm not sure they know what a mop is, but I found one in the closet and used it. The water was almost brown once I was done.

The kitchen is spotless. I figured it was the least I could do for them letting me stay while they're not here.

I'm getting a bit bored now, and the guys won't be back for another two days. I've been watching T.V. but it doesn't keep me entertained for long. I have work in an hour so I'll be busy then.

I sit back on the couch and look at the pictures left; Topanga and I smiling with each other at her place before the party. I thought I gave her the picture of her and Cory, but it was sitting here with the others. Angela and Shawn's picture got out pretty well - fitting.

The bottom of the pile is the picture of Shawn and I. I admire how happy we look, how close we're standing next to each other. My eyes stay on his arm that's wrapped tightly around my waist.

I put it down, not wanting to dwell on something that's not real any longer.

I wander around the apartment, finding myself go into the bathroom and stare at my jaw for a little bit. It's a harsh blue-black color right now. I assume the green will be setting in soon; the ugliest stage of a bruise.

As I continue staring at myself, I hear a door open and close, footsteps, and then another door open and close.

"Hello?" I call out to the possible thief, possible murderer.

Nobody answers me.

I walk out of the bathroom and look around. All of the bedroom doors are shut so I have no idea which one it was. Are the guys home?

I go back to the couch, preparing myself to run out of the apartment when the criminal decides to reveal themselves as a serial killer.

Shuffling around comes from Shawn's bedroom, and out he walks a couple minutes later. He goes straight for the kitchen, not offering me a single glance or greeting.

I walk to the counter and lean against it, "Why are you back so soon?"

He doesn't respond for a minute, standing still and making no noise. He finally speaks up, "Didn't want to invade the Matthew's house for the entire break, so I came back early."

Even though he's not looking at me, I nod in understanding. "Have a good Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah."

Not sure what else to say in response to the boy who doesn't want to talk, I walk back to the couch and sit down.

Shawn continues making himself a sandwich while ignoring me.

I'm assuming he finishes because he turns around looks directly at me and rolls his eyes, not liking that I took his spot on the couch.

"It stinks like bleach in here."

"I cleaned the house while you guys were gone," I respond.

"This smell is giving me a headache," Shawn complains. "Next time go easy on the cleaning product."

I quietly apologize. What is his issue?

Sitting at the stool at the counter, he turns around for the first time since he got back and looks at me, "Why are you here?"

Shocked that he one, looked at me, and two, doesn't know why I'm here already, I'm about to answer his question when he scoffs.

"Ah, I see," Shawn turns again so his back is facing me. "Get knocked around again? Too naive to realize that as long as you go home you're a punching bag? You do it to yourself, yet come here every time asking to be rescued."

Ouch. Hit me where it hurts, Hunter.

I stand up and grab my box, shoving almost all of the photos on top of the pieces of my camera. I have been borrowing Jack's clothes with his permission because I was too afraid to face Keith alone, so I have nothing else here for me.

I grab the last photo and walk it over to the counter. I slam it next to Shawn's half-empty plate.

"Don't worry, Shawn," I spit his name out, "I know when I'm invading. And trust me, I won't come here for rescuing, again."

I feel my face heating up, look at the photo of Shawn and I one more time. I don't want to look at it ever again. It just proves how little a camera knows. How false an image could be.

I turn on my heels and walk straight to the door, heading to work a little bit early.