AN: Ya know, it's a bitch trying to figure out what genre these things fit in...

WARNING: suicidal themes, slightly angsty, and some hurt/comfort at the end.

Like his father taught him, he walked slowly on the balls of his feet. The feeling of a hunter stalking its prey ran through his veins, but the thrill had left him. He didn't want to get caught, this could be his only chance. He didn't care if he got caught either, though. Lately, it'd been difficult to care about much at all. Maybe, he feared, people had started to notice. Maybe he hadn't been so cleverly disguised.

000

Gus jerked awake, blinking rapidly to rid himself of the sleep in his eyes. Slightly miffed, his eyes searched for the source of what had woken him. There was Shawn, head in Gus' lap and drooling on his thigh. The TV showed a blonde demonstrating the miracle of ThighMaster, only four easy payments of $9.95. When his ears finally registered the sound of his home phone ringing, he groaned out loud. Of course neither woke Shawn up.

"Hello," His voice still rough from sleep.

"Gus? Put my little bum on," Henry's own naturally rough voice commanded.

Gus looked down at said bum. "He's drooling on my leg."

"Damn it." Apparently, Henry knew well enough that meant Shawn wasn't getting up any time soon.

"Why, what do you need?"

Shawn claims it's possible to hear an eye roll, and Gus was starting to rethink his counter argument. "The moron said he'd come by today to pick up the last of his junk. I've got two boxes sitting on my kitchen table, poker night's tomorrow at my house so I need my kitchen table, and the Goodwill truck is stopping by in the morning and I have no idea what to give them."

He'd always had his suspicions on where Shawn got his lungs from, but now it was confirmed. "Okay, Mr. Spencer. Don't worry, I'll come pick them up right now."

"You sure Gus?"

"Yeah, it's fine." It was only eight o'clock; they'd only been sleeping because of the crunch time that had come with their last case. If he was honest, though, he agreed mainly to keep Spencer senior from going off on another rant.

000

Like his father taught him, he crouched low as he peeked around the corner to check into the living room. His dad was spread out on the couch, a case file resting on his chest. A small twinge of regret twisted his heart for a moment, but it soon vanished. He felt guilty about leaving his dad, especially after his mother had left them both. But he'd understand later. This was for his father's own good as well. He crept into the kitchen, retrieved the step ladder, then carefully walked down the hall to the bedroom.

000

"Thanks for doing this Gus," Henry put the second box into the Toyota's back seat.

Gus shrugged. "It's no problem Mr. Spencer. Since he's sleeping now, Shawn'll be up all night. This will keep him busy for a while."

Henry leaned on the driver's side door of the blue car after Gus climbed inside. "You two will be coming over Friday for dinner, right?"

"Yup. I already told Shawn he's not allowed to skip out. We just finished a case, so he doesn't have an excuse either. This is down time."

The older man smiled and shook his head. "I swear Gus, Shawn would've been dead long before now if it weren't for you." Gus just laughed it off and waved as he drove out onto the road.

Balancing the two boxes as he locked his car, walked up the stairs, and opened his apartment door was tedious at best, but he managed. After he'd set the boxes on the island in his kitchen and re-locked the apartment, he felt like dumping at bucket of water on Shawn for all the hassle he was causing Gus. One look at the other man, however, quelled the urge.

Shawn was still curled up on the couch, knees tucked in (which Gus knew would cramp up when he was awake). A hand was fisted around Gus' jacket, which he'd left hanging over the arm of the couch. He moaned slightly and nuzzled the fabric. Gus wondered if Shawn was awake, because that seemed way too intentional.

Gus cursed Shawn's cuteness.

000

Like his father taught him, he carefully took the lockbox down from the highest shelf in the closet. Combination forever ingrained in his mind, he spun the padlock easily and opened the metal container. For a moment, he stared at the contents and weighed his options. He could close the lid, place it back on the shelf, and forget this ever happened. Or he could continue. Keep going, follow through with his choice. A sigh rose from his chest as he removed the contents and crept to the bathroom. He wanted to leave behind as little a mess as possible, after all.

000

Gus paused as he walked back into the kitchen and passed the boxes on his counter. Their high school yearbook was on top of the smaller box, the cover worn and cracked. Memories came to the surface of his mind as he flipped open the old book. It was easy to find their pictures; he laughed at the heart Shawn had drawn around his. Thank God Shawn shaved off his afro when he was sleeping the night before picture day.

