Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A/N: This whole fanfic will have huge themes of Self harm, suicidal thoughts, past child abuse, eating disorders, panic attacks etc so if those things upset you please don't read! 

I'm not a professional writer or much of a writer at that , I write here and there when I have a moment away from work and I've been loving watching this series on Disney+!

All my life I’ve never really fit in.

And I mean never fit in…

I’m staying at the Matthews until my dad comes back from god knows where trying to find my mother, all she ever seems to do is take off.

It’s only been a few days, but I appreciate them putting up with a burden like me.

Although they’ve never said it, I know the Matthews aren’t thrilled to have me here, they know I’m a bad influence on their precious baby Cory.

“Amy this kid is eating us out of house and home, he’s more than another mouth to feed!” Alan whispered angrily.

Now don’t get me wrong I love Amy and Alan (Cory’s parents) but I can’t help but resent them for how good parents they are to their children.

I never got that.

Sighing Amy picked up the newspaper and flicked through it.

“It’s not the kids’ fault, I mean it must hurt feeling that his own parents don’t want him” she whispered gently.

I know I shouldn’t be lurking on the stairs; I should leave them to have their own private conversations in the comfort of their own home.

I know nobody wants me, and I don’t blame them.

So, it’s another trip to the bathroom to carve angry lines on my wrists.

I fucking deserve it.

I know it shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does, watching that crimson liquid seep out of the angry lines on my wrists.

Its one of the only things that I can control since I’m just being tossed around like some piece of trash, and I think I know deep down that that is what I am.

“Hey Hunter!” I snap out of my daydreaming to see Mr Turner looking down on me raising his eyebrows.

The look on my face must concern him because his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“You alright?” he whispers when everyone gets back to their class assignments.

“Yeah, I’m good Mr Turner, thanks” I smile politely.

Subconsciously I appear to be gripping the bottoms of my sleeves tightly in my hands.

Turner glances at them questioningly.

“Hunter, see me after class” he commanded as he resumed the lesson on Macbeth.

Cory kept flashing me concerned looks after he heard I had to stay behind with Mr Turner.

“Probably one of my many missed assignments man” I joke.

It seems to have satisfied Cory as he gets back to his assignment, none the wiser on how his best friend is actually feeling.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

I never mattered.

Once the classroom was empty, I let go of a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“How you holding up kid?” Mr Turner asks thoughtfully.

Now here I have an option to lie or to tell the truth, and to be honest where has telling the truth ever got me? Probably I’ll end up in a psych ward if I ever tell him what I’m actually going through. How I actually feel.

“I’m cool, life happens y’know Mr Turner. People change, people leave, and I’ve just got to accept that” I state matter of factly.

“You seem tense, have you heard from your dad yet?” he asks, wiping the chalk off of the chalkboard prepping for another lesson.

“Nah, but he doesn’t want me anyway…not that I blame him, it doesn’t seem like anyone does and I guess that’s life” I smile sweetly.

“Look Hunter, I’m always here for you, there’s always a couch at my place for you…if you need to crash somewhere” he smiles.

I smile politely in response and tell him that I’m alright and I work better as a lone wolf.

Chapter Text

Nothing could have prepared me for what I walked into when I got to the Matthew’s house after school though.

Feeny, Cory, Eric, Amy, Alan and Turner were all standing in the kitchen.

I have no idea why there’s such an audience.

Mr Feeny looks sadly at Mr Turner in the doorway as I approach, but they haven’t seen me yet.

There’s a voice.

It’s my fathers.

He’s finally home, he’s come to take me home!

My face lights up in hope.

But it’s just his voice on speaker phone.

“Alan, my boy. I love Shawn he’s my baby so please do an old man a favour and take him in, love him as your own” my father’s voice trails.

“Chet look, I can’t afford another kid and he’s not the easiest kid to handle. You need to be a father and take responsibility for your own child” Alan states.

“My heart belongs with Shawn’s mother, and she said she won’t come back because she can’t be the mother Shawn deserves, so I can’t come back” my father states.

“We never really were ready for kids anyway” Chet says sadly as the receiver goes dead.

All eyes on me.

“Shawn honey, did you hear all that?” Amy says putting a hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t need any of you anyway” I shrug angrily, and I run out the house and into the distance.

I’m not even sure what the time is, all I know is the night is dark and unsettling.

“Cory said you might be here, Hunter” a familiar voice says softly.

Mr. Turner kneels down to my level.

Fuck him I don’t need his stupid sympathy.

“What’s up buddy?” he asks, as if my whole world wasn’t crashing beneath my shaky feet.

I smile sarcastically.

“I dunno what you’re on about Turner, cause I’ve never been better!” I smugly reply.

“Look, kid…I know this isn’t easy on you and I want to help” he starts.

“Stop. Just stop it! I’m not a fucking charity case. I’m a lost cause and its about time you guys learned that.” I state angrily.

“Shawn, language” Turner warns.

“Everyone’s better without me anyway” I mumble.

“That’s not true, you need to live with someone, make sure you eat alright and sleep comfortably – you need that Shawn, and you can live with me. I’ll make that happen” Turner states matter-of-factly.

“I don’t want to be here anymore” I start.

“Then where do you want to be, buddy?” Turner questions.

“I don’t have a place in this world, it’s better off without me” I grumble.

Just then I see Turners face go a whole new shade of pale, his eyebrows knit together in sheer concern and the emotion in his eyes become clear.

“Don’t you ever say that, Hunter. Suicide is NEVER the answer” Turner says, almost yelling.

I back up, a little taken aback by his outburst.

“I know you have it hard kid, but you cant just give up. Too many people are by your side routing for you” he says.

“Like who?! My own mother and father? Oh wait, they ditched me and never wanted me in the fucking first place” I sneer.

Turner gingerly approaches me, unsure if I’ll bolt like a wild animal who doesn’t want to be tamed.

He wraps me in a bear hug.

Surprised, I awkwardly pat him taking in the strong smell of his cologne.

“You’re staying with me; I want you to and I don’t want you to die… not out here due to natural causes or suicide or some phantom alien abduction. You’re living with me kid.” He says finally.

Exhaustion sets in and I can’t be bothered to fight anymore.

“Okay” I say.

“Good” he says.

Chapter Text

Mr Turners place is pretty cool, the typical untamed bachelor pad you’d see in tv-shows and movies.

“Mr Turner, thanks for making me stay with you” I smile gingerly.

“Call me Jon, please kid… it freaks me out with all this formal nonsense – you’re not in the classroom! Also, I called the Matthews and told them your arrangements, Cory’s gonna drop by after school tomorrow with all your stuff” Jon smiles.

I smile sweetly and sit down on the worn fabric couch.

“Let’s fix you something to eat…what do you fancy bud?” he asks whilst opening several kitchen cabinets and frowning.

“I’m…not actually that hungry” I say as I remember what Mr Matthews said when he thought I was out of earshot.

Just another mouth to feed.

“That’s not going to fly with me, I haven’t seen you eat a proper meal in a long time actually…. get your butt over here to choose some dinner” he states.

Tears prick my eyes, but I furiously blink them away.

“Jon, please I said I wasn’t hungry, but I appreciate the concern” I smile sweetly.

Jon looks skeptical but doesn’t press further.

“Alright, but there’s food in there when you get your appetite back” he sighs pointing to the cabinet.

After giving me the once over with his eyes in concern he sits down and opens a book.

Awkwardly, I sit down beside him looking at the tv remote.

“Knock yourself out, kid. There’s tons of channels on there but make sure you do your homework I set today too though” he smiles.

Admittedly it’s been a while since I casually scrolled through the channels on the cable TV, I watch TV at the Matthews, but they’ve never really got me to choose what I wanted to watch.

I don’t even know what I do want to watch.

“Do you want to talk about your dad, bud?” Jon asks, studying my silence.

I shake my head.

Hours pass and before I know it, I’m passed out on the couch somehow with a blanket draped over me.

--

“Rise and shine, kid” Jon smiles as he runs his fingers through his messy hair.

Rubbing my eyes, I realise I’m not sleeping on a bus bench or settled in the Matthews household, I’m actually crashing on my English teachers couch.

I go to stand but my vision clouds and dark spots dance in my view.

“Woah, you alright?” Jon asks worriedly.

I smile and nod, I make up some bullshit excuse about this is what happens every morning and hope he drops the subject.

“Breakfast?” he asks, his face hopeful.

“I’ll grab something at school” I rush as I head to the door.

“Oh, and by the way, my stuff is still at Cory’s, so I don’t have my homework…nor my books” I smile smugly.

Turner chuckles and walks to the kitchen.

“See you at school, kid. Make sure you eat something please” he says.

“Mmhmm, will do” I mumble, walking out the door.

“Shawnie my man, how you doing?” Cory cries as I approach my locker.

“I’ve been better” I grumble.

“Look, my parents feel really bad about what went down last night and- “he starts.

“Can we forget about that, please?” I beg.

I can’t bare to relive that night, ever again. The heartbreak I felt, the pain that stabbed me. I made a few new cuts last night with a broken store gift card from my pocket when Turner was sleeping. I’m not proud of my addiction, but it could be worse…I could be addicted to drugs or alcohol.

Nothing long sleeves and a fake smile can’t hide though.

Cory agrees to drop the subject, but not before giving me a hug and telling me everything will be okay.

Like hell it will.

Feeny’s class is extra mind numbing today, he’s going on about several dead guys and how they all kept secrets that eventually haunted them in their graves…I don’t even know, but this shit is depressing.

“Hunter, am I keeping you awake?” Feeny asks sarcastically, raising his eyebrows.

Shit I must’ve closed my eyes, or yawned…or both.

“No you’re fine Mr Feeny sorry I got absorbed in what you were saying and-“ I start

“What was it I was saying exactly, Hunter?” he replies sceptical.

“Uhhh, umm, some dead guys?” I quip back.

“Those dead guys made history, it goes to show that some secrets can kill you and haunt you from the grave” he begins.

Instinctively I glance down at my covered arms.

Man, he has no idea.

Turners lesson isn’t as depressing, we’re still on Shakesphere and he made Topanga and Cory read Romeo and Juliet’s lines…yeah that was clearly setup.

Finally, the bell rang, and I stood up…

…A little too quickly.

Dark spots danced in my vision causing me to fall down, thankfully back into my chair.

Maybe Turner didn’t see it.

“Hunter, you, okay?!” he asks, concern etched in his words.

“Uhh yeah, I just got up too fast that’s all.” I smile sweetly.

“You had lunch in the cafeteria, didn’t you?” he asks.

I nod hoping Cory catches on and backs me up. Instead, all I get is more confusion from Cory.

