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One thing that Shawn was sure of, was that he could not, under any circumstances, call his own parents. Even more terrifying was the thought of calling the Matthews for help. They would come, he had no doubt that they would, but there would be no more hiding from them after that. And if they no longer wanted him after seeing him like this, then he really would be finished. Shawn didn’t think that he could stand it if Corey ever looked at him the same way he sometimes looked at himself.
The officer was starting to frown at him the longer he hesitated over the desk phone. Which was fair. Dial your guardian’s number had been a reasonably simple instruction to receive.
Shawn took a deep breath, and dialled the only other number that he had to call.
He didn’t hear most of the hurried conversation that the officer had with the receiver held to his ear, Shawn’s own ears rushing like water through a creek, as his heart worked double time. When the officer hung up, he was given to the desk sergeant to babysit; he figured that they didn’t often put teen girls into general holding cells, but didn’t want him to get underfoot while he waited to be collected.
“Someone coming for you, Sweetheart?” she asked. He managed to nod in response. He must seem suitably contrite by the situation he found himself in, because she started clucking at him like a mother hen, pulling a chair close for him to take, where he could watch over the lobby and see anyone who approached the glass doors.
It was an agonising twenty minutes before Jon arrived.
There was a tired scowl on his face as he entered the building and crossed the lobby. He made a beeline straight for the desk sergeant, not yet seeing Shawn, who was trying to make himself as small as possible behind her.
It was not the first time that Jon had interacted with the police because of Shawn, and while the aftermath of that first time had not been pleasant, they had gotten past it; Shawn had apologised, and tried to be better afterwards.
“Hi, my name’s Jonathan Turner, I’m here for -” his eyes blanched as they finally landed on Shawn. Shawn suddenly wished that he had been allowed to speak to Jon on the phone himself, instead of the officer, so that he could try to explain a little, or warn Jon not to freak out. He wished that he had been allowed to go to the bathroom while he waited, where he could have removed his makeup and his wig, or asked for a change of clothes; outing himself as a cross-dresser in a building full of cops be damned.
He wished most of all that he had not snuck out of the house in the first place.
His wild imagination of a night of freedom and anonymity and a party where someone’s parents were out of town had not ended as well as it had begun. He should have taken off the second that he heard sirens on the block, but he had been having too much fun as Veronica to be smart.
“Turner? You’re here for this young lady, right?” She asked as Jon faltered, gesturing behind her to Shawn. Jon was still staring at Shawn, and Shawn stared right back, pleading for Jon to have his back, trying to think hard enough for Jon to hear him.
“Yes?” Shawn cringed at the question in his voice. Jon would be well within his rights to turn right around and leave, forcing Shawn to really call his dad. It had been Shawn’s choice to leave, after all, Jon held no responsibility for him any more. But Jon coughed and recovered himself. “Yes. Hunter, what the hell.”
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. He almost broke down into actual tears. The look Jon was giving him wasn’t one that Shawn had ever seen before. Since they had known each other, Shawn had seen anger, frustration, concern, and even fear in the many, many times he had messed up in the past. But he had never seen this expression before. He had absolutely no idea what was going through the man’s head, and that terrified him.
“They told me you were at a party that got busted up. Sh – are you kidding me?” Shawn had nothing to say. There was very little that he could say with other people around to listen in. With a long suffering sigh, Jon rubbed at tired eyes, he seemed as overwhelmed by the situation as Shawn felt.
“Can I take her home, Officer?”
“She’s free to go. We just needed to release her into the care of a parent or guardian. Try to keep her inside this time, sir.”
“I will, thank you. Alright, kid, let’s go.”
***
Jon slung an arm around his shoulders to guide him out of the police station and down the front steps towards the car. It possibly looked like a parental gesture to any bystanders but Shawn felt more like an anxious colt being led in the right direction, by a handler afraid he might bolt at any moment.
They made it to the relative safety of the car before Jon rounded on him.
A tiny part of Shawn had managed to hope that they could maintain the stony, disappointed silence all the way back to Jon’s apartment, where he would be able to lock himself into his old bedroom and change his clothes. Or maybe climb right back out of the window.
“Talk. Now.” There was a steel cut to Jon’s voice that warned against arguing.
“I just went to a party. I’ve done it loads of times, someone just called the cops over this one.” He tried for his usual, casual sneer, but Jon wasn’t having it. He stayed perfectly still, hands clutching the wheel though he hadn’t turned the car on.
“Not good enough.”
