Summary: Cory Matthews and Topanga Lawrence are divorced at twenty-three years old after Cory has a rather life-changing realization. This realization sends Cory into a downward spiral. It isn't long before Shawn pulls him out of it. But, when Cory reveals his feelings for Shawn, their lives change yet again. For once, it is not Cory who has to save Shawn. It Shawn who must save Cory.

Author's Note: This is going to be my first multi-chapter BMW fic. As usual, it is a Shawn/Cory slash fic with Topanga playing a supporting role. There is absolutely, positively nothing romantic about Cory and Topanga's relationship in this fic. I don't think I need to say it but this is obviously an AU. Flames will be deleted so, if you don't like this story, do yourself a favor and just don't bother leaving one. If you do, enjoy, however, I'd love to hear about it! Hope you enjoy.

Callidora.

One

Cory was drunk. Which probably wasn't the best idea. But he hadn't exactly been making stellar decisions lately so it wasn't like this particular decision made any difference. Still, the thought of what Topanga would say if she could see him right now had him setting his still-full glass of whiskey back on the nightstand. He glanced around the dingy motel room he'd booked. There were two empty bottles of whiskey on the floor and a third, half-full one on the nightstand. He'd been here for four days, wallowing in self-loathing and grief over a marriage that was doomed from the start.

He didn't want to think about Topanga right then, didn't want to think about the fact that he hadn't kept his promise to her. He'd promised that he would never leave her, never stop loving her. Cory had sworn that their marriage would last the way her parents' marriage never had. And yet here he was, less than five years after he'd put a ring on her finger, and he had done exactly what he'd promised her he wouldn't do. He wanted to regret it, wanted to know that he still felt something for her beyond friendship, but he didn't. The knowledge that he no longer loved the woman that had been his reason for existing since they were babies was enough to have him lifting the glass to his lips again.

Whiskey burned his throat the way her name burned his tongue. Cory hated it. Hated her, almost. Logically he knew that this wasn't her fault. She couldn't have done anything to make him this way. In fact, he was probably born this way. Just one more bullet on the list of Reasons Why Cory Matthews Is A Screw-Up. He'd put so much time and effort into loving her, into pushing aside everything else that made sense in his life just to be with her and it was all for nothing. Cory wasn't even sure if he'd ever actually loved her or if he'd only deluded himself into thinking he had in order to avoid facing the truth. That thought sounded cold and callous even to his ears; he didn't want to think about how it had sounded to her.

It wasn't even really about Topanga. It would have been the same no matter what woman he married. Any woman he'd been married to would have been left heartbroken the same way Topanga had been. The thought made him want to throw the glass across the room in frustration. He took a long drink instead, leaning his head against the wall. He couldn't seem to get the look on her face out of his mind now even though he'd been drinking himself into forgetting everything else for four days now. He'd forgotten his father's name at one point but he couldn't forget the look of absolute devastation on Topanga's face when he'd told her that he didn't love her anymore. That he didn't want to be married to her anymore. The sound of soft, broken sobs that had burst from her lips when he'd told her that maybe he'd never loved her.

She'd cried for a long time, he remembered. When she'd asked him why, looking at him with those eyes so full of pain and desperation, he'd been unable to lie to her. So he'd been honest, he'd told her that he had been born deformed, that he didn't want to be married to any woman. She'd been the first one to put a label on the feelings in his chest. Gay. She'd whispered the word, almost to herself, and she hadn't looked at him. Her expression hadn't been disgusted. Not exactly, at least. She'd just looked…broken. Like he'd ripped the moon from her sky without a single warning. And maybe…maybe that was how she felt. God knew he felt terrible enough about it himself.

Cory hadn't known what to do. He'd only been able to stare, wordless and broken, as she'd fallen apart before his eyes. There had been no hugs, no apologies. How could he apologize, really? Saying sorry didn't change the fact that he was breaking her heart. Saying sorry wouldn't make her feel better. And so he'd said nothing. Hadn't even reacted to the sight of her tears. He'd only packed a suitcase and walked out of their apartment, leaving his wedding ring on the table as he went. And that had been the end of their marriage. An entire childhood and five years of marriage laying on the kitchen table, discarded as if it were a piece of junk mail.

The worst part about it was that Topanga had never once shouted at him. She'd never once been angry with him. She hadn't even begged him to stay. Her eyes had only watched him, sad and haunted. Cory had heard the screaming sobs begin when the door had slammed behind him and he'd almost gone back, had almost taken it all back. But he hadn't. Instead, he'd forced himself to keep walking. He'd walked until the sound of her sobs had been only a memory in his head, haunting him in both waking hours and sleep. They still echoed in his ears, even though almost three bottles of whiskey had attempted to suffocate them. It was enough to have him pressing his palms against his ears in a failed attempt to block out the sound.