“Wait, no you didn’t…you said you had a big breakfast this morning?” Cory says.

that’s when the realisation hit Turner that I obviously haven’t been eating.

“Hunter, sit down please” he instructs.

The rest of the class file out, talking about grades and crushes and normal teenage things. And then there’s me, being grilled by his English teacher on why he isn’t eating.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” he almost shouts.

“You almost passed out on me there, and the lying about food? You have got to have a good excuse for his one bud” he states.

Sighing heavily, I make eye contact with him.

“I’m fine” I say matter-of-factly.

“Clearly, you’re not fine, because you’re starving yourself to death Hunter….and I won’t let you!” he says agitated.

“What’s all the commotion?” Mr Feeny edges towards the doors entrance.

“Shawn isn’t eating, he hasn’t eaten in a while and now he’s making up stupid excuses to me and his friends to get him out of eating – I don’t know what to do Mr Feeny, can I force him to eat? Do I just let him kill himself by starvation?” Mr Turner cries clearly exasperated.

Mr Feeny scans my frail body.

“I’m assuming that’s why you’re wearing such heavy clothes in this heat… due to malnutrition?” Feeny observes.

Yes, let’s go with that.

“I’m not really sure Feeny maybe I’m a bit sick or something” I say.

“A bit sick? You will die if you carry on this way, and I know you don’t care about that as you’ve told me but you’re my responsibility now and you need to eat or I’m admitting you straight to hospital” he huffs.

“You don’t care if you die?” Feeny asks, shocked.

“No. I don’t” I reply.

Feeny takes a deep breath.

“We all care if you die, Mr. Hunter” he states solulmnly

“And to hell if we let you, you’re in this for the long run Hunter” Turner says pushing a pack of biscuits into my hands.

“Eat” he commands.

“Yeah I will on the way to my next class” I nod.

“To hell with that, you’re sitting here where I can watch you eat” he states.

“Jonathon I know you’re stressed, but please stop using words like ‘hell’ in front of the students during class time” Feeny scolds.

Jon apologises and grabs a chair next to mine, sitting there watching me take a bite.

“Look, I cant do this right now…I have a lot going on and I-“ I start.

“Eat. Hunter.” Mr Feeny commands.

Defeated I take a few bits of the tasteless biscuit.

Just another mouth to feed

Just another mouth to feed

Just another mouth to feed

Just another mouth to feed

“Have you got a headache Mr Hunter?” Feeny asks, observing my head in my hands.

“Something like that” I reply.

This fucking life is nothing but a headache.

Chapter Text

After that shitshow of a school day was over and the biscuits were eaten I’m met at Turners door by Alan Matthews with bags of my stuff.

“Hey there Shawn, here’s your stuff whilst you stay with Mr Turner but if you ever need us, you know we’re always here for you” he smiles.

Yeah, I’m not going to believe that story again.

Once I get rid of Alan I start to wonder where Cory is…maybe he’s giving me space? Maybe he’s out with new unproblematic friends…maybe he’s out there living his best life without me to drag him down. Like I drag everyone down.

My thoughts get the better of me again, I have to sit down.

As my breathing becomes broken and uneven, I start to shake, this can’t be happening. Not here, not now. Please.

I barely can tell if that’s Jon approaching the couch or some random person, but I’m hoping for the random person as I wont have to explain this one.

“Hunter, I thought you could go to the store with me and pick out food that you like for- “he cuts himself off when he sees me huddled into my knees.

“Hey…hey…. are you alright?” Jon asks softly, rubbing circles on my back.

“I…can’t…. breathe” I stammer.

The panic in Jon’s face is unrecognisable.

“Hunter has this happened before”? he questions.

I nod in response.

“You’re okay, you’re alright…hey, Hunter talk to me…what’s going on?” he asks.

In response I just start to cry, so Jon bear hugs me as let out pained sharp sobs.

“So, I’m supposing that was a panic attack” he states.

“No shit sherlock” I struggle out a pained laugh.

“I would scold you on your language, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on this one”. He smiles.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom now, thanks for sitting with me” I quickly say as I head to the bathroom door.

“You’re okay right, Hunter?” Turner checks.

I nod and walk into the bathroom, tears already fighting to roll down my cheeks.

God, why am I such a waste of fucking space?

--

Sighing I grab the broken card out of my pocket and begin to make deep angry crimson creations on my wrist. Wincing in pain.

Mesmerised, I watch as the red liquid drops down on the white polished tile floor, before I snap out of my trance and wipe it up.

“You’ve been in there a while, you sure you’re good?” I hear as Jon knocks hesitantly on the door.

“Yes, I’m fine, one moment” I rush trying to sound alright when in reality I’m bleeding out. Not significantly, but enough to go through my sleeves which were strategically dark.

When I emerge from the bathroom Jon feels my forehead in concern.

“You’re burning up, take that sweater off and your socks and hopefully that’ll bring your temperature down” he states.

“No!” I shout defensively and judging by the look on Turners face, suspiciously.

“Why not?” He questions.

“I’m comfortable!” I defend.

“You’re burning up and I’m responsible for you, so you have to do as I say or you risk being hospitalised kid.” He states.

Compromising I reluctantly take off my socks.

“See, ya happy now?” I quip.

“And the sweater” he says.

“No! I love this sweater, let me keep it on- “I start.

“Hunter, what the hell are you hiding? Did you get a tattoo? That’s not too bad maybe we can get it laser removed…” he says, in a rush.

Approaching my sleeves I jolt my arms back to stop him.

“Stop hiding it, it could be a cool tattoo but you’re far too young so we’ll have to look into ways of removing or hiding it-“he carries on.

After pointless wrestling Jon rolls my sleeves up to inspect this ‘tattoo’

“You…who…who did this to you?” he shouts observing the angry red lines all down my wrists and forearms.

Its only when my eyes meet his, full of regret, emotion and sadness that he realises what he’s just seen.

“You did this didn’t you” he asks.

I just nod in response.

“These look pretty new, when did you do them?” he asks again more urgently.

I glance over to the bathroom.

“Let’s clean these up, the last thing you need is an infection…and I’ll be taking what you used to do this with… Hunter why the hell would you hurt yourself this much? You could get sepsis and die!” he screams.

“You’re not leaving my sight anytime soon Hunter, you’re on suicide watch.” He says.

What the fuck is suicide watch? I’m not doing this to end my life I’m doing it to try and live my life! Why doesn’t this thicko understand?!

I open my mouth in protest, but Jon just shuts me straight down.

“Don’t even think about arguing, Hunter.” He says.

Chapter Text

“So, how long am I gonna be cooped up with you Turner it’s been almost three days” I ask aggravated at the constant surveillance.

Turner sighs and heads to the space next to me on the couch.

“At least until I can get you to see a therapist” he starts.

“A shrink? Fuck that Turner, they’ll lock me straight up in the looney bin and throw away the key” I scream, anxiety rising in every single word.

Turners face softens a little.

“They’ll help you, Hunter” he says.

I agree to Turners rescue plan of shoving me into a shrinks office to talk about all my childhood traumas and bullshit like that, then at least it’ll get him off of my back. Then I can palm it all off and pretend it was some kind of one-off breakdown which will never happen again.

He doesn’t have to know

He doesn’t have to deal with the complete burden that I am.

And so, I did, I went to the shrink. Dr. West was her name, she looked around forty-fifty ish with mousy brown hair and a too forced smile.

I lied through my teeth about how it was all just a breakdown of emotions from my parents abandoning me and blah blah and I left with a satisfied smile.

“So, Hunter…looks like you’re alright after all kid – the doc was really good at explaining how I can help you and she suggested to give you a bit of space, I’ve still hidden all the sharps in the apartment just so I can sleep at night but from now you can be free from suicide watch” Turner smiles.

Man, it’s scary what a smile can hide.

“Yeah Turner, I did try and tell you all along that I was fine” I smile.

I’m the furthest thing from fine.

But I can’t show it

They’ll lock me up in the looney bin and throw away the rusted key.

Back at the apartment I keep up the façade of me being completely and utterly fine. Not a single thing cracks my mask, Cory even came over to see me – Turner didn’t tell him anything thankfully…everyone just thinks I have the flu.

I’ve been losing weight, and it’s a good thing.

In some drunken episodes my weight and the fact I always costed him lots of money due to how much I eat came up in angry fits of my dads rage.

Some of those names I can’t ever erase out of my mind.

So, to stay in control I make sure I eat barely anything. Starve and stay in control, if I die then it’s a win, if I die skinny it’s a win-win situation.

But to hell if Jon will ever find that out.

Over my dead body.

Which at this rate, can be arranged.

Chapter Text

Fooling Turner really isn’t that hard, just leave a plate with crumbs on it early in the morning on the side and voila, breakfast is served.

“Early morning, kid?” he questions glancing over to the plates and strategically unrinsed cutlery with calorific butter glued on.

I smile and nod before heading off to school.

Chump. I laugh softly.

Lunchtime is a bit trickier, because not only do I have an eagle-eyed best friend and his girlfriend, but I also have Turner and Feeny across the cafeteria watching my every move.

Most of the time I can get away with eating minimal, taking slow and controlled bites and calling it a day.

Although apparently not today.

“Hey Shawnie, you’re taking forever to eat that bite of sandwich…” Cory observes.

“Oh, sorry I was daydreaming…I mean, this meat is too good so I’ve gotta saver it Cor” I smile.

Thankfully, Cory dropped the subject, but Topanga was eyeing me up and down, suspiciously.

“I’m watching you” She says ominously.

In Feeny’s class my stomach makes the loudest sound known to man, all eyes on me and I can feel the dread in my stomach.

Mr Feeny eyes me up and down before sighing and returning to the lesson on the American West.

The mask isn’t damaged, it isn’t broken, it isn’t even cracked.

Playing this game is way easier than I thought.

Back at the apartment I glance at Jon slightly worried why he wants to talk to me so urgently.

“I just wanted to say how proud I am of you Shawn; I mean you took all of this in your stride and although you had a few blips along the way you’re doing really well kid” he starts.

Pangs of guilt hit me.

“Thanks, Jon. I am trying my best” I rush.

I’ve moved the cutting to my thighs, hips and stomach now… what he can’t see wont hurt him.

I know they all want to help, but I can’t be a burden to people anymore I just can’t live with myself being a fucking burden.

I’m getting so damn tired of being alive.

“Shawn…. Shawn!” I’m startled awake by a concerned Jon shaking my too frail body.

“What the hell is the matter Jon, I was sleeping!” I snap.

“You’re about to be late for school kid, didn’t you set your alarm clock?” he says yawning.

“What about you, Jon? I don’t see you out the door ready for work either?” I smile, satisfied with my come back.

