An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Shane awoke to frantic knocking. He groaned and rolled over in his bed to see 5:24AM blinking back at him. He pushed his blankets off himself before he stood from his bed, straightening his sleep shirt as he headed for his bedroom door.
The knocking was coming from the front door of his suite. The door to the other bedroom opened. Hayden, his best friend and suitemate, stood there with bleary eyes, his hair sticking up all over the place. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes, his voice rough from sleep.
“Fuck if I know,” Shane replied. He crossed the room and pulled the front door open.
“I am going to lose my goddamn mind.” One of Shane’s residents busted through the door without invitation. “It’s nearly 5:30 in the morning. Justin’s alarm has been going off since 5. This is the third time this week that this has happened!”
Hayden sighed and turned back into his bedroom once he realized there wasn’t an emergency. “I knew I should’ve said no to rooming with an RA,” he mumbled as he shut the door behind him. Fucker was the one who suggested it, Shane thought.
Shane stared enviously at Hayden’s closed door for a moment before he turned his attention back to the resident standing in front of him. “Did you try knocking on his door?” he asked tiredly.
“Did I try- do you think I’m an idiot?” the resident, Trevor, asked. “Of course I knocked on his damn door. I pounded on it. He didn’t answer.”
“Okay,” Shane said. “Okay, let me grab my keys.”
Shane went back into his bedroom to grab his master key. He looked longingly at his bed as he slid his feet into a pair of slippers and returned to the living area. “Okay, let’s go.”
Trevor led the way down the hall to his own suite. Sure enough, Shane could hear the shrill sound of an alarm blaring, faint at first but growing louder as they approached the door. Trevor keyed them into the suite with his fob and stood in the living area, his arms crossed over his chest. Shane let out a breath and approached the bedroom door.
“Justin?” Shane knocked tentatively before he cleared his throat and knocked louder, raising his voice slightly. “Justin, this is Shane, your RA. Are you in there?”
The door stayed closed, the alarm still blaring. Shane glanced back at Trevor, who raised his chin as if to say “Well?”. Shane sighed and turned back to the door. “Justin?” Shane knocked again. “If you don’t answer, I, uh, I’ll have to use my fob to come in.” Shane squeezed the key fob in his hand, silently hoping for Justin to open the door. Shane counted to 30 in his head. When the door still didn’t open, he swore under his breath and knocked one more time. “Justin? I’m coming in.”
Shane pressed the fob to the lock and pushed the door open, the blaring alarm growing even louder without the wooden barrier in the way. He gingerly entered the room, spotting the alarm clock sitting on the dresser. He turned the alarm off and heard Trevor mutter “Fucking finally,” from the living area.
He turned his attention to the figure under the blankets in bed. He squinted, vaguely making out the shape of a head and shoulders. Noise cancelling headphones adorned the figure’s head. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “Justin?” Shane took a step closer to the bed. “Justin, are you awake?” When he didn’t get a response, he reached down and tapped Justin’s shoulder. “Justin.”
“Hnng?” Justin’s eyes cracked open, peering at Shane first before he squinted at the clock on the dresser. He removed his headphones as he said, “Oh, shit, thanks for waking me up, man. My alarm must not have gone off.”
Shane heard Trevor scoff from the doorway. “Um, no,” Shane spoke. “I just turned it off. Your alarm has been going off for about a half hour now.”
“Oh, whoops,” Justin said. “That keeps happening. Maybe I should get a louder alarm so I can hear it through my headphones.”
Shane stared blankly at Justin. “Have you tried not wearing the headphones? That way you can hear the alarm?”
“I have to wear my headphones, otherwise the alarm is too loud and hurts my ears.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Trevor exclaimed from the doorway. He turned and stalked back to his own bedroom, muttering something about filling out a room change request before he slammed the door shut behind him.
“Okay, listen.” Shane pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your alarm going off for half hour every morning is inconsiderate to your suitemate. Getting a louder alarm clock will not fix your problem. You need to stop wearing noise cancelling headphones and get an alarm clock with adjustable volume and make it loud enough to wake you up without hurting your ears.” Shane rubbed his hand over his face. “If this issue continues to happen then I’ll have to report it to the Resident Director, and no one involved wants that.”
Justin nodded. “I think the clock I already have has adjustable volume. I didn’t think about that. That’s a great idea.”
How the fuck did this guy manage to get into college? “Perfect. You go ahead and adjust that. Let me know if you need help figuring it out.” Shane turned towards the door, already regretting offering to help.
Shane vaguely gestured over his shoulder as a wave goodbye. He glanced at Trevor’s closed bedroom door and decided not to follow up after speaking to Justin. If he had any questions or concerns, he obviously had no problem attempting to break down Shane and Hayden’s door about it.
