In hindsight, Jon should have listened to Eric Matthews and checked the forecast in the morning news. It would have saved him a lot of trouble that night.

Originally, he had planned to go out with a group of friends from college; grab some beers and reminisce the old times. It was a yearly tradition and up until then he had never missed one of those gatherings. To his dismay, though, it had started snowing considerably early in the afternoon; therefore, he had to halt his plans while he was already ninety miles away from Philadelphia, and spend the following five hours sat in a diner because all the buses had been delayed due to the snow.

By the time he made it back home, it had stopped snowing for the most part, but his plans had been suspended for the time being. The English Lit teacher found that he was not too upset; after all, hanging out with the teen currently taking sanctuary in his apartment did not sound too bad for a plan b.

However, he was surprised when, in place of a teen sat in front of the TV with chips and a can of cola on his lap, what he encountered was a dark apartment. He opened the door, and the name that he was just about to call for died on the tip of his tongue as he noticed that all the lights were off.

His watch indicated that it was only half past ten; too early for his kid- for Shawn to be in bed on a Friday night. Maybe the teen had sneaked in with a girl and was currently hiding, so he called out for him anyway.

As expected, he received no response. Not thinking too much of it, he flipped on the lights and shed his coat and scarf, letting out a sigh of contentment when the warmth of the apartment settled in his bones and the slight ache in his joints began to subdue.

Mindlessly, he looked for the teen in his bedroom as he tried to remember if he had mentioned any plans for that Friday, but he was not there either. Little Cory greeted him instead, and Jon -who had warmed up to the little animal and had taken a liking to him- gave him a pat on his little head.

He inspected the boy's room in search of a note, but upon finding nothing, apprehension quickly bloomed at the bottom of his stomach. He tried to tone it down and told himself that maybe Shawn was just at Cory's or out with a girl; he had the attention span of a toddler, so it would not actually be strange that he had forgotten to inform the adult of his whereabouts -it would not even be the first time, but Jon liked to think they had been making progress on that regard. With that thought, he made his way to the kitchen and started putting out random ingredients to make something to eat. Maybe the kid had not had dinner yet.

That did not lessen his anxiety, though; they had made progress. It had taken them over a year to get there, but for the past three weeks Shawn had let Jon know where he would be going and with whom. Hence, after ten minutes of chopping a questionable amount of onions that would probably last them for a whole week, he gave up on the task.

He washed his hands, put the cut-up onions in a tupperware and headed for the phone. Cory's number was now on speed dial.

The phone rang three times before Cory picked up; his voice dripped concern.

"Shawn?!" The breathless way Matthews let out his best friend's name did nothing to help Jon's worry. "Shawn, Shawnie, how did it go? How are you?!"

Upon hearing the other kid, he wasted no time and looked for his coat, his scarf and keys right away; his phone squeezed between his shoulder and ear. "Matthews? What's going on?"

The string of questions leaving Cory's lips abruptly stopped. Jon gripped the phone tighter.

"Mr. Turner?" Cory's voice had gone softer. "Aren't you with Shawn?"

Jon was sure his knuckles had turned white. "I obviously am not! Now, spill the beans, Matthews. Where is Hunter?"

"I-I- he told me he'd go with you! I would've called you otherwise!" Cory was panicking, and frankly, Mr. Turner had no time for that right now. Endless possibilities, one worse than the other, went through his mind as Cory's labored breathing echoed in his ears through the phone line.

Why would he have lied to Cory?

Had he taken off to who the fuck knew where? Had he joined a gang like Eddie's? Was he safe?

"Matthews, speak. Now."

As if it was in the middle of one of his classes, the severity of his voice stopped Cory mid-speech. "I know you've covered for him your whole life, but if there is a chance that he is in danger, you will be a good friend only if you spit it out."

That did the trick. "He said he was meeting up with his dad."

The blood in Jon's body ran cold.

"What?"

Cory's mouth went overdrive, and Jon had to stop him halfway through once again. "Matthews, I don't understand a single thing you've said."

"I only let him go on his own because he told me you'd be with him."