“Not that it’s your business but I have this morning off to lesson plan and mark assignments, now get your butt off of this couch” he states.

Yawning I jump off of the couch in an attempt to salvage how late I am, but I fall straight back down as black spots dance around my blurry vision.

“Hunter? What the hell is wrong with you?” Turner cries, concern etched in his words.

“Don’t you go passing out on me kid” he says grasping my fragile shoulders.

“Jon I’m fine, I just got up too fast…no biggie” I say, trying to convince both him and me.

Turner eyes me up and down and sighs irritated.

“You haven’t been eating properly, have you?” he says, defeated.

“Yes, I have” I answer back defensively.

“Stop with the bullshit Shawn Hunter, I know what you’re doing. I don’t know why, and I don’t know why you’ve gone to such lengths to trick me and your friends that you’re okay when you’re clearly not!” he screams.

I open my mouth to argue but Turner cuts me off.

“Don’t think I haven’t been watching you in the cafeteria, how you chew things a thousand times, don’t think Feeny didn’t tell me when your stomach rumbled the class silent. Shawn I’m not an idiot!” he continues.

“I’m worried, Cory’s worried, Topanga’s worried, Feeny’s worried, The Matthews are worried! Shawn, you’re killing yourself, I bet you haven’t even stopped self-harming, have you?!” he continues to shout.

All of this shouting brings me back to my dad when he was drunk on whisky and vodka.

“Please…please…. stop yelling at me…don’t hurt me…” I cry.

Turner froze, stunned silent.

“Shawn, I won’t ever hurt you… what are you talking about?” he asks, urgently.

“My…dad…he…used….to” I start, my breathing hiccupping unevenly

“shh, it’s okay. I’m sorry for yelling I just am so scared for you Hunter” he says softly, rubbing my arms.

“You don’t have to worry about your father hurting you anymore” he starts.

“But when he comes back, he’ll demand I go back to him as he’s got the rights to me and he can use me as his personal punching bag or…sex…toy” I grimace at the word.

Thirty shades of anger appear on Turners face.

“He did WHAT to you?” he asks angry.

“I can’t talk about it, not now anyway” I shrink into myself, my frail body shaking.

Turner gets up and walks to the kitchen, rifling through papers.

“He can’t get you anymore” he says.

“What do you mean?” I ask sceptically.

“Your father signed parental rights to me, and I haven’t signed for them yet because I needed to talk to you first but after what you’ve told me he’s done to you I’m signing those papers regardless of what you say, Hunter” Turner states matter-of-factly.

“You’re adopting me?” I ask in disbelief.

“Whether you like it or not, bud” Turner smiles.

Chapter Text

A/N: SO many of you were asking for more chapters and sharing so much love for this that I had to try and get through writers block and produce something for you guys. I've fallen back in love with the father/son relationship between these two since i'm re-watching the show, again! 

MAJOR MAJOR TW for Self Harm and upsetting themes.

I love you all!!

-Angel

-----

Turner adopting me didn’t really change anything, the household dynamic remained the same and he didn’t treat me any different – which I liked.

I’m still pretending that I’m doing fine mentally, but I’m really not doing fine in any which way. I can’t burden the Matthews and Jon with anymore of my teenage woes. I just need to make myself as small and insignificant as possible, I can’t be “another mouth to feed”

Turner was out late with some date when I heard the crackly message over the answering machine.

“Teach…teach” a gruff voice slurs.

“It’s me, Chet…thanks for taking Shawn off of my hands – boy do I owe you one big time for that! He laughs.

“Listen, you did us a huge favour taking the boy off of us, cause now Verna and I are together again and happy! Having Shawn so young and as a drunken mistake screwed this marriage over, and his shenanigans… boy he kept us on our toes. Thanks for adopting him, that means we basically got the get out of jail free card there teach…. well, bye!” He quickly adds before putting the receiver down.

He was drunk, I know he was drunk by the slurring and his gruff sounding voice…but, he did say some truthful things.

I ruined my parents.

I ruin people.

I’m nothing but a mistake.

Angrily as tears prick my eyes I get a large boot, put it on and stamp on a cheap plastic pencil sharpener to retrieve the silver, shiny blade.

I don’t even bother to go into the bathroom, my eyes were glassy with tears burring my vision.

I make a few cuts, red and angry on my wrists, maybe I’ll hopefully hit a vein.

I hate myself.

I actually hate myself.

The world becomes tunnelled around me, I see blood and I can feel my breathing picking up pace.

“Hunter what the hell are you doing”? I hear a shout.

Jonathon gingerly steps towards me with fear and sorrow in his eyes.

“Put down the metal” he commands, slowly but assertively.

When I don’t respond and keep fighting the tears that just keep coming, I see Turner lunge for the blade, making a slice on his index finger, but he successfully retrieves it.

I shoot up in fear.

“I hurt you” I say shakily through the tears.

“The cut on my finger is not hurting me Hunter, what in the hell you’re doing to yourself as a matter of fact is” Turner cries, exasperated.

“I do nothing but hurt people, ruin their lives” I start to sob, hysterically.

Turner cocks his head to the side, like a confused puppy.

“What on earth are you on about Shawn?” He asks.

I shrug and start to walk towards the stairs.

“Oh no you don’t” Turner says, effectively blocking the entranceway.

After we both stare at each other for a while Jonathon motions to my newly cut wrist.

This is going to be a bitch to hide from Cory.

Turner dresses my wounds and takes away the blade.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow” he says.

I nod and head upstairs for another night of crying myself to sleep in silent hysterics.

It’s the kind of crying that makes your heart break, when your body is wrecking with sobs and unsaid words that you have to squeeze yourself to be able to hold it in.

I’m so tired.

But I keep on hysterically quietly crying.

I guess I wasn’t as quiet as I had hoped because Jon was standing at my doorway with a pained look in his eyes.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks cautiously, motioning to the duvet on my bed.

He sits down anyway without waiting for a response.

“Come here” he says.

I obey and cry into his shoulders.

He hugs me protectively.

“it’s going to be ok, son” he whispers.

I really hope it is.

Chapter Text

A/N: I seem to be on a roll getting these chapters published. I hope I can keep that pace up! Thanks everyone for following and commenting - i'm updating this for all of you! <3

I have to give him the credit, I think Jon thinks that he’s helping me. He’s signed me up for this volunteer programme at the local charity shop, he thinks it’ll boost my mental health or whatever.

This will be my first ever proper job in a store, and I’m shit scared about it.

Jon is so excited to see me try new things, to see me spread my wings.

I’m so scared.

I know they’ll all hate me; I mean hell I hate me so why wouldn’t they?

“You have a phone call after school tonight to arrange the fine details of the volunteer job” Jon starts.

Brilliant, just what I need…more stress after a painfully stressful day.

“Look, Jon I’m really scared of this volunteer thing, I think it’s too much for me…I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it” I say, shakily.

His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

“You’re just making excuses, tell your brain that you will love it” he states, matter of factly.

Oh, If only I could just tell my brain that everything will be okay, if only that’s how the world fucking works.

Feeling ignored I slope upstairs to the bathroom to carve some angry red lines into my left thigh.

“fuck you Jon” I whisper as I slice.

Wrapping up the crimson creations I head towards the door to leave for school.

--

“Shawn! Hey man, Turner was telling me about this volunteering gig you have…good for you man!” Cory says, whilst patting me on the shoulder.

“Yeah, though I don’t want to do it, Turner thinks it’ll be good for me or whatever” I mumble.

Cocking his head to the side Cory grabs my wrist.

“Ow! What the hell did you do that for Cor?” I shout.

“to confirm something that I was thinking” he replies, tonelessly.

He turns my wrists over to inspect the damage, it had been a few days since my slip up on my wrists, so they don’t look too bad.

“You’re doing this to yourself aren’t you, Shawnie?” Cory says in a small, defeated voice.

I just nod in reply.

“You call me if ever feel like hurting yourself” Cory tells me, rubbing my wrist.

Mr Feeny approaches behind, and Cory thankfully drops my wrist as if anticipating his appearance.

“Matthews…Hunter…I think you’ll find that class is that way” Feeny said, obviously pointing at the door to our History class.

“That’s just where we were heading, Mr Feeny” Cory chirps.

Groaning in annoyance, Feeny walks ahead and begins to set up the desk.

“I think volunteering will be really good for you Shawn” Cory whispers to me whilst Feeny’s back is turned.

“Well, I’m glad you do Cor but I’m not so sure” I reply, starting to sound vaguely annoyed.

In Turners class I pretend to be paying attention, writing pretend notes by hovering the pen above the paper and moving it slowly to the right.

“Hunter, I think you might find you’ll be able to study later if you take… actual notes instead of using air” Turner states, causing the entire class to look at me and giggle.

I can’t do this anymore.

I’m trying so fucking hard and all I am to people is a fucking laughingstock.

Maybe that’s all I’m good for.

A single tear rolls down my cheek as I get up to exit the classroom.

Some time passes before I hear the sound of heavy boots and knocks at the bathroom door.

Probably Turner…I don’t want to talk to him right now.

“Hunter” a strong voice sounds, echoing off of the walls.

Oh shit.

It’s Feeny.

“It’s Mr Feeny…if you didn’t already know that by my very recognisable voice, anyway I digress… Mr Turner asked me if I could check on you since he’s unable to leave class…so um…here I am” he trails off awkwardly.

Quickly wiping my eyes, I put on the biggest, fakest smile ever and stride out of the bathroom stall.

“Hi Mr Feeny, I wasn’t feeling too well, so I sat in front of the toilet in case…you know” I smile sweetly.

“You look terrible” he states, examining me.

I smile weakly for the full effect.

“But I’m not convinced that you left class due to sickness, I can tell you’re upset…I know you have struggles with low moods…and if you’re hurting yourself, I need to know” he starts.

Deny deny deny!

Denial seemed to work because Feeny shifts his weight and sighs.

I don’t want to talk to Feeny about it because he’ll just go straight to Turner, and I can’t be dealing with that right now.

“Look, you need to get back to class…and if you ever need a listening ear…my office door is always open” he says, thoughtfully.

Nodding and smiling I exit the bathroom, silently promising myself to never take Feeny up on that offer.

They’re all the fucking same.

They all pretend to care, to actually value me as a human being until they don’t care and I’m nothing to them.

Then again, I’m nothing to me either.

Chapter Text

A/N Hey guys, guess who’s back! Sorry for the few days off, I’ve been feeling under the weather!

Anyway, we have a very different trigger warning for this chapter, vomiting, sickness, nausea and obviously the usual, depression, self harm etc– so if any of that upsets you please don’t read!

Turner looks at me, regretfully when we step into the apartment.

