BOY MEETS WORLD

Afternoon light streaked in through the slightly sheer curtains on the window, mottled specks hitting the back of Shawn's head as he lay in Cory's bed, breathing in the fresh scent of his best friend from the pillow, mourning the impending end of their friendship while listening to "Shine" by Collective Soul on the boom-box next to the bed. Whenever he felt this down, he always ended up praying to God, asking for forgiveness for his stupidity, asking for help to make it right, to end the pain, the empty loneliness. His whole life he'd searched for love, for affection, for somewhere to belong, for someone to belong to, for roots, for warmth and comfort. It never worked out. It wasn't the kind of thing he could find in the thousands of warm lips that had been all over him. He still felt hollow. The only time he ever felt at home was with Cory.

Shawn remembered a time when his best friend had come to him in distress, saying that girls thought he was safe. He said he didn't want to be safe, he wanted to be dangerous like Shawn. It didn't make any sense to Shawn. He couldn't understand that, wanted to tell Cory how good it was to feel safe with him, that he was the only one, but the words died in his throat and sank back down to his heart, buried in the blood that flowed through him and kept him alive. It wasn't about him so if Cory wanted to be dangerous, Shawn would help as much as he could, knowing that it would never stick anyway. Cory was too Cory to be dangerous.

Smiling at the memory, paradoxical hot tears streaked down Shawn's pink cheeks, soaking into the pillow as he breathed in deeply again, the scent of salty sorrow mingling with Cory's own scent in a way that felt like they belonged together. Shawn contented himself with dreams, knowing he would never have the real thing. He imagined being a writer, published and everything, sitting in a cafe in downtown Philly, sipping a latte and reviewing the paragraphs he'd written that morning on his laptop, laughing at a joke Cory made, smiling at Topanga as she rolls her eyes and tries not to laugh. He knows it's a dream because Cory wraps an arm around him gives him a quick kiss on the mouth before he gets up to order them some muffins and Topanga is still smiling, looking radiant in a 3-piece suit because she's a lawyer and that's when he notices there's no ring on her finger. When Cory comes back, he sets down the muffins and picks up Shawn's left hand with his own, and Shawn sees that both of them have occupied ring fingers with matching rings. Somehow, the vision fills him with joy and makes him cry harder. He's startled out of his reverie when he hears a knock on the door. Before he can even think to hide, the door opens to reveal Alan holding little Joshua.

Wiping his face quickly, Shawn turns away from the door under the pretense of shutting off the music, taking the time to pull himself together while Alan gets comfortable on the bed.

"I thought you'd be out with the others. You seemed excited about the fundraiser carnival yesterday." Shawn lays on his back and prepares his answer while looking at the ceiling, hoping the lie doesn't sound too bad. Alan could always tell when he or Cory or Eric were lying. Morgan was the only one who got away with things, possibly because she was smart enough to handle whatever she needed to lie about. Shawn couldn't handle this but he didn't want to talk about it, not with anyone. It was something best left buried.

"I didn't feel real good today. Thought I'd crash here for a bit."

"You know you're always welcome here, Shawn. You don't have to hide up here."

"I know, I just didn't wanna bother anybody. You've got your hands full." Shawn gestures to a squirming Joshua with a smile and Alan puts the toddler down on the ground, watching as he makes a bee-line for Cory's old toy box, pulls out a baseball glove and starts slapping it on the ground, giggling. Shawn loved kids but he couldn't get past the idea that he'd be as bad as his own father so he couldn't even let himself get close lest he taint a child with his chronic contagious 'screw-up' disease.

"Alright, off with the kid gloves." Alan patted his knee before giving it a comforting squeeze. "Shawn, look at me."

The music played on, angst-ridden dulcet tones against a scratchy dissonant clash of guitars and drums, quiet enough to sound like his own mind whispering to him. The lull of "December" continued as he gathered up the courage to comply, tightening his abs and fists to bring himself to an upright position. Without meaning to, he curled his arms around his knees and hunched forward. He wasn't afraid of Alan, this man had clocked more fathering hours with him than anyone else in his life. Shawn was curled up like he could protect himself from the impact of saying his thoughts out loud. He had always known how important words are. Now especially, as a writer and poet, he can't get away from the meaning and the weight of words. Still, this was Mr. Matthews. If he could talk to anyone, he could talk to this man. This was the person who had yelled at him because he was worried about Shawn's drinking, who had almost beaten up a guy who had tried to recruit him to a cult, who took him in when his father was off chasing his mother, who always welcomed him. It wasn't Alan's job and Shawn didn't always act like he was grateful but he liked to think it was just parenting instincts so he couldn't help it, like a reflex, because the only other explanation was that Alan actually liked him and that didn't make any sense at all. Shawn Hunter was the 'bad influence' personified. A parent could tolerate him but like him? Anyway, Alan had a way of making him forget that. Looking at his socked feet making a dip in the bedspread, Shawn began to unravel.

"I didn't ask for this but no one ever does. I'm in love with the wrong person, like way beyond wrong, but I can't help it. I have tried everything. I pushed him away, I acted like a selfish asshole, I pretended I didn't like him... Nothing works. He just keeps--"

Shawn froze, cringing at the slip. Well, cat's out of the bag now.

"Does Cory know?" Looking up, he saw nothing but concern in Mr. Matthews' gaze and he felt like a little kid with a scraped knee, the responsible adult asking him if he's ok. He's not ok.

"I haven't told him. I know Cory isn't the kind of guy who'd care about a thing like that but he hates change, almost as much as I do. I don't think he'd be happy about it."

"Well, I think he'd feel bad, considering he's married and everything, but beyond that, it wouldn't affect your friendship. Topanga might smack you and say you should have mentioned it before the wedding but--"

"Wait, what? I... Hold on, I didn't say it was Cory."

"Oh please. For a while, we were expecting Cory to come home and introduce you as his boyfriend, after he worried over it needlessly the way he does. We were actually surprised when you kept getting him and Topanga back together. Not that we don't love Topanga, God knows she can do much better, but we just didn't expect it."

"No matter how I feel about Cory, I wouldn't break up his relationship. They're in love and happy and Cory doesn't feel that way about me."

Alan pursed his lips and squinted in thought before smiling. "Shawn, the only way you're going to feel better is if you tell him."

"No, I can't. It will ruin everything."

"Do you think Cory would want you suffering in silence like this?"

"Well, no but--"

"If it was the other way around, wouldn't you want him to tell you?"

"Yeah but--"

"No buts. Tell him. Then maybe later you can find a brillo-headed boy of your own." The room felt brighter and Shawn wasn't sure if it was the prospect of getting this weight off of his heart or the change of song to "Persuasion of You" but suddenly he was just a little bit hopeful.

Alan got up and took the baseball Joshua had found out of his mouth, then picked him up and walked to the door. "Lunch will be ready soon."

"Thanks, Mr. Matthews. Really." Alan nodded and closed the door. Leaning back down, Shawn buried his face in Cory's pillow, breathing in the scent of cucumber shampoo. It was the oddest scent, like a sweet salad, and it was just so ridiculously Cory that he had to laugh. He was scared shitless but Alan was right. If Cory found out Shawn had been keeping this from him, and worse, that it had been hurting him so badly, he'd be in for the longest lecture ever, complete with kicked-puppy looks that he never did learn how to resist. He still had time before everyone came back from their outing, and then his own 'outing' would commence. For now, he would lay in Cory's soft, warm bed atop the brown plaid sheets and just daydream about impossible thing, comforted by the fresh scent of cucumber.