Gus sighed as he rolled over for the fifth time in as just as many minutes, trying to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep. His bed was the same high quality mattress he'd been sleeping on for years, but in these early hours of the morning, it seemed to have morphed into a cheap hotel bed with lumps of judgment and guilt.

Why hadn't he thought to get rid of the gag sooner, why had he decided to grab Shawn when he'd clearly not been fully aware, why had he decided he could handle owning a slave in the first place?

The last one was a terrible question, and the lumps in the bed grew even harder after it crossed his mind. Shawn had clearly come from a bad place and had been heading towards a worse one. Gus shouldn't be complaining just because the entire situation was so far out of his control that it made it hard to breathe. He took a deep breath and held it, just to prove to the phantom pressure around his chest that he could.

The door downstairs opened and closed quietly, and he continued to hold his breath as he listened. What would Shawn do without anyone watching him? Part of him hoped Shawn would come back to his room, so they could resume the weird trust-balance they'd been teetering on all day. Part of him hoped Shawn would stay downstairs until his parents were awake to deal with him. Gus had already done enough damage.

Naturally, Shawn did neither of those things, instead quietly walking up the stairs and closing the bathroom door across the hall. At least that answered the question of if he was housebroken…

Gus was starting to get lightheaded.

He finally gasped for breath, the sounds of his breathing not quite covering up the sounds of the toilet flushing. He needed to figure out other bathroom stuff too, didn't he? Shower stuff and toothbrushes and hairbrushes… Neither he or his father had hair long enough to need a brush, and he highly doubted his mother would want to share one of hers. Did Shawn even like having shaggy hair?

The bathroom door opened and closed again, and Gus listened intently to hear where Shawn would go next. He didn't hear anything, and a ridiculous image popped into his head of Shawn standing outside the door listening for Gus to move, while Gus laid in bed listening for Shawn to move.

Gus sighed and gave up on sleeping. It was getting close to five thirty, anyway. There wasn't much point in trying to sleep for another couple of hours when his bed was being so difficult. He wouldn't tell Shawn to come in, but he wouldn't hide either. He was many things, some that he wasn't proud of, but he refused to add 'coward' to the list.

He stood up and walked over to his desk, sitting down and making sure to let the chair squeak as loudly as it could. Which wasn't very loud; it was a nice chair. But an attempt was made.

It was only a few seconds later when the stairs creaked, and he couldn't decide whether to feel disappointed or relieved that Shawn had decided to go back downstairs. It was fine; Shawn would need to know the house and probably wanted to get used to it on his own. Maybe he was hungry and would get a snack for himself. Maybe he was getting ready to make breakfast… that was something slaves did, right?

Though, judging by how Shawn acted around food, he probably wouldn't do anything like that without a direct order…

Gus took another deep breath and eyed up the box sitting next to him on the desk. Shawn wasn't here, it was probably the best time to go through it and get rid of anything else like the gag set. Though, maybe it would be better for Shawn to be there since it was his stuff… but it might freak him out again, and Gus was too strung out from trying to be calm after the nightmare fiasco. Gus shook his head at himself in annoyance. He was a master now; he needed to be able to make some decisions without freaking out.

If there was anything personal, he'd set it aside. Everything else he'd figure out as needed.

He quickly opened the box before he could talk himself out of it and pulled out the first thing he saw. Luckily, it was just another change of clothes, a match to what Shawn had worn yesterday. Gus glanced in the box; there was only the one set. He needed to add clothes shopping to his list of things to do.

He set the clothes on his bed and looked inside the much emptier box. A couple of small rings caught his attention, and he pulled them out. On closer inspection, they turned out to be a pair of earrings, each with a sturdy post to go through a pierced ear with a heavy ring hanging from it. Gus groaned as he looked at the leash; the rings were the same size as the rings on the collar. The same size for a leash to attach to.

The earings weren't heavy enough to make any sort of satisfactory noise when he dumped them into the trash. Gus kicked the can into the wall to make up for that fact.

The next object to come out looked like it had made it into the wrong box; someone on the pier was probably missing their charger cable by now. Sucked to be them. He tossed the short, thick wire into the trash to keep the earrings company before pulling out the last thing. Paperwork.