“Shawn, I’m sorry I spoke to you like that in front of the class… I just don’t want you to waste your potential pretending to make notes in my class! You’re a bright kid, don’t let your past control you! Jon says whilst rubbing his temple in irritation.

I shrug.

“You did what you had to do, you’re the teacher and I’m the student. I wasn’t taking notes in your class, and you called me out on it like teachers do” I say matter-of-factly.

“Are you okay, Hunter?” He asks, cocking his head to the side as if in deep thought.

I smile, nod and head towards the kitchen.

“Dinner is served!” Jon smiles as he puts the freshly cooked chicken on a plate next to some microwave rice.

“Now, I’m no chef…but, I try!” he laughs.

In response, I smile and pick up my knife and fork.

--

I’ve been lying in bed now for hours staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the growing anxiety in my chest.

You’ll never be enough

No volunteer place will want you

There’s no way out of this mess

You don’t need to work for charity, you’re a charity case yourself!

Grasping my head in frustration, tears prick my eyes.

Anxiety has always been a feeling that I’m used to, I mean I have anxiety disorder so it’s not unusual to feel out of control from my emotions.

I get that horrible nauseous feeling gripping my stomach.

I’ve got my first day taster shift of volunteering tomorrow after school, I can’t be sick! I’ll have to take days off of school and Turner will hate me, he’ll think I’m doing this to myself to get out of having to volunteer, of having to go to school.

Fuck I can’t be sick.

As much as I fight it, my mouth begins to fill with unsettling saliva, and I rush over to the bathroom to stare at the toilet bowl before the putrid contents of my stomach sit before me in the water.

Staring down and heaving, I start to cry salty tears of defeat.

“I’ve got you” Turner says whilst rubbing my back in reassuring circles.

“I’ve got you” he says again, assuring me.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to go to the volunteering thing tomorrow” I try and say through the tears.

Jon just sighs and keeps rubbing my back.

“it’ll be okay Hunter” he whispers.

Once I was cleaned up, I lie on the couch with a thick knitted blanket staring at Jon who was marking some papers.

“Look kid, I think it’s time we both got some sleep” he says, yawning.

Nodding in agreement I try and close my eyes as Jon turns out the light.

“You know where I am if you need me” he smiles before heading up the stairs.

The anxiety was enveloping me again, I felt as if I couldn’t breathe…the air I was trying to inflate my lungs with…it just simply wasn’t there anymore.

Running to the bathroom I close my eyes and let the heaving begin.

For a long time, I was dry heaving before I felt a strong, reassuring hand grip my shoulder.

“You’re okay” Jon says, groggily.

“I…. didn’t…. want….to…wake…you” I choke between heaves.

Jon sighs, turning on the light.

“Hunter, I’m always here for you…day or night…2pm or…2am” he jokes.

Resting my head on the toilet seat, exhausted I succumb to a dreamless sleep.

When I awake, I’m on the couch with the blanket wrapped round me.

How could I be such a helpless child?

He would’ve had to carry me from the bathroom and onto this couch.

What am I?

9?

I’m nothing but a pathetic child.

Grabbing a blade, I rub my index finger over the smooth metal.

“Ah, I thought I heard movement… are you- “Jon starts.

At the sight of him I quickly drop the blade onto the couch and pray he didn’t see anything.

“Hunter, what the hell are you doing with that?” he cries.

“I want to be free of the anxiety! I can’t ever be free of this fucking anxiety!” I shout, almost too loudly.

“I would scold you on your language, but I can tell you’re punishing yourself enough for one night…look Hunter for your information I can’t make you do anything you don't want to do. Including doing the volunteering, I’m sorry if that was the reason you were sick” He says, emotion clear in his eyes.

“I will try it, but I have to take it week by week” I reply.

“That’s your call” Jon smiles.

“I’m sorry if I pushed you too far, I didn’t know that’s what I was doing and that definitely wasn’t my intention… I really care about you Shawn and I wanted to give you opportunities for work experience, for experiencing the real world…but, I think I pushed too much on you in one go and I am sorry for that” He states.

“It’s alright, we live, and we learn” I shrug, smiling.

“Indeed, we do Hunter” Jon replies.

Chapter Text

TW for eating disorders, sickness, self harm etc!

It’s been a couple of days since I was last sick, but I’m really cautious about introducing proper food back into my diet after just living on dry toast.

I lost a lot of weight, and truth be told I don’t view that as a bad thing. Everyone has their ways of finding control in their fast-paced lives, mine is hurting myself or restricting my food intake…others may be reliant on drugs or alcohol like my father.

I don’t view my restricting of food to be a bad thing, in fact its making me skinnier, making me feel lighter and untouchable.

Just like how I used to feel when I stopped eating last time.

Deep down I know it isn’t going to do me any good, but I can’t seem to bring myself to actually care.

Back at school I feel as if I’m practically floating, almost ethereal from this hunger, this emptiness.

“Shawn…Shawn” Topanga calls as she waves her hands over my eyes.

“Yeah?” I say, snapped out of my trance.

“I was trying to talk to you about the semi-formal… obviously Cory and I are going together so we were wondering if you had your eye on anyone to bring to the dance?” she asks, whilst biting into a sandwich.

At least 400 calories in that sandwich

How can people eat such calorific stuff?

She must’ve noticed me staring because she offers me a bite, which I promptly but politely decline.

I go on like this for weeks actually before anyone really starts to get suspicious.

“Hunter, dinner” Turner commands, gesturing to the Chinese takeout on the side.

Thousands of calories

“I’m not hungry” I smile, anxiety rising in my every word.

“I’ve said this before, kid…and I’ll say it again…it’s not optional” he states, shoving the plate towards me.

Maybe one bite won’t hurt, right?

I feel disgusting, heavy… too uncomfortably full.

So, it’s one in the morning and I’m doing several sit-ups on the floor of the apartment, I don’t even know when this floor was cleaned, vacuumed or tended to in any way shape or form…but I didn’t care.

“Hunter?” A sleepy voice asks.

Shit it’s Jon.

“What…what are you doing down here… are you working out”? Jon asks groggily.

“I…must be dreaming” he whispers.

Seizing the opportunity, I decide to go with what Jon was thinking.

“You’re right, Jon you are dreaming… you should probably wake up and dream about normal things… teachers dream about” I say, firmly, almost confidently.

“No…no…I’d quite like to know what’s going on with you actually Hunter” He replies, rubbing his temple.

“I want to get better at gym” I smile, convincingly.

“Well, maybe don’t do it at one in the morning, kid…get some sleep!” he says, turning to walk back up the stairs.

I was so careful not to make a sound whilst working out.

“Why did you come down here, anyway?” I ask, nonchalantly.

“For a glass of water, but I’m no longer thirsty” he answers as he walks up the stairs.

Hopefully he won’t remember this in the morning.

It’s Saturday, so no school and I’m just chilling at the Matthews house watching lame TV that Cory finds entertaining, no offence to him of course…but we have very different tastes in entertainment.

“Boys, time for lunch!” Amy Matthews calls to us from the kitchen.

“No thanks, I had a big breakfast” I answer, simply.

What I didn’t notice was Eric, Alan and Mr Feeny sitting at the kitchen table looking through college applications.

“Actually Shawn, you don’t look so well nowadays…you look quite thin” Alan observes.

Feeny looks up from the papers and scans me over with his trusting eyes.

“Has Jon been feeding you?” Alan says, half joking half serious.

“Yes! He’s been feeding me, if anything he’s been trying to feed me all the time you know… he’s really good at being a parent” I reply, defensively.

Look what you did Shawn, now people are questioning Jon’s parenting abilities because you can’t eat food you fat waste of space.

“I’ll be right back, I need to pick something up from the store” I say in a rush, as tears begin to prick my eyes.

Fuck.

Not here.

I crouch out of sight behind a bush in the Matthews yard and take out my trusty blade.

Making deep crimson slices I begin to breathe again.

“That…Mr Hunter…really will not end well” I hear a firm voice behind me.

I’ve been caught.

But it isn’t Turners voice.

Spinning around to source the voice, I find myself locking eyes with Mr Feeny and Alan Matthews close behind him.

Alans face fills with sorrow and pity.

Mr Feeny’s remains understanding, cautious…but, understanding.

“Alan…call Jonathan please” Mr Feeny instructs, putting a hand on Alans shoulder.

Alan nods, almost as if in a daze and heads inside.

It’s only now that I take in the sight of me, blood dripping down my arms… clothing hanging loose on my frail body.

What have I become?

Chapter Text

A/N: Okay guys, I know its been a while I’ve been working some long hours and I haven’t really had the motivation to write. For the next couple weeks, I’m off due to me having covid so I thought I’d update this fanfic, however please note it might not be up to standard as I’ve got some intense brain fog with covid so trying to focus isn’t the easiest task! Without further ado, here’s the next chapter!

---

Sitting down on the Matthews lumpy couch with all eyes on me, I feel humiliated.

“Now Shawn, this might hurt a little bit” Mrs Matthews states as she dabs at my wounded arm with an antiseptic wipe.

Mr Matthews shoots a glance in his wives direction, raising an eyebrow as if to question her choice of words.

During this ordeal, my best friend Cory remains seated, still staring at the TV as if to shield him from my mess.

It only makes me feel more guilty.

Turner shows up at the door his motorcycle helmet securely wedged under his arm.

“What the hell happened Hunter?” He questions urgently, tension raising in his voice.

Turner looks around and finally locks eyes on Mr Feeney.

“Don’t look at me, I found your boy like this” Mr Feeney explains, hands up in a surrender motion.

“Now, I think everyone has some talking to do, Cory do you mind heading upstairs for a moment?” Amy says, gently.

Cory’s face hardens.

“No. I’m staying here” he states, matter-of-factly catching everyone off guard.

Mr Matthews raises his eyebrows in surprise as my best friend folds up his arms defensively.

“I’m not being left out of my best friends life; I’ve been left out for too long and now look at him. I want to help; I want to understand!” Cory cries, exasperated.

“Cor I-“ I interject.

“No, Shawnie I’m not letting you push me away again, Topanga knew something wasn’t right and when I found those cuts on your wrist the other day, I convinced myself you fell out of a tree or some other perfectly reasonable explanation to land you with those wounds… Topanga kept urging me to try and get you to talk, but I didn’t want to seem like I’m getting into your business Shawn. I just…I blame myself for a bit of this you know” he says.

Guilt takes residence in my stomach.

“Okay okay okay okay that’s enough everyone” Mr Turner says, trying to deescalate the situation.

All eyes land on Mr Turner.