He'd slept in his car for two days before coming to the motel. Before coming, he'd stopped a small liquor store to buy the whiskey. Six bottles. The clerk had given him an odd look but Cory hadn't offered any sort of explanation. He'd only paid for the liquor and left, driving sixty more miles until he reached the motel he was currently sitting in. The way he figured it, he would either die here in a pool of vomit or someone would come after him. Probably Shawn. His best friend would probably be the first person to take it upon himself to come after him.

But Shawn wouldn't be coming for at least three more days. He would go to Topanga first where he would undoubtedly be told that Cory was a freak. Oh, she wouldn't use that word. She probably wouldn't even use the word gay. She'd find some other way to say it, one that made Cory look like an even bigger screw-up. That wouldn't be her intention of course but that would be the result. Shawn would find him repulsive after that, of course, but he wouldn't be an ass about it. They would remain friends but there would be a distance between them, a wedge that would grow wider with every passing year. And then there would come that day when Shawn would just stop talking to him all together. That was going to hurt like Hell, Cory knew, but he would get through it. He had time to prepare himself for it. And he would prepare himself. He would not be blindsided by the loss of his best friend. When the time came for Shawn to make his final exit from Cory's life, there would be no shock.

He took another sip of whiskey, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath. Cory couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more like dirt than he did right now. He couldn't honestly remember hating himself more than he did right then. Sighing, Cory lifted the glass again only to find that it was empty. He poured himself another glass and drank from it. His head was swimming just a bit, enough to make him slightly tired. Good. Maybe he would sleep for more than an hour tonight. He was laying down, setting the glass down. A banging on the door had him sitting upright again.

He wobbled his way over to the door, not too sure how he was still walking upright. But he made it to the door and pulled it open. A familiar face stood there, glaring at him. The glare softened slightly when the person fully saw him. The man shoved his way past Cory, not even bothering to ask for permission. Cory sighed. As much as he hadn't expected it this soon, he probably should have seen it coming. After all, the man had spent their entire friendship doing the exact opposite of what Cory thought he was going to do.

"First off, you stink Cor." Shawn Hunter said, plugging his nose.

Cory tried to glare but he was aware that it probably not very intimidating. "Shower's too far away." He said, as if that made all the sense in the world. Which it did in Cory's mind.

"You're also a goddamned idiot." Shawn reached out and shoved Cory back onto the bed. "Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for your dumb ass?"

Cory shrugged. "Dunno." He said thickly.

Shawn sighed, rolling his eyes and beginning to clear away the discarded bottles. "Topanga called me four days ago. I called you over two hundred times. You didn't answer. I thought you were dead, Cory."

"Left my phone in the car. Don't want to see people."

"I'll say it again. You are a goddamned idiot Cory." Shawn sighed heavily. "By all rights, I should punch you in the face for worrying me."

"So do it." Cory said, glaring up at him in what he hoped was a defiant manner.

Shawn shook his head. "No. It looks like you've been doing a good enough job of beating yourself up."

"Deserve it." Cory said. It was becoming harder and harder to string a sentence together.

Shawn's face softened. Cory wanted it to harden. He didn't like pity. "You do not. You're a fucking idiot but I'm not going to hit you." He paused. "I don't know what happened or why you went insane and left Topanga but I figure you had a good reason."

Cory was very, very confused. Hadn't Topanga told him? He couldn't find his voice to say this, however, so he stared at Shawn in confusion before the other man shook his head.

"She told me I'd have to ask you why you left. Something about it not being her place to say. You can tell me in the morning. Right now, you are going to get in the shower because you smell like a barrel of whiskey. And then you are going to sleep because you look like shit." Shawn said.

"Can't stand up." Cory said.

"No shit Sherlock. I'll help you. Now come on. I'd like to sleep sometime soon."

Cory just stared. "Shawnie…"

"Cory Matthews. If you don't get up and into the bathroom, I'll carry you there myself."

Shawn pointed towards the bathroom, his face set in a determined line. Cory just stared at Shawn. His best friend was supposed to be angry at him. He wasn't supposed to take care of him.

"Oh trust me Matthews, I'm pissed at you. But it's my duty as your best friend to take care of you when you've gotten yourself into trouble. I'll punch you in the face when you're sober."

Cory, who hadn't realized that he'd spoken out loud, was sort of comforted by that. At least someone was angry with him. That was the way things were supposed to be. Cory screws up. Shawn is angry.

Shawn was watching Cory, his eyes narrowed. Cory wondered if he was speaking out loud. As if hearing his thoughts, Shawn rolled his eyes at the ceiling. Sitting on the toilet, Cory stared at the shower. Shawn wanted him to take a shower but Cory didn't feel very steady on his feet. This was not a good idea.

"Cory, I said I would help you. Get in the shower and get undressed." Shawn said, sounding tired and irritated all at once.

"You don't want to do that. You'll catch my disease." Cory muttered, sounding even to his own ears like an angst ridden twelve year old.

Shawn's eyebrows furrowed the way they always did when Cory said something that confused him. Usually it was because Cory was being smart. This time it was because Cory was making no sense. A moment passed, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Cory figured that Shawn was probably wondering how fast he get away from here.

"Will you shut the hell up and get in the shower?" Shawn groaned.