He glanced at the top sheet of papers, only reading enough to understand that it was Shawn's papers with his information and sale records. Gus set it off to the side; it was too early for him to deal with that. A small slip of paper was next, meant to be slid into a wallet, with Shawn's tracking number, the phone number for a local Controller Guru, and the phone number for the slave retention department of the police. All the information Gus would need to either learn how to control Shawn better, or to report him as a runaway.

Gus stared at the card for a long while. Having the information was good, but he wouldn't ever want Shawn to know he'd decided to keep that information. He eventually tucked the card into the manual under it. He didn't need to have it on him; when would he need to know Shawn's tracking number while he was out and about?

Gus slid the manual into one of his desk drawers, refusing to look at it further. He didn't need to know about all of the ways he could control his slave. He shoved the drawer closed and proceeded to tear the box apart. If anyone asked, he was breaking it down for the recycling bin. The fact that there was a certain gratification to the burn of his muscles and the ripping sound of the cardboard giving way… that could stay between him and the walls.

He didn't stop until the box was shredded into a pile on the floor and the frustrated, angry energy rushing under his skin had settled.

He was fine. They'd be fine. It was all fine.

Gus was not fine.

His mother was lecturing him. Again.

"... make himself useful around here. I can't believe I came down and he was just standing around while you cooked!"

"He helped, and he made the coffee," Gus defended himself half-heartedly. Shawn had looked almost panicked when Gus had come down early and started working without giving him anything to do. It would have been cruel to not let him help. Gus had been hoping that the cooked breakfast would be seen as a peace offering, but clearly his mother still wanted a fight.

"Oh, good," she sniped back, sarcastic venom dripping from her words, "he did a three-step chore. I'm so glad we bought him."

Maybe caffeine would help him deal with this; Gus tried to drink his coffee faster. How did his mother even have this much energy in the morning?

Shawn had immediately knelt in the corner when she'd come into the kitchen, and Gus had needed to practically order him to take his plate of food once the scrambled eggs were finished. He was now eating mechanically as Gus and his mother argued about him.

It was worrying just how fast Shawn could switch to the blank-slave face, but at least Gus had been able to coax out a ghost of a smirk when he'd handed over the fork.

"-and don't think that you can get away with being his only owner in the house. I was playing bridge with Marge, and she said that her son's slave has them down as 'secondary owners.' The slave has to follow their orders too. You're going to do that for me and Bill."

"No!" Gus snapped back before he could stop himself. Of course, the one time he wanted his parents to be dumb about technology and they'd come prepared. "You said he's mine-"

"As long as he is living in my house, and eating my food, and-"

Gus' father cleared his throat and gave them his most disarming smile. "Now, let's not fight before breakfast is even done. Thank you, Burton, for cooking. Winnie, don't you think the food tastes good?"

His mother's face soured, but she took another bite of the fluffy eggs and crisp bacon before begrudgingly saying, "Yes, it tastes good." She raised her eyebrows and added, "Clearly I taught you well."

His father gave her a fondly exasperated look before turning to Gus. "And, Burton, you agreed that you'd make sure your slave did his part. That includes us knowing he'll follow orders even when you aren't around…"

"He will," Gus said quickly. "You don't need to-" He was pinned down by twin Looks from his parents and he deflated. It really wasn't fair when it was two against one. He tried one last time to make them understand. "His collar will hurt him if he doesn't do things right. Can't we give him a chance to prove he doesn't need that?"

"Well, if he does things right, then his collar won't hurt him," his mother said with maddeningly calm logic.

Gus groaned and chugged down the rest of his coffee. His parents were so dumb.

They finished breakfast with Gus' father trying to make small talk and his mother shooting off snide remarks while still finding ways to add in bits of juicy gossip to the conversation. Gus had just put his fork down when Shawn stood up, taking his empty plate to the sink. Water started to flow from the faucet as Shawn added soap, and his head turned slightly, keeping an eye on the people sitting at the table.

Something uncomfortable twinged in Gus' gut at the look, but he gave a nod anyway. Shawn was probably trying to show that he could do what was expected of him, but he seemed nervous about doing something without a direct order.

Shawn's shoulders loosened at the silent permission, and he began to collect the dishes from the stove and countertop where Gus had left them while he cooked.

Gus' mother gave Shawn an appraising look before huffing and leaving the room. His father sighed as he stood up to follow her. "Once he's done cleaning up, meet us in the living room."

