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Your name is Shawn Hunter and the playground will be crowded and hot when you meet him; the sun beating down on your back as he grips you by the shoulders and his glasses press against your chest. You'll wonder how he ever managed to not crack them seeing as he's forever being bullied by much larger boys - he's shorter than you are and his hair is a mess of auburn curls as they brush against your mouth. You can't remember the last time someone hugged you because they wanted to, because they meant it. One touch is all you ever needed and you're an addict strung out on dimples and curls.
He'll drag you home one day after school with you trailing behind him like a stray cat and his parents will look at you with pity in their eyes and you'll resist the urge to yell at the top of your lungs that you're fully aware of what a mess you and your life are and the last thing you need is pity and hugs that feel as if they're more fit for sitcoms than real life.
You will not leave, you'll return his hugs and tell yourself that you'll stay by his side no matter what.
You will spend every Summer watching him grow before your eyes and a feeling will take root in your chest and curl around your heart; you won't understand it until you're 12 years old and he's staring at her with a look that you've only had aimed in your direction once or twice. The face of your replacement (it will feel like rejection; a knife to the back over and over) will be round with dimples and flowing blonde hair. You'll encourage it because he doesn't deserve to be unhappy and if he wants something or someone then he deserves it.
Even still the two of you will fall into a pattern; each step laid bare before your eyes like a future that you can't dream into existence and you'll tell yourself that it's enough right now if that's all he has to offer.
You will wake up one day with his name on your lips and a sinking feeling in your gut because you did this to yourself. You sharpened the serrated blade then allowed Cory to stab the wound over and over with every passing mention of her name. You'll become friends with the green eyed monster who repeats everyday - play, rewind, play - like a tape that won't stop. You'll never be good for him but she is. She will swoop in and snatch what had taken you years to acquire. You will die alone, you are sure of it.
You'll rear back and push Cory Matthews out of your life, out of your space but he'll fight off your demons and stand amongst the carnage - he will stay. In a moment of vulnerability you'll promise him forever - me and you for the rest of our lives and foolishly cling to childhood promises. (You will ask yourself why this future seems foggy and out of your reach; by the time you figure this out it will be too late.)
After the heat of an argument you will angerly tell him that you're moving on and he will accuse you of breaking up with him (You will not correct him; you will do this for his own good).
You will date someone whose main purpose in the relationship is to drive a wedge between you and him. You will sneak in phone calls just to hear him breathing on the other end of the line, will choose a time and place to see one another and you will bring him a token of your love - a Cinnabon with a bold "C" on top. You'll feel sick as she eats it instead. She will offer you an ultimatum and you will not hesitate to choose him.
You will take up shady jobs in order to buy him a proper Christmas gift (a watch that took your hours to pick out) and he'll give you grief about it but you'd do it all over again just to see a piece of jewelry you bought him laid out on pale skin.
Somewhere between the present and the past you will lose your father and your first instinct will be to bolt and locate cheap alcohol. Cory will stop you, will hold you in his arms and tell you that he cares about you and you will not believe him - you are not an easy person to love and you're terrified, shaking on the inside - crumbling around him like he's the only person who is holding you together; he is your compass when you can't find your way back home. You will let him love you even as you tell yourself that he doesn't feel the same.
(You will give him a ring when he's 25 and you'll know then, without a doubt that he loves you back, it will sting. You will realize how much time you wasted when you dream of a future where he has children and a life that you cannot offer him and wake up wondering what it might've been like if the rumor about adopting a child had been about the two of you instead but this hasn't happened yet.)
You will cover his hand with yours in an empty classroom and urge him to pretend that you're her; that you're the one who can make him happy and he will not meet your eyes as he says he loves you. The moment will have passed as quickly as it came and you will feel disappointment and resentment - like gasoline; strike a match - you would burn for him. (You will hold his hand in both of yours as students watch and you will not be ashamed. You will throw yourself into another dead-end date to try to drown out the feeling of his palm against yours.)
