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Katy knows Shaun.
She knows how he takes his pizza (pineapples and jalapeños). She knows how particular he is about his coffee order, how diligently he sticks to his gym routine.
For half of her life, she’s known everything about Shaun. She knew there were certain things she shouldn’t ask, like where he lived when they were kids, why he never mentioned a family.
For a long time it was Shaun and Katy against the world. She got him into trouble and he got her out of trouble. Like clockwork.
“Shaun,” she said blankly one afternoon over homework, “We are not spending another Friday night playing COD. I already bought your prom ticket, so shut up about it.”
Shaun nodded blankly.
“Just tell me you’re not planning anything crazy,” he said.
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
He became a different person to her on that bus. Out of nowhere he could do these crazy moves that more than your average gym trainer could teach you. Of course she had a thousand and one questions for him, but she knew he would need her help. She always knew.
It was a few months into their friendship that Katy realized something was up in Shaun’s home life. She could see when he was starting to lose weight, when he had sleepless nights, and how his eyes lingered over help wanted signs propped against store windows.
“Mom,” she called out when she got home from school, “Shaun is coming for dinner today. He needs to eat. Also he needs a job and we need help at the store but he’ll never ask you so I’m asking for him—“
She lost her breath somewhere in her ramblings. Her mother looked at her with a disapproving glint.
“Katy,” she said carefully, “You and this boy. I know you’re close, but…”
Katy shook her head.
“You need to see him yourself, mom. You’ll get it.”
And when Shaun was sitting at her dinner table, taking polite sips of soup, Katy thinks her mother saw something in him that day. Maybe it was the way his clothes were hanging off his chest. Maybe it was the shadows under his eyes. But that day he went from that boy Katy is friends with to a member of the family.
And when, two weeks later, he asks to help at the shop, Katy could only smile.
She found herself on that battlefield. Something inside of her finally clicked into place, something she could never find in a library or a classroom or an office.
Maybe it was half adrenaline, half dumb luck, but for the first time Katy felt like she was right where she was supposed to be.
It was the day after her graduation from Berkeley, and Katy found herself surrounded by half-empty cardboard boxes. She was supposed to be done packing up a week ago, but she didn’t have the energy to.
Instead she found herself sitting on her bare mattress, staring at her phone opened to LinkedIn updates and Instagram pictures of all her happy classmates moving on to bigger and brighter things.
It was how Shaun found her.
They didn’t say anything. He sat next to her, plucked the phone out of her hand and put his arm around her.
She didn’t need to tell him that graduating scared her because she still didn’t know what to do with herself, and her mother’s reminders in her ear for four years didn’t help. She didn’t need to tell him that the real world, adulthood, figuring it all out was too overwhelming, and she was worried she’d spend the rest of her life wasting every sacrifice her parents made for her.
"We'll figure it out," he whispered, 'We always do."
One would think that after the few days they had, all the violence, all the revelations, the almost dying, almost dying again, and almost dying ag—honestly, after the third time she stopped keeping track— would have changed what they had.
It didn’t.
As they watch the lanterns float off into the inky water, the weight of Shaun’s head on hers, their arms pressed together, Katy knows their world has changed.
Shaun’s breathing is steady under her. He smells like sweat and blood and smoke and charred skin, but he’s Shaun. He’s done unspeakable things today—did unspeakable things all his life. But he’s here and he’s alive, and she’s alive, and that’s all that matters.
Katy almost wishes she could go back in time to herself in the past, to let her know that every moment of uncertainty, every sleepless night over their futures and embarrassment from friends over career choices (rather, lack thereof) would be worth it in the end, because this is where they were meant to end up.
He is the first to speak.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers against her hair.
Katy doesn’t know what to do with the warmth creeping up her neck.
“Me too,” she whispers back, “Let’s not do that again for a while, okay? At least a week.”
“Deal,” Shaun says, taking her hand in his, and words don’t seem all that important anymore.
Katy doesn’t know what to expect for the future, but really, when has she ever? They fly back to San Francisco— business class, this time, thanks to Katy’s new best friend Xialing— and their hands are still linked.
Things are markedly different now, he reaches out to her and she reaches out to him as though any moment without physical contact is too painful. They’re not saying what this is yet, they only give each other the kind of glances that would make Katy roll her eyes when she saw it around other couples.
She thinks she might love him. No, she’s always loved him—she thinks she might be in love with him. After everything she’s been through it shouldn’t scare her, but it does.
Katy tries to read how Shaun might feel by stealing glances out of the corner of her eye. For the first time, he looks at peace. He looks content. There was always a cease between his eyebrows, even at their most carefree, but now it’s disappeared.
That’s why, in the Uber home from the airport, Katy decides not to say anything about it. Maybe they’re bonded for life now or some nonsense like that, nothing else has to change.
When they reach her house, they loiter on the porch. It’s a little past midnight, the house lights are all off. The street lamps are the only way she can see Shaun’s face. Katy can feel herself swaying on her feet as the exhaustion catches up with her.
“I was going to ask what time I should get you before work tomorrow,” he comments, “But I think a few days of unexplained absents counts as job abandonment.”
Katy laughs. Work has been the least of her concerns, but she doesn’t think her mom will like the whole saving the world thing as an excuse for losing her job.
“We’ll figure it out,” she shrugs, “We always do.”
Shaun chews on the inside of his cheek. He opens his mouth, and pauses, as though building up the courage to say something important, something friendship altering—
“Text Soo tomorrow. See if she and John can meet for drinks.”
Katy catches herself and ignores any feeling of disappointment that trickles down her chest.
“For sure,” she says, forcing lightness in her voice, “I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces.”
Shaun smiles, this time there’s uncertainty.
There’s a beat of silence where, for once, neither of them know what to say. Katy’s head is too busy spinning from a lack of sleep and unfamiliar emotions.
“Okay, I should get inside then. We both need some sleep,” she declares with only a hint of regret. Because going inside means their adventure is over, and she doesn’t know how to go back to the mundanity of before.
Shaun nods.
“Right,” he whispers, “Just one thing before you go—“
He leans down slowly, his eyes intently on hers. He pauses just as their noses brush together, keeping the gap between them in a silent question, as if giving Katy the chance to pull back if she wants to.
Maybe a week ago this would be unthinkable, just the suggestion of it would make her laugh or want to run for the hills. But everything they’ve seen, everything they’ve done together, has shifted her perspective.
She closes the gap between them, brushing her lips against his. She feels Shaun sigh in relief as he pulls her against his chest. His lips are soft against hers and, despite an undercurrent of desperation they might feel after all this time, they move gently.
He feels warm, and familiar, in the way that Shaun always does, but it makes Katy feel alive and exhilarated, like shooting an arrow or running from trouble.
They pull away, breathless.
Shaun’s face is lit up against the dark porch. Katy can feel his hands still against her waist, one of his thumbs brushing up and down gently.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” he says, as if nothing happened.
She blinks.
“Shaun—“
“I know,” he says, “You need some rest. We have a lot of time, I promise. Tomorrow.”
Katy gulps against her pounding heart, which feels like it crept up to her throat in the last five minutes.
“Tomorrow,” she repeats, “You’re getting me breakfast.”
“Deal,” he agrees.
She watches as he makes his way down the street, a silly, uncontrollable grin playing at the corners of her lips.
“Goddamnit, Shaun,” she whispers to herself, “How am I supposed to sleep now?