Shawn's Voice

XxX XxX XxX 15 years old XxX XxX XxX

“LLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKK!”

Shawn winced a little at the piercing squeal of Leanne, Ryan’s little 4-year-old cousin.

“Jesus!” Ryan groused from his position leaning over Shawn as they both peered into the fridge looking for a mid-night snack.

It was 1 a.m., now officially Christmas. Shawn was staying over at Ryan’s house and they had stayed up late playing a marathon game of Far Cry.

“You shouldn’t say Jesus.” Leanne scolded, “It’s a bad word.”

“No, it’s not, dork.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “It’s Christmas today and you don’t even know who Jesus is? Jesus...”

“It sure sounds like a swear.” Leanne said with a stubborn tilt of her chin.

“What are you doing up, anyways?”

“I heard footsteps and thought it might be Santa.”

“Well, it’s not. It’s just us, so go back to bed.”

“But look!” She pointed up above their head.

Someone had hung a plastic twig of mistletoe from the light above the fridge.

The little girl looked at them expectantly. “You gotta kiss now.”

“That’s just for boys and girls, Lee-Lee.” Ryan explained, voice tight.

“Nah-uh. Mommy said that girls can kiss girls and boys can kiss boys.”

Ryan refrained by pointing out this was because her mother was paving the way for the day Leanne caught her and their nanny (their female nanny) sucking face. Ryan had heard his dad and his uncle (Leanne’s dad) talking about the catalyst for their divorce late one night.

“You gotta kiss, you gotta kiss!” Leanne practically shrieked.

“Cool it!” Ryan hissed, “You’re gonna wake the whole house up.” He felt Shawn tense at the loud noise, his face pinkening. The blond hunched forward a little, fridge swinging closed. “And you’re making Shawn uncomfortable.”

“Kissssssssssssssss!”

Ryan rolled his eyes and then turned a little. He carefully, slowly reached out and tucked Shawn’s slightly-too-long hair behind his ear before pressing his dry lips lightly to the corner of Shawn’s cheek near his mouth.

“There. Happy? Now go to bed. Scram.”

Leanne took off towards the stairs, giggling all the way. Gradually, the kitchen faded back into silence.

Ryan looked at Shawn, who was studiously avoiding his gaze. “You okay?”

Shawn nodded once, still looking down at his bare toes.

“It’s not like...It was nothing, right?”

Shawn nodded again, eyes flickering up.

Ryan huffed, halfway between a humourless chuckle and an exhale. “Right. C’mon let’s go upstairs. I’m tired.”

They trudged upstairs, snack forgotten.

Back in Ryan’s bedroom, Shawn stopped in front of the bed, feeling unexpectedly awkward about their sleeping arrangements. He stared down at the grey sheets and patterned navy comforter. They were drawn back, their body impressions still wrinkled in the covers from before the mid-night snack search.

“Just get in bed, Blondie.” Ryan prompted, stopping behind him.

The words seemed to jolt Shawn out of his stupor. He climbed back into the bed, moving over against the wall.

Ryan turned off the lights and then slid into bed, too. For once, he was careful not to touch Shawn.

They lay there for a long time, listening to the soft hum of the furnace.

XxX XxX XxX 16 years old XxX XxX XxX

Shawn shivered against the cold and damp.

He was standing in the Hannah living room, the tree he and Ryan had picked out, cut down, and dragged back through the snow was leaning up against the wall by the fireplace. It was dripping with melting snow, just like Shawn was.

Ryan came bounding down the stairs, freshly changed out his own snow-covered clothes, “Okay, Blondie, I set some clothes out for you, go on up.”

Shawn nodded and obediently lopped up the stairs two at a time and went into Ryan’s bedroom. A pair of sweatpants and a hoodie lay on the bed, no boxers though. He was soaked through and it would be uncomfortable to keep his cold, wet boxers on. On the other hand, he felt self-conscious to go commando in Ryan’s clothes. Cautiously, he opened the top draw of Ryan’s dresser, looking for underwear. He grabbed a rolled up pair of plain grey cotton boxers at the bottom of the drawer and jumped when a folded paper fluttered out with it, onto the ground. Guilty, he stooped to pick up the paper to place it back into the drawer. The paper felt brittle, the folds creased and worn. He frowned quizzically, glimpsing colour on the paper... it couldn’t be....

