2010
Shawn had been carrying around a secret all week. Memories had been replaying in his mind like dreams and he is sure Gus has suspicions, but other things are holding him back. His life is different here than it was when he'd run off those years ago. Things have changed moreso than when he was a child. Still, many other things remain the same. He and Gus have had some rocky revelations but, even when Gus's family broke apart from the sister fiasco, Shawn had apologized and Gus forgave him less than twenty-four hours after the fact. He keeps telling himself it'll be like that.
1983
Six-year-old Shawn and Gus run through the tall grass to reach an unsturdy, unfinished tree house in the woods, left behind by some older kids. They have made it their own - mostly with stickers on plywood and burying a lunchbox in its center. Throughout play, Shawn continuously holds Gus's hand. When Gus runs off toward the other side, Shawn easily catches up and reaches for his best friend's hand again.
2010
Shawn shakes his head, attempting to forget the rush he has just felt in recollection. Gus is in his chair at his desk in the Psych office, digging through a Chinese takeout box. An eyebrow is raised but Shawn brushes it off. He has been dying to tell someone. He knows he can't tell his dad, because of everything his dad has wanted him to be. He can't tell McNab or Juliet, because they aren't too good at keeping secrets. He can't tell Lassie because he would either not believe him or worse, laugh at him. He can't tell the chief out of fear of being fired and never taken back on. This leaves Gus.
1987
Shawn is in fifth grade, getting ready for the next big school project. This one is more personal than the ones for the younger kids, and involves being with your partner for long periods of time. The past five years (kindergarten included), Shawn and Gus have always paired up. This year, Shawn has taken a liking to the new kid Carlyle. Carlyle is shy and sits in the back. Shawn hasn't seen much interaction out of him in the month and a half he has been in school. Cautiously, he moves away from Gus's babbling and heads directly for the loner.
"Wanna be partners?"
A sad twinkle appears in the kid's eyes, as if preparing himself for a breakdown or a prank to befall on him. Shawn notices this of course and sits on the kid's desk. In a loud voice, he announces to the teacher he will be Carlyle's partner. Gus is in shock, but remains at his desk. The teacher nods with a tight smile and Carlyle is also looking to Shawn - equally as shocked as Gus.
"Why do you wanna be my partner?"
"I think I like you." He answers honestly.
2010
The Chinese is gone and Gus is on the couch, watching whatever he has on TiVo. Shawn sets his food to the side, wondering once more if he should say anything. He is feeling exceedingly cautious, even though it has already happened. He is sure Gus has forgotten by now but he remembers how Gus was when they were teenagers. Considering they still act like kids (Shawn, moreso), Gus might still behave in the same way.
Carlton is gagged and strapped to a chair, wearing nothing but his boxers. His dad remains drunk after all these years and is currently working his way through a six-pack of Jack. He is already on the fourth bottle, taunting his son with gruesome tales and acidic promises. Each time Carlton speaks out of turn, he is harshly pistol-whipped by the grip of one of his own guns. Carlton's current gun-hiding technique had horridly been one of his father's tricks, so the older man had easily found each of the little triggers - including the ones in the nut bowl and in the shower drain.
"D'ju really think I wa'nt gonna f'nja some day, Son?"
"I am not your son." He answers bitterly as he watches his father remove his belt. "And I have no father."
Sure enough, the older man pockets the gun and switches to a more primitive form of whipping - with the large buckle making a deep gash at the edge of his front blade. There are heavy marks surrounding his shoulders, on the front and back. There are also a few shards of broken glass injected into the younger man's back, through handmade acidic snowglobes his father had brought with him.
"Damn straight you ain't my son no more," He answers with a snarl. "But I've been cursed, an youse my 'sponsi'tilty. Little shit."
"You aren't even making sense, dammit." Carlton growls. "How many of those you drink today? How the hell are you not dead yet?"
He grimaces as another set of slashes obtrude throughout his body. His nails dig into the skin in the palms of his hands and he bites onto his bottom lip, tasting the vinegary blood. The old man isn't even remotely through, but Carlton is waiting for him to tire out or pass out from drunkenness. He needs to escape.