Exasperated, Jon did not measure his next words, the sarcasm vivid and biting in his tone. "And you believed him?"

He took a deep breath in.

"Do you know where they were supposed to meet?"

"No." As an afterthought, Cory added, "he is very good at avoiding questions."

"Okay." Jon assessed the situation they found themselves in. It was just his father; the man would never harm him, but what worried him was not that. What worried him was the imminent disappointment Shawn was about to face, and what the kid's reaction would be afterwards. "Okay. I will take care of it, you did the right thing to tell me."

Without further ado, he hung up the phone, and stopped to think. Outside his window a wide blanket of white seemed to expand endlessly, it was still a few degrees under zero; Jon could only hope Shawn was somewhere warm.

Rationally, he knew Shawn had the right to see his father. Deserved it. But he did not trust Chet Hunter one bit; not when he had so easily handed his son's documents to his teacher as if the kid was nothing but a bag filled with hand-me-downs; passing him over to a relative stranger like an old t-shirt. Not when he had had to witness the heartbreak on Shawn's face every time he waited for a letter that never arrived; not when he had been the one to tell the kid to go to bed after hours of staring at a phone that never rang.

Not when he was now Shawn's legal guardian, and had been trusted to take care of him and protect him, -even from his own father.

Once he had collected his keys and a thick jacket for Shawn, he rushed out of the apartment, flying down the stairs as if his life depended on it. Maybe a little bit of it actually did.

Forty-two minutes passed as he rode his Harley around the block, to the trailer park, to Mike Hunter's shop, to the school, to Chubbies. Everywhere he could think of.

His presence was not welcome at the trailer park. Except for one of Shawn's aunts, who expressed her gratitude for what he was doing, no one spoke to him. She told him about her brother's plan to stop by Philadelphia, but soon Eddie took her away. On the other hand, Mike Hunter had not heard from Chet; and thus, did not have any idea that they were meeting.

At school, Janitor Bud swore no kid had broken in, and even helped him take a look around the campus. Meanwhile, at Chubbie's, none of the kids had been in contact with Shawn since their last class that day.

Hours later, the tip of his nose had already become pinkish due to the cold, and he could only pray to the heavens that Shawn had not forgotten to wear more than one layer.

He continued riding his bike to random places, and just when desperation was rising to a level that made him want to take his hair out with his fisted hands, he remembered a little detail Shawn had said in passing one day at school.

It had been one of those 'my dad always says' remarks he would often throw here and there, but Jon had shut him down because they had been in the middle of a test. His second test with Shawn's class, back in seventh grade when they were all new in John Adams High. Back when he was blissfully unaware that the unruly, laid-back kid would become someone important to him. That time, Shawn had mentioned a bar Chet used to visit with his brothers and cousins.

When the name and address finally came to him, he took off so fast he almost lost control of his bike for a split second. Once in front of the bar, he stormed inside, looking for the Hunters among the crowd of drunkards. A bar was no place for a fourteen-year-old, but neither was a trailer park with gangs, nor a bench at night, nor a cell, nor...

He was not there.

Jon went out of the bar, frustrated and angry at his own failure to find the student. He was so furious that, had he came face to face with Chet Hunter in that moment, he would have swung at him. He kicked a dumpster instead.

Whom did he think he was? What if he took Shawn away just to break his heart all over again? The kid was not a chew toy to be passing back and forth.

Defeated, he breathed in, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He was a rational man, he could not let the situation get to him; Shawn needed him to be clear-headed.

Shawn needed him. The thought almost revitalized him.

When he opened his eyes to continue his quest, he looked up, and squinted when his sight caught a very, very small bundle sat on a bench across the street, right by a bus stop and way too close to a group of loud men exchanging a suspiciously looking substance among themselves.

It was nearing three in the morning, not a time for a teen boy to be alone in the street -much less one with drug dealers and hookers nearby. Still, the teen boy in question was virtually safe, so Jon muttered his gratitude to whichever deity had heard him as he ran towards the bench.

The bundle jumped to his feet when Jon approached him, ready to run for his life, but then he saw whom the man was and his feet swayed as he stumbled. Jon caught him, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder.

