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Michael being a trans guy, Stormy being nonbinary, and they both casually talk about it while Shaun is hanging around like a ghost. Shaun is always quiet; as though there's nothing that could be added, as though there's so much to say but nothing coming out. They both notice, of course, but they never say anything, they just give Shaun a warm smile, an invitation if it's ever wanted. And Shaun is terrified to tell them. Shaun is afraid of being anything other than what people told her to be growing up. She realized who she is at some point in adulthood, but she's been quiet about it. She's always second-guessing, doubting herself, worried she'd intrude or that she doesn't have a right to talk about it- and when she finally says something, late one night when they're all on the couch... she is shocked.
They extend their arms for her to join the conversations at the table. They listen to her even when she still doesn't understand the words, the feelings she's kept locked in a cage for so long. Stormy is beaming when she calls Shaun her girlfriend, and it makes her heart do flips. Michael and Patrick start calling her their little sister, they look at her with fondness and warmth and understanding. And she doesn't get it. She's still afraid, as though this is a trap that will eventually shut. But now, she knows that they're going to help her through it, every step of the way. They help her when she starts growing her hair out. They help her when she picks out a skirt, when she's nervously looking up how estrogen works and if she wants to take it. She does. They hold her hand tight the first few times, and they're so happy for her.
Eventually, she wakes up in the middle of the night, curled up on the couch with the other two, and she realizes it in the silence: She is safe. She has always been safe here.
Short fic I wrote for Valentines Day... not a ship-centric fic, though. More just emotional and with a hopeful ending! I'm going to be putting it on AO3, but this one is short enough to also just put on here directly. :)
I hope you like it!
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Shaun was angry- no, he was more than angry. Honestly, he couldn't tell you why; not without thinking too hard about it, losing himself in the background noise of it all. Not without his knuckles going white around the steering wheel, eyes narrowed and looking down at the road. He refused to look anywhere else.
Ever since the motel- god, the fucking motel- he'd been driving aimlessly. He'd gotten a strange note, after his first couple days of being alone, but he threw it away almost as quickly as he'd gotten it. Something told him it'd only bring him bad news down the line, and trusting his gut was all he knew to do right now.
The car was dead silent, and it made him angry. When he tried to play the radio, it made him even angrier. He wanted to slam his hands against the fucking thing until it broke- until it broke into a million pieces.
His hands were shaking.
Trying in vain to unclench his jaw, he breathed out a long, slow sigh, mind swimming with too many thoughts at once. He needed to breathe- or, maybe he didn't. Maybe this was a suicide mission. He didn't want to think about it.
Pulling off the side of the road for just a moment, he decided to take a quick break. He needed to smoke. He needed to clear his head. He stopped the car, and leaned his head back in his seat.
He told himself he was going out to smoke. But… he didn't. He felt glued to his spot, too angry and anxious and fucked up to move.
Sighing, his eyes quietly wandered to the small bundle of CDs still stashed away into the glovebox, now hanging partly open after he'd rummaged through it for something earlier. Maybe if he put something of his own on, he'd calm the fuck down. He could go out, have a smoke without worrying about dropping his cigarette, and get back on the road. Get back to driving to god knows where.
He pulled one out, staring at the cover. Some metal band. That wouldn't help. He grabbed another one. The Mountain Goats. That'd make him feel much, much worse. He sighed, feeling anger beginning to creep back into his bones, just when he thought he'd found a distraction.
He grabbed at one more- one he didn't recognize, and raised an eyebrow at the cover. It was plain white, and had two… stick-figure looking dogs, on the front. Looked like some fluffy little indie band.
And, then he realized it. Oh. Oh. This was one of Michael's CDs. One he'd probably never heard before.
Despite everything telling him not to, his face morphed into a grimace. He really didn't want to be thinking about Michael, not after… no. He'd rather be thinking about anything, anyone else.
Well, almost anyone.
