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❛ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇꜱ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʜɪᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ꒱


❝ WAIT— ARE YOU
A CLOSET NERD? ❞

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Shawn was getting by as best he could with his father's death by stacking empty soda cans into a pyramid in the corner of his room. (Hey, no one said they had to be normal coping methods.) His brother had tried to get in touch several times, all of which had gone ignored. However, Jack was more persistent than he'd given him credit for and the older boy walked into his room after he'd knocked. "Hey, what's going on? I left, like, ten messages. Why didn't you call me back?"

"'Cause I don't want to."

"Look, Shawn, we need to go down to dad's trailer."

He turned away from the pyramid. "What's the rush?"

"I know how hard this is, man, I really do, but we need to go through his stuff."

He shrugged. "You do it. Throw everything out." He went over to his brother and plucked the can out his hands. "You done?"

"Yeah," Jack answered. "But Shawn, you grew up there, alright? You know what everything means. I wish I did but I don't."

Shawn faced him again. "You want to know what everything means?"

"Yeah, I want you to come down and tell me."

"No, I can tell you right here. I had a lousy relationship with my father that I don't want to relive so I ain't going," he stated as he flopped down on his bed.

"Shawn, we need to go down, okay? We owe it to Chet," Jack insisted.

"We don't need to do anything."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that Chet was the only real link between us so now that he's gone, I don't think you owe anybody anything," Shawn explained bluntly as he pushed himself off the mattress to sit at the end of it.

"I'll do it myself."

A knock on the door revealed a guy who lived down the hall from them. "Hey, Shawn. Your brother called a half hour ago."

The older boy scoffed. "Yeah, he got the message."

🌎🌎🌎

Reluctantly, Shawn found himself at the trailer later that night. He'd tried his best to push the idea out of his head because what he'd said was true: he didn't want to relive the memories. Still, not all of them had been bad (most notably ones that included a girl with bright red hair) and a nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like Julie's insisted that he shouldn't leave his brother alone to do something like this.

As he entered the trailer, Jack turned to him. "Hey, change your mind?"

"I didn't mean we're not brothers," he said by way of apology.

"Oh, hey, forget about it."

"I just meant that with, you know, dad dying and everything going on with Julie that I don't really feel connected to anything."

"Hey, I'm here for you, man," his brother assured him and before he could fully think it through, Shawn found himself giving him a quick hug. "How's it going with that redhead of yours anyway?"

"Better. Much better," he answered as he walked over to the fridge to take down a tin that sat on top of it. Better was accurate; after she'd sat with him in the hallway of the hospital they'd been on more comfortable footing ever since. Much was a stretch.

"Good. That's good." Jack noticed the container. "What's that?"

"His financial portfolio," Shawn replied, deepening his voice to mimic his father. A piece of paper caught his eye and he pulled it out. "Oh my God, do you know what this is?"

The older boy walked over to study it with him. "What?"

"His unemployment stub number one. Dad always considered this his first honest money." He tipped the rest of the papers out onto the counter and Jack began to go through them.

"'Past due.' 'Final notice.' 'Pay up, we're not kidding this time.' Why would he want to save these?"

"Well, dad was a sentimental guy," Shawn replied. The piece of paper that he was currently holding caught his attention. "This one's weird."

"What?"

"It's a letter to Chet from your stepdad."

"Oh, hey, that's nothing. I'll just take that." Jack tried to grab it from him but he stepped out of reach.

"No, no, no," the dark-haired boy said. He looked down to read the words: "'don't worry about paying me back, Chet. Shawn is Jack's brother so he's practically family. We're happy to help out.'"

"Yeah, that's nothing."

"No, no. Pay him back for what?"

"Nothing," his brother answered quickly and added, "for your shirt."

"Pay him back for what?"

Jack sighed. "For your tuition."

"For college?"

"You know. . . yeah. Chet just couldn't afford it—"

Shawn cut him off sharply, "wait, no. You and your stepdad decided to make us the charity case of the year?"

The other boy's tone remained calm as he tried to get Shawn to see it from a different perspective. "Your dad wanted you to go to college so badly that he came to my stepfather for help. Can you imagine how hard that was for him?"

"What else did you get me, Jack?"

"Nothing. That was it."

"Books? Did you by my books?" he demanded angrily.

"Maybe some books."

"My shirt? Really?"

"I would never pay for that shirt," Jack joked as he reached forward to pick at the collar. "Come on, man. I'm just trying to help out. That's what families do: we help each other."

"How have I helped you out?"

"What?"

Shawn began to unbutton his yellow and brown flannel shirt. "We're family, right? Tell me one thing that I've done to help you out." He pulled it off over his head and thrust it towards his brother. "Here, take this. It doesn't belong to me. Nothing belongs to me."

🌎🌎🌎

Several minutes later, their disagreement had devolved to almost Cory-level dramatic as he pulled off his pants and chucked them at Jack. "You sure you didn't buy these, too?" he asked, gesturing to his underwear.

"Don't take those off!" his brother exclaimed.

"I don't want to spend my life being a handout case, Jack."

