Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Shane was little, he’d sneak out at night. Fuck off to the playground. Sit on the swings, think about nothing.

(Later, an older version of him would be joined by Millie on the swings. She’d bring her mom’s old telescope and they’d watch the stars together.)

Shane still sneaks out.

Away from Aunt Marnie’s disappointment, away from Jas’ wide eyed hope. 

Smokes a cig or two. 

No alcohol, not since Harvey got on his ass.

The playground is different to the one he used to go to as a kid. His playground was pretty shitty, all things considered. 

One baby swing, one normal one, a chair swing that everyone knew not to go on because it smelled like piss. Two slides, not even big ones, just those shitty plastic ones for little kids. A sandpit where Shane had sand accidentally thrown into his eyes too many times to count.

Shane spent all his days at the park. He always was a fast runner, because of that the older kids would let him join in on their gridball games. It was better than being bored out of his mind at home. Better than attempting the stacks of homework he was putting off.

That’s where he met her for the first time.

(In hindsight, it wasn’t a memorable moment, if anything he completely forgot about the weird bug girl the second he ran off. Didn’t even know her name. Never saw her again. It wasn’t until years later, when Millie mentioned being a weird bug kid in elementary that the memory was unlocked from the recesses of his mind.)

Shane had just gotten sand in his eyes for the hundredth time, went to flush them out at the old water fountain. When he was walking back he stumbled into something.

And there she was, big poofy hair that reminded him of hot chocolate, eyes that reminded him of when the sun would hit Mom’s adult drinks. 

( He would later learn that it was whiskey, and really, maybe his life was always meant to turn out this way. The son of alcoholics an alcoholic himself. Talk about cosmic irony. )

She beckoned him to crouch down, face bright with excitement. Showed him the weird leaf looking bug she was looking at.

“It’s called the Gray's leaf insect. Pulchriphyllium bioculatum .”

He scrunched his nose at the big words. What a nerd. Loser.

“Isn’t it the coolest? They look like leaves so that they don’t get eaten!”

“Doesn’t that just make it easier to step on them by accident?”

(Ever the pragmatic one, kid-Shane. Adult-Shane as well, he’d argue.)

She looked at him, eye’s downcast, almost as if to say: why was that the first thing you thought of?

She didn’t actually say anything, just went back to looking at the bug.

But he felt an uncomfortable feeling running down his back, settling into his tummy. Almost like he was about to throw up. Like he would if he didn’t say anything.

Instead of apologizing, he just doubled down on proving his point. 

( Very stubborn, though Shane supposes he’s always been that way. Always knocking the wind out of her sails, the brightness out of her eyes. )

“I’m just saying! It’s a waste of energy to look like a leaf if you’re just gonna get stepped on in the end.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, eyes never leaving the bug. “Maybe, but every bug has to die at some point, don’t you wanna be a super cool leaf bug instead of a boring old ant?”

He didn’t answer her, the uncomfortable feeling returning. Instead one of the big kids called his name and he ran off. 

( Coward.)

(Listen, he may be a piece of shit. But Shane would argue at least he’s a consistent piece of shit. )

When Shane thinks about his life, it’s hard not to feel like a boring old ant. An insignificant speck of dust.

Everyone has to die at some point, why waste your energy? It’s not like anything will matter in the end. It’s not like anything will change.

There was a time, once, when he thought he could find meaning in Millie. That maybe if he could hold her together while her world fell apart, if he could support her, that maybe he would finally have a purpose.

In the end he not only did his own life fall apart, he destroyed hers as well. Took the wind out of her sails, the brightness out of her eyes. 

A moth mesmerized by a flame. 

Only for the moth to be burned alive, killing the flame off as well. 

Aunt Marnie tells him that when he was little, he used to talk a mile a minute. To anyone who’d listen, even the chickens.

When Shane thinks about that little kid – so excited to talk, to reach out, form connections – all he feels is pity. 

(Stupid little kid. Stupid pitiful little kid. Did you really think anyone gave a shit about what you had to say?)

Eventually he learned that truth. That no one wanted to listen to what he had to say. 

Everyone in school called him the quiet kid. But Shane wasn’t shy or anything. He just knew to keep his mouth shut. He never had anything smart to say, never had anything interesting to bring to the table.

