Boy Meets World does not belong to me. None of the characters (except Abi) are mine. Enjoy!!!
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It was a cool night. The New York traffic moved lazily on the streets below the apartment on 4th and Main. A chilly breeze startled the aluminum blinds and sneaked under the thin sheets that covered his tossing body. Shawn woke in a cold sweat and sat bolt upright in his bed. His eyes hastily scanned his surroundings. The light peeking in through his window searched all but the tiny shadows in the far corner of the studio. A closer look revealed the emptiness of the room – a small desk in the corner, a mediocre bookshelf against the opposing wall, a three-drawer dresser adjacent to it and a hamper next to the bathroom door (open and the room bare) – but his heart was pounding inside his chest. He breathed heavily. He knew he was not alone. The room suddenly began to close in around him. He was getting dizzy. He had to get out of there. He pulled on his jeans, grabbed his jacket and his pistol (after all it is New York after dark) and gave the room one last scan before opening the door.
He found himself wandering the streets aimlessly. Occasionally he had to stop and find out where he was. He didn't know why he was walking so fast and he certainly had no idea what was troubling him but…there was the feeling again. He could almost feel his inner demons breathing down the back of his neck. He started breathing heavily again as his pace quickened. He began to sweat. What he hell is going on? Who are you? What do you want from me? Out of the blue, he began racing for his life, making last minute dashes down alleyways, bounding over fences, and dodging whatever traffic there was, never letting himself slow down. If I could only run faster, I could lose…I could lose… What was it that he was running from anyway? Oh, well. It didn't matter then anyway. If you hear bullets, you don't wander over and see what's shooting at you, you run! You get out of there! And that was exactly what he was doing now – running – getting out of there.
He made a mad dash into the next available alleyway and found himself face to face with a brick wall. He was trapped! Whatever it was that he was running from had finally caught up with him and it was time to face the music. He closed his eyes, turned around and braced himself against the brick wall. He could hear it! He could hear and feel its hot, sticky breath beating on his face. He held his arms up to block his face and sank to the ground moaning and crying in horror. "Who are you! What do you want from me!" he screamed. He could feel it getting closer. The sound of his heart beating battling with the sound of its breath roaring echoed through his head. His ears started to ring and he couldn't take it anymore! He bellowed weakly "What do you want from me!" He began sobbing relentlessly when all of a sudden…it stopped. It was gone. He was alone in the alleyway. His heart settled, his ears stopped ringing, his body stopped sweating, but he kept weeping. He felt unthreatened and safe now, but he was still frightened. "Oh, God…" he mumbled, "Help me…" And he rested his head on the wall and drifted off to sleep.
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"Hey! Wake up! You're in my alley!"
Shawn slowly opened his puffy, red eyes to see a dirty, blonde girl of about 19 dressed in tattered street clothes standing over him.
"That's right, up and at 'em!" she growled sarcastically.
"Where am I?" Shawn asked slightly dazed by the rude awakening.
"In my alley! My question for you is 'why?'" she shot back at the clearly confused – and clearly cute – man. Probably the victim of some gangbang she thought, but she was in no mood to be sympathetic today. She hadn't eaten in days, she hadn't showered in weeks, much less changed clothes, and even though he appeared shabby and unshaven, this was her turf. Tough luck to him if he ain't got his own!
Shawn sat puzzled at that question. All at once, quick flashbacks from the night before raced through his mind – that strange feeling, running for his life, bawling himself to sleep – it was all coming back to him now. It was like waking up with the most God-awful hangover in the history of mankind. "I think I had too much to drink last night and I accidentally ended up here," he lied, knowingly. He was not about to tell a complete stranger that he had had a nervous breakdown and cried himself to sleep against "her" brick wall.
But she knew better. She saw his tear stained eyes, but she did not find any trace of alcohol on him, not even on his breath. She guessed him as more of a suicide victim than an alcoholic. She may not have been book-smart but she sure as hell knew when she was being put on. "C'mon, you and I both know that ain't true." She said with a hint of empathy in her voice.
Shawn knew it very well and wanted to tell her the truth; but he didn't quite know why. She seemed friendly, for a New Yorker, and there couldn't be any harm in telling her at least a bit of the truth. "I was…uh…chased here…and I…uh…fell asleep here after I was…uh…cornered but shown mercy," he tendered as honestly as he could and even though she could tell he still wasn't telling her the whole truth, she knew it would be a waste of time to pry any longer and accepted that as a temporary answer.
She slumped down beside him and offered her name, "I'm Abi."
He took her hand and gave as hearty a handshake he could manage in his state.
"I'm Shawn," he replied to Abi, who just looked at him and smiled. He smiled back. There was just something about this girl, like he had seen her before or something – like he had known her, and if he hadn't before, he wanted to now.
The first thing that she noticed was how weak his grip was, which was evidence of being shaken up badly the night before. She didn't know why, but she was suddenly feeling more compassionate and pleasant (although she was still extremely pissed about her condition). She had never met a man whose very touch could sooth her before. The second thing she noticed was – needless to say – his amazing blue eyes. They were not piercing (like they were looking through her soul), and not quite gentle (because they were very bold), but slightly wounded (reflecting the emotion expressed by his grip) and very giving. Whoever said, "The eyes are the gateway to the soul" must have been talking about him. Instead of searching her soul, they were begging her to search his.
"So…where do you live?" was all she could think of at the moment.
"The apartment complex at 4th and Main, number 4-C," he returned leisurely.
"Cool," she responded as she thought Cool! Cool! I said cool! What the hell is wrong with me?
Cool? Shawn thought to himself. He chuckled inside and gave a slightly bashful grin. An awkward silence filled the alley. Abi shuffled her feet and offered, "Why don't I walk you home?"
He replied in full honesty, "Oh, you don't have to do that…"
"C'mon, Shawn! Those 'hangovers' can be hell, and we wouldn't want you hurling all over the sidewalks now, do we?" she shot back at him slyly.
Shawn knew he had been caught and felt the thrill of a new chase all together run down his spine. "All right, you got me!" he said throwing his hands up in mock surrender then braced them on his knees and pushed himself up. Abi sprang up right after him and he held out his arm, "Shall we?" He flashed his signature grin and she felt bubbles rise in the pit of her stomach.
