Author's note: I always thought that there weren't enough stories dealing with Shawn as a teenager, so this is my response to that. I've mostly seen the beginning episodes, so forgive me if technicalities are wrong and everything.
To Leave:
1. to go out of or away from, as a place: to leave the house.
2. to depart from permanently; quit: to leave a job.
He was so tired of it.
So tired of being furious, of the hateful words screamed late in the nights, the regret in his father's eyes whenever he looked at him.
Hell, Shawn had punched a hole through his wall the last night (and no, he didn't regret it in the slightest), and he knew that his father knew, but he hadn't said anything about it yet. Just another example to show that he was tired of this guessing game, of trying to figure out when the next shouting match would be.
Sometimes, their fighting would get so loud that their neighbors would hear. Once, someone across the street even had the nerve to the call the police (and, God, wasn't that ironic). His father had had a hard time explaining that one to his colleagues, but Shawn didn't mind in the slightest.
At about age seventeen, he'd had enough. In a moment of rage and hatred, he did what he'd been threatening to do all those years; he went a bought a motorcycle. It was the best thing he had ever spent his money on, the most perfect beauty he had ever seen. It was his new home; his peace and quiet when being in that house got too rough.
His father had been furious, and wasn't afraid to let Shawn know it. Their arguments increased, day by day, and got louder and louder until the neighbors knew well enough to shut their windows and plug their ears.
The arguments would always start so innocently, so simply, from such things as Shawn informing his father that he was going out with Gus that weekend, or with Henry saying he was going out to work late that night. They would escalate until Shawn stormed up to his room in a fit of rage and slammed the door, while Henry ended up at the kitchen table downing a beer as fast as he could.
More often than not, Shawn would sneak out and end up at Gus' house, knocking at the door with a slightly sheepish smile on his face, but Gus could see the hurt in his eyes, and in the protective way he stood. Just because Gus wasn't trained to notice these things the way Shawn was didn't mean he was an idiot. Sometimes, Gus wanted to turn him away from showing up on his doorstep (because damn it all it hurt to see Shawn so vulnerable) but he never did turned him away, because that's what friends did for each other.
Gus could tell when their fights got worse. Shawn's eyes would be angrier, his stance a little more rigid, and he wouldn't want to talk about it, at least not to Gus. It hurt Gus when he saw his friend on that self-destructive path and was unable to pull him off it, but for once in his life, Shawn wasn't paying attention to Gus, and didn't pick up on the helplessness Gus felt towards his friend and his situation.
As if it wasn't bad enough for everyone, the fights started to increase after Shawn finished high school. Day after day, Shawn would storm out of the house in a rage, only to wander back in whenever he knew his father would be out of the house.
Every day, every single goddamn day, they went through this pattern, until finally, Shawn was done.
It was the middle of January, Shawn was eighteen years old, and had been out of high school for a half a year.
And he had had enough.
It wasn't their worst fight, and it wasn't even their longest. An hour had passed while he was arguing with his dad, and yet it had only felt like five minutes.
On the other hand, he felt such weariness that he thought they might as well have been fighting for centuries.
Shawn left that night. Just gathered whatever would fit on his bike and walked out that goddamn door. He'd had enough, he was damn tired of it, and he was so sick to death of fighting.
He just wanted it to stop.
Even in his urgency to get out of town, Shawn wasn't outright inconsiderate. Right before he rode out of town on his bike for the last time, he stopped by an old friend's house to tell him that he was going far away, and he wasn't coming back anytime soon.
Gus tried to stop him. He really did. Used about every trick in the book, but Shawn's mind was too made up for Gus' reasoning to even make a dent in his stubborness. By that time, Gus could do no more than wish Shawn the best of luck and send him on his way.
For the first couple of weeks, Shawn was just running away. Driving on his bike only because he could; to get away from his dad, away from Santa Barbara. Before he even knew it, he was on the east coast.
Also, he was just about out of money.
Someone took him in for a job, and he's only sweeping floors and washing dishes (but still it feels damn good to be in charge of his own life for once). He stays in Washington D.C for about six weeks until he has a nice amount of money, and then he ups and leaves, and the best part is that while everybody had liked him, no one was dejected or depressed that he was leaving.
Shawn likes it, and vows to keep it that way.
For the better part of the next several years, he wanders around the states, never staying longer than five months in one place, and never shorter than two weeks. He picks up every job imaginable, from helping out in a zoo to reading books to children, from being a plumber's assistant to helping cut trees down.
He stays just long enough to start to know people and to get some cash for food and hotels, and then he leaves and never hears from them again. It's easier for everyone that way. When he's meeting new people he doesn't miss the people back in Santa Barbara, but he doesn't stick around long enough for his new friends to start asking the deep, personal questions, not to mention he gets a wad of cash in the process. It's a win/win situation, mostly.
He sends Gus the odd post card, when he remembers. Shawn keeps the messages short and light, just enough to let his friend know it's him, and that he's alive. He contemplates sending one to his father, (because like it or not, he's still his father and damnit, he still loves him) and ends up dragging himself to the nearest souvinear shop and doing it before he loses his nerve.
For the first year of going rogue, Shawn doesn't even think of going back to his home town. There was so much to see, so many new places to go, why even think about going back to that town where there were so many bad memories? He keeps driving, keeps moving steadily away from Santa Barbara.
After awhile, though, the reacurring thought weighs on his mind and troubles him in his third year of freedom. It was getting near the end, and he decided to visit, but doesn't tell anyone, telling himself that he'd rather surprise them.
Once he's found Gus, he stays at Gus' new appartment, which was about ten times cleaner than anywhere Shawn had lived recently. After hanging around the town for two weeks, (and damn if that town didn't bring up some memories,) Shawn finally built up the courage to go see his dad.
Shawn turns up on his doorstep, (feeling like he's sixteen years old again and bringing home his first girlfriend) and Henry, although surprised, and maybe a little bit bitter, invites him in to have a beer.
They managed to last a whole hour and a half before having the worst fight of their lives.
And that was certainly saying something.
When Shawn turns back up at Gus' appartment and declares he has to go, Gus takes it all in stride pretty well. He helps Shawn pack, tells him not to be a stranger, and waves him goodbye. Shawn waves one last time, but then doesn't look back until the town is only a speck in the dust behind him.
He hops from city to city and town to town for the next year and half, picking up odd jobs where ever they'll have him. He meets a lot of pretty women, sees a lot of gorgeous sights, but like it or not, he misses his home town. The freedom that had tasted so sweet only two years ago was now slightly tinged with bitterness.
After another year and a half of running, he returns back, but this time didn't even let anyone know he was in the area until he had an apartment and had settled down a little. He hadn't found a job yet, but he wasn't worried. Things had a way of generally working out.
Once he was comfortable, he rang Gus up on his cell, and they got together for a few beers and some tv. Strangely, there wasn't too much to catch up on from that year and half, aside from the fact that they had missed each other more than they cared to admit.
Life was starting to look normal again.
Whatever the hell normal was.
I always hate author's notes at the end of stories, so I'll keep it brief. Sorry for anything inaccurate, but I honestly haven't seen every single episode like some of my crazier friends, so who knows, I might have missed something. Feedback is greatly appreciated and thanks for reading all the way to the end.