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❛ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇꜱ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴘᴏᴇᴛɪᴄ ʟɪᴄᴇɴsᴇ : ᴀɴ
ᴏᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴄᴀᴜʟғɪᴇʟᴅ ꒱


❝ FIFTEEN FLARES INSIDE
THOSE OCEAN EYES ❞

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"Now, this next poem is quite special," Mr. Feeny told the class. "The manner in which the poet expresses emotions is truly eloquent. The piece is entitled 'An Unpublished Manuscript for J.D. Salinger.'"

"Nappy time," Cory murmured to Shawn as he slid down in his chair.

"'It is possible to assassinate my heroes with the scope of my individualism. However, by their own persistence to themselves, I believe that they have chosen me to pursue a self. What is literature but the illumination of that which I should write? Salinger speaks through me, to me. Whispers 'where to, little boy?' My answer is the dogged pen to page which lights consistently the pathway home. It is on that road that I alone can trip my way back to myself,'" their teacher read aloud.

"Aw, come on!"

He looked up at the interruption. "Would you care to analyze this poem, Mr. Matthews?"

"Yeah, I'll take a stab," Cory said as he stood.

"Stab away."

Juliet covered her face with her hand from the second-hand embarrassment she felt as Cory went on a rant about the poem. Couldn't he (just once) not make a big deal about things? He didn't even understand what the poem was about and he immediately felt the need to say his own opinion. It wasn't that she didn't love him (because of course she did), but she was just sometimes blown away by his callousness.

When he finished, Mr. Feeny sighed. "Well, on that note, we will have to pick this up at our next session."

As the class filed out of the room, the redhead gave him the stink eye. "Cory, you're nuts."

"That poem was so incredible," Angela agreed. "It was beautiful."

"I can't believe someone our own age wrote that," Topanga said.

"Someone like Mr. Hunter?" their teacher asked as he handed the paper to Shawn.

"What?"

"Yeah, I wrote that poem," Shawn admitted.

"I knew it," Angela and Juliet spoke at the same time. They exchanged a wary look.

"I liked it," the curly-haired boy immediately backtracked.

"Do you have any more poems?" Mr. Feeny questioned him.

"I wouldn't really call them poems," Shawn told him hesitantly. "I just write stuff down. Er— Julie's dad suggested it, actually."

"I can't believe you never told me," the redhead exclaimed, surprised.

"I can't believe you never told me," Cory added.

"I never told anyone, okay? I just do it for myself to get my feelings out." The dark-haired boy stood and made his way to the door only to be stopped by the older man.

"Shawn, I host poetry readings at the Student Union Friday evenings. If you would feel comfortable sharing some of your. . ."

"I don't know, Mr. Feeny. It's. . ."

Cory joined his friend by the door and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "That sounds awesome," he answered on Shawn's behalf. "Perhaps I could read some of my poems too."

"You have poems?"

"Well, I wouldn't call them poems. I just. . . I just sort of write stuff down," he echoed the boy's words.

"I can't wait," Mr. Feeny replied flatly before he made a quick exit.

"Alright! See you Friday night!" Cory shouted after him before he turned back to his friends. "My poems are money because they're so funny."

"Well, have a fun night, alright?" Shawn said as they left the classroom.

"Hey, Shawn. Shawn, come on. Don't just blow this off."

He stopped and turned back to the boy. "Cory, enough with the pressure."

"No. I know you. If I don't pressure you, you're gonna flake."

"Hey, Cor, if Shawn doesn't wanna read his poems then I think we should respect that," Angela suggested.

"No. Because Shawn never wants to do what's best for him."

"Come on, Cory. Leave him alone," Topanga said.

"Shawn, just come with us, okay? If you wanna read poems, you will. And if you don't, you don't."

The dark-haired boy studied him for a moment. "Will it shut you up?"

"Will ya come?"

"Fine."

As he walked away, Cory turned to the girls with a grin. "He's gonna write a poem in his dorm. . . and not his hoem."