"I understand how you feel—"

"No you don't!" Shawn cut him off loudly. "You don't. You know, I don't expect you to. It's not your fault. I appreciate what you and your stepdad did for me."

"Then why can't you just accept it and move on?"

"Move on from what?" he wondered. "Nothing is what I thought it was. I don't know what I am anymore."

"You're my brother in his underwear," Jack answered. He threw his brother's pants to him. "Now would you please get dressed?"

"I'm gonna pay you back for everything," the dark-haired boy promised him.

"You wanna pay me back?"

"I'm gonna pay you back."

"Let me know who my father was," the older boy replied.

"What?"

"Yeah. Why do you think I wanted to come down here so badly? I wanted to find out just a little something about him."

"You already knew more about him than I did," Shawn said.

"No, no. The important stuff, man. I mean, at least you have memories with him. I was gone before I could have any and now he's gone and I guess I never will," Jack explained.

"That's probably a good thing."

"How?"

"'Cause you're okay. You're the lucky one, Jack. There's no need for you to go through this kind of pain."

🌎🌎🌎

A few hours later, Jack stood to take a break. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Outside," Shawn replied lightly as he looked up from the stack of papers in front of him. "It's down the hall at the end."

With a nod, he followed the directions and located it easily. On his way back to the living room, he couldn't hold back on his curiosity and he began to open the other doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man his father had been. They didn't tell him much. One was a linen closet, one was presumably his father's bedroom (though there was hardly anything personal decorating it) but the last one— "Hey, Shawn, is this one yours?"

At his brother's call, he sighed and set the stack aside before he joined to older boy at the entrance. "Yeah. I thought I gave you directions to the bathroom?"

Jack shrugged. "It's not like you've got anything left in here. Wait— are you a closet nerd?"

"What?"

The older boy opened the door wider and entered the room to walk over to the piles of books that sat haphazardly in the farthest corner. "What are all these?"

Immediately, Shawn grew defensive. "Don't touch them, they're mine!"

"Relax, I'm just asking. I didn't think you liked to read."

He went over to join his brother and stood almost protectively in front of the collection. "I don't. They're from Julie so just leave them alone."

"Ex-girlfriend Julie?"

He scoffed. "Of course that Julie. Just— let's get out of here."

His insistence only made his brother more curious and Jack quickly reached around him to pick one up. "Why's it so dusty?"

"Because I've never read them," he answered shortly. He yanked the book from his grasp before he hugged it protectively to his chest. "You can't tell Julie that because it would hurt her more than she deserves."

"I won't," the brunet promised before he sent him an inquisitive look. "Is that why you were so disappointed this past Christmas?"

"I— yeah," Shawn agreed quietly, and he remembered the pang of sadness he felt at the break in tradition. He still didn't know what that was about and then, because he'd been emotional about that, he hadn't been thinking straight and he'd kissed Angela. He cringed at the memory.

While he was distracted, his brother had snatched another book off the pile and blew off the dust. "'Catcher in the Rye,'" he read, chuckling slightly. "Well, she knows how to pick 'em." He began flipping through the pages with interest. "Hang on— there's writing in here."

"What?"

Jack turned the book slightly so the dark-haired boy could look over his shoulder. "See? There's little notes and things."

Shawn felt his breath catch in his throat: he'd recognize Julie's handwriting anywhere. What the older boy said was true: there were notes in the margins and miniscule pictures of stick figures with speech bubbles spread intermittently throughout the pages. "Let me see that."

He took the novel from his brother and was surprised to find that his hands were shaking slightly. Her handwriting decorated almost every page. Some words were circled with an arrow to the definition off to the side with the word she'd thought would be hard for him. Things like "metaphor" and "simile" were next to underlined portions and the drawings simplified the scenes— all so that he'd understand.

He felt his eyes prickle with sudden, guilty tears. She'd wanted him to read so badly that she'd made it as easy for him as possible and he'd never known. His gaze fell on the other books again and he dropped to his knees. He tossed aside The Catcher in the Rye to flip through the rest frantically. His heart pounded in his chest when he realized that they were all in the same condition.

Jack picked up the fallen book to take a closer look at the personalized messages, suddenly understanding how much his brother's best friend cared about him. Almost instinctively, he turned to the front (because people who did this sort of thing always left sentiments in the first few pages.) Sure enough, he was right:

Shawnie,

Merry Christmas!

Can you believe that we're in Junior High now? It feels like just yesterday our biggest worries were how late we stayed up and if we had the coolest water gun. Gosh, so many things have changed. I mean, the classes are harder, emotions have gotten weird and popularity is more important than ever.

One thing that will never change is us, Shawnie. I've always seen you as a Holden Caulfield, you know. You like to run away when things get hard. I know that's not exactly flattering but it's true. You're always on the run from rules, your family and yourself. But it's not all bad since I like to think of myself as your Phoebe (minus the sister part) because no matter how far you run, I'd like to think that you'll always come back for me because I'd do the same for you.

I figured out awhile ago that you don't read these books (don't worry, I'm not mad) so here goes: I like you, Shawnie. I really like you, more than I've ever liked anyone. It's kind of scary how fast my heart beats around you and I hope you can't hear it when you hug me. But it's also nice, too, because when I'm with you it sort of feels like I'm flying and I don't think I could ever feel like this with anyone else.