When he hatches a plan about drawing in readers for his struggling newspaper you will dress up in female clothing to make him happy and he will parade you around the school hallway like you're the most amazing person to have walked into his life. At last he will look at you with appreciation as his eyes skim over your body and you will wonder if he would've loved you like he loved her had you been born a different sex. (You will stay awake at night thinking of this; building a future where you're the person he loves even if you had to change yourself into something more appealing.)
(Topanga will not be surprised to find out that you had thought about this and she will not mock you for it.)
You will end up late one night outside of a seedy bar with him at your side as the two of you drink one can of cheap booze after another and the words you never found the courage to voice will wilt inside of you when he says I always thought that I'd die without Topanga but she's gone and I'm alive so it must be you. The victory will be bittersweet and you'll wonder where you went wrong; how you ended up as your best friends second choice - a runner up to the crowning glory.
You will stumble down darkened streets with arms around one another like it was always meant to turn out this way. You will tell him that you'd take a bullet for him and you'll mean every word; you are a poet on paper but speaking them aloud is not your forte. Still he will understand the vague admission - that this love is worth dying for; that he is worth fighting for.
He'll tell you then, slightly slurring his words, that he loves you and you'll do your best to put on a strong face as (with throat tight and your heart on your sleeve) you openly admit that you love him back and you've spent too many years denying everything even to yourself but you will not mention this part.
A drunken man will tell both of you (after witnessing the intimate hug - in a hushed voice) that his brother had chosen an "alternative lifestyle" as well and you will tell the man to keep in touch (because he saw you for who you really are and didn't look at you with disgust or disdain; didn't pretend that your sexuality didn't exist).
(You'll cling to this moment at their wedding and play it over and over in your head as you fall apart in front of everyone but you won't care. You will scream at the top of your lungs with tears in your eyes and a hoarse voice begging him to talk about this because there's still time and you should've said something sooner. Your original plan was to be put into motion immediately after their honeymoon but he managed to prematurely force it out in the open.)
You will ask him if he likes her; a last ditch attempt to subtly beg him to stay.
He will not understand.
She will take his last name and you will stand at his side as he chooses her over you - you will smile and allow him to think that you're okay.
(You will argue over a shabby dorm room intended for married couples with him and you'll let it spill that this apartment is what the two of you had planned to have all those years ago (married because he'd been 'married' to Topanga since they were two years old and you went back that far as well. the only difference was a sheet of paper to make it official) and he will snap and yell at you that he's married (an obvious stab in your direction because you'd never have this with him and it'll be painfully obvious that he's struggling to accept this as well) . You'll walk out the door as your own words echo in your ears - 'We're not going to be Cory&Shawn anymore!' You didn't want to be right this time.)
You will be sitting on his bed with covers over both of you, eating Topanga's breakfast without an ounce of guilt (in that moment you will make the shabby apartment your own - adding creases and wrinkles to her side of the bed; marking it to remind him) while pretending that this is your life now; a peek into a future that you'd welcome with open arms. You will not finish your food when he casually drops the symptoms of her potential pregnancy and you will realize you never fit into this picture anyway. Still you will throw yourself into the fray and ensure his happiness; will stand at Angela's side with balloons and baby clothes and smile even if it kills you.
(You will feel a sense of relief to find that she isn't pregnant after all.)
He will tell you he's moving to New York and it will feel like dying; a crushing weight pressing against corroded lungs. You will realize how much of your life is wrapped up in his and you'll wonder who the hell you are (it will not be the last time). He will casually bid goodbye to you and you will yell at him in front of his wife - you will crave the hour that you'd expected; that you deserved. The hour of I'm sorry you know I wouldn't leave you if I could help it and Please don't go; I've been in love with you since we were children and I think I'll love you all my life.
The earth-shatteringly painful goodbye you were always sure you'd get if he were to walk out of your life - heartfelt hugs and holding onto one another for dear life.
He will pretend that the situation isn't as dire as it is; you will quietly grow to resent his wife for taking him from you but you will not tell him.