Cory looked at him but didn't say anything. He struggled with his clothing for a few minutes. The whiskey flooding his veins made him clumsy and Shawn's arm shot out to hold him upright. When Cory reached into the shower to turn the water on he almost fell over and Shawn gave a muttered curse. He shoved Cory back down onto the toilet seat, muttering about drunken idiots and something else that Cory didn't really catch. He figured that Shawn was insulting him to keep from punching him.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, idiot." Shawn said and Cory realized that he'd been speaking his thoughts aloud again. He'd always done that when he was drunk and it was usually funny. Right then it was just annoying.

When Shawn was satisfied with the water temperature, he told Cory to get in. He complied with the request mostly because he didn't want Shawn to hate him. He hated himself enough as it was, he didn't need his best friend to hate him as well.

"Why the fuck would I hate you? God Cor, you aren't even attempting to make sense."

Cory glanced out at him. Shawn had taken his seat on the toilet and was staring at the ceiling. He'd thought he was making perfect sense, really. They were twenty-three years old and Cory was still fucking everything up. How could Shawn not hate him? He didn't understand how his best friend could even stand to look at him knowing about the disease that had invaded his life.

"Cory?" Shawn asked, his voice very quiet.

"What?"

"Do you…have cancer or something?"

"Not that kind of disease, Shawn." Cory replied, his voice shaking.

"Then what the hell are you talking about? You're not dying are you? Because if you're dying and you've gone and left Topanga in some stupid attempt to save her pain…I swear I'll kill you myself."

Cory wanted to laugh at that. "Be easier if I was." He said instead, not looking at Shawn.

When Shawn spoke next, his voice was soft and filled with worry. The sound of it sent sharp spikes of pain into Cory's heart because he didn't like that. It wasn't his intention to worry Shawn. It wasn't his intention to worry anyone. He simply wanted the pain to end, wanted to not be a wreck anymore.

"You aren't…suicidal are you?"

Cory had to think about that. Really, honestly think about it. He didn't think he'd actually kill himself. But if someone – or something – came along and wanted to do it for him he wouldn't object. Anything to get rid of the burning hole in his chest.

"Not suicidal." He replied and Shawn's shoulders slump in obvious relief.

Cory didn't tell him that he was wishing that he were suicidal because then he could just remove himself from this equation. Or, at least he didn't think he mentioned it. Shawn's immediate intake of air reminds him that he's probably doing that thing where he vomits everything that enters his mind.

"Cor. You're not…why would you even think that?" Was all Shawn could say.

"I'm gay. You can't cure that. I'll never be normal again."

Cory's voice was barely a whisper but it was immediately obvious that Shawn had heard him. He went still and silent, his eyes never leaving Cory's face. Cory had been finished showering for a full two minutes and was just standing in the shower, staring at Shawn, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Is…is that what this…meltdown is about? You're gay?" Shawn asked as if it were the most ridiculous thing on earth to have a meltdown about. Cory wondered if Shawn realized what gay meant. Maybe he thought it was some sort of virus.

Shawn huffed out a laugh. "I know what gay means, Cory. I just…that's not something to freak out about. Who gives a shit what you like in bed?"

Cory was immediately suspicious. Shawn was supposed to be repulsed. He was supposed to be looking at him with narrowed eyes and barely concealed disgust. He was not supposed to be looking at Cory as if there was nothing wrong with this.

"There is nothing wrong with being gay. It's not…it isn't something you need to lose your shit over."

"How would you know? You're not…gay." Cory couldn't help but to let the words slip from his mouth.

Shawn gave a snort of amusement. "Cory, I realized that I was bisexual when I was seventeen."

Cory simply stared at him, unsure of what to say. He hadn't known that Shawn was bi.

"It wasn't a big deal. And I knew you'd freak out about it. So I just didn't mention it."

"I…don't understand."

Shawn rolled his eyes and tossed a clean pair of underwear and pajama pants at him. "You're drunk. I'm surprised you remember your own name."

Cory pulled the clothes on wordlessly. Shawn watched him and led him back towards the bed when he'd finished. Cory slid into bed, his eyelids heavy and his brain feeling very soft. Beside him, Shawn slid into the bed beside him. Shawn didn't seem to be laying down, though. He was sitting up, staring at the ceiling.

"Shawnie?" Cory whispered, his voice thick.

"What Cor?"

"Don't…don't leave, okay? I don't wanna be alone again…"

Cory didn't know where that came from but there was suddenly a pit of fear in his chest, swallowing him whole. He was terrified to wake up and find himself alone again, to find that he was alone with his thoughts and his pain and everything else he couldn't get rid of. He didn't want to wake up and find Shawn gone because Shawn was the only one who could possibly get him through this.

"I'm not going anywhere Cor. Just go to sleep, okay? I'll be here when you wake up."

So Cory did. Shawn's words were comforting. Shawn wasn't going to leave him. He was going to help Cory pull through this. Feeling the warm weight of his best friend settling in beside him, Cory let himself fall asleep.