Gus waited for his father to leave before slumping down with a groan; he was already hating today. He'd wanted to treat Shawn less like a slave, but instead he was going to have to give him even more owners. Shawn's head turned slightly at the sound, but he didn't stop in his task as the sink filled with soapy bubbles.

The table was still full of dirty dishes, left for someone else to clean up, and Gus started to stack them all up. He'd meant what he'd said; he wasn't going to make Shawn do anything he wasn't willing to do. He brought them to the sink, ready to be rinsed and put in the dishwasher.

Shawn froze as he saw the dishes in Gus' hand, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Actions were supposed to speak louder than words; it was time to put that idiom to the test. Gus picked up a fork and dunked it in the water, shaking off a few loose pieces of food. "So, how many people have you actually stabbed?"

Shawn's jaw dropped, and Gus mentally kicked himself. Sure, he'd been hoping to spark some of that pride he'd seen when Shawn had talked about his defiant actions, but of course that wasn't something he'd want his master asking about.

The collar beeped and Shawn recovered enough to stutter out, "T-two, sir."

Gus paused as he put the fork in the dishwasher. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, sir," Shawn answered faintly, shying away while still keeping his hands busy in the sink.

"Huh."

Shawn's terrified actions from that morning flashed through Gus' memory… and that had just been for slapping his hand away. He didn't try to hide the admiration coloring his voice when he said, "You really are a stubborn bastard, aren't you?"

Shawn's lips twitched up as he relaxed and answered, "So I've been told…" He seemed to think for a second as the bubbles continued to climb up his arms. "You're actually my first master that hasn't been warned about that…"

"The stubborn bastard part?"

"The stabbing part."

Gus nodded; that made sense. The vendor had probably been hoping he'd be stabbed.

"For the record, I haven't done it since my second trainer." Shawn's hands stilled as his eyes unfocused before he shook his head and started scrubbing almost frantically at the frying pan, the bubbles reaching past the top of the sink.

Gus saw disaster about to strike and reached over to turn off the water before the sink could overflow. Shawn jumped at the movement, flinching away as he seemed to hold his breath. Gus moved slowly to grab another plate and put it in the dishwasher. Was there anything he could do that wouldn't scare his slave?

There was probably years of abuse behind all of the flinches and fear responses, but it was really hard to not take it personally.

It was time to try a different approach. "I'm sorry about having to make my parents co-owners. I was really hoping they wouldn't know about that."

Shawn's face scrunched in confusion again as he seemed to recover from his latest scare. "Why? They bought me…"

"Technically, I bought you," Gus grumbled as he finished putting the plates in their spot. He could still hear the 'sir' that wasn't being said, and it only fueled his frustration. An uneasy look crossed Shawn's face before the blank-slave mask was back, and Gus sighed; he was terrible at this. "I won't make you choose who to listen to, I just… wanted to treat you right. At least if I'm your only owner, then I know you don't have to worry about getting shocked all of the time."

Shawn paused before hesitantly pulling out a rinsed cup and handing it over instead of just putting it next to the stack of dishes. Gus accepted it with a small smile and went back to work loading the dishwasher.

There was just one more thing to clear up. Gus cleared his throat and awkwardly said, "Just so you know, I still like the name 'Gus'. I just… don't think my parents would understand." He could just imagine his mother's outrage at him letting a slave change what he wanted to be called.

Shawn met his eyes for a second before nodding and turning back to the sink. Between the two of them, the kitchen was clean in no time.

Gus took a deep breath before leading the way to the living room.

The remote beeped cheerfully at Gus' father, confirming there was enough of his voice print on file for the collar to recognize him as a secondary owner. It was scary just how simple it was to give other people full control over Shawn's life. All it took was just a few button presses on the computer and a fingerprint scan. And now Shawn had two more owners.

"Well, let's try this out" His father grinned and turned towards Shawn.

"Dad, don't-"

"Turn around."

The collar blinked green as Shawn followed the order immediately, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes locked on the floor.

"Good. You're going to go upstairs, change into work clothes, then meet me in the garage."

Shawn ducked his head in acknowledgement and left to go upstairs. Gus moved to follow him, but his father caught his shoulder. "Not so fast, young man. You'll be helping your mother today in the garden. I'm pretty sure she's already started."

Gus immediately argued back, "I told Shawn I'd help with whatever he was working on."

"You named him Shawn?" His father thought for a second before shrugging. "It's not what I would have picked, but that's fine."