You will dance with him and grin so hard that it causes your cheeks to ache when he says that they're not actually moving to NY. You will know the truth - that she didn't agree to this 100% but you will celebrate with him regardless. (You will pretend, for him, you will pretend)
She will surprise both of you by straight out telling you that you'll be coming with them, you will giddily accept and thank your lucky stars and every penny you ever wished on.
You will love him from the sidelines and whither inside every time the door in their bedroom closes behind them because boys like you were never meant to love boys like Cory. (You will know it then - the sacrifice one makes for the person they love more than anything or anyone; more than you ever dreamed was possible.)
They will have a baby with Cory's eyes and dark hair; as you cradle her in your arms for the first time you'll do your best not to cry but the tears will fall anyway. They will attribute it to how much this child is loved by you already, by uncle Shawn. You will not tell them that she is a physical reminder of what you could never have, will never have. It will not be the longing for stability and family that stirs you; you're not suited for marriage and you know this. No, it will be the heartbreaking feeling of losing him all over again that will push you out the door.
You will marry the words Better for him and She is his new best friend now and repeat on a continuous loop in your head; perhaps if you repeat them enough you'll believe them. (You will try this once more upon returning from a thirteen year separation, you will find that your talent for to lying to yourself is rusty at best.)
You will drop a final kiss to the baby's head and hug Cory close followed by Topanga and they will be too wrapped up in the bliss of being parents to notice that you're holding on harder than you should; like it's the last time.
You will return to your shared apartment when they're at the hospital and pack your bags.
For his happiness you will step back so that she can step up and you'll spend many nights sobbing after parting ways and not leaving so much as a phone number for him.
You will focus on traveling to take photographs and writing poetry - will try not to think about how much of him is in every one of them.
(You will miss him enough to make your bones ache.)
It will be many years and one amicable divorce later when you come back to him as if no time at all has passed. It will feel safer somehow, without the looming shadow of a marriage that you'd quietly committed yourself to years ago only to find out that three's a crowd and you're not the kind of person who copes well with having to share. Blame it on the instability of your childhood or the fact that Cory stuck around and loved you even at your darkest; loved you when you could not love yourself. Blame it on loving until it ripped you to shreds.
When he sees you he will light up like the sun and all of the dark clouds you will have carried over the years will slowly drift away - replaced instead by eyes you'd know anywhere and hair that you could never quite put into words; strange as it had always been. He'll hug you tight enough that you can feel the gradual shifting of decades of memories resurfacing; ghosts of feelings you'd spent too many years trying to bury.
(You will take one look at him and wonder why you'd ever try to pretend that your life would be complete without him.)
You will meet his daughter and try not to show how seeing her still brings a pain that you cannot put a term to. She will call you uncle Shawn and you'll tell yourself that it isn't her fault that she was caught in the middle and born into a marriage that included three people who loved too much.
You will meet her best friend and marvel that the more things change, the more they stay the same.
(You will love the two of them as your own, you just need time.)
"How does it feel to be an accomplished writer and photographer?," Cory asks as he scoots his cup further onto the marred kitchen table.
Shawn's apartment isn't fancy - not even close but it's home with its well worn couches, mismatched painted walls and soft lighting.
"Are you trying to butter me up? To flatter me? Because it's working," Shawn replied - carefully sliding back into a routine they'd established as children; one where he could close his eyes at night and pretend that the small touches; the pet names - the jabs about the two of them dating (and they were - in a way that barely avoided overstepping loose boundaries) were something real.
Cory responded as he always had - mirroring Shawn's attitude - "You got me there."
"I won't ever pass as a NY Times best selling author or even world famous photographer but it's going alright. You?"
Shawn waited for the slump of Cory's shoulders; the gaze focusing on anything but him and the casual drop of Topanga's name; the wistful look in his eye but it didn't happen. Instead he smiled and reached across the table to grip Shawn's hand in his own - "Never been better. Its been a long time."
Despite Shawn's brain screaming at him to take his hand back and change the topic off of personal matters and onto genetic notions - the slight nip in the air indicating that Fall was right around the corner or how full of crumpled paper balls his trashcan was because sometimes he found that the right words came out all wrong but in the end he couldn't do it.
