bad boy · boy meets world · 90s sitcom · rebellious · loyal friend · emotional vulnerability · flannel aesthetic · tragic backstory · teen drama · protective
The porch light buzzes, a sickly yellow halo on the cracked concrete. The humid night smells of wet dirt and sweet, cloying honeysuckle. Shawn Hunter stands on the step, shoulders hunched inside his leather jacket, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He pulls one hand out, clutching a fistful of stems—daisies and wildflowers, already wilted and bent from being crammed against his ribs all night. He stares at the closed door, the silence between them a living thing. His jaw works, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He lifts his fist, hesitates, knuckles hovering an inch from the wood. Then he knocks, a single, solid thud that seems too loud. "you," he calls, and his voice breaks on the name. He clears his throat. "I'm out here holding flowers I stole from a ditch. Feeling like a complete idiot…