“Matthews, you’re not the reason that Shawn’s been… hurting…himself. He’s had a very complicated childhood with a deadbeat dad and that’s left a mark on the guy which is totally understandable” Turner explains, without revealing the details of what my dad actually put me through.

“Shawn, honey you could’ve come to us with this” Mrs Matthews says softly, rubbing my arm.

“No, I couldn’t. I didn’t actually go to anyone with this… I was afraid of what would happen if people found out…like this situation right now…this! This! Is! My! Worst! Nightmare!” I start to shout.

“People care about you Mr Hunter, whether you like that or not” Mr Feeney interrupts my outburst.

The oldest of the Matthews children still remains silent, sitting fixed at the kitchen table, not daring to look up.

“I’m such a lousy son Jon I’m really sorry you had to be my parents ‘get out of jail free’ card. I state.

The realisation dawns on his face about the voicemail.

“You heard what Chet said that night, didn’t you” Turner says.

I just nod as I make a break for the exit.

“Shawn!” “Shawn get your ass back here” I hear Mr Turner shout.

--

Solitude is hard to find lately.

But now I’m alone with my thoughts, my throbbing arm and myself.

This is the bridge I always used to come to when my dad was drunk, it was either hide at the bridge or get used as a punching bag.

Sitting at the bridge was the better option for young Shawn, less bruises or marks to try and hide with cheap make-up from the corner store using loose change I find in the couch.

The last thing I needed were child protective services on my case, they wouldn’t fucking believe a word seven-year-old me would say anyway.

“You’re not thinking of jumping are you”? A familiar voice says, in the distance.

That’s definitely Turners voice.

Observing my reflection in the cool waves of the water below, the idea doesn’t sound half bad.

“I’m sorry you got stuck with me Jon” I say, solemnly.

“I didn’t get stuck with you Hunter, you’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know… before I was a selfish pig and now, I actually do things for others, I’m actually responsible for another human being, another life Shawn” Turner says, softly.

“I’m honestly past the point of fixing, Jon…you know that right?” I reply.

“No, you’re not, nobody is beyond fixing. You don’t even need to be fixed Shawn you just need to learn to tolerate yourself, forgive yourself and the biggest thing that’s holding you back is your past which I know keeps haunting you.

“Now I need you to step back off that bridges edge Hunter and we can have a talk, man to man” Turner instructs.

What I didn’t notice was my best friend, standing behind us with tears in his innocent eyes.

“Shawn please don’t die, I need you… we all need you…who else would scheme with me? Who else would be there for me? Who else will I bail out of jail?” Cory says in between sobs.

I step back off the ledge.

Turner lets out a relieved sigh and pulls me into a hug.

“You know I wasn’t planning on ending my life, right guys?” I try and explain.

They don’t look convinced.

“It’s okay bud, I’ve got you” Jon says, hugging me a little tighter.

The tears start to spill out uncontrollably.

“I don’t want to be a burden” I cry.

“You’re the furthest thing from one, Shawn” Jon says softly, still keeping me in a bear hug.

The moment is sweet, I feel safe and cared for…which wasn’t usual for me at all.

Cory uncomfortably shifts his feet.

“Look, Topanga’s really worried about you Shawn…can I maybe tell her that you’re struggling a bit?” he asks, uncertain.

I nod, I might as well let her know since the rest of the world already now apparently knows.

Cory smiles at me.

“Let’s go home boys” Turner says, motioning for Cory to get on the bike with us.

“Home” I repeat.

Chapter Text

A/N: Hi it's been a while but i'm still super busy with work BUT I made sure I wrote a new chapter for everyone as a lot of people have been asking for one! TWs apply suicide intentions, self harm etc etc you know the drill. Hope you're all doing well! ~ Angel

“Shawn, on the bridge earlier-“ Jon starts, staring down at a bowl of Chinese food.

I know exactly what he’s going to say. He’s going to ask me if I was considering jumping, if I actually considered ending my life for that moment in time when I could see my broken reflection rippling in the water below me.

“Jon, you know I wasn’t going to jump…right?” I say, cutting his train of thought off.

“I actually don’t know Shawn; you’re so unhinged lately that yes I’ll be honest I did think you’d actually attempt to take your own life” Jon replies matter-of-factly.

Observing the man in front of me, I see fear in Jon’s eyes.

“If you’re not happy staying with me…with this custody arrangement then….” Jon starts.

“No! please, you’re fine Jon this is just a me problem and no, I wasn’t thinking of jumping” I lie.

I know Jon is looking straight through me.

At school the next day I try and distance myself, I mean living with the teacher means I’m already branded the teachers pet by default. I pretend I don’t hear all my classmates giggling and snickering behind me, whispering and excluding me from conversations. I used to be a part of those groups, where they’d bitch about the teachers and shit but now, I live with Jon I’m a complete outcast. I have Cory and Topanga…I haven’t spoken to Topanga much since Cory told her how much of a fuck up, I am though, so I don’t hold hopes on keeping any friendships. Everyone was chatting away to each other, talking about their plans for the night or what dates they’re going on and I just had to pretend it didn’t hurt that I wasn’t getting included in any conversation…in fact they all turned away from me to continue their conversation in peace.

Jon’s laughing and joking with some of the kids in my class, normally I’d insert myself into the conversation because I get jealous of Jon spending time with other kids – I think it’s my abandonment issues to be honest, but I still can’t shake the jealousy. I managed to fight it though, keep my head down and more importantly shut the fuck up.

Cory isn’t in this morning, he has a dentist appointment which Alan’s taking him to, I mean I know I shouldn’t be jealous of a fucking dentist appointment, but I’d kill to have my biological father care enough to take time out of work to take me to a stupid dentist appointment. I can’t help feeling some resentment.

“Hey Shawn, how’s it going?” Topanga asks, knocking me out of my thoughts.

“Uh, going…good…I guess?” I respond, unable to form proper sentences.

Topanga studies me for a moment and then smiles awkwardly as she takes her seat with some other friends.

Fuck me you can cut the tension in this room with a knife.

God I’d love a knife right now.

I’ve been good the past few days, Jon took all my sharp objects away…but I’m not stupid, I always know where to get something.

I’m two whole days clean.

I know for a fact it won’t stay that way, but I celebrate the achievement privately in my head anyway.

Chapter Text

AN: Hi everyone I’m back with another chapter! I know it’s been a little while, but I really struggle with motivation on updating my fanficition – I need to really get into touch with the characters emotions etc… without further ado here’s another chapter! TW’s remain the same as before so please don’t read if that’s triggering to you. – Angel

So, it’s been a fair few months since my mental breakdown at the Matthews house – nobody seems to treat me like glass anymore which I suppose is a bonus.

Jon has actually ended up emergency fostering a newborn baby for his sister (she was hooked on street drugs when she fell pregnant and now has to go to rehab but risked having the baby taken away from her unless a family member stepped in and fostered during her treatment) Jon never struck me to be the fatherly type, I mean with me he’s like a dad but it’s different when you’re a mental case and you’re a teenager.

I do love the baby though, but I resent him a little bit for getting all of Jon’s love and attention.

Everyone asks about the baby all the time, loves the baby, buys things for the baby and I know I shouldn’t be jealous, but I never had that as a child! I never had the love and support of people when I was that little. I resent the world for that!

It’s not going to be forever that we have this baby in the apartment, but in general I really feel like I’ve lost Jon. I’ve been emotionally and mentally deteriorating for a while now and everyone is so wrapped up with the baby that nobody has actually noticed what the hell was going on with me.

I used to be able to talk with Jon, to be confronted by him when he realised that I was pushing him away.

Now we barely speak.

For the first two weeks of getting the baby Jon stayed off work to settle him into the apartment, to be able to get to know his routine and set everything up that he needed. During those two weeks I felt like I was in hell, I usually had the crutch of Jon for when things got bad, I could go to him, I was a complete outcast at school as it was. My classmates wanted nothing to do with me when they found out I was living with a teacher so when everyone was choosing their seats I just sat next to Cory and listened to the attentive whispers around me.

Here’s a thing about me,

I don’t like change. I don’t do change. Change greatly upsets me.

Everything around me kept changing, Jon no longer prioritized me and checked in on my emotional state. His priority was the baby.

And I had to be okay with that.

It’s not going to be forever, right?

I can do this.

It’s not like I have a choice.

I’m a teenager after all, I should be happy about being left to my own devices. Jon is so sleep deprived that he shouts at me more, I know he doesn’t mean it, but it still hurts, nonetheless.

Every single day I try and help out with the baby, I offer to feed him, change him, wind him and I’m met with a “don’t worry I can do it” or he passes the baby on to someone else to look after which makes me feel really sad. I try and connect with the baby but it’s like Jon doesn’t trust me with him and gets literately anyone under the sun to take care of the baby except me.

So yes, I kind of resent it.

I have to be honest I wasn’t even really aware of Jon’s siblings, let alone his drug addict of a sister who fell pregnant with a random one-night stands baby (needless to say when she told him he ran for the hills)

So social services contacted Jon as a last resort, he accepted.

The Matthews have been round a lot helping out, donating old baby stuff from when Morgan was a newborn and giving Jon tips and tricks for surviving the “newborn stage”. Not once has anyone asked me if I’m okay.

These last few weeks have been a blur, it’s almost like I’ve managed to distance myself from Jon so effectively that I come “home” and go straight to bed every night. No dinner, not like he’d ask right now anyway.

“Hey, Shawn wake up I need to take Jackson to daycare and I can’t leave you home alone this morning” Jon says, startling me awake.

Tiredly I rub my eyes until I see spots of white.

“Fine” I agree.

I forgot today was the day Jon goes back to work part time and drops the baby off to day-care.

The car ride was too quiet when he had dropped Jackson off to daycare.

I mean, what did we even have to talk about?

At school everyone was talking about how much of a hero Jon was for taking in his nephew so the mother could get clean and not lose the baby.

It was getting generally irritating.

Daydreaming through class was a new habit of mine, the substitute did not give a shit what anyone did, so I just detached myself from all the accusing voices around me and drifted off.

“Hunter, where do you think you’ll ever end up in life if you don’t pay attention?” Mr Turner scolds, in front of the class.

“Ooooh teachers pet is in the doghouse” Mitch snickers alongside his friends.

My eyes meet Jon’s, public humiliation? Well, this is a new one for me.

Throughout the whole day I avoid Mr Turner like the plague, I’m actually considering not going home tonight at all…I’ll be shocked if he even notices.

In the canteen I avoid the food and just sit down next to Cory sighing.

“Been a long day man?” Cory asks, thoughtfully.

“Yep, another day in fucking paradise” I mumble back.

Usually if I had no food and I was swearing Jon would be scolding me, caring about me and my wellbeing.

He didn’t even glance over once.

