Chapter Text
Monday April 26th 2026, 7:00 pm
23 year old Hayden Pike.
“Is it weird that I wanted him to text me?”
The sunset casted over everything in their apartment, making their whole living room a quiet coral. Hayden had just showered, his hair still wet and messy, smelling of soap. He had put on a loose pair of sweatpants and a sweat shirt three sizes too big.
Hayden laid comfortably on the plush couch, his legs stretching straight resulting in why Shane sat at the opposite side, squished away so Hayden’s bare feet couldn’t touch his thigh.
“No it’s not weird” Shane replied, before looking down at their position, “Get your feet away from me.”
Hayden instead wiggled his toes, he lifted one leg up and stretched farther aiming for Shane’s mouth. Shane squirmed away from Hayden’s leg, dodging his foot like it was radioactive.
“Hayden, you’re disgusting.”
“ What?” Hayden chuckled, still waving his leg at Shane’s face. “My feet are clean,” he moved his big toe back and forth, pointing to it, “This little piggy actually just went to the market.” Shane looked so unammused, causing Hayden to retract his leg, “Tough crowd.”
Hayden snaked both of his legs into his chest, wrapping his arms around them while his chin rested on his knees.
His mind was racing; Cliff hadn't texted him and he felt stupid. Not because Cliff owed him a response, but because his experience with Cliff had been nice. Too nice to just forget.
“But do you think he thought it was just sex and sat in his pent house thinking ‘why did this freak leave his number?’ ”
Shane looked up from his phone, “I don’t know Hayd but don’t dwell on it.”
Hayden dragged his hands over his face and groaned dramatically. “And that fucking Russian is already, like, in love with you.” He grabbed the pillow behind his back and threw it playfully at Shane.
“He’s not,” Shane chucked, catching the pillow and putting it on his lap.
“Yes he is, but that’s besides the point.” Hayden corrected, before speaking. “I just thought the sex with Cliff was really good, you know? But I haven’t gotten a text and it's been like three weeks. Am I chopped or something? But if I was he probably wouldn’t have taken me home. He made it clear he thought I was hot— Shane are you even listening?”
Shane looked up from his phone again, his mind clearly somewhere else, “Is it ok if Ilya comes over?”
“What the fuck, no I don’t hear you all night,” Hayden’s voice became high pitched as he made pseudo moans, “ ‘Ilya uh, Ilya faster, harder uh–’ ”
A pillow hit him square in the face.
“Too bad cause he’s already here,”
Knock Knock Knock
“ Perfect timing.”
Shane got up and Hayden stretched his legs out again.
“Do I look ok?” Shane asked once he got in front of the door.
“You always look good, now let your boyfriend in,” Hayden dismissed, pulling his phone out.
Ilya and Shane’s chatter became dulled as he scrolled on his phone. He didn't look up from the couch, putting his hood over his head with one hand as his other flipped through useless videos.
“ Hi Ilya,” Hayden said, still not looking up, but making himself known. “Shane, I think I am gonna go to my ro–” He twisted his body so he could make eye contact with Shane but his voice caught his throat.
Standing near the door wasn’t only Shane and Ilya but also—Cliff.
Cliff was in his apartment. Hayden was freeballing in sweatpants, his hair wet and spiky while Cliff was in his apartment.
And the cherry on top of it all was that Cliff looked good. He wore a suit, this one classic black and white, his hair was styled, controlled and shiny.
Yet Cliff's composure still faltered. Hayden watched Cliff's brows lift, his eyes widen, and a flush creep into his cheeks.Quickly Cliff looked away, but Hayden stared for a few seconds longer, mouth slightly agape.
Hayden tore his gaze away from Cliff, turning his attention to a guilty looking Shane, “Shane Hollander,” he said before mouthing what the fuck.
Shane shrugged, his eyes apologetic,"I seriously didn’t know.”
“Talk, my room, now. “ Hayden got off the couch and hurried into his bedroom, Shane quickly followed and quietly shut the door behind them.
Hayden groaned as soon as the door closed, massaging his temples with his hands, “Fuck I didn’t think I would see him again this quickly.”
“It’s ok, deep breaths,” Shane instructed, “I promise Ilya didn't tell me Cliff was coming,” he smirked, “that asshole.”
“See but you’re smiling, I am freaking out,” Hayden stood up straighter, fixing his hoodie, “How do I look?”
Shane’s eyes briefly scanned him, “Comfortable.”
“Bro in a casually sexy way or do I look a mess ?” Hayden continued, walking to the full length mirror near his dresser.
“Both,” Shane chuckled, “ Isn’t looking a sexy mess a good thing though?” he said, sitting on the edge of Hayden’s bed.