The numbers on the microwave in the suite’s kitchenette blinked 5:39. Shane rubbed his hand over his face as he went back into the hallway, heading back to his own suite once more. His alarm was set to go off at 6:30. If he went to bed now, he could rest for another 51 minutes before-
His body collided with a warm, solid wall before his ass hit the floor.
“Motherfucker,” Shane grumbled as pain shot through his tailbone and up his spine. He looked up, squinting at the figure standing in front of him.
“Sorry,” a deep, heavily accented voice said. A hand appeared in front of Shane’s face and he accepted it, letting the stranger pull him to his feet.
The man standing in front of him looked like the Statue of David had stepped off its pedestal and come to life. His curly blond hair practically glowed like a halo under the fluorescent lights of the hallway, and his blue eyes were bright with humor. He was objectively the most beautiful man Shane had ever seen.
“Uh, no worries,” Shane stammered. “My fault anyway. Wasn’t watching where I was going.” He realized he was still holding the man’s hand and dropped it like it was scalding him. The man’s mouth stretched open into a smirk, and Shane felt his face go hot. “Thanks, um, for helping me up. I’m gonna…” Shane gestured down the hallway before he walked away, hoping his flushed skin went unnoticed and that his quick steps were relaxed enough to look casual.
Once back in his bedroom, Shane flopped onto his back on his bed, his heart racing. He had never in his life been absolutely floored by another person like that. He closed his eyes in attempt to get a few more precious minutes of rest before his alarm went off, but instead of darkness behind his eyelids, the memory of the man from the hall smirked at him. Shane opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling until his alarm started ringing. He turned it off immediately, not letting it blare for a half hour straight, and let out a breath.
Ilya awoke to the distant sound of someone’s alarm clock going off. He lifted his head and squinted into the darkness, trying to gather his surroundings. He went out barhopping with a few of the guys in his frat last night. He remembered taking a couple shots of vodka before leaving the frat house, taking a few more at the first bar they went to, and then a steady flow of drinks bought by both women and men in hopes for his attention. He remembered kissing a girl at one bar, dancing with a blonde girl at another…
He looked down at the figure sleeping next to him. The girl’s blonde hair fanned out around her on the pillow. Her makeup from the night before was smudged around her eyes and patchy on her cheeks and chin, the pillowcase marked beige from where she slept. Ilya tilted his head back and closed his eyes in exasperation. Blyat. He had not meant to go home with anyone last night.
As quietly as he could, he slowly raised himself out of the girl’s bed, doing his best not to jostle the mattress so she wouldn’t wake up. He hunted his clothes down in the dark, pulling each item of clothing on as he found it. He found his phone, keys, and wallet sitting on the dresser and slipped the items into one of his jacket pockets. He cracked the door open, seeing that the shared living space was thankfully empty. Just as he was about to make his escape, the girl started to stir on the mattress behind him.
“What… Ian?” the girl rasped out, her voice still thick with sleep.
Ilya chucked. “It’s Ilya, sweetheart.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “I’m heading home. Thanks for a fun night.” Not that Ilya remembered much of it, but he has no doubt it was a good time.
The girl made a noise of acknowledgement before her head dropped back down to her pillow, her body going still once more as she fell back to sleep. Ilya shook his head before he left the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. He quickly made his way through the common area and escaped into the hallway, glancing in both directions before deciding to go to the right in search of an exit. When he was about halfway to the end of the hall, one of the suite doors opened and Ilya collided with the man who came out, sending him sprawling on his ass.
“Motherfucker,” Ilya heard him mutter under his breath.
Ilya was about to make some sort of snide remark about watching where he was going, but then the man looked up at him. Sleepy brown eyes met Ilya’s blue ones. Jet black hair fell over his forehead, slightly disheveled from sleep but in a way that made him more attractive, not frumpy. Full, pouty lips twisted into a slight frown, and scattered across his nose and cheekbones…
Stars, Ilya thought. He has the universe painted across his face.
He was objectively the most beautiful man Ilya had ever seen. Ilya felt like all the air had been punched out of his lungs.
“Sorry,” Ilya said instead, extending his hand out to the man on the floor. He took it without question and let Ilya pull him to his feet. He didn’t let go of Ilya’s hand once he was standing, even though both of his feet were steady underneath him once more.
“Uh, no worries,” the beautiful stranger said. His voice was soft and melodic, soothing in a way Ilya hadn’t heard in years. “My fault anyway. Wasn’t watching where I was going.” He must’ve realized he was still holding Ilya’s hand, because he suddenly jerked away like he had been shocked. Ilya smirked, covering up the fact that his heart was pounding as he watched the other man’s cheeks flush a light pink beneath his freckles. He’s affected by me, Ilya thought. He’s interested. “Thanks, um, for helping me up. I’m gonna…” Ilya watched as the other man hurried down the hall, clearly flustered, and disappeared into the last suite on the left.