It was not exactly rocket science to put two and two together. Anger rose up in Jon's throat once again; he did not have to ask to know that Chet had not shown up. "Shawn..."

The kid had, indeed, forgotten to bring a jacket. He had a hoodie on but that was just about it; he was shivering, his lips had a blueish tint, and tiny speckles of snow had caught on his hair and lashes.

"God, Shawn." Feeling a mix of exasperation and concern, Jon quickly placed the extra jacket he had brought around the boy's shoulders. Shawn appreciatively put his arms through the sleeves, hugging himself to fight off the biting cold.

Relief and fear washed over the man as the adrenaline quickly died down, overwhelming him to a point that he could barely think straight.

"Are you crazy?" Jon then took off his mittens, and grabbed the kid's hands, hastily putting them on. His own hands were shaking for reasons not at all related to the cold.

"I'm stupid, that's what I am." Shawn could barely speak, but the sadness and disappointment were far too raw for Jon not to notice. "He promised me we would hang out... and talk."

Shawn scowled at a spot on the ground. Jon held onto his shoulders as he helped him walk towards the bike, and the amorphous ball of emotions that had built on suddenly took the shape of anger.

"And so what? You decide to risk your life over it? What were you even thinking, sitting there, waiting for what? Death?"

Shawn still had the strength to look offended, but he lost all credibility when he pushed Jon away and almost lost his footing again.

They reached the bike, Shawn hopped on it with some difficulty, saying nothing. Jon put his helmet on the kid's head, and before getting on as well, he said; "it's not your fault."

Shawn just scoffed.

The ride back home was fast, because Jon desperately needed to bring Shawn somewhere warm. The boy held onto his back, and Jon did not have the patience to help him up the stairs so he just grabbed him by his legs and hoisted him up on his back. Shawn was taken aback, but other than making it clear that he was not crippled and did not need anyone's help, he did not protest much.

They had reached the third floor when Shawn spoke again. "If it's not my fault, then whose is it? I don't see anyone else being dumped like trash."

There was no fire to his voice; in fact, it was hardly above a whisper, and Jon had to strain his ear to hear him clearly. Jon was angry, but he continued his way to the fifth floor without saying a word. Shawn had burrowed his face into the man's neck, as if he was a child scared of the outside world. The teacher knew that deep, deep down, he was. In all of his abrasiveness, Shawn was just a kid; a neglected, abandoned kid. Thinking about it made bile rise in Jon's throat.

Jon had never considered himself stuck-up, but growing up with a silver spoon, he had been sheltered from the world's harshest realities. Years down the line, he had become sort of an idealist, especially as a new college student who, as most new college students did, believed he could change the world. Even after leaving home and starting from scratch, penniless, that superficial heroism was hard to shake off.

But all of it, even if it came from a good place, had still been born from just that; idealism. In a way, it was him othering those whom he had wanted to reach, while still keeping a safe distance.

Circumstances, such as couch-surfing when he was unable to pay rent and nights with an empty stomach, made him realize how disingenuous his intentions had been; as if real life was one of those inspirational movies where the teacher changed the school's bad boy. He had matured, and was determined -maybe not to change the world, but to make a difference in his students' lives.

But this... situation with Shawn Hunter, the kid who slept through his first lecture and made him lose his marbles on a daily basis, was sobering, and far, far harsher than he had thought. Half the time, he did not know what he was doing. And then the rest of the time, he was sure of what he was doing until Shawn found a flaw in something Jon had said or done, and stormed out with a slam to the door.

Shawn was still shivering, despite the layers covering his body, so the adult's steps sped up, the urgency to take the teen to his apartment and get him warm increasing the closer they got. Jon climbed up the stairs like Shawn weighed nothing -which, to be fair, was not too far from the truth. Finally inside, he set Shawn on the couch, then rushed to retrieve a pile of blankets. After only a few minutes, Shawn had disappeared underneath several layers, with only his face peeking at the tip of the blanket burrito.

Finally coming to the realization that Shawn was safe, Jon saw red.