Hayden turned around to face Shane, “Are you gonna leave me alone with Cliff?”
“Probably,”
“Ugh,” he turned back to the mirror, messing with his hair, “you horny bastard.”
Hayden looked at his reflection. The man staring back at him was recognisably himself; he looked raw, clean, or in Shane’s words comfortable.
“Should I bring up how he didn’t text me?” Hayden asked, moving to sit on the bed next to Shane.
“I don’t think so, it might get awkward.” Shane replied
“Ok so I should speak when spoken to, and engage in his banter?”
“Probably?” Shane guessed, his voice heightening.
“Fuck. I forgot you don't know how to talk to people. “
“Hey!” Shane pushed Hayden’s shoulder with his own before turning serious, “ Just be yourself Hayd.”
Hayden took a deep breath, looking around his room. His eyes caught the mess of papers on his desk, causing another worry to pledge him.
“What if I just stay in here and study?” he asked.
“You could but that would be kinda… Rude?”
“He’s the one that didn’t text me,” Hayden replied.
“Be the bigger person,” Shane said, standing up from the bed, “you got this.”
“But he’s like 6 '5. I physically cannot be the ‘bigger person’,” Hayden whined.
“You’re stressing yourself out,” Shane gestured to the bed Hayden sat on, “stay in here for a while, and then come out when you’re ready.”
As much as Hayden wanted to argue Shane was right.
He smiled at Shane, his mind slightly less frantic,“Thanks man,” he said before opening his arms and gesturing, “bring it in.”
Shane scoffed, a small smile on his face. Hayden stood up and grinned bigger as Shane walked into his embrace.
They hugged shortly, before Shane pulled away.
“ Love you bro,” Hayden said right as Shane’s hand reached the door handle.
“Love you too weirdo.” Shane opened the door, and then closed it behind him as he left.
The second the door clicked shut, silence filled his room.
Hayden dropped onto his bed, spreading his limbs like a starfish. He stared at the white ceiling above him as his thoughts began to spiral.
He was being dramatic, he knew that, what he should do is go back out there, lay on the couch and be an adult. He shouldn't let one person change the trajectory of his evening. Cliff was basically a stranger anyways, a stranger he had spent one night with.
I’m being dramatic. He repeated to himself over and over again.
After all it was only sex. The need for pleasure is a basic human want; Hayden didn’t believe sex had to be a commitment. He had done this before, had been with someone for just one night, this situation wasn’t much different.
Except his other one-night stands had actually lasted one night, and this one was– well– in his living room.
He sat up, snatching a plush pillow and putting it up to his face, before screaming into the fabric.
His muffled scream rung out into the practically silent room.
After he ran out of breath he put the pillow back on his bed, mechanically fluffed it out, and opened the door.
Don’t be dramatic. Don’t be dramatic. Don’t be dramatic. Don’t be dramatic. Don’t be dramatic.
The first thing Hayden noticed was Cliff’s silhouette on the couch.
Cliff’s blazer was now off and his tie askew. He sat comfortably, his elbows on his knees as he watched whatever was on the TV intently. A glass of white wine sat half empty on the coffee table in front of him. Hayden scanned Cliff’s frame; he could still feel Cliff, could picture his naked body, hear the slight rasp of his aroused voice, and taste the sweat.The memories of their night together flashed in his mind before he could stop them.
The air in the living room was warmer than in his bedroom, smelling of vanilla. Shane and Ilya were nowhere to be seen, probably inside Shane’s bedroom, meaning Hayden was left alone with Cliff.
Cliff looked up from the TV, shooting Hayden a small smile before fixing his gaze back on the screen.
Hayden’s heart thumped in his chest as he walked to the opposite side of the couch and sat down. He was acutely aware of the space in between them. The atmosphere felt tight with tension.
Hayden looked up at the TV, a hockey game was playing. The game was almost over and Ottawa was up 4-0.
His bare foot tapped on the hardwood repeatedly. The silence between them was deafening.
Hayden opened his phone for an escape but just stared at his home screen, before scrolling to the weather app.
Cloudy with a zero percent chance of rain… hmm very interesting
Hayden clicked his phone closed, and looked back up at the TV. He forced himself to watch the screen, almost allowing the game to grab his interest, but every time he got close to it Cliff moved, or breathed, reminding him of his presence.
Hayden looked around his apartment like it wasn’t his own, searching for anything to entertain him.
A motion in his peripheral caught Hayden’s gaze—it was simply Cliff's hand stretching to grab the glass of wine off the table.
Just like that he found something to do.
Hayden walked into the kitchen, took out a wine glass and poured himself a healthy serving of white wine.