Gus wanted to snap back that it was Shawn's real name, but that fact seemed too personal to be spreading around.

His father continued, "Shawn's going to help me, so you're going to help your mother. It's not fair if both of you help me and she's stuck working alone."

Damnit. He hated when his parents made sense. "But, he-"

"What do you think is going to happen?" his father asked pointedly. "That I'm going to beat him?"

Gus sighed. He'd meant what he'd said about his parents; they were dumb, but they weren't mean. His father treated Shawn weird, but he probably wouldn't hurt him on purpose. It was the 'probably' and 'on purpose' that worried him.

His father clearly sensed his victory. "He's going to help me with some chores, like he was bought to do, and then we'll come inside for lunch."

"Ok, but there's rules," Gus negotiated. His father was a salesman, they could come to an agreement. "His back is hurt, so don't make him do anything that will make that worse. He has to answer questions, so don't just talk over him if you ask something. And he's allowed to talk whenever he wants to." Gus ran through his mental list; did he forget anything? "Oh. And he needs shoes if he's working out there."

His father gave him a proud smile and held out a hand, like he was closing a deal. "Agreed."

Gus shook the offered hand and reluctantly went outside to find his mother. Ten minutes later, while he was yanking out grass from an overgrown flower bed, he wondered if Shawn had been given the easier job.

There was one good thing about working with his mother; after three hours of being able to boss him around, she was in a much better mood.

"Go get cleaned up and we can get some lunch made," she said as she wiped her forehead, leaving behind a streak of dirt.

Gus knew he was just as dirty as she was and gladly went upstairs to take a shower. He couldn't help but let his mind wander as he scrubbed the stubborn dirt from his hands. How was Shawn doing? Did his father actually listen to his rules? Was he treating him ok? Would he actually hurt Shawn if he was did something wrong?

He took comfort in knowing the remote to the collar had stayed with him. The 'discipline button', as he was starting to think of it, hadn't been in easy reach for his father. Surely he wouldn't have used it anyway…

Doors opened and closed in other parts of the house as Gus finished putting on clean clothes. He sat on the bed and fidgeted, hoping Shawn would be told to clean up before lunch as well. The stairs creaked and Gus smoothed out a small wrinkle in his jeans, trying -and failing- to not look like a creeper waiting for Shawn to come in.

Shawn opened the door and froze, his face still blank.

Gus gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile and said, "It's ok, I was waiting for you." Like a creeper. "I thought your back might need to be looked at."

Shawn nodded and stepped into the room. He didn't seem any worse for the work he'd done. The only real sign of his exertion was a film of dust in his hair and a sweat soaked shirt. Which couldn't feel good on his welts.

"Do you need any help?" Gus asked as he watched Shawn struggle to take his shirt off around the bulky collar. It didn't seem very easy, especially since Shawn was being careful to not actually touch the collar.

"No, sir," Shawn answered. Gus' heart squeezed painfully at the formal address; surely he hadn't already lost all of the trust he'd been working to build.

Shawn succeeded in pulling his shirt over his head with a wince before turning around to bare his back. Gus' coil of anxiety soothed slightly at the unprompted movement. Sure, Shawn had known that was what he would have asked for, but he didn't make Gus order him around to do it.

That had to be a good sign, right?

Gus let out a breath before focusing on what he was there to do. Shawn's welts didn't look as inflamed as yesterday, but they still looked painful. At least the bandages were doing their job, though one of them did have some blood seeping through.

"Do any of them hurt more than they did yesterday?"

"No…" The 'sir' was easy to hear in the empty silence after the word.

Gus nodded, glad that Shawn had remembered he didn't need to call him that. "Good, hopefully that means they aren't getting infected. I'm going to fix one of these bandages, but you won't be able to shower with them on. You'll have to get cleaned up as best you can with a washcloth for now, sorry."

Shawn turned his head to look back with a raised eyebrow, but didn't say anything as Gus put an extra bandage over the wound that was still bleeding. Gus broke the silence by asking, "Did Dad treat you ok?"

"...Yes?" Shawn answered, sounding like he didn't understand the question.

He probably didn't.

Gus sighed and tried again. "How did Dad treat you?"

Shawn turned to look at him. "He let me wear a pair of his boots, he told me to do stuff like lifting and moving things, and he talked at me pretty much the whole time. I…" He paused, as though trying to talk himself out of something before pressing on. "I think I know more about boats now than I ever wanted to."