There was nobody else in the parking lot, and nobody else coming or going from the police station to see them sitting together in a lit car. So Shawn pulled the wig from his head, shaking out his hair. He tugged a sleeve over his hand and scrubbed at his face, trying to wipe away some of the makeup. He needed the seconds to gather himself. And maybe Jon saw the utter panic written on his face, because a hand landed on his knee, giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“Kid.” he said it softly, not to spook the anxious colt. “I’m here. I’m always going to come for you.”
“I’m sorry I called you. It was me who left, I know I don’t get to call you any more. I just couldn’t exactly call my dad, could I?” he gestured down to himself as he spoke. Most of his lip gloss had come away on his sleeve, but the eyeliner had mostly smudged across his cheeks, making him look as though he really had just been sobbing. He had taken off the wig and mussed his own hair back into place, but there was nothing in the moment that he could do about the skirt and tights that he was wearing.
“I’m glad that you did call me. Look at me, please, Shawn.” He kept staring at his lap until there was another squeeze against his knee. When he did look up, Jon’s expression was still unreadable to him.
“I won’t be mad, whatever you have to say.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do.” And he sounded so sure of himself that Shawn almost wanted to tell him everything. An old instinct to provoke until the person gave up on him before attachments could form rose up in him. “You have crossed so many lines in the time that I have known you. If I was ever going to give up on you, I would have done it a long time ago. Don’t you know by now that I will always back your play.”
It was then that Shawn processed some of what had happened in the station, what he had barely heard over his own thundering heart. Jon had asked the desk sergeant if he could take ‘her’ home. In fact, he hadn’t corrected her once, and presumably hadn’t done so on the phone either. Shawn had no ID on him – which was good because the only ID he had was a fake, which would only have gotten him into more trouble with the police – but nobody that night had been given any reason to think that they were not looking at a teenage girl named Veronica.
Without knowing what was happening, and without asking any questions until they were a safe distance away, Jon had backed Shawn’s story.
“Thanks for, you know, not outing me.”
“In a precinct? Give me some credit here, kid.” Shawn offered him a respectful nod, and it was returned.
“Can we drive now?”
“Yeah, we can go.”
He knew that wouldn’t be the end of their conversation, but Jon let them get home without pushing any more, not wanting to interrogate Shawn while he was already feeling trapped and uncomfortable. He did keep sneaking glances at Shawn while he drove, before refocusing on the road a second later. Shawn didn’t know what Jon was looking for exactly. He was just happy to be moving again.
***
Letting them both into his apartment, Jon nodded in the direction of the bedroom Shawn used to sleep in.
“The stuff you didn’t pack is still there, if you want to get more comfortable.” Shawn, wig crumpled in his fist, all but ran for the door. Before it closed all the way, Jon called, “I sweat to god, Hunter, if you even think about trying to run away, I will nail that window shut.”
It was an old threat, when Shawn had lived there, Jon had made it every time he had discovered Shawn missing through the night, or when he was supposed to be doing homework in his bedroom. He had never followed through, though, always leaving it open for the occasions when Shawn crawled in again. It crossed his mind that Jon was trying to pretend this was a normal night for the two of them. The casualness of being in Jon’s home again, where he had kept Shawn’s things, kept his bedroom the way Shawn had left it, and done his best to make Shawn know that he was still welcome: knowing all of it made his stomach turn over in a way that he did not care for, and could not fully identify.
After changing into an old set of pyjamas, Shawn peered around his bedroom door. He saw John on the couch in the living space, a book in hand. There was a bookmark sticking out of the pages some quarter of the way through past the page he had opened.
Shawn took the opportunity to slip unnoticed into the bathroom gratefully. And a few minutes later, now with a fresh, clean face, he came out finally. John put the book aside when Shawn sank down next to him, without adding a marker to the page.
“Ready to talk?”
“No. But okay.”
“I’m not going to make you, to be clear.”
“I know. But I think, if I had to tell someone, then you-” he let the sentence trail off. Jon would know what he meant. Jon knew how he felt, usually before he did.
“Thanks.”
There was a moment of quiet, while Shawn wondered where to start, or if he should just blurt it out and then let Jon ask whatever questions he had.
“Corey and me wrote that article; A Chick Like Me. Do you remember that?” Jon nodded, not interrupting. “Okay, so I dressed up as a girl, right? As Veronica.” There was another careful nod from Jon, “And I guess I kept the clothes.”
“You kept the clothes?” he said it slowly, digesting the words as he said them. “Okay. That’s where you got the stuff you wore tonight?”
“Yeah. Topanga took me shopping for date outfits when we did the article. I think she forgot I had them all.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. Why’d you keep them?”