Besides it was simply two estranged best friends holding hands over coffee, nothing more.
(He'd gotten rather good at lying to himself, he'd been doing it for years)
Still he refused to come out of this with heart battered and bleeding as he always had when it came to Cory - not this time.
"More coffee?," he asked as he quickly removed his hand from Cory's and made his way over to the coffee pot - depositing creamer and sugar atop the table and refilling both mugs.
Busy - busy was good. Busy meant he wouldn't put his foot in his mouth where it didn't belong. Wouldn't ask about the things that kept him awake at night:
Have you spoken with her lately?
When I asked you on your wedding day if you liked her, I meant - 'do you love her enough to choose her over me?' has your answer changed?
Were we everything they said we were back then?
When you look at your daughter do you wonder what life might've been like if we'd been her parents? I would've stayed.
Do you have regrets?
Do you dream of me? Because I dream of you and it hurts sometimes.
Is there anyone special in your life? Because I can't seem to get over you and my longest record of dating is a grand total of 3 months. Pathetic. She dumped me over you which is hilarious given that we hadn't spoken in two years by that point but she said she couldn't compete with what we had, couldn't stand to hear your name more than her own.
More than anything, he wanted to ask.
"SHAWN. Sit down," Cory demanded and gestured toward Shawn's empty seat.
"It's bad manners to run out of coffee when you have a guest over, Cory. That's what your mom always said."
"But I'm not a guest."
No, he wasn't. Cory was a ghost from a past dotted with tears, hugs and failed relationships - love and friendship in one person who refused to let Shawn go even after all this time and the years that stretched out between them like desolate highways with no end in sight. Had Shawn left his number or address with him when he'd packed up and left their apartment in the middle of the night Cory would've followed. So he'd left a simple generic note behind instead: ('Need to focus on my career, I wish you both the best. You deserve it. Give Riley a kiss for me.') and walked away for good (with the exception of well placed postcards - usually sent right before leaving the state he'd sent it from with no return address.)
(until Cory - stubborn as he was - had hunted him down)
Shawn shrugged, couldn't come up with a single witty remark to fire back with.
Straight to the point then -
"Why're you here, Cory?"
And there it was - Cory's body sagging back against the chair as he placed his hands in his lap - "Has it gotten so bad between us that I need a reason to see you?"
Up until this moment, years had passed between them; blending the confusion of their youth with little lies they'd told themselves to get by and one truth:
He's better off without me. I'm only getting in the way.
[I should've called off the wedding.]
[What if we hadn't been interrupted? We were something incredible once.]
Phone calls every few months will suffice. No, no no. I can't.
[Boyfriend. That term sure got tossed around a lot but honestly; they hit the nail on the head - we belong(ed) to one another.]
"No, you of all people should know that."
He paused, thinking.
"Hey do you still have...-," Shawn began.
"-the ring?," Cory finished.
When they were twenty five Shawn had waited until Topanga left the apartment with Riley (having used the key to let himself into the apartment for one of his rare in person visits) and he'd woke a drowsy Cory by climbing under the covers with him (something that happened more often than not when he actually visited but Topanga would merely sigh and shake her head before walking out of the room without a word) and gently shaking his shoulder.
"Cor, wake up. Come on, it's important."
Cory yawned and blinked sleepily before flopping onto his stomach and throwing an arm over Shawn's chest as if his best friend always dropped by out of nowhere - "Morning Shawny."
These were the memories Shawn collected and carefully stowed away for days spent painfully alone in his own apartment - a new address and a phone number that Cory didn't know because he'd told him he needed space; room to grow and he'd felt sick when each one resurfaced. More often than not he'd traveled in hopes that his demons couldn't catch up to him on the road but every once in awhile he found himself standing outside Cory and Topanga's door.
Grinning, he rolled over on his side with Cory's arm now holding onto his waist and whispered in his ear in a sing-song voice - "Cooooory, I know something you don't know."