Gus snorted, feeling himself relax at Shawn's report. "Yeah, he's obsessed with his boat right now. My condolences." He turned around and stopped when he saw the first aid kit. "Oh my god, I'm an idiot."

He shook his head at himself as he dug into the kit, pulling out a packet of pills. He started to open them before stopping himself; handing over unmarked pills to his slave probably wouldn't be the best for Shawn's peace of mind.

He grabbed the half-empty tube of allergy cream and handed both items over. "Ibuprofen will help with the swelling, you can re-treat your legs if they need it."

Shawn stared down at the medicine in shock and Gus sighed, "I should have given you some last night; I can't believe I didn't think of it."

Shawn was starting to look overwhelmed, which meant it was Gus' cue to leave. He found a shirt and a pair of pants and laid them on the bed. "Those are for you, Mom and I are going to make lunch, you can come down when you're ready. Do you need anything else?"

"No." Shawn stared at Gus, like he was searching for any ulterior motives. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Gus left the room and congratulated himself on having a full conversation with Shawn without making him jump once.

His mother's good mood carried over to the kitchen, and they worked together with only a few light arguments. The mood shifted immediately when Shawn walked in, nervously rolling up the long sleeves of the button up shirt Gus had laid out.

Gus' mother only glanced at him before rolling her eyes and muttering, "Oh great, you're dressing him up in your clothes?"

"Both sets of his clothes were dirty," Gus snapped back, their fragile truce dissolving around him. "Would you prefer he walk around naked?"

He regretted the words instantly as Shawn froze with wide eyes. His mother didn't seem to notice anything as she said, "Then I guess he needs to do laundry. Slave, go into our room, the laundry basket is in our closet. Get a load started, including your clothes."

"Mom!" Gus argued as Shawn quickly left the room. "His name's Shawn, not 'slave', and he just spent all morning working. Can't he sit down for a minute?"

"We spent all morning working, too," she reminded him as she checked the sauce simmering on the stove. "But we're still busy."

"We have a choice." Gus crushed a bulb of garlic with more force than necessary.

"Ah, of course," his mother said sweetly, "because if we don't cook, the food will just magically appear."

Gus clenched his jaw and didn't bother answering.

His mother put Shawn to work cleaning the dishes when he came back downstairs. Gus kept an eye on him, but Shawn remembered to turn the water off. It probably helped that his master wasn't distracting him this time.

Gus' mother closed the oven door and stepped back, surveying her domain with satisfaction. "Well, everything's ready once the bread is done. I suppose now is as good of a time as any. Sl- Shawn, come here."

Shawn put down the bowl he'd been drying and moved over to her, his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed. She walked around him, eyeing him from all angles before stopping in front of him. "Well, you're a bit shaggy and you need a shave, but I suppose you don't look terrible. Do you know how to clean?"

"Yes, ma'am," Shawn answered promptly.

"Do you know how to cook?"

"Yes, ma'am, but I'm not very good at it."

She turned to glare at Gus and he glared right back. "What? You like cooking."

She huffed and went back to scrutinizing Shawn. "Do you know how to serve?"

Shawn's eyebrows went down and he answered, "I don't know what you mean, ma'am."

"Bill is going to have important clients over. You would be serving them drinks and snacks."

Shawn's face cleared. "Yes, ma'am. I can do that."

"Hmm…" She gave him one more once over before walking back to the stove, leaving him standing in the middle of the room. "Burton, you're going to buy a decent outfit for him to wear when the clients are over and you're going to get his hair cut. I'll give you money for that, but anything else is coming out of your wallet. Shawn, you can get back to work."

Shawn immediately turned back to the sink. Gus caught his eye and flashed him a thumbs up; that had gone better than he'd thought it would. A small smile tugged on the edge of Shawn's lips as he picked up the bowl again.

The food was ready just a few minutes later, and Gus served up a bit of everything on a plate before handing it to Shawn. A flash of surprise cracked through Shawn's slave mask, but he didn't move to take the food. Gus sighed internally as he prompted, "It's for you. You can eat."

Hopefully, someday, he'd be able to hand over food without the prompt.

Shawn took the plate with a quiet, "Thank you."

Gus' mother huffed behind him. "He wasn't done cleaning up."