🌎🌎🌎

Friday night found them in the Student Union, though unlike the other times they'd been there, the lights were dimmed and the seating had been arranged to face the small stage. It was surprisingly crowded for such an event and the group had a hard time finding a place that they could all sit together. Finally, Cory, Topanga, Angela and Shawn claimed a couch which left Juliet in a chair across from them.

Taking in the atmosphere of the evening, the redhead had even brought something to contribute. While she would say that she was more of a reader than a writer, the words held the emotion she'd recently been feeling towards a certain. . . someone. Not wanting Cory's "poem" to overshadow hers, she had volunteered to be the first of the group to contribute her writing.

What she hadn't really thought about was the pressure of everyone's eyes while she stood on stage and she shifted uncomfortably underneath the spotlight. Clearing her throat nervously, she began: "I— well, I wouldn't call this a poem. It's really short and-and kind of spur-of-the-moment, but here goes. It's called 'I Promised No More Poetry.'" The title received a few chuckles which made her feel better. In the dim lighting of the room, her eyes felt drawn to Shawn's bright blue and when they met, she held his gaze as she recited the poem from the scrap of paper she'd brought with her:

"'I'd rather think of this
as a confession:
you are still the first person
I want to do new things with.'"*

There was silence for a moment until the audience realized she was finished and a smattering of applause followed. She smiled uneasily and got off the stage as quickly as she could. When she returned to her seat, Topanga gave her an encouraging look. "That was really good, Peaches. I didn't know you could write like that."

"It was nothing." She tried to brush it off and shrugged modestly. "It wasn't anything like Shawn's writing."

"Julie," he said softly and almost like magnets, her gaze found his. "It was beautiful."

"Oh. Um, thanks."

Cory, of course, went next and it was no surprise that he did the whole nine yards (which included bongos.) "All day long, I think of you. How do you do the things you do? I love you, girl, with all my heart. Because you're pretty. And you're smart." When he was finished, there was even less applause than there had been for the redhead and he grumbled, "tough room."

Mr. Feeny took his place at the mic. "The final poet for this evening will be Mr. Shawn Hunter."

Shawn's eyes narrowed at Cory. "I can't believe you. When are you gonna learn to stay out of my business?"

"Mr. Hunter?"

"Come on. We're all here for you," Cory assured him.

With a sigh, he dug around in his bag for his book before he went up on stage. This time, it was his eyes that found Juliet's. "'I've been watchin' you for some time. . . I've. . . been watchin' you for some time. . ." he paused and his gaze broke away from hers. "I'm sorry, I can't."

He rushed off the stage and was out the door before anyone could stop him. There was an awkward silence before Cory stepped in and took over from his friend as he addressed the room, "it's okay, everybody. It's okay. Huh? Cory's here. He just had a touch of stage fright. You know, his poems are even better than mine, huh? I'll just read the one that he was gonna read. This one's called 'Ocean Eyes:'

I've been watchin' you for some time
Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes
Burning cities and napalm skies
Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes
Your ocean eyes

I've never fallen from quite this high
Fallin' into your ocean eyes
Those ocean eyes

I've been walkin' through a world gone blind
Can't stop thinkin' of your diamond mind
Careful creature made friends with time
He left her lonely with a diamond mind
And those ocean eyes."*

Unbeknownst to him, Shawn had reentered the Student Union during his reading and had listened to him recite the poem. Unaware of the boiling anger his friend was feeling, Cory stared down at the words in awe. He was taken by surprise when the dark-haired boy stalked up to the stage and grabbed the front of his shirt. 

"Come with me," he growled as he pulled him outside. Shawn released him and turned away, unable to look at the curly-haired boy for a moment. "How do I put this?" he asked, spinning around. "Who do you think you are?"

"Oh, that's a silly question, Shawn. I'm your best friend—"

"No, no, no, no," he cut the other boy off. "No jokes. No back peddling. Look into my eyes, Cory. I am dead serious. We have a problem here."

"Alright, Shawn. I'm sorry."