“Look, I forgot I had them all too, alright?” he sounded defensive, he knew, “I meant to give them back to Topanga but I kept forgetting. And then for a while, I couldn’t stop thinking about them, you know? No of course you don’t know. It was like I kept reliving being Veronica, and in the back of my head, I knew I still had them. I couldn’t get the thought out of my head.”
“Shawn, was this the first time that you’ve,” he floundered over the question, recalibrating. “Since the article, was this the first time you’ve gone out dressed like that.”
Shawn had been twisting his fingers together since he had sat down, popping the knuckles in and out of place. He dropped his gaze to his lap then, it was easier to talk to his hands than to Jon.
“No.”
“I see. Shawn, I have to ask, is someone making you do this? Was it a dare? Or a bet?”
“No. No. It’s not like that, man. I did it because I wanted to.”
Jon raised his hands; a placating gesture as Shawn became more agitated.
“I didn’t mean anything by that, Shawn, I didn’t. I just have to make sure that no one is taking advantage of you, alright? I was making sure that you were safe.” He paused, waiting for Shawn to settle back into his seat and take in what he had said. “Okay, so this is all you. I get that. Can you try to explain to me what it is?”
“I don’t -” he cut himself off with a frustrated grunt.
“It’s okay, whatever you say, no one else will hear it from me, I swear to you.”
“It just felt good? I liked it. Being Veronica, it felt good. So I did it again to see if it would feel good again.”
“And it did?”
“Yes okay? I dressed up as a girl and went somewhere that nobody knew me so that I could pretend to be a girl, okay?” With each word, Shawn was getting steadily louder, talking faster. “And I did it all because I liked it. I’m a freak. And now you know it.” He was yelling by the time he finished his little outburst.
When Jon grabbed for his arm, it was the least controlled that he had been all night. The careful, unreadable mask that he had held onto all night slipped for a second, and there was real fear on his face.
“Hey,” Shawn flinched away from the touch, trying to pull out of Turner’s grip but Jon had been ready for that and held on. “Don’t ever call yourself that. Not in front of me.”
“You’ve made some mistakes, kid, I’m not denying that. And I’ve gotten you out of trouble enough times that I think I have the right to question some of your choices. But you are not doing anything wrong here.” The hand holding Shawn down relaxed, but stayed resting on his shoulder. “Do I wish that you hadn’t gotten arrested? Again. Obviously. You are still in trouble for that -”
Despite himself – despite everything – that made Shawn laugh. It felt so normal that he couldn’t help it.
“- But you are not in trouble with me for dressing in any kind of way. Believe me, Shawn, you get to be who you’re gonna be and screw what anybody has to say about it.” Shawn sat dumbfounded. He didn’t know what reaction he had expected when Jon had come to pick him up tonight, but having certain acceptance lain out in front of him, he struggled to process everything.
When he was ready, he placed a hand over Jon’s, where it was still resting on his arm, and used it to haul the man down into him. When they collided, Shawn wrapped both of his arms tightly around Jon’s back in an aggressive bear hug. The breath was knocked out of Jon but, breathless, he held on too.
They sat together, held close, and Jon occasionally murmured things like “I got you, kid,” and “you’re safe here,” while Shawn buried himself into Jon’s shirt front.
Shawn gave a telltale sniff when he pulled away finally. He ducked his head down to hide when he swiped at his cheeks to clear them.
“Thanks.” Jon almost missed it, he said it so quiet; still hiding his face.
“You know there is such a thing as waterproof mascara.” Jon started, “maybe we should get you some.”
“Shut up.” he bumped a friendly shoulder into Jon, with a wet chuckle.
“And maybe I can show you how to use it properly too.”
“You?”
“Yeah, I was young too, you know? I went to nightclubs in college. I was cool.”
“You?”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.” He bumped Shawn’s shoulder in return. They had rearranged themselves on the sofa, sat shoulder to shoulder and facing forward, not looking at each other.
“You’re my teacher, you’re meant to be lame.”
“Jesus, Hunter, I’m trying to say that I support you.”
“Lame,” and then, quieter, “thanks.”
“Yeah. And you know, if you’re worried about your dad, you could keep a few things here?”
Shawn’s head whipped around, like someone had pulled on his strings. He studied Jon’s face, looking for signs of regret or hesitation, but found an open, honest face for the first time that night. He looked down at himself, at the pyjamas he had found right where he had left them.
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah. Someone should know where you are at night. It would make me feel better. And you get a safe space to, well I don’t know, test some boundaries?”
“Roof over my head and a window to crawl out of, right?”
“Right. Except maybe you could crawl into it on occasion too?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think about it.”