Gus turned and glared at her; this was a fight he wasn't going to lose. She seemed to realize that as she rolled her eyes and snapped out, "Fine. But he's not eating at the table."

"Why is that the line?" Gus asked in annoyance.

"Because the table is for friends and family," she stated before grabbing her plate.

Shawn didn't seem to mind the rule as he knelt in the corner and started eating. It was wrong; it was small, and no one else seemed to care, but it was the principle of the matter. Shawn belonged to him; he should get to make the rules.

Gus took a breath to argue, but his father came up behind him and cut him off quietly. "Take your win. Let it go."

Gus groaned and snatched up his plate. Dumb. They were all dumb.

Lunch was another awkward set of conversations around the table. Gus quietly seethed, letting the words wash over him. It wasn't fair to keep arguing in front of Shawn. But at the same time, if Gus didn't stand up for him, then no one would. But how could he stand up for him when no one would listen to him?

Shawn was already back to washing dishes when Gus' father finished and stretched his arms behind his back. "Well, I think I'm going to put my feet up and watch some news. I got a lot done this morning; you should check it out, Winnie."

"I will, later," his mother acknowledged as she finished her last few bites. "I'm going to stay in here for a bit, though."

"Don't get into too much trouble," he said with a grin before leaving the room. Gus rolled his eyes at his father thinking his joke was funny.

He stood up and started collecting the plates on the table, but his mother reached out and stopped him. "That's not your job."

Gus set his jaw. "You hound me all the time to help clean up, but now that I'm doing it you're saying to stop?"

"That was before we had a slave to take care of it," his mother explained with patronizing patience. "Now your job is to pass your summer classes so you get those credits done before college starts."

"I can work on that after I help Shawn-"

"No." Her eyes glinted dangerously. "You are going to put those down, and you are going to let our slave do what he was bought to do."

"He's my slave," Gus corrected, meeting her glare with his own.

"And because you bought him, we didn't get the one we wanted." His mother's voice dropped to a snarl. "So as long as you are in this house, he's going to do what I wanted a slave for."

"This is so typical," Gus spat out, his frustration boiling over. "You tell me something's mine and then you still expect to be in charge of it!"

"I should make you pay us back!"

"Yeah, great gift giving technique."

Gus turned away and internally cursed as he caught a glimpse of the subject of their argument. Shawn hadn't stopped working, but he was cringing away, like he expected one or both of them to take their frustrations out on him.

"Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into you recently!"

It was the last straw. Gus barely kept himself from yelling and making everything worse as he spun around and stalked out of the room, giving his mother exactly what she wanted. His father looked up from the couch and called out as Gus stomped past. "I told you to leave it."

Gus ground his teeth together and changed his trajectory, heading for the front door. He couldn't stand to be in the same building as these people anymore. He made sure to slam the door as loud as he could before making his way to the street. He didn't know where he was going, but anywhere had to be better than there.

His hand brushed up against a lump in his pocket and he stopped with a groan. He still had the collar's remote on him. Which meant he couldn't leave without it hurting Shawn. And he shouldn't leave Shawn alone with his parents anyway; he'd promised to make sure they treated him right.

Being responsible sucked.

Gus stalked back to the house, slamming the door just as loud on the way in so his parents would know they hadn't won. His father just arched an eyebrow at him and said, "Young man, we do not slam doors around here."

Gus stared him down as he opened the door and closed it gently, making sure that his movements were as sarcastic as possible.

His father smiled in approval, proving all of his efforts were in vain, and Gus stomped his way upstairs to grab what he needed for his summer college courses. Who knew, maybe Psych 101 would teach him how to brainwash his parents into being people he wasn't embarrassed to be related to.

He brought his schoolwork downstairs and went back into the kitchen, glaring at his mother to dare her to say anything as he dropped the books on the table. Shawn jumped at the loud noise and Gus winced; he'd come back in to help him, not scare him more. God, he sucked.

"Burton," his father chided from the doorway.

Gus set his jaw, refusing to show weakness in front of the enemy. "What? It wasn't the door."

His father sighed and traded a look with Gus' mother, one that clearly said, 'Teenagers, am I right?'

Gus rolled his eyes and ignored them as he focused on his school work. The words swam in front of his eyes, and guilt churned in his stomach. His parents were wrong in how they treated Shawn. He'd wanted to do better.

He was failing.