People in school also knew him as the stupid kid. Not that they bullied him over it or anything. Surprisingly most kids liked him.

Shane chalks that down to him being the fastest runner. Also the fact that he was the best at dodgeball. Always the first chosen when picking teams. He was the perfect person for people to hide behind, to use as a shield, while he caught balls and got people on the other team out. 

Big boned, the adults would say. Re: the polite way of calling a kid fat.

(Better not get used to that feeling kid-Shane. You were never anyone’s first pick after that.)

His teachers held countless meetings with his parents. Asking them to help him with homework. To support his learning.

(All that effort for what? It didn’t matter. Nothing changed. Nothing ever changed.)

He scraped by elementary and middle school. Probably would’ve flunked outta highschool if it weren’t for Coach Carr forcing him to get a tutor. 

“Listen here kid, you might think it’s hopeless, but I ain’t givin’ up on you. You’ve got potential, and I’ll be damned if I see it lost to a couple of bad grades.”

What's the point? Shane thought, as he listened to Coach’s lecture.

Why put in the effort?

Nothing ever changed anyways.

Except then it did. 

Millie helped him get his grades up. Showed him what family could look like. 

He had friends. He was one of the top players on the team.

A full ride to a college both he and Millie got into.

A wedding day that was one of the best of his life. Meeting Millie at the altar, seeing how beautiful she looked. How happy she was. 

How happy he was.

( He should have known better. )

For once, it was like he finally got it. Finally got what Millie was saying on the playground all those years ago. 

Maybe he would die in the end. But did he really want to go back? Back to being an ant when he finally got a taste of what it was like to be a leaf bug?

( He should have known better. )

Shane is twenty-one, when everything falls apart.

Twenty-one, when doctors tell him the damage to his ACL is too severe.

Twenty-one, when his dreams of going pro crumble. When he loses his scholarship. When he drops out of college. When Millie promises she’ll never leave his side.

“I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever.”

“You deserve better than a cripple husband.”

“You’re not a cripple, sweetheart. I know things are impossibly hard right now, and you don’t have to deal with it today, or tomorrow, or even this month. Take your time, I’ll be there when you’re ready. I’ll wait for you, I promise.”

What was the point?

Nothing changed anyways.

Everyone left eventually. Nobody cared enough to stay.

Shane is twenty-three when Millie runs out of patience. 

Twenty-three, when he finally sucks all the life out of his wife. Eyes empty as she sit across from him, a folder resting on the table between them. 

Twenty-three, when he gets divorced.

Everyone leaves eventually. Nothing ever changes.

Shane is twenty-four when he meets Theo at work. 

Freshly divorced.

(Millie didn’t want anything, just wanted to get away from him, so much so that she took on the financial burden of the proceedings.)

No Millie to leech off.

(He needed a job. Found one stocking shelves at Joja. A job that didn’t require a college degree. A job even a highschooler could have done.)

He meets Theo there. The only good thing Joja has brought into his life.

Theo, who cracks open the thick wall of misery Shane has surrounded himself with. Theo, who tells him about the amateur gridball league a friend of his is running. Something for complete beginners, something even Shane could play in without stressing out his bum knee. 

Shane is twenty-five when he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t let his last chance at happiness, at finding meaning, slip through his fingers at twenty-three.

Shane is twenty-five when he meets Theo’s girlfriend, Lottie. 

Twenty-five when he finds people who show him what family is all over again. When he finds meaning outside of survival. When he starts to live to live instead of just to survive. When he stops being an ant once again, starts turning into something better. 

The coolest leaf bug.

( He should have known better. )

Shane is twenty-six when he’s sitting in the hospital waiting room. Twenty-six when he meets the most perfect person to ever exist. His god-daughter. A child who’ll never know anything but love. Who’ll always have her mother to do her hair, her father to play with, her uncle Shane to spoil her rotten.

( He should have known better. )

Shane is twenty-eight, when he gets the news.

Twenty-eight, when he becomes a father. 

(Only in law, Theo will always be Jas’ father. Shane is just the substitute, a real shitty one at that.)

Twenty-eight, when he struggles juggling a job that barely supports himself, let alone a whole child, and taking care of Jas.

Twenty-eight, when he apologizes over and over to Jas. Tells her that he wishes he could take her to mommy ( how he wishes he could bring Theo and Lottie back). But no matter how hard Jas cries, how much she begs, screams, wails, it doesn’t matter. 