Ilya counted to twenty before he strolled down the hallway in the same direction, stopping in front of the suite the man had entered. Two nametags were taped to the door, one reading Hayden P and the other reading Shane H, RA, both printed in neat handwriting. Ilya bit his lip, wishing the man had a single room like his RA from his freshman dorm did. This will do, Ilya thought, nodding to himself. He pivoted and started heading towards the exit again, scheming.
The walk home went by quickly. Ilya recognized the dorm hall he was in once he stepped outside as Gordon Hall, only about a five-minute walk from frat row. On the way home he tried to come up with a plan on how to figure out the name of the man from the hallway. Because the walk was so short, the best idea he came up with was to stand outside the dorm hall until the man appeared and simply ask him for his name, and maybe his phone number if he was feeling emboldened.
The frat house was mostly quiet when Ilya walked through the door, apart from some shuffling in the kitchen. Ilya moved towards the noise, leaning against the archway into the kitchen and watched as Troy Barrett, one of his fraternity brothers and one of his closest friends, puttered around, making himself breakfast and coffee. It took a few moments for Troy to notice him, and when he did, he shot Ilya an unimpressed look. “You look like shit.”
“Aw, thank you Barrett.” Ilya blew him a kiss. “Did you make enough coffee to share?”
Troy pushed his mug across the counter towards Ilya, and Ilya gladly stepped into the kitchen to accept it. He took a sip, ignoring the burn of the too-hot coffee as Troy asked, “Where did you wake up this time?”
“A blonde girl’s bed,” Ilya replied. “Her name was… Kelsey? Chelsea? I do not remember.”
“You’re terrible.” Troy poured a new mug of coffee for himself.
“Don’t act like you are not pretty enough to behave in exact same way if you were not already with Harris.” Ilya grinned at Troy. “I got lucky. She lives in Gordon Hall, so I had short walk home.”
“That’s a nice building,” Troy said. He took a sip of his coffee before he continued, “One of the guys I play intramural hockey with is an RA there. Our captain.”
Ilya’s ears perked up at that, his heartrate picking up just like it did in the hall. “Oh?” Ilya asked conversationally, trying his best not to sound overly interested. “Which guy?”
“Hollander,” Troy answered. “Shane Hollander.” He took a bite of the omelet he had made for himself and made a face. “I think the eggs we had in the fridge were expired.”
Shane Hollander. The nametag on the door had said Shane H, RA. Ilya couldn’t believe his luck. He not only had the man from the hallway’s full name, but he also had a mutual person in common. He had a way in.
“Speaking of your intramural hockey,” Ilya began, “when is next game? I have not been to one in a while.”
“We play every Sunday at 5PM,” Troy answered distractedly. “Wait, what do you mean you haven’t been to one in a while? You’ve never been to one of my hockey games.” Troy raised his gaze from his spoiled breakfast to Ilya’s face. He must’ve seen something there, because his expression changed from disgusted to suspicious. “You look like you’re scheming. What are you planning?”
“Nothing.” Ilya grinned at Troy before he picked up his coffee mug and took a step backwards. “Thank you for coffee, Barrett.”
“Wait, Rozanov, do you know Hollander?”
“Goodnight- it’s 6 in the morning!” Troy shouted after him. “Rozanov!”
Ilya chuckled as he carried the hot mug of coffee to his bedroom. He shut and locked his door behind him and set the coffee on his nightstand before he stripped back down to his boxers. He stretched out on his bed and plugged his phone in before he opened Instagram and typed Troy’s username into the search bar. Ilya scrolled through Troy’s profile, passing photos from fraternity events and selfies of Troy and his boyfriend before he found one he posted last year of his intramural hockey team. His eyes immediately focused on the man standing in the middle of the line of players. Dark eyes fixed on the camera, even darker hair peeking out from underneath his helmet. Full lips set in a straight, serious line. Freckles sprinkled across his cheekbones and the bridge of his noses, softening his features. Shane Hollander.
He tapped on his screen, huffing when he realized Troy hadn’t tagged anyone in the photo. He opened the comments, immediately spotting one left by Shane.
shollander24: It was great being on a team with you. See you next season.
Ilya smiled to himself at the boring, almost professional comment. He clicked on Shane’s username and scrolled through the photos there. He didn’t have very many posts. There was a picture at a hockey rink where Shane was in full gear, his arm thrown around a blond man’s shoulders, and another of him standing between a man and woman who Ilya assumed were Shane’s parents. Most of the pictures, however, were nature shots; a lake at sunset, a hiking trail in the woods, a scenic view from the top of a mountain. His profile was boring, just like the comment he had left on Troy’s post. Ilya was enthralled.
An idea started forming in Ilya’s head as he continued to look at Shane’s pictures. After another few minutes, he locked his phone and set it down on his nightstand, a vague plan in his head. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, his dreams filled with deep brown eyes swimming in a sea of constellations.