And that actually hurt.

And with that I make the decision that I’m not going home tonight.

Chapter Text

AN: Wow, 2 chapters in one day? You guys are lucky indeed! Also, thank you for the kind comments you guys are the reason this book is still being worked on!

The bell rings to signal the end of the school day, Cory heads home to do some homework and I say I’ll catch him tomorrow although I’m not actually sure if I will end up catching him tomorrow.

Jon’s in the carpark, setting up the carseat preparing to head to Jacksons daycare to pick him up, I make sure I don’t catch his eye and hang back in the crowd.

I’m not actually sure where I’m going, but it’s sure as hell not “home” whatever that fucking word means.

The river looks calm at this time of day, the suns setting so the amber hues reflect on the still waters below me.

How peaceful would it be to just…float?

Or sink.

That works too.

I don’t even know how long I was staring below the bridge for before I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“It’s nice at this time of night, isn’t it Hunter” that voice says thoughtfully.

It can’t be Jon; he wouldn’t take Jackson out this late and in this cold weather.

Gingerly turning my head, I meet the wise eyes of Mr George Feeny.

“I often like to sit on this bridge in the evening and observe the setting sun” he continues.

“Jon sent you, didn’t he” I respond, simply.

Feeny shakes his head.

“No, he didn’t actually. How long have you been gone?” he asks.

Standing up I take a deep shaky breath.

“He didn’t even notice I was gone, that’s my fucking point? Who the fuck would notice if I was gone if I just… ended it! Who? Mr Feeney what the hell is the point anymore when nobody has any faith in me and the only person who I had as a parental figure is ignoring me and cut me out of his life for some damn BABY?” I shriek.

Feeny steps back, haphazardly.

“Hunter, I didn’t mean to hit a nerve” he starts.

“Whatever. I know nobody cares, I know nobody trusts me. I will get nowhere in life Mr Feeny I have nobody in my corner anymore. I give up. I’m not going “home” wherever that fucking place may be. I give up Feeney, go home” I reply in a fit of rage.

Feeney does something very surprising, he hugs me.

“Jon did care what was going on with you when he was away for those two weeks. He asked me how you were doing, and I said I noticed a change in your mood and behaviour and not for the better” Feeny starts.

“it doesn’t matter, I should’ve never let myself get close to ANYONE” I start in a rage, but it ends with me fighting tears.

“I don’t…have a…a….parent figure….at….my….home…he’s….all….i….have” I say shakily.

“I know Hunter, I’m really sorry that his priority is Jackson at the moment, but Hunter you’re your own person, you let people get close to you because that’s a healthy thing to do. Perhaps you got a little too reliant on Jon but that’s alright, it happens to the best of us…being reliant on someone” Feeny soothes pulling me into a hug.

I cry until what feels like forever.

“Can we stop now Hunter, pull yourself together – you’re wrinkling my favourite shirt” Feeny says, half-jokingly.

“Can you not tell Jon about this?” I ask.

“as long as you don’t plan on hurting yourself, I have no reason to do so” he replies.

Quickly I thank Mr Feeny and attempt to walk away into the night.

“You’re heading home now, right?” He calls.

“Of course,” I reply, blatantly lying to his face.

I don’t know where the hell I am going but I can’t stay here anymore.

Chapter Text

A/N: hey everyone here's a short chapter for you! 

The night is harsh, cold and unforgiving.

I have to be honest; I’m really starting to regret this decision of not going home.

Powerful gusts of wind throw my hair in all sorts of different directions, the night isn’t going to get easier.

I keep on walking until I approach a familiar sign.

[The Pink Flamingo Trailer Park]

Sure, the sign is covered in spray paint with various slurs and swear words on it… but it’s my sign, my sign of my hometown.

Its not something like Cory’s, with a white picket fence and friendly neighbours that help you with your life problems… cough cough Eric and Feeny… but, if you’re lucky you might get a smirk out of a neighbour in the pink flamingo trailer park.

I’m so lost.

So empty.

Honestly, I don’t know where I belong anymore.

It was so clear; the whole path was so clear. Jon was my saviour, my dad I never had – he would help me get into college and I’d follow Cory and we’d have dorm parties and meet cute girls! Well, I would meet cute girls whereas Cory over there would probably still be head over heels for Topanga.

Now my path is uncertain, hazy.

I knew It would be a matter of time before Jon had enough of me, I need to leave him to his happy family and his life.

I’m done being everyone’s burden.

“Hunter?” I hear a raspy voice sound behind me.

Praying it’s a nice family member rather than Eddie and his crew I gingerly turn around to lock eyes with the one and only Uncle Mike.

“What the hell ya doing out here so late boy I thought ya were living with that teach of yours?” he questions.

“I took off, I didn’t want to bother him anymore” I reply, simply.

“about time boy, us Hunters are never gettin anywhere in this damn life” he smirks up at my dishevelled hair.

Agreeing with him I accept the offer to stay the night at this trailer, I mean what’s the worst that could happen?

Still nothing from Jon. No search parties, no sending Cory to find me…nothing.

Not that I’m surprised.

Chapter Text

A/N Tw for abuse and all that stuff along with self-harm, I know I’ve been absent for a while but I see everyone commenting and giving kudos so I always try and come back!!

Black and blue.

Uncle Mike beat me black and blue.

I deserve it though. I deserve everything that happens to me.

Crawling out of the ancient trailer I make my way across the trailer park on my hands and knees when I see Jon out in the cold, shining a flashlight.

“You’re….you’re not safe out here Jon” I croak.

The look of pure fear and concern on Jon’s face sends a huge pang of guilt through my aching heart.

“It looks like you’re not either” he responds, simply.

“Where’s…Jackson…” I start.

“The Matthews” Jon cuts me off, gingerly trying to scoop me into some type of hug.

When everything goes dark, I can finally sleep.

--

The smell of antiseptic offends my nose as I begin to regain consciousness.

Where the fuck am I?

I’m met with lots of concerned eyes staring me down, pitying me.

I’m scrambling to my shaking feet as soon as I wake up. I do not want to be here; I yank out the IV’s causing several alarms to go off and start to make my quick escape plan.

A bewildered nurse ushers me back into my bed, but I resist.

“the patient in 3C is combative, agitated” I hear her say into a walkie-talkie, then I see a woman in fresh blue scrubs shuffle into the room and order meds to calm me down.

--

“Shawn I literately just left for a cup of coffee man, you didn’t need to scare the poor doctors and nurses!” Jon cries.

I study myself, beaten ribs, bandages on my wrists…wait, why do I have bandages on my wrists? He didn’t beat up my wrists.

Then the realisation hit me, they saw my newly sliced up wrists which I attacked when I was on the run.

Jon just stared blankly at the sight of me.

“I don’t know how to help you if you don’t want to help yourself Hunter” he whispered sadly.

“Of course, you don’t! Because if I’m out the picture then you can spend all your precious time with Jackson, I wont be your problem anymore! Just walk away Jon I don’t care anymore and clearly neither do you!” I shout, rage glinting in my eyes.

“you think I don’t care? I was out searching for you ALL NIGHT LONG in the cold, risked my life going to the pink flamingo trailer park and kept praying to some god out there that you were alive and didn’t do anything stupid! You went back to cutting yourself again, you stayed at someone’s place in the trailer park knowing full well they all hated you because you were no longer “trailer trash” I just can’t anymore Shawn why did you even run away? Tell me that at least!?” Jon shouts back.

All I can do is stare and shake my head.

“you didn’t care about me; you didn’t have time for me anymore…you didn’t care that I WAS DROWNING! YOU NEVER ASKED ME HOW I WAS!! EVERYTHING WAS ABOUT JACKSON!” I am fully sobbing now through the words of anger that I’m spewing out of my mouth like lava from an overdue volcano.

“you should’ve talked to me Shawn!” Turner cries.

“I tried! You shut me out all the time, never had time for me and I’m pretty sure you found me a burden to you, so I did everyone a favour and ran away!” I reply.

We’re not doing this right now, everything aches, everything hurts and all I want is to fall into a dreamless sleep.

I just want to go to sleep.

Preferably forever.

Chapter Text

Hey everyone, me again with a tiny shred of writing inspo. If it wasn’t for all the kudos and comments popping up in my emails, I probably would’ve forgotten about this story but as its very loved for some reason I decided to keep it going! I have been super busy so there has been many gaps within this fic but overall I’m pretty pleased with how it’s going. TW’s apply please don’t read if sensitive mental health topics upset you.

-Angel

After the short stay in the hospital, the police got some statements from me about my Uncle Mike, his trailer was gone so he must’ve assumed I would’ve had to go to hospital with how bad he beat me up.

Jon and I still aren’t really close, his life is still all about Jackson. Jon’s sister keeps taking the street drugs, she broke out of rehab and said to everyone how she doesn’t want to be a mother…but social services are still insisting that they try everything to get her to be Jacksons primary caregiver.

After being pumped at the hospital with several IV’s I know I gained weight, my dehydration and malnutrition wasn’t flagged up because I was a teenager who ran away from home to their abusive uncle…so dehydration and malnutrition was the least of my problems. My ribs are meant to heal on their own, so I can still move around but very slowly and very…very painfully.

I’ll lose this weight again, don’t worry.

I’ll remain in control since every fucking thing else in my life is out of control, out of my reach.

Since the self-harm discovery at the hospital, Jon has been watching me like a hawk, the best he can with a young baby of course.

They’re starting to heal, and I have the intense urge all day every day to slice those mid stage healing cuts up again, go deeper this time.

It’s not like anyone cares, Jon says he does, but then he spends all his time with the baby which I know I shouldn’t be jealous of a baby, he has a lovely smile, bright brown eyes and such an adorable little coo…he can’t do anything for himself, he’s a fucking baby…so the fact I am jealous of a baby is completely and utterly pathetic.

Jon is trying though, he makes me three meals and watches me as I eat them, even if he is feeding the baby at the same time.

I think he really doesn’t want me to end up in hospital again, it’s a messy situation really.

“How’s you?” Jon asks thoughtfully at the breakfast table.

He was feeding Jackson, but he had to sit there and watch me finish my breakfast because it was clear he doesn’t trust me anymore.

“Fine. You?” I respond.

“Are you sure?” He presses.

“Yes, I’m sure” I reply.

Most of our conversations go like that, maybe he is hoping I will open up my heart to him, pour out all of my childhood trauma onto him so he can tell me it will all be okay.

But I won’t though, I won’t become a burden.

--

At school I’m still known as the teachers pet, at least Cory sits with me I suppose….even Minkus doesn’t want to be seen with the teachers pet and he’s the biggest nerd in the whole school.

It’s sad really.

I just want to blend in again.