Her parents aren’t coming back.

They’re gone forever.

What was the point?

Nothing changed.

Things never changed.

Shane is twenty-eight, when he calls his Aunt Marnie out of desperation. Aunt Marnie, who never called him stupid, never said he was big-boned. Aunt Marnie, who’d listen to his useless prattling. Who told him he was smart ( what a joke) , that he had interesting things to say ( she never was a good liar ).

Shane finds a job. Stocking shelves at Joja. Again.

(This time he’s joined by an actual teenager. Too full of life, too loud. Life would crush that spirit soon enough. It always did.)

Shane spends his days off helping Marnie around the ranch. Hauling hay, doing general handyman repairs.

Shane sets up a daycare thing with Penny, making sure Jas has someone to take care of her while he and Aunt Marnie work.

Once that’s done, once Jas has people to care for her, once he can make money to support her, it’s like all the energy zaps out of him.

Shane spends his days in a haze. 

( Up at dawn, feed the chickens, make Jas breakfast, choke down whatever leftovers are in the fridge, go to work, stock shelves mindlessly, help Marnie around the ranch, pick up Jas from Penny’s, attempt to play with Jas, make sure Jas eats dinner, do bedtime with Jas, go to the saloon, ignore Em’s attempts at conversation, drink until you can’t feel anything anymore, pass out, repeat, over and over and over and ove- )

Apparently, Shane’s imagination is shit ( he never was that smart anyway ). Jas eventually gives up trying to play pretend with him, goes off with the only other kid in town. ( The fuck kind of name is Vincent? Are we in the 1900s? )

Not that he’s not happy Jas is making friends.

Aunt Marnie thinks he should try making friends.

Because that’s worked out so great for him so far.

If it weren’t for Em maybe he would have been able to get away with only interacting with Aunt Marnie, Jas and Penny for the rest of his life.

Shane thinks, sometimes ( ok, most times ), that he’s a leech. Sucking the joy out of everyone.

He’s leeching off of Aunt Marnie’s kindness. Leeching the hope of having a proper father out of Jas.

He’s leeching off of Emily’s energy as well. Once she realizes that, she’ll leave as well.

Everyone leaves. No one ever stays.

What’s the point?

Nothing ever changes anyways.

Everyone dies at some point, you can’t control that. Life has to end eventually. 

No matter how hard you try, nothing ever changes

What’s the point of trying?

Why am I even alive?

Fuck Life, fuck being alive. 

I’m going to take control

I’ll show Life. 

I’ll take control of when it ends. I’ll take control of how it ends.

Shane is thirty when he wakes up in a hospital bed, mind fuzzy, memories flashing across his vision.

Thirty when Harvey pulls his stern doctor mask on ( the one that reminds him of Coach Carr, and Shane never could say no to the old man ).

Shane is thirty when he reluctantly starts therapy, if only to get Harvey off his ass. When he is forced to stops drinking ( Harvey is strangely persistent when he wants to be ).

His therapist ( Dr. Brown ), and Shane talk a lot about control. About what it means.

Dr. Brown says that his decision to not try is still a decision. That there is meaning in inaction. That he’s creating self-fulfilling prophecies by pushing people away before they get too close.

Shane thinks it’s a load of shit. That and Dr. Brown has been reading too many shitty self-help books.

He stops going after five sessions. Tells Harvey to fuck off when the doctor pesters him about it.

It’s fine. 

He’s fine.

He knows what he needs to do. Dr. Brown showed him as much, gave him a new meaning. 

Take care of Jas, make sure she’s set up for the kind of life Theo and Lottie would’ve wanted for her. Make sure Marnie can retire in peace.

Once that’s done, once no one needs him anymore, he’ll go. 

Find someplace no one will think to look. Waste away. Do nothing, take action in inaction, like Dr. Brown says, ( everyone dies anyways).

Go to sleep. 

Hopefully, stay asleep. 

A boring old ant. Never meant to be anything special. Not that it would have mattered anyways. In the end everyone ends up in the same place.

In the ground. 

Decomposing, re-absorbed into the dirt, food for fungi and bugs.

Forgotten.

Why put in the effort? Nothing ever changes anyways.