He stopped at the end of the street, his feet suddenly resisting the forward motion. He tried to lift them again, tried to force them on....but it was no use.

He couldn’t do it.

He didn’t want to do it.

There had to be another way…

And yet, even as the thoughts thundered through his brain he knew they were wrong.

There wasn’t another way.

He lifted his foot again, slowly, as if it was made of lead.

Shifting the weight of his backpack to his other shoulder, he pressed on.

There wasn’t another way…

He’d been evicted from his first apartment.

His bike had been impounded.

He just didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Gus was still living at home, trapped by the same four walls he’d been staring at his entire life.

Not that Shawn had a problem with those four walls.

Hell, just about any four walls connected to a roof were fine with him. But he couldn’t stay with Gus forever. After a day or two, he knew he’d get tired of those walls and want to move on.

Besides, Gus didn’t even know he was back in town.

No one knew.

And he wanted to keep it that way, at least for now.

He couldn’t hide from Gus for long. He already knew that, of course. He could already feel his wandering steps dragging back to his best friend’s house, but it wouldn’t matter now, anyway.

Gus would be in class.

He stopped again as he reached the end of the driveway, his feet sticking to the pavement as if held in place by a powerful magnet. He stared up at the dark house silently as the memories washed over him, leaving him numb.

There just wasn’t anywhere else to go…

He checked the driveway to make sure his father’s truck was gone.

If was there, he was just going to keep walking and never look back…

At least, that’s what he told himself.

His hand passed lightly over his stomach as he was struck again by a sudden hunger pang.

How long had it been since he’d eaten…?

He shook his head slowly, clearing his mind of the distracting, rumbling contractions in his gut.

The truck was gone.

His father wasn’t home.

Of course he wasn’t, Shawn grinned palely to himself as he finally started up the driveway. It was Friday afternoon, the beginning of his father’s big fishing trip of the year. He never missed it…he wouldn’t be back for at least two more days.

Shawn could crash here for two full days, and no one would be the wiser.

Two days with a roof over his head, with food in the fridge…

Two days without being evicted or having a landlord pounding on the door, demanding his rent when Shawn had already told him he didn’t have it.

Two days without having to tell his father that he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

He crossed the back lawn on the balls of his feet, pausing at the bird house. Ever since Shawn was little, there had always been a spare key taped underneath it.

Of course, that was before the fight.

Before the arrest…

Before he had driven off on his bike, shouting over his shoulder that he was never coming back.

Shawn hesitated before reaching up and feeling around under the birdhouse. He sighed in relief when his fingers finally grazed the cool metal.

It was still there.

He tugged on the key until it finally gave in, ripping away from the wood. He could already feel his heart starting to pound as he walked up the two back steps to the door.

He’d said he was never coming back…

He never wanted to come back…

He still didn’t.

He just didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Reaching up, he touched the door knob, his hand instantly snapping back away from it as if it was a hot iron.

He didn’t have a choice, he kept telling himself.

There wasn’t anywhere else to go.

He inhaled slowly, raising his hand to the door again.

This time, he managed to insert the key into the lock. He let himself in, releasing his held breath as he closed the door behind him.

It wasn’t so bad, he realized, looking around at the familiar surroundings.

Without his dad around, it wasn’t so bad…

He dumped his backpack onto the kitchen table, suddenly hearing the ghostly echo of fights long-since over resounding off the silent walls around him.

“…Damn it, Shawn! Why can’t you listen to me for once in your life?”

The angry words rushing through his mind rapidly faded, however, replaced once again by the rumbling in his stomach.

How long had it been…?

He left his bag on the table and quickly crossed the kitchen, throwing the refrigerator door open. Without even taking a moment to survey its contents, he just dove in, grabbing the first things his fingers snatched.

It happened to be half a turkey sandwich.

Almost before his brain could register what kind of meat he was eating, Shawn had scarfed down the entire thing.

He grabbed a can of soda next and slowly wandered into the living room, looking up at the ceilings with the wide eyes a child would use when entering the Sistine Chapel.

Had he really lived here once?

“Damn it, Shawn…!”

The voices continued to shout at him from the silence.

But he wasn’t thinking about them now.

Now that the perpetual pain in his stomach had subsided, he was only thinking about one thing.

Sleep.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs, peering up them as if into a dark cave.

He knew his room was still up there, untouched…

His bed…

Slowly, he raised his foot and climbed the first stair. The second one came more easily, then the third, and before he knew he was at the top, face-to-face with his old bedroom.

He stepped inside, feeling all the old emotions come crashing over him again.

“Grow up! You’re not going to be a damn kid forever, Shawn!”

He bit back the impulse to slam the door and just leave like he had left once before, but somehow he couldn’t. He was just too tired…

And he didn’t have anywhere else to go, anyway.

He rested the can of soda on his dresser and took a slow step towards his bed.

It wasn’t his bed anymore, of course.

Not really.

He wasn’t a kid anymore.

And yet, he wanted to sleep…

Just sleep.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially not his father.

He didn’t want anyone to know he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

He just wanted to sleep.

He fell onto the bed, not even bothering to crawl under the blankets or kick off his shoes as his head hit the pillow.

How long had it been…?

He tried to remember the last time he’d been in that room, the last time he’d slept on that pillow, but the silent, comforting blanket of dreamless sleep settled over him before he could reconcile his memories.