"No, no. That's not what I want to hear," he snapped. "Not this time. I want to hear that you were wrong, that I asked you to back off and you wouldn't take no for an answer, that you totally disregarded my feelings. You went way too far this time, Cory."

"Alright. Alright, I did that. Okay, but I. . ."

"Oh, there better-there better not be a 'but.'"

"I did this for your own good!" Cory protested, startled by his friend's anger. Shawn had been upset with him before, of course, but it had never been like this.

"You have no idea what my poetry is about, do you?" Shawn demanded. "That poem that Feeny read in class, do you even know what that was about?" He received no response and he scoffed. "Nothing. Cory, I can't say certain things so I write them down. That's how I get them out. Now I do that for me, not for anyone else."

"I heard the poem, Shawn."

"You heard it but you didn't listen to it. That poem you just read. . . do you even know who that was about?"

"Me?" Cory guessed jokingly. "But in case you haven't noticed, Shawnie, my eyes are brown—"

"It's about Juliet," he interrupted the curly-haired boy. "I wrote that for her."

They looked up to see that the three girls had come outside to see what was going on. His eyes met Juliet's wide, ocean ones. Before he could explain himself, she turned around and ran off. Angela marched up to him with a furious expression on her features and didn't hesitate to slap him across the face before she stalked off.

Shawn glared at Cory. "Thank you."

🌎🌎🌎

For once Juliet was followed back to her dorm. Cory found her there nearly fifteen minutes later, sitting on her bed with her eyes closed. He entered without knocking (as usual) and stared at her with surprising solemnness. "I don't know what to say."

She opened her eyes. "Well, that's a first."

"Listen, I'm sorry I read Shawn's poem, and—" he began, only to begin again: "no. I'm not sorry I read Shawn's poem. Didn't you see that he would love to tell you how he feels?"

She gave him an unimpressed look. "Then he should tell me."

"Jules, he-he's writing poems for you. I mean, he obviously is still in love with you and I know you still love him," he said as he sat across from her. "Remember? You told me. We were in the bathroom and you were in a towel—"

"I remember," she interrupted him and she cringed slightly. "We will never be doing that again. It doesn't matter what I feel for him, okay? We've broken up and one person can't be in a relationship by themselves. Besides, I've found an outlet for my feelings and I've started to move on."

"I don't think you have, Jules," Cory told her gently. "You still look at him like he's your entire world."

The redhead laughed wryly. "When did you get so observant?"

"Oh, you know, it happens sometimes. Once in a blue moon, a broken clock is right twice a day. That kind of thing. But-but you know he looks at you the same way, right?"

"He's the one that started talking about breaking up, Cor. He's the one that wanted to meet new people. It doesn't matter what it looks like he feels if he can't tell me."

"Well, it's not in my nature to interfere. . ." He received a faint chuckle as he continued: "I mean, I don't know. Maybe. . . his poetry is-is the only way he can be honest about his feelings. I mean, it took you guys eleven years to be together the first time. Now that you know a relationship can work maybe you can fast track your way back to the beginning and meet him halfway, you know? Tell him how you feel."

🌎🌎🌎

Juliet found Shawn writing in his book by the fireplace in the Student Union. She approached him hesitantly and when he sensed her arrival, they spoke in unison: "Shawnie—"

"Julie—" he said as he stood and looked down at her. (Was it too much to hope that the soft expression on his face was meant for her?)

"You go first," she offered.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

He turned to set his book down on the bench as he began to speak: "look, I've been going over these words in my head over and over again 'cause I want to say this right."

She sat down with him, her own expression understanding. "Oh, just-just take your time."

"We haven't been doing a very good job of trying to go back to normal, have we? I mean, I know we brought it up at the ice cream place and we've gone out a few times together but. . . but it's still weird. I got weird. But your friendship is too important to me to loose it because of past feelings, okay? I couldn't stand that."