In class Feeny drones on about some civil war, but I can’t help but zone out.

My injuries aren’t fully healed just yet, but Jon said I should go to school to get out of the house, he was worried I would feel trapped at home…but I know it’s because he wants to go to work himself and he doesn’t want to leave me on my own.

I see through your games, Turner.

“Hunter, can you tell me the year that the civil war began?” Feeny asks.

“No.” I respond, matter-of-factly.

“1861 sir!” Minkus calls out.

So, I’m branded the teachers pet when Minkus does shit like this?

Utter bullshit.

“You know, I missed you these last few weeks man…that must’ve been some nasty flu where you couldn’t see anyone for that long” Cory says, walking out the classroom with me as the bell rings.

I hate lying to my best friend, I won’t burden him with my problems, and he absolutely cannot know that my uncle beat me black and blue, he cannot know I ended up in hospital in a terrible condition after running away from home, whatever that place used to be anyway.

“it was killer, absolutely flawed me Cor” I reply, dramatically.

Cory nods along, walking down to the cafeteria with me.

Next challenge, getting out of eating lunch when Cory is already very aware of my currently declining mental health.

Chapter Text

A/N: merry Christmas everyone, I am currently going through the loss of my grandma, and I felt the need to make Shawn suffer like I am! Trigger warnings apply, love you all.

Although Cory, Turner, Topanga and Feeny are fully aware of my ever-declining mental health I still managed to lose a bit of weight before the holidays by avoiding some of the meals that I had to eat. It wasn’t that difficult really; Jon was still too preoccupied with Jackson to really pay any attention.

Listening to the loud music pouring out my new headphones, Jon stands in the doorway looking hesitant.

“Yes?” I question, irritably.

“Shawn, we need to talk” he says, his eyes softening.

This can’t be good, he’s kicking me out, isn’t he? Why would he want me, a completely useless burden of a teenager in his house whilst he’s trying to look after and raise a fucking baby?

I can’t see I didn’t see this coming though; I would’ve gotten rid of me a long time ago.

“It’s about your dad” he starts, awkwardly positioning himself on the end of my bed.

At the mention of my father, my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“he’s in a coma at the hospital… he had a heart attack earlier today, Shawn, your mother just called me to tell you”. He explains shaking his head gently.

Sighing, I stare up at the celling.

I’m so over my fucking life.

--

The doctors say that it’s the waiting game, his body is shutting down because his blood cannot get to most of his body, his heart is giving up.

“Now would be the time to say your goodbyes, sweetie” a nurse says softly, patting my shoulder with a look of forced sorrow.

“Jon, I don’t know if I can say goodbye to him, I mean I hate him…but, he’s, my dad. He’s Chet Hunter, my old man. So he beat me a few times and such, but he still loved me. I still kinda loved him too. I don’t know if I can face seeing him half dead” I explain.

I’m not stupid, I can see Jon glancing at the ticking clock on the too white walls of this death house. He wants to get back to Jackson because it’s getting late and babysitters around here already cost so much, they cost double past 9pm.

“It’s your choice, buddy. I can’t decide this for you.” Jon says, sadly.

--

Back at home, things still carried on the way you’d expect them to around the Christmas period. School was finished for the holidays, so I didn’t even have school to distract me from all of the self-destructive thoughts.

It’s the waiting game

The waiting game

The waiting game

This is killing me.

This is actually killing me.

Every single fucking time that phone rings, both myself and Jon expect it to be Verna, my mother explaining that Chet has taken his last breath.

My anxiety is through the roof, I am constantly shaking and having to reassure myself that I am in fact okay, I am fine actually. Everything is absolutely fine.

I feel so fucking out of control.

Each night of hell, in the pitch black I carve up my shoulders with my old trusty blade, crimson red seeping through the tissues I have stashed in a drawer. As time has gone on with my self-harming I have actually made a secret kit filled with gauze, band-aids, medical tape and ointments to care for my cuts. Some may say I’m becoming more responsible.

Yeah, right.

“You have to eat Shawn, you not eating won’t change anything about what’s happening with Chet kid” Jon says, tapping me on the arms to get my attention.

I was never asleep last night, just staring at the damn balls of sticky tack on my cream celling. Someone should really peel those off.

“You look exhausted, Shawn please let me help you” Jon says, observing my tired features.

“Where’s Jackson?” I ask, simply.

“At day-care, I know he wasn’t meant to be, but Verna called me and said it might be today that your father takes his last breath and if you wanted to say goodbye, this is your last chance…or you may regret it for the rest of your life…so I wanted to make sure I was one hundred percent there for you” Jon explains.

“Lucky me” I whisper, agitated.

The thought of saying goodbye physically hurt my heart, he may have been a bad dad, but he was my blood, my father. Through it all.

“I don’t want to see him. But can you get a nurse to hold the phone against his ear so I can say goodbye…and I need to do this alone, so I’d appreciate it if you stayed downstairs through this” I explain quickly before I changed my damn mind.

--

“Hi, this is Tammy, I’m your dads nurse. I’m holding his hand on your behalf right now, the door is closed it is just me in the room with your dad, okay sweetie?” a friendly voice says on the other end of the phone.

“Okay, god Tammy I don’t know how you do this…listen to people cry as they say goodbye to their loved ones, you must have to distance your own emotions from it, right?” I laugh, deflecting.

It doesn’t work, because the nurse coughs gently to signal me to get on with it.

“Hey…dad…Chet… it’s Shawn, your son. Despite what you did to me, I don’t hate you. We’re the Hunters, a family forever…no matter what happens. I love you a lot dad, you may not have made the best decisions but everyone makes mistakes. You can go now, if you were holding on until someone said goodbye, here it is… now you can go daddy. We’ll all be okay. You can go” I say, my voice cracking on the last word.

“that was beautiful sweetheart, very well said” Nurse Tammy chirps down the phone.

I quickly thank her and then hang up before burying myself under my blankets.

--

Exactly 42 hours after that phone call my father Chet Hunter takes his final breath.

On Christmas eve.

Merry fucking Christmas.

Chapter Text

Hellooo everyone, thanks for all the feedback on the previous chapters because if it wasnt for you guys i probably wouldve stopped this fic long long ago...but as people are still actively commenting on it etc i thought i should drop another chapter for all of you lovely people. Lots and lots of TWs in this chapter, please dont read if it'll upset you!! - Angel

The funeral wasn’t elaborate, not like anybody expected my fathers funeral to be elaborate in the first place. He was trailer trash, well…that’s what they all call him anyway.

I decided that morning that I wasn’t going to shed a single tear, not after all my old man put me through, he was a deadbeat. A nothing.

But he was still my dad.

Jackson was at daycare again, Jon explained that he didn’t feel Chet’s funeral would be very appropriate for an almost one year old. I mean, I can’t blame him…if I had the choice, I wouldn’t go either… but Chet Hunter was my father, he didn’t do a great job of being a father…but, he was my father.

Walking down the aisle, glancing over at distant relatives and shady looking men I lock eyes with my mother.

That lump in my throat grows bigger by the minute.

Jon reaches out to comfort me, but I shake him off - I felt almost guilty, looking back at Jon’s pain filled eyes and hurt expression when I did so.  

I’m not weak, I can’t be weak.

Smiling curtly to my mother, I take my seat and start listening to the stories about my father, most of those stories were when he was in his “prime”, basically when he didn’t have me.

The ceremony was what is was, my mother approached me and shared her condolences.

Like I gave a shit about her anyway.

--

“Kid, I know what you sat through today wasn’t easy…so if you’d like to talk about it, I’m more than happy to be a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on” Jon starts, sitting down at the dinner table.

“until Jackson comes home from day care that is” I add, irritated.

“Shawn, you don’t really feel that way…do you?” Jon enquires, eyebrows furrowed.

Shaking my head in agitation I brush him off.

Jon reaches for my shoulders to pull me back, but I yelp in pain.

Fuck, this isn’t good.

He probably thought I’d stopped with the self-harming.

I don’t care anymore, I’m done.

Shrugging Jon off, I dart for the door and make a break for it.

Not even knowing where I’m heading, I end up at that good old bridge.

Sighing I observe my surroundings, the setting amber sun, the chirping of the birds and laughter of children on the pier enjoying icecream with their real families.

I’m just damaged goods.

“Hunter, please talk to me” I hear a voice behind me, thick and accented. I don’t even need to look behind me to know exactly who that voice belonged to.

“I feared that you might have ended up here” he starts, voice laced with emotion.

Silence.

“Please, step back from that ledge Hunter” Jon pleads.

“No.” I respond.

Turner makes no sudden movements; I know exactly why. Its because during his teacher training with crises interventions they tell the teachers that the suicidal person has to make the decision to live…ideally anyway.

“Humour me, Hunter. Just tell me what’s going on in that head of yours” Jon asks, voice shaking.

“I’m still trailer trash; I slice my shoulders up like some bitch and cry about my feelings. I’m not tough, I’m damaged…I’m unwanted. I am damaged goods. I am giving you an out here Turner, I am letting you off the hook” I say, matter-of-factly, still not making eye-contact with Turner.

“Hunter, I don’t need an out. I need you to choose to live, I need you to realise that your damn life is worth living. Why won’t you fucking listen to me, hunter. I’d never lie to you. I took you in because I cared so much about you, not because I was forced to” Turner starts.

Strong arms pull me back off of the ledge.

Alan Matthews, he must’ve been behind Turner the whole time…ready to grab me as Turner tried his ways with words.

“I understand if you don’t want me hanging out with your son anymore” I choke out, defeated.

“No, Shawn you need Cory and Cory needs you. But, more importantly Shawn…you need some proper help” Alan sighs.

“I agree, I can’t watch you destroy yourself Hunter. I’m so sorry, but we need to go to hospital for a bit okay bud…just so they can evaluate you” Turner interjects.

“Right, so send me to the fucking funny farm where the trailer trash will be out of your way for good” I mumble, still in Alans vice grip.

“No. I won’t send you to the ‘funny farm’ or what ever you seem to refer to the psychiatric hospital as, but I do need you to be evaluated just for the sake of letting me sleep at night Hunter…please, I can’t lose you” Turner says, tears pricking his eyes as he forces me to make eye contact with him.

The distant sound of sirens can be heard, I know they’re probably for me.

“You need some help kid, and that’s okay…we all need help sometimes” Alan says, rubbing my arm as if he was trying to soothe a five-year-old.

“I know” I choke out.

Chapter Text

A/N after almost half a year, here’s another chapter! My Christmas gift to all of you loyal subscribers. Thanks for being patient, leaving kudos and leaving me lovely comments. I definitely wouldn’t have updated this beyond a few chapters had it not been for all of you guys!