Curious, he picked up the next object under the yearbook. Shawn's english notebook. Shawn had guarded this thing with his life all through out senior year. Feeling devious, he flipped through it, but he couldn't see anything that was particularly special about the contents. Before he got to the end, a folded piece of paper fell into his lap. Yellowed and frayed with age, Gus was careful as he opened the note. Immediately, he recognized Shawn's messy handwriting, but noticed the shaky look to it.

He sat for a good twenty minutes, staring at the decade old letter addressed to him. His mind didn't seem to be processing the words his eyes were reading. It didn't seem possible. Shawn wouldn't do that; he wouldn't even think about something like that. Would he?

And where the hell had he been? Where had he been when Shawn decided to put a gun to his head? His best friend, his first and present lover, had been pushed to the brink of suicide, and he... What? What had he been doing that was so important? Why had he never known? Shawn was good at hiding things, at lying and everything else that made so many complement his acting during school plays. But Gus could always see through that. He'd prided himself in being able to catch all of Shawn's fake smiles when his mother left.

Christ, where had he been when Shawn needed him?

000

Like his father taught him, he readied the gun expertly, despite his shaking hands. He was methodical, the steps like reflex to him. Release mag, load mag, snap it back in, release safety, cock gun, fire away. Idly, he wondered if his dad would regret all the things he'd taught his son. He leaned against the bathroom door, where he hadn't moved from since he'd walked in. This was it, no turning back now, right? The letter for Gus in his pocket, the gun in his hands. No turning back. It wasn't until he turned to take one last look at himself, did he see the sticky note on his bathroom mirror. Don't forget, you promised to do your homework this weekend! Gus had slept over last night, he remembered. And made him promise to do his English essay so the teacher wouldn't hold him back.

000

After another ten minutes of staring at the beige paper, Gus felt slim arms wrap around his neck. Shawn tiredly placed his head on Gus' shoulder. "Whassat?" He mumbled into the crook of Gus' neck.

Gus considered lying. He'd get away with it, Shawn was too tired to notice much at the moment. He'd say 'nothing' and slip the letter back between the pages, and the notebook back in the box. Shawn wouldn't have to know that Gus had read his letter. But Gus hated lying, in any form, whether it be for good or bad. And christ, he wanted to know!

"Your suicide note." His voice, monotone, showed the shock had yet to leave his system.

The arms around his neck tensed and he felt Shawn stop breathing. "What?" A shaky laugh followed, and Gus felt like crying right there. He should have lied.

"A suicide note, addressed to me, in your handwriting, written when we were seventeen according to the date. That's what this is."

"Oh, pssh." Shawn smiled and kissed Gus' cheek. "That was just an assignment Mrs. Cleary gave me, to let me pass her class. She said to write a letter to who I care about most, as if I was going to die the next day, or something like that. It's not real Gus."

The lie fell from Shawn's lips so easily, but the hand that reached for the yellow paper was shaking. Before it could take the note, he grabbed Shawn's pale hand and held it in his own. "Shawn..." He honestly had no idea what to say.

"Gus, it's nothing." His look must have portrayed his disbelief, because Shawn's face grew serious as he sighed and pulled a chair around to sit next to him. "Now. It's nothing now. Back then, it was a big something for me, yeah. But now, it's nothing Gus. I swear."

It was Shawn's eyes that convinced him. Shawn's eyes never lied, but they could deceive, so Gus had learned to read them as well as the rest of Shawn. He was telling the truth. Of course they'd be talking about this later. Shawn would be dusting off every goddamn skeleton in his whole walk-in closet, and refreshing Gus' memory of every event that had ever made Shawn cry in their lives. But for now, the letter was nothing.

Gus stared at the paper in his hands, old and torn and innocent. "Why didn't you do it?"

The smile on Shawn's face was real this time and his eyes didn't deceive. "I made you a promise."

000

Like his father taught him, he kept his promise. He unloaded the mag, put the bullet and gun back in their cases, and the cases back in the lockbox. The padlock went back on the metal container and spun to zero, as his dad always kept it. The box was lined up with the dust marks and the step ladder was replaced in the kitchen. His dad was still asleep on the couch, unaware of his decision. Once inside his room, he took out his English notebook and started his essay. The letter was placed between the pages though, for safe keeping, just so he wouldn't forget.