snapshot, from 2021: shawn and gus learn that nightlights aren’t stupid, after all.
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Shawn is nine when he figures out how to unlatch Gus’s window from the outside and sneak inside. It is also roughly 10:00 p.m. when this discovery comes to light, and approximately 10:05 when Gus raises his head from his pillow, squints through the dark, and shrieks at the shape of a lumpy shadow skittering across the floor.
“Shhhh!” hisses Shawn, waving his arms around. “Keep it down, your parents are gonna kill me!”
“Not you!” Gus bites back, untangling himself from his planet patterned sheets. He takes one of his pillows under his arm and crosses the room, proceeding to whack Shawn across the head with it. There’s a muffled sound of indignation but Gus does not care to hear it, jabbing his thumb into his own chest. “Me, Shawn, they’re gonna kill me!”
Shawn makes a dramatically drawn out whisper cry, curling onto the floor with his legs tucked in. “Okayokayokay that’s fair. Good god, man, no need to assault your best friend like that.”
“You’ve got no room to talk, scaring me like that.” Shawn makes a flippant gesture with his hands (he’s gotten really expressive with them recently), and smiles. But it falls flat after a fraction of a second.
“Sorry, Gus.” His voice is unusually soft, and he brings his knees into himself more. “I would’ve, uhh, called or something. Just got…” He pauses, thinking. “Distracted.”
Gus blinks sleep from his eyes, and looks at his clock again. 10:08. “It’s way past our bedtime. Doesn’t your dad say that eight is…?”
“Yeah,” Shawn says lightly. “But I don’t usually listen.”
“What are you doing here.” Gus kneels beside him, tone mostly flat but with a hint of genuine worry that he hopes Shawn hears.
Sighing deeply, Shawn brings himself into a sitting position, planting his palms into the hardwood. His fingerpads start scratching against his dry cuticles.
“I got lonely.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but he’s no longer looking Gus in the eye, staring at the floorboards. “Is it okay if I stay?”
;
By the time Shawn is twelve, he spends enough nights in Gus’s room to know exactly how it changes from the day to the night.
There’s a stack of science books (ranging from topics of geology to that of cosmology, medicine, and biology) set near the window on a shelf that catches the light, and a stack of neatly folded shirts on the dresser. Binders and notebooks rest on his desk, as does a small lamp, and loose ballpoint pens are scattered across the room.
The nighttime doesn’t do much, really, besides rob the room of its vibrance; but it makes the shadows from the bookcase longer, and the posters dim, and allows Shawn to flick on the blue triceratops night light that Gus keeps attached to the wall.
“You’re scared of the dark?” Shawn asks incredulously when he first sees it. He’s not sure why this fact is so astounding - Gus is scared of lots of things. The weird bugs at the park, bad grades, blood on his knees and ice skating, so the dark shouldn’t be that shocking.
Gus pushes himself up from his pillow and scoffs. “C’mon, Shawn, plenty of people are scared of it. Fear comes from a perfectly logical place, and at least ten percent of Americans alone think it can be freaky, too.”
Shawn frowns, studying the triceratops. It’s ceramic, and when he leans in closer, he notices that the multiple openings for light to flow through from the bulb inside are shaped into small stars. He flicks on the switch, watching faint, softly defined stars cast against the wall.
The inkinesss of the room seems less suffocating than before, broken up by the gentle golden glow. He mulls Gus’s words again.
“That’s a lot of people,” he says.
“Yeah. It is.” There’s the sound of shuffling sheets; Gus’s voice sounds more muffled than before. “So just leave the light on, okay?”
For a moment, Shawn seriously considers flicking them off for a brief second to hear Gus’s indignant yelp and to give himself a quick laugh, before his gaze finds itself on the dinosaur again. He’s struck, privately, by how pretty the stars look.
Shawn can hear someone that sounds suspiciously like his father telling him that sleeping in the dark builds character. Makes you more alert, enhances your senses to intruders.
But he bats it away, and crawls back into Gus’s bed. He brings his blanket over his shoulders, staring at the nightlight.
“Okay,” Shawn says. “Yeah, I’ll leave it on.”
Gus makes a small hum of acknowledgement, his chest rising and falling with even breaths minutes later.
It takes Shawn longer to fall asleep. But he sighs, resting one hand on his pillow and watching the makeshift stars until he can’t keep his eyes open.
;
They’re fifteen when Gus hears a tap against his window at midnight.
Shawn wordlessly climbs through, taking off his shoes before tucking himself into a ball on the bed.
“She left,” is all he says, before squeezing his eyes shut.
There’s a long silence. Then, making a small, strained sound, Gus pulls Shawn closer.
He flicks the nightlight on.
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