"Neither could I, Shawnie," she admitted quietly. "I know I haven't been spending a lot of time with you guys recently and. . . and it's shown, but when I heard that poem it made me think that maybe—"

"Yeah, the poem," he interrupted her. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I wrote that. . . a long time ago."

Her breath caught in her throat as disappointment crashed over her. "Oh. You did?"

"Yeah. Like, way before we broke up, so you don't have to feel weird and, you know, everything's okay."

"Oh. Well, great." She hoped he couldn't hear the forced brightness of her tone. "Because, um, I definitely thought that was the case. I mean, that would be so weird, wouldn't it?"

"So weird," Shawn echoed with a (fake) laugh.

"I mean, I've clear-I've clearly moved on. And so have you! I mean, how are you and Angela? Since, you know, she slapped you?"

"Oh. Um, good. Great, actually."

"Cool, cool," Juliet said. "So we can just be friends, right? Like we've always been?"

"Best friends," he agreed.

🌎🌎🌎

Topanga entered the Student Union the following day and, when her eyes found the back of Shawn's head, she snuck over to him and covered his eyes with her hands. He smiled at the action. "Hey. They're not here yet."

"You're kidding me! We're gonna miss the movie," she exclaimed as she walked around the couch to sit across from him.

"So is everything okay with you and. . . your love triangle?" the blonde asked.

Shawn scoffed. "It's not a love triangle, but it's fine. I talked it out with Julie and told her that I wrote the poem before we broke up so everything's okay. Angela apologized for reacting on 'Juliet's behalf,'" he finished, using air quotes. "Whatever that means."

"Good," Topanga said as he began to put away his book. "Hey, wait. Shawn, is that the book you wrote the poem in?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that the one I gave you for your birthday?"

"What's your point?"

"Well, my point is that you and Juliet broke up before your birthday," she explained. "You couldn't have written that poem two months ago. Shawn."

"Okay, okay. You got me. I wrote it after the break up," he admitted.

"How long after?"

"Not long after."

"How long after?" she demanded.

He sighed. "I wrote it two weeks ago."

Topanga smiled brightly as she launched herself across the gap to hug him. "Oh, Shawn, you do still love Juliet!"

"Okay, let's keep it down. Let's keep it down," he protested. "I can't get her out of my mind, you know? I never have been so it's not like that's a surprise, but I miss her. I miss how it used to be, how she made me feel. I miss that she would always believe in me no matter what and how we used to talk about things that I couldn't ever tell anyone else, not even Cory."

"Well, then tell her that, Shawn."

"I can't tell her that."

"Why not?"

"Because I told her that I needed space. I told her that I wanted to meet new people."

Topanga leaned forward earnestly. "Well, if you two love each other you should be together. Maybe if Juliet knew how you felt. . ."

"No, it's too late," Shawn cut her off. "Julie doesn't love me like that anymore. She told me that she just wants to be friends. I want you to promise me. Promise me you're not gonna tell anyone, even Cory."

"Okay."

"I mean that," he insisted. He held up his hand. "Pinky swear."

"I swear," she replied, hooking her pinky with his.

"Hey," Cory said as he joined them with Juliet in tow. "What do you swear?"

The blonde stood. "I swear that I'm going to kill you if we miss this movie."

"What took you guys so long?" Shawn asked as Angela met up with them from the opposite entrance.

"Just tying up some loose ends," the redhead answered. "Right, Cor?"

"Yeah. Hey, we better get going if we don't wanna miss this movie." 

Disclaimer (*): Shawn's 'poem' that was used in this chapter is obviously from Ocean Eyes, written by Billie Eilish. I (again, obviously) own no part of it and only intended to use it for plot purposes. (While the actual poem used in this BMW episode could have worked, I wanted something more unique for Juliet and to tie it in with the title, so I changed it.) 

The poem I Promised No More Poetry which is "written" by Juliet is also not mine. I couldn't find the actual owner of the poem so if anyone knows who it is I can credit them here. The point is: I definitely didn't write it; I found it via screenshot but I thought it fit well enough with the story to include it. 

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