"What in the world were you thinking, Hunter?!" Jon paced back and forth, Shawn did not answer. "You know how dangerous what you did is?!"

"I just thought I could get to see dad. It's been over a year, man. But he bailed on me."

Jon deflated; Shawn was not being snippy nor sarcastic nor witty for once, so he figured to leave the scolding for later. He sat down on the couch, and looked at the kid, feeling so out of his area of expertise that he almost wanted to bolt. Their predicament was messy, exhausting, and infuriating.

As much as it pained him to say it, Mr. Feeny had been right; he had set foot into delicate territory the moment he offered a roof -with Shawn, that territory was often a mined land; you had to be careful with every step you took.

But none of it was Shawn's fault. So, even if Mr. Feeny was right, Jon would not walk out on him now. Or ever.

Remembering the conversation they had left unfinished not longer than an hour ago, Jon said, "it's your father's fault. Not yours."

Shawn rolled his eyes in a manner that told Jon he was tired of hearing that. "I doubt it."

"He failed to do his job as a dad."

"Don't you see it, Jon?" He raised his voice, visibly frustrated. "Mom left me, dad left me. The common denominator is me."

"So now you know your maths." Jon stood up to retrieve the beverage he had put on the stove, but also to give Shawn a second to breathe and cool down. When he came back to Shawn's side, he handed him a mug of steaming hot chocolate. Absentmindedly, he noticed that a tint of color had returned to Shawn's face; his shivers were mostly gone.

He thought of what to say for a minute. Shawn's abandonment issues ran deep, so he had to choose his words wisely if he wanted to get it through his thick skull.

"Why don't you think about all those who have stayed by your side, instead?" The kid looked up at him; big eyes begging the adult, who was supposed to be wiser, to give him a reason to hold onto. Sometimes, though, adults were clueless too. "There's Cory, Topanga... Mr. Feeny. All those people refuse to give up on you."

They were not his parents, though. And both Jon and Shawn knew that; but it was all he had to offer at the moment when Shawn seemed desperate to be told he was not expendable.

"Even Mr. and Mrs. Matthews."

It seemed as though Shawn was actually taking in what Jon had just said, and looked oddly satisfied.

It was almost four, Jon did not want to go to bed until Shawn had fallen asleep; just in case. So he started sorting out the kitchen, doing dishes and whatever activity he could come up with just to stall. Silence reigned in, only interrupted by the occasional clacking of cutlery or the gentle hum of the radiator.

He almost thought the teen had finally fallen asleep, but when he spoke up, his question took Jon aback. "What about you?"

He scowled at the boy, who did not look so lifeless anymore and had freed his arms from the cocoon of blankets, confused. "What about me?"

"You said all those people will not abandon me."

Oh. Jon understood right away.

"So... will you?"

Jon chuckled, berating himself for assuming Shawn would know by now that he was there to stay. So, he grabbed an envelope from his messenger bag, and threw it at Shawn's head playfully.

"Hey! What was that for?!"

"Just open it." Jon watched as the boy scowled and slowly opened the envelope. He suspected Shawn already had an idea of what was in it.

Shawn's eyes scrutinized the document in front of him as if he was trying to be sure of every single word. To make sure there were no loopholes or punchlines to a cruel joke. He blinked several times in evident disbelief.

When Shawn finally detached his eyes from the papers and smiled for the first time that night, Jon swore only then he could breathe again.

"You signed them."

"I hope that answers your question, Hunter."

Shawn put the documents in the envelope again, but did not give them back. "Good."

Exhaustion seemed to catch up with him, because his eyelids began to droop, so it was not long until he was fast asleep without even bothering to go to his room. Jon slowly untangled the envelope still in the kid's hand, and turned off the light.

With one last look at his protégée, he decided to go to bed himself.

He was now in charge of raising a teenager. And a hell of a complicated one, at that. Surely, his life would take an even more drastic turn in the following days, months, years; so needless to say, he was beyond scared to mess things up and make it even harder for the kid... but it would be okay; they had plenty of backup, anyway.