Unfolding the paper, Shawn stared, incredulous, at the picture. It was drawn in crayon; a badly disproportioned plane. Shawn’s wobbly, 5-year-old scrawl spelled out his name with meticulous care in the bottom corner.

Their first Christmas together. Ryan had kept it all these years.

“Found the clothes?” Ryan yelled through the door, giving it a light bang.

“Uh...yeah.” Shawn hastily folded the paper back up and shoved it into the drawer.

“Hurry up, then. I got the tree in the stand, let’s get this baby decorated.”

Shawn hastily dragged the boxers on and then the sweats. He closed the drawer and rushed out of the room.

XxX XxX XxX 17 years old XxX XxX XxX

It was three days before Christmas and he was hiding from Ryan. There was no way around it. Shawn had turned off his computer and his phone and he wasn’t answering the door despite the persistent bouts of knocking he heard.

Sometime after dinner, the knocking started up again, this time however, snowballs started to pelt his windows.

He peeked out, knowing exactly what he would see.

Ryan stood in the yard, heavy black coat on, snowball formed in his mitted hands. He caught sight of Shawn and raised his voice. “Come down here.”

When there was no response, Ryan pitched the ball with perfect aim, smashing it on the window, “Shawn, come down and open the door, I know you’re in there.” There was a pause and then Ryan yelled, frustration clearly mounting. “I’m not leaving until you do.”

Shawn realized it was true, he would have to face him or Ryan would stand out there all night. Shawn went the stairs, stopping to put on a pair of sunglasses and brush his fingers through his hair to comb his bangs forward before opening the door.

Ryan took one look at him and growled, “What the fuck is that?”

Damn...Ryan had always had this supernatural ability to see all the things Shawn tried to hide. In this case, the purpling bruise on the edge of his left eye.

“Nothing.” Shawn mumbled, self-consciously touching the sunglasses. Way to bring attention to it, genius, Shawn mentally jeered himself while forcing his arm back down to his side.

“Did somebody hit you?” Ryan snarled. Shawn felt a sliver of fear for that imaginary someone, ‘cause Ryan looked as pissed as hell and ready to rip someone apart. Ryan being pissed off, pissed Shawn off more, because he was a fucking guy, not some girl that Ryan had to protect or watch out for. Moreover, he wasn’t the small kid who needed Ryan’s help with bullies any longer. At 17, Shawn could take care of himself.

Shawn decided to just go back in; it had been a stupid idea to come out anyway. He had only done it because he thought seeing Ryan would make him feel better - not worse. Shawn turned to retreat back into the house.

Ryan’s hand reached out and grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?!” Before Shawn could even decide if he was going to try to answer that, Ryan’s other hand was up, pulling off the glasses. And his expression grew even more vicious, as he demanded again, “Who hit you?”

Shawn tried to get ‘leggo’ through his lips but the word wouldn’t form, Shawn could hear this pathetic angry whine escape his throat as he jerked free of Ryan’s hand and tried again to walk away.

“Shawn!” Ryan growled, catching Shawn’s shoulders with both hands, pulling him around. “All I need is a name.”

“It was an accident.”

Ryan stared at him piercingly, mind working through the possibilities, analyzing ever word, sound, and expression. “It was your dad,” he finally concluded darkly.

“Ry...”

“Shawn.”

“It’s not like that. He was...” drunk. It went without saying. Shawn pressed his lips together and jerked out of Ryan’s hold. “You know he’s worse at Christmas...”

“Don’t go back in there.” Ryan’s voice edged between beseeching and ordering. “Come home with me.”

“I...can’t...”

“Yes, you can.”

“No...your parents...they’d see.” Shawn gestured to his eye. “And they...wouldn’t understand.”

Ryan stared at him, eyes uncompromising. “Fine. But you’re not going back in alone. I’ll stay with you.”