Lots and lots of TW’s apply as usual. Stay safe, love you all. - Angel

--------

Surrounded by suffocatingly bright, white walls. The steady beep from the other rooms outside in the corridor… the shrieks from the room next door.

How can anyone get “better” in this environment?

True to his word, Jon took me straight to the hospital. Well, Jon was in pieces, so Alan had to drive us there. It took approximately 3 hours and 42 minutes for me to accept the fact that I’m going to be evaluated by the “crisis team” and drag myself out of the car.

Locking eyes with the lady in front of me, dread fills my near empty stomach. Jon’s next to me, keeping a safe distance but gently holding my hand. It isn’t helping, but I’ve put that man through literal hell and back I can’t pull away from him. Not now.

Alan, Amy and Cory are in the waiting room, Eric stayed home to watch Morgan. In the car, Alan told Jon to call Feeny too to collect Jackson from Daycare and bring him to the Matthews house.  

“So, Mr Hunter… let’s start with me asking how you’d like me to address you” The woman asks gently, forcing a slight smile.

“Shawn.” I reply, curtly.

“Very well, Shawn. Now, your… dad…? Has brought you in today as he believes you are in immediate danger to yourself. Is that correct?” She asks, looking at Jon.

Jon shifts uncomfortably and corrects her.

“I’m not Shawn’s biological father, I’m his legal guardian however I do think of this boy here as my son.” Jon interrupts, earning a slight smile from me.

The lady nods and flicks through several pages in the book in front of her.

Shawn Patrick Hunter

Now, that’s a thick medical file.

The unnamed lady clears her throat and awaits my answer.

“I…I don’t know if I’ll do something stupid right now” I choke out.

“Okay. Shawn. That’s good that you can admit that to me. My name is Dr. Kelly, and I am a senior psychiatrist on the hospitals crisis team. Today I will hopefully be able to diagnose you and get you the help that you need, and if I determine that you are a danger to yourself, I will admit you to residential treatment upstairs, but we will cross that bridge if/when we get to it. Is that alright?” Dr. Kelly explains.

Jon nods, I just stare absently wishing I was anywhere but here.

She begins going through several checklists, as to where I answered as honestly as I could. I swear I could hear Jon’s heart breaking next to me when I answered some of the harder questions.

We all sit in uncomfortable silence for a while as Dr Kelly goes through the lists.

“Well, Shawn it looks like you have PTSD, if I were to guess that would be down to the way you were treated as a child by your mother and father. You also have MDD – Major Depressive Disorder, I am diagnosing you with Atypical anorexia nervosa as you don’t quite match the DSM’s criteria perfectly, but you don’t fit into the other eating disorders. And finally I am also diagnosing you with GAD – Generalised Anxiety Disorder. I know this is a lot for you and Jonathon to take in, but all of this is treatable and manageable. I would usually prescribe medication in this event; however I need to be sure that you will not take it in high quantities to end your life” She explains.

Jon winces.

“I..I could keep it…it would be locked up, and I would give him his correct dose, he will take it in front of me and then I can closely monitor him?” Jon suggests.

“If you are willing to do everything in your power to keep Mr Hunter safe then I am happy for him to begin his medication and attend regular outpatient therapy. But I need to be sure that he isn’t going to end his life if I let him walk out of here” She says, looking at me.

“I won’t end my life. Not now, anyway. That’s the best I can give you…I’m not in immediate danger though and I doubt Jon will let me leave his sight anytime soon anyway” I add.

Dr Kelly agrees that the best way forward is for me to take time off of school and have someone with me at all times whilst I adjust to the medicine. All sharps have to be locked up (let’s be honest, Jon would’ve done that anyway) and medicines need to be inaccessible to me.

Jon agrees with these terms and promises he will bring me back if I show any concerning behaviour or side effects.

--

Fluoxetine 20mg take one tablet per day with water.

A small little white and green pill. This is supposed to fix me.

I doubt it will.

But I swallow it anyway, under the watchful eye of Jon.

Chapter Text

A/N: Well, it has been a while… my last update was December 2023, it’s now August 2025. Thank you everyone for your kind comments, it’s only because of you guys that i’m still updating this…very slowly, but it’s being updated nonetheless! I take some storylines out of my own life so sometimes I just have to wait for something of note to happen and then I can write about them and dive into how I felt at the time. Not everything is mine of course, the show's canon storyline is not mine at all but the foster baby situation, the volunteer situation etc those were excerpts from my own life. I’m not a kid in school being taken in by my teacher though, and I had a lovely upbringing with my parents…so, not all of the story relates to my past experiences by any means!

P.s the Eddie and the nightmare thing was suggested to me by a lovely commenter!

Anyway, I’ll stop rambling now and get on with the continuation of the story! ~ Angel

!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Usual TW’s apply, approach with caution! - the talk in this fic is Shawns POV i’m not saying specific weights are large or whatever its all fiction and its Shawns disordered thinking.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It has been six months since I was put in the hospital for my concerning behaviour. A lot has happened in those six months.
First, Jon's sister has now got full custody of Jackson. She got clean… Jackson is still extremely attached to Jon and sees him almost every day, so this whole…’this baby won’t be in our home forever’ was bullshit.
I’m in senior year at school now, I suppose I better knuckle down and really try and get my grades up. Well, that’s what everyone tells me anyway. I AM TRYING. I KEEP FAILING! Tests, exams, SATs you name it. I am so tired of trying so fucking hard and failing miserably.

The Matthews suggested a fun day out to destress us all from the upcoming exams, you know? The exams that make or break your entire future?! but sure…i’ll ride around on a segway on a little trail and pretend my life isn't falling apart! Due to school stress I’ve been eating maybe a little more than I used to, snacking when I felt like it and not weighing myself. I've told myself I'm too busy…but I'm pretty sure it’s denial.

Jon has a day without Jackson round clinging to his leg (shocker) so I'm looking forward to spending a bit of time with him whilst we’re out with the others.

Amy, Alan, Corey, Topanga and Eric line up beside myself and Jon. Honestly? I can’t be bothered to ride on a segway right now, I'm trying to patch my grades up with duck tape.
We’re waiting to go into some sort of room to sign some paperwork, I don’t really care if this kills me to be honest, it would get me out of all these exams I've got coming up which I know I'm going to fail anyway.

I’m standing behind Alan, I swear he looks taller than I remember.

“Hop on” A bald, irritated looking man motions towards…

The scale?

Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me. I liked living in denial.

Alan steps on and then the bald man stares at him for a moment.
“You can’t ride this. You have to be under 252lbs.” He grunts, waving Alan off dismissively.

“Are you kidding me?” I exclaim, embarrassed for Alan and raising my eyebrows.

The man ignores my outburst and motions for me to step on the scale.

Dontlookdontlookdontlookdontlook
Shawn, don’t fucking look.

Of course I looked.

“156lbs, you’re fine to ride…kid” The man grunts.

That number was ringing every single alarm bell in my mind. How the fuck did i let myself get that heavy? That F A T?

Alan was the one who was humiliated, I shouldn't be feeling like this? I shouldn't be feeling like the victim here?

Jon's eyes meet mine.
“Well i’m triggered to high heaven, i’m the heaviest i’ve ever been” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“Why did you look at it?” Jon asks, accusingly.

“Because, I had no idea what was happening? I didn't know I was going to be weighed?” I snip back.

Jon just sighs at me and goes to reassure Alan that he isn’t in fact fat, he’s just tall.
Everyone else gets weighed and handles that like normal people.

Although Alan pretends it hasn’t embarrassed him, that whole ordeal. We all collectively decide to go to dinner instead. Yep, that’s just where I wanted to go after noticing that I've gotten huge.

I’m literally fighting tears.
How did I let myself get like this?

—

I’m focussed on some artwork above the dinner table. It’s unique. I’m trying to avoid looking at any food. Any calories.
I just want to go home to my room, curl up and cry.

At least I'm sitting next to Cory, I know Cory won’t push me if i eat a little less tonight. Morgan and Feeny have joined us now as Morgan was too young to ride the segway and Feeny said he was too fragile and might “break a hip” or some excuse like that.

“Shawnie, what do you fancy getting for dinner?” Corey pokes me to snap my attention back to the table.

“Uhh um….” I stammer as I quickly look at the lowest calorie option.

“Hunters chicken, right Hunter?” Jon smiles and points at his menu across the table.

“Uh, yeah I guess I'll have that!” I smile back.

Once everyone has eaten, then the discussion of dessert pops up.

“Shawn, what are you having?” Topanga asks me, lifting her menu up so I can see the delicious options.

All eyes are on me.

Self control. Self control. Self control.

“You know what guys? I’m stuffed. I’d totally have the cheesecake though if i could fit it!” I laugh, nonchalantly.

Usually, that would’ve sent alarm bells ringing in everyone's head. But now? Nobody bats a fucking eye.

“Okay no problem” Alan smiles, collecting the rest of the orders.

I just sit and sip my 0 calorie drink, wishing I was anywhere but here.

Eric makes a rude joke which sends the table into fits of laughter and I laugh with them, but it’s all for show. Not that it matters, I clearly don't need to put on a show because nobody actually notices me anymore.
Great. They all probably think I need to lose weight, too.

—-------

Back at home, I sit crossed legged on my bed pretending I'm studying. I’m not actually, I'm writing out everything I ate and calculating the calories.
I’m planning out how I'm going to be skinny. Again.

Before I fall asleep, I find tears rolling down my face.
I’m so angry with myself. How did I let myself get like this?

Eventually, I fall into a restless sleep.
And I wish I never did.

The nightmares. Oh my god the nightmares.

—

“Hunter, get your fat ass out of MY trailer park, you freeloader” My half brother, Eddie snarls.

Why am I back here?
Everything is so blurry.
I’m so confused.

“Oi, Hunter. You with me? You piece of shit. You will end up slumming it back here like the rest of us, you know it. I know it. That teacher of yours knows it. You’re just a fucking charity case.” Eddie jabs.

I blink and then find myself in a headlock. Jon's there, cheering Eddie on.

“YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A FAT, PIECE OF SHIT” Eddie spits.
I look to Jon for something, anything…but he just smiles and cradles Jackson in his arms.

I couldn't speak. I wanted to scream.

Eddie smashes me into the side of my old trailer, my biological dad comes out to kick me out of the way so he could reach the paper.

Figures.

Please? ANYONE? Help!? But I was met with silence.
And my god was that suffocating.

—--

“Shawn. Shawn it’s okay. Kid, I've got you. I’ve got you” Jon soothes.

Bleary eyed, I adjust to the newfound light.

“Jon?” I croak out.

Jon wipes the tears from my eyes.