Sighing, he looked at the CD player in the front of the car. Well… it couldn't necessarily hurt. It was probably something kinda whiny, kinda sad and melancholy… Shaun told himself he'd never liked the sound of it. He knew he was lying. He remembered what he liked in middle school. Either way, it couldn't hurt.
He sat back in his seat, taking the CD out with a level of care that he didn't want to process right now. Putting it in, he pressed the play button and waited.
And waited.
He could hear the faint scratching from inside the player, and he cursed. Michael must've not been taking great care of the thing, if it couldn't even play. He pressed a few buttons- the forward, the backwards, stop and start, before feeling frustrated enough to even hit the player with the back of his hand a little. Hitting a TV used to fix it when he was a kid, so…
To his shock, it actually started to play… something. He didn't even know if it was the first song or not, but he finally got something going.
He heard the first few strums of a guitar, harsh crackles of static filtering through… from what he assumed was the disc being scratched.
Stop Smoking, We Love You.
Shaun blinked, ears focusing in on the lyrics. Was this seriously… an anti-smoking song, of all things? He almost scoffed. Maybe this was Patrick's album, not Michael's.
Stop Smoking, We Love You.
He could feel his stomach turn ever so slightly, as he sat in silence.
Stop Smoking, We Love You.
What was he feeling right now? Something… something about this was rubbing him in all the wrong ways, and he almost considered turning it off.
He felt like Michael was staring at him, brown eyes as intense as ever, speaking the words himself. He could see his face- he could see the way his brows were crinkled with worry.
Stop Smoking, We Love You.
He could see Patrick, half dead in the snow after walking over to him while he was smoking. He could see his lidded eyes, the blood running down his face. He could see the relief that crossed his eyes when Shaun immediately dropped what he was doing and ran to him. He wondered if he'd looked relieved, too.
And We Don't Want You To Die.
Shaun felt his hands get gently grasped in someone else's, and he looked down. He was in his old house, he was warm, his long hair brushing against his ears. He could see the fuzzy outline of the grey-blue hoody he knew he was never going to see again.
He looked up, and was met with worried eyes, specks of green and blue swirling into her pupils.
And his heart stopped.
"We don't want you to die," Stormy said, her hand brushing against his cheek. He could've sworn she was tearing up- or was he? He didn't know.
He blinked, and he could see the snow outside his car. It looked so similar to the night when Patrick had come to sit next to him, to… vaguely encourage him. Maybe threaten him. Or both.
A small, innocent voice in his head wished that he would come back, now. If he sat here for long enough, maybe then he would come find him. Maybe he…. No, he made his choice.
He just wished he wasn't starting to regret it, now of all times.
We Don't Want You To Die.
He was blinking, more and more frequently. Only when he felt his chest heaving did he realize he was starting to sob.
He tried to stop it, of course- maybe hold his breath, maybe think about something happier, but everything melted into the fuzzy pictures of his family, his friends…. Stormy.
The name crashed into his brain, and he doubled down into tears.
We Don't Want You To Die.
Maybe he was never really all that angry. Maybe… Maybe he just…
Maybe he needed someone more than ever right now.
We Don't Want You To Die.
Maybe running away was never going to work.
We Don't Want You To Die.
He shakily turned the car on. He angled his phone towards him, looking at the GPS. Michael would be angry. He had a lot to say, he had a lot to think about.
He had a lot to apologize for.
But… with a sinking feeling in his gut, he knew there was only one way to make things right, in the end. It might mean nothing, but for once in his life… he wanted to try.
Exiting the car, he stood for a long few moments, considering something.
After a pause, he walked over to an unused trash can, and threw his cigarettes away.
Maybe he could start to let himself think about things again. Let himself remember why he was doing this, and who he was fighting for. As hazy images crossed his mind, as her face burned into his skull, as tears still flowed freely from his eyes… he let himself smile, just a little.
Just this once, for her sake.
He entered in the coordinates of the motel they'd been staying in, and he started to drive.