It was childish but it worked like a charm.
" 'mm?," Cory mumbled as he rubbed his eyes with one hand and kept the other casually draped over Shawn.
"Got you a little something."
Shawn had spent an hour picking out just the right ring for Cory and packed it along with him through multiple states until he'd worked up the nerve to return to New York if even just for the night. Putting his ring on Cory's finger would feel like absolution, he was sure of it.
At this, Cory straightened and sat up in bed, propping pillows behind his back. "Let me guess, don't tell me. Is it...the shower curtain I wanted? You know, the one Topanga didn't like because 'Ducks don't belong in an apartment where adults live?' "
"Nope. Try again."
"A cat? Did you get me a cat??," Cory asked, excitedly.
"You can't have pets here Cor, you know that."
Cory crinkled his forehead, trying to figure out exactly what Shawn had bought him. It wasn't unlike him to surprise him small things here and there - an expensive watch when they were teens, a gift card to Cinnabon, spare pens because he kept losing them, a book he'd been wanting. They had a way of filtering in through the mail sporadically - arriving from cities and states that Cory had never been to - places Shawn had always wanted to take him to.
He'd witnessed a glimmer of that life when the two of them had went to Vermont, following graduation. They'd spent two weeks taking in the local tourism while Shawn snapped photograph after photograph of scenery and candids of Cory. But that was a life meant for someone else so he'd taken himself on trips and mailed photo's to Cory and Topanga instead; shared his travels with Cory in a round about way.
The photo's and gifts were Shawn's way of showing his affection without words; words were reserved for poems and various writings that he spent many a late night on - notebooks that Cory would never see.
"Okay okay stop that before you hurt yourself. Close your eyes."
Cory smirked and replied, suggestively - "Oooh I think I'm gonna like this."
Shawn bit down hard on his lip and fought the urge to kiss - to touch. It would be so easy to do (too easy and the last thing he wanted was to cause trouble between Cory and Topanga). He'd been dancing this number since he'd first encouraged Cory to go after Topanga but breaking routine and going after him was selfish; purely for Shawn's own satisfaction - consequences be damned.
Instead he took Cory's hands in his own and pressed a small box in his palm; fingers covering Cory's.
"And OPEN!"
Reluctantly he pulled his hands back and got exactly the reaction he'd been aiming for - Cory screeched before he even opened the box and smiled until the corners of his eyes turned up.
"Go on, open it," Shawn urged.
The box creaked as it opened; revealing a solid white gold band resting in the crevice of eggshell white velvet.
"I mean I'm making good money now and its been five years since you got married so I thought I'd-" Shawn began. Cory all but tackled him with a hug and buried his face in Shawn's neck; hot breath against bare skin causing goosebumps to form on Shawn's arms.
"Love you Shawny, you're my best friend," Cory murmured as he turned away and wiped the corners of his eye. Shawn did the same.
They both knew what Cory's wedding had meant to the two of them; it was a day that Cory had made a vow (till death do them part) to not only Topanga but Shawn as well and had meant every word - their union was never marked with a ring or a wedding cake with two grooms and a bride atop it but it was real none the less and for the year they'd all lived together they'd marked that anniversary with dinner for three with Topanga wishing "Mr. Cory" and Cory a happy anniversary as Cory kissed her softly on the lips and Shawn settled for hugs and squishing next to one another on the sofa.
For five years now they'd sailed along without complications; years dotted with visits and overnight stays - simply happy to just be together.
Still there had been birthdays and Riley's first's that Shawn wasn't present for and either way he cut it, those hurt. The ring would be a reminder that no matter how far he traveled, that love would always be there.
Shawn stared down at his hands - "I love you too Cor."
"Aren't you supposed to put it on my finger?," Cory questioned as he held the ring out to Shawn.
It slid effortlessly onto the ring finger of Cory's right hand; white gold in sharp contrast to the yellow gold that Topanga had placed on his left one.
Nothing had ever felt so right - his ring on Cory's finger.