“Ry...”

“No, Shawn. I am.”

Shawn sighed, but knew fighting Ryan on this would be hopeless.

The blond went back into he house and Ryan followed, closing the door behind himself.

Shawn’s house was never filthy, but it was never really clean either. Ryan always pretended not to notice, but it would be impossible not to see the dust covered furniture, the dirty dishes stacked in the sink, and the empty bottles littered throughout the house, and one couldn’t possible not smell the odour of scotch and mildew that characterized the blond’s home.

Shawn’s dad was slumped over the table as the boys walked through the kitchen towards the stairs. He muttered, blearily, coming awake. “Shawn, baby?”

“Hey, Dad.”

“How was school? Are you hungry, baby?” He rubbed his blood-shot eyes, he looked childishly lost, “I meant to the go to the grocery store today, but I guess the time got away from me...”

“There was no school today, it’s Christmas vacation.” Shawn answered stiffly. “And, I picked up some groceries yesterday.”

“You don’t have to do that, baby. I could go out now, get us some pizza, or something from that Thai place. You like Thai, don’t you, baby?” His dad stumbled up from the table, almost knocking over the empty bottle as he reached out to grasp Shawn’s elbow but missed.

“Good evening, Mr. Peters.” Ryan spoke politely, stepping between Shawn and his father.

“Ryan!” Mr. Peters was immediately distracted by the larger boy. “I haven’t seen you in so long. Why don’t you come around more often?”

Shawn’s expression was flat. Ryan was at their house as much as Shawn was himself. Mr. Peters wasn’t terribly observant when he was...well, ever.

Ryan just nodded, the muscles in his jaw tense. “Sure thing, Mr. Peters. I’ll keep coming over until Shawn gets sick of me.”

Shawn’s dad clasped him on the shoulder. “Such a good boy, Ryan.”

Shawn rolled his eyes, tugging lightly at Ryan’s other sleeve, attempting to free him from his dad’s drunken fumbling. “Okay, Dad, we’re going to watch a movie in my room.”

“Alright boys, have fun. Le’ me know if you want me to get that Thai later...”

Shawn nodded silently and pulled Ryan away, leading him up the stairs.

Although that hadn’t necessarily been the plan when he had mentioned it to his dad, Shawn did end up putting a DVD into his laptop and both boys lay on the bed to watch. It was late when the movie ended and Shawn yawned involuntarily. “Bed?”

“I’m staying.” Ryan looked at the bruise around Shawn’s eye as he spoke; his words steeped in finality. Shawn just shrugged. With that silent agreement procured, Ryan stretched and dragged himself up to the bathroom. When he came back, Shawn was already in a pair of black pyjama pants and a faded grey t-shirt.

Shawn rolled under the sheets, Ryan crawled in after him, taking off his belt, but otherwise staying dressed. Ryan pressed himself onto the blonde’s side of the bed, forcing Shawn close to the wall.

It was their usual position. Shawn liked being blocked in between Ryan and the wall, he supposed it had something to do with his anxiety disorder – the confinement made him feel safe. Shawn considered it fortunate that Ryan claimed he had to be on the outside because he liked being able to get in and out of bed without crawling over top of someone.

Not long after Shawn fell asleep, a loud noise woke him. He could hear his dad stumbling around downstairs, and then the sound of breaking glass. In the dark, Ryan’s hand landed firmly on his back. “What me to go check on him?”

Shawn could hear the faint sound of retching now. He shook his head. Let his dad sleep in the bed he made.

Ryan didn’t push it. He shifted in the bed to get comfortable; coincidently it had the additional benefit of trapping Shawn more securely against the wall, helping him relax further.

“Tell me about Christmas.” Shawn prompted softly.

“Well, the cousins will be coming over. And mom’s already started to bake. We’ll have pancakes and open presents, and you’ll let my dad beat you at whatever board game he picks out. I’ve already picked out...”

Ryan’s hand started rubbing soft circles on Shawn’s back, he continued the motion until the downstairs went quiet and Shawn fell back asleep.