It feels so good to finally tell you even if I'm not really "telling" you but maybe— by some drastic turn of fate— you'll read the book this year. I know you probably don't like me the way you used to but I'll be here, waiting for you.

Always yours,

Julie

"Shawn," Jack said quietly, pulling his brother from his remorseful thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"I think you should read this," he handed him the book again, open to the first page. He sat on the bed to quietly wait for the dark-haired boy to finish reading. By the end, Shawn gave him a pained look. 

"I could have had her," he whispered. "We could have been Cory and Topanga if only I'd read this. . . if only I'd opened it when she gave it to me. I have to-I have to call her—" His voice cracked as he rose to his feet with the novel clutched tightly in his hands. "She always said that she believed in me but I always just thought that it was because she was my friend. I never-I never thought— I missed her, Jack, by months."

The older boy didn't say anything (for what could he say to that?) and he let his brother walk unsteadily into the hallway and back out to the living room. Shawn put in the number he'd memorized and stared down at her words as he listened to the phone ring while he read them over and over again.

"'Hello?'"

"Julie," he began, and she must have heard the broken quality of his tone because she interrupted him.

"'Shawnie? What's wrong? What happened? Where are you? Wh—'"

"I'm sorry," he rasped out. "God, Julie, I'm sorry. You should have told me—"

"'Told you what? Shawn, you're not making any sense.'" He picked up the tremor in her voice as she assumed the worst.

"No, no," Shawn backtracked quickly. "Everything's okay, seriously. I just— I finally opened the books you gave me."

"'Oh,'" she sounded much calmer. "'I didn't know you still had them.'"

"Of course I do," he objected. "I'd never get rid of anything you gave me. I even still have that geode. But Julie, why didn't you say anything?"

"'Because I wanted you to find out for yourself. You hardly listened to anyone so I thought you'd be less likely to read them if I told you to.'"

"I— um, read your note in The Catcher in the Rye," he started, almost nervously. "You really liked me all the way back then?"

"'Um, yeah,'" Juliet admitted and he could almost picture the pink tint to her face. "'Ever since the end of sixth grade, actually. You just didn't notice.'"

"I'm sorry," he said again, unable to apologize enough. "I'm gonna read all of them, I swear. I don't-I don't know how I could make this up to you—"

"'It's okay, Shawnie, really. I was a little disappointed at first but I know how you are. You don't have to—'"

"I will," Shawn insisted vehemently. "Can I-can I read them to you?"

"'Oh.'" She sounded pleasantly surprised. "'I'd like that. You wanna start from the beginning?'"

🌎🌎🌎

The next day, Juliet joined Cory on his way over to Shawn's trailer. She made no mention of her best friend's call from the previous night nor the fluttery feeling she got in her chest when she thought of his promise. They found him sitting on the couch and flicking through a book (one of hers) when they arrived. "Hey."

"Hey, Cor, Julie," he replied as he looked up. Their eyes met for a second and their shared secret flashed between them.

Cory carried on, unaware of the interaction: "thanks for letting me have the room last night."

Shawn pulled his eyes away from the redhead's. "No sweat. So?"

"So, do you know what the best part about being a virgin is?" the curly-haired boy asked as he pulled up a chair to sit next to him.

"What?"

"No, I'm asking. So, how you doing? You okay?"

"I've been so angry I haven't been able to see straight," Shawn answered, though his words had double meaning: he was angry at himself, too.

"Yeah, I kind of noticed."

"But now that my dad's gone I figured it's a good chance for me to get out of here."

"Yeah, definitely," Cory agreed. "I mean, you don't want to be hanging around in this trailer. So come back to the dorm. You know, we'll talk."

"You and Topanga aren't living together anymore?"

"Yeah, but only during the day. At night she's scary. But I love her and we have our whole lives to live together and know each other."

"I'm happy for you, Cor," the dark-haired boy told him.

"Thank you."

"I think I need to break away for a while, clear my head, find out who I am."

"Shawn, you just lost your father—"

"He left me this trailer," he interrupted the boy. "It's all he had and eventually I'm gonna have to sell it off and start paying back some debts. But in the meantime, I was going to hitch it up and hit the open road. Thought maybe you two could come with me."

"You know I will," Juliet said, speaking for the first time. "Just as long as you come back, Holden."

"His name's Shawn," Cory reminded her helpfully as he sent her a concerned look. They ignored him as they exchanged knowing smiles. "And you mean for the weekend, right?"

"Yeah, for the weekend." (Both he and Juliet knew it would be for much longer than that.)

"Yeah, sure! Woo-hoo!" the curly-haired boy exclaimed. "You know, we're young, we're wild. Can I drive?"

"No," Shawn and Juliet answered at the same time as they walked out of the trailer. 










A/N: Just to clear the timeline up: I have it planned that Juliet gave Shawn The Catcher in the Rye in seventh grade before she started having any sort of feelings for Jack (since Juliet gave Shawn the book in December and she and Jack became a couple at the end of the school year, after Christmas.)

[written oct. 2021]
[edited jun. 2022]