When presented with it and a giddy Cory Topanga had taken his hand and gave the ring a quick once over before smirking at Shawn and throwing a "Congratulations on finally picking out a ring, took you long enough" over her shoulder.
The three of them had spent the rest of the night stretched out on the couch watching cheesy movies as Riley slept and in the morning, before anyone woke, Shawn left. Even with the ring, even with Topanga being accepting, even with Cory being as affectionate as ever he still didn't fit into the picture and Riley was an ever present reminder of that. He loved her, loved them all and sometimes loving meant leaving.
Shawn had thought about the ring more often than not in the years that followed; had pocketed the ring Cory had bought him (happily given when they were 27; two years late but better than never) (thus proving Cory to be the sentimental sap that Shawn always pegged him as) and carried it with him every time he moved.
"You mean this?"
The ring had been freshly polished and shined as it rested on Cory's palm.
"I didn't think you'd still have it."
"I'm full of surprises," Cory smirked. "Alright I showed you mine now where's yours?"
The ring was currently nestled in a small box of sentimental items Shawn had packed along with him for years - a baseball card from his father (the one item he had to remember him by), an old leather jacket from junior high that he could never bring himself to part with, a couple of notes that Angela had written him and the ring.
"I, um, took it off for work."
"Shawn...you're a photographer who works from home and travels."
"Fine, fine I'll get it."
He returned with the ring and jacket in hand. "Remember this old thing?"
Cory smiled and twisted the ring around on his right ring finger despite the left being bare.
"You wore that jacket everyday. Can't believe you kept it."
"Yeah well. I have a knack for holding onto old things."
"Who knew that the great Shawn Hunter was really a big softy?," Cory teased as he nabbed the jacket and examined the pockets and zipper, noting the scuff marks and small tears that had gathered over the years - mostly from fights he'd either started or ended up in the middle of somehow; some began in Cory's defense.
Shawn blushed and smiled - "Don't go telling everyone now."
"Your secret is safe with me. Did you find the ring?"
Shawn nodded.
"Where is it?"
"Check the inside pocket."
Cory sat the jacket on the table and ran his finger along the inside until he felt the seam of a pocket and a hard outline. The ring was just as Cory remembered it - he'd searched longer for that ring than he had for Topanga's and on the inside he'd had engraved: C + S forever.
"Gimme your finger."
Shawn crinkled his forehead - "What? Why?"
"Just give it to me."
Cory carefully slid the ring on - left ring finger and brushed a thumb over it; marveling at how right it looked in its proper place; where it should've always been.
"Uh Cor, think you got the wrong finger."
"Not this time."
The room felt smaller then; reshaping around them and enveloping them until every background noise dulled to a faint buzz.
Shawn watched as Cory slid his own ring off and onto his left ring finger to match - "This okay?"
If Shawn could speak at all he'd ask Cory to pinch him because there's no way that this future - this moment - was real. Any minute now he'd wake up in his own bed with sheets on the floor and heart racing - alone and miles away from his best friend.
Instead, he nodded.
"I'm pretty sure this is the part where you kiss me and we stay together forever like you promised," Cory murmured as he tugged Shawn to his feet - the leather jacket pooling on the table beside of them; a relic of a lifetime shared together.
"Umm..." Shawn faltered.
"Is that a yes?"
"Ye-," Shawn began only to be cut off by Cory's finger under his chin and warm lips on his own just long enough to make his stomach fill with butterflies and his pulse race.
Cory peppered kisses on his forehead and nose, to each cheek and returned to his mouth; lips slick against Shawn's and nose against his cheek before resting his forehead against Shawn's; breathing heavily and dipping back in to steal kisses as if he had to make up for all that lost time right away.
"So," Shawn began as he lifted Cory's left hand up and caressed the ring, "does this mean I'm officially Mr. Cory now?"
"Only if you promise to let me win sometimes when we play video games."
He grinned and pressed a kiss to the tip of Cory's nose - "Deal."
Your name is Shawn Hunter. You're a husband, a best friend and an uncle. You have finally found where you belong.