When Hayden sat back on the couch with his glass in hand he had realized the game ended and now they were playing highlights from the match.
“ D’you like hockey? ” Hayden asked after a minute of watching the same clip, slowed and from different camera angles replay.
Cliff startled, turning to face him, “Hm?”
His voice sounded exactly the same, a smooth deep melody.
Hayden swilled his finger over the rim of his wine glass, “Nothing just asked if you liked hockey.”
Cliff nodded, “Oh um yeah,” he took a sip of wine. “I like it, used to play a bit in Highschool.”
Hayden lifted one of his legs onto the couch, bending it to his chest, “Me too actually, it’s how me and Shane met.”
Cliff hummed and turned back to the TV. Hayden studied Cliff’s side profile while circling his finger over the opening of his glass. Cliff’s jaw clenched as he watched the television screen, clearly his mind somewhere else.
“I didn't know,” Cliff turned to face Hayden.
“What?”
“I didn’t know that you and Shane were roommates,” Cliff explained. “After work Ilya asked if I could drive him here so he could say ‘hi’ to Shane,” he took another sip of his wine, “ I thought I was just being a good wing man. I had no idea you lived here.”
“Oh,” Hayden snorted, “Ilya didn’t tell Shane you were coming either.”
“Mmm,” Cliff grinned, “so we were both clueless.”
Hayden smilied into his glass, “Fucking, Ilya.”
Cliff agreed, “ Fucking, Ilya,” he bent down to grab the remote, “game’s over, wanna watch a movie?”
Hayden watched Cliff’s hand grip around the length of the remote, the same hand that gripped his cock a few weeks ago, a tingle shot up his spine, “Yeah,” he breathed.
“How do we feel about Ratatouille?” Cliff asked, searching for the movie.
Hayden chucked, “You wanna watch Ratatouille, the movie about the chef rat?”
“Anyone can cook,” Cliff corrected, shoting Hayden a sly grin before turning back to the television, “ and fuck yes, I love Ratatouille.”
“I thought you would put on The Godfather or something but hell yeah,” Hayden leaned further into the cushions, “Ratatouille it is.”
The opening credits rolled across the television screen, bathing the living room in soft blue light.
For the first few minutes neither of them talked much.
Hayden sat curled into the corner of the couch, wine glass balanced against his knee. Cliff looked far more relaxed now than he had when Hayden first walked into the room, another button of his dress shirt had been undone.
Lights lit up the screen but Hayden kept finding himself staring at how television sparkled in Cliff’s eyes. He could have watched all of Ratatouille just by looking at the reflection on his corneas.
The annoying thing was that Cliff seemed completely normal. Hayden’s heart was still not at a regular pace, and Cliff seemed like they had been friends for years.
“ This is my favorite part,” Hayden said.
Remy had just found out he had been in the sewers below Paris for weeks. The Eiffel Tower and city lights below lit up the purple Parisian sunset, as the rat watched in awe. Chef Gusteau's restaurant stood out among the city, and just like that Remy had found his purpose.
Cliff glanced over, "You've seen this before?"
Hayden nodded, " Who hasn’t? I’ve watched it like twelve times."
"Twelve?" Cliff asked, “ Wow I am a fake fan, this is probably my fifth time watching Ratatouille.”
"Now that I think about it…” Hayden paused, “ It might have been thirteen."
Cliff shook his head, "That's embarrassing."
Hayden grinned into his wine, "You're the one who picked the movie."
"Fair point."
At some point Hayden shifted farther into the couch cushions. At some point Cliff did too.
Neither of them acknowledged that the empty space between them kept shrinking.
Their pinkies brushed when Cliff shifted. The touch was brief; a simple contact. Yet, a spark shot through his whole body.
For a second his thoughts tangled together. Embarrassment mixed with relief. Attraction mixed with amusement.
Hayden’s feelings swirled together so quickly it resembled a scene in Ratatouille—when Remy combines the strawberry and cheese and colors explode behind his eyes.
Ridiculous comparison, but oddly true. Hayden wondered if Cliff felt the same heat, or it was just him who saw colors dance when their pinkies touched?
Hayden suddenly became very interested in watching an animated rat cook soup, as if he hadn't seen it 13 other times.
“ You’re smiling.”
Hayden's head snapped toward Cliff.
“ What?”
Cliff mumbled into his glass, the remnants of a smirk on his face,“ Nothing,”
“ You’re literally smiling right now.”
Cliff hummed, “ That’s just what Ratatouille does to the people,”
Hayden nodded, “ Indeed.”
Halfway through the film, a bedroom door opened down the hall.
Hayden almost jumped. Ilya wandered into the living room wearing one of Shane's hoodies and carrying a bottle of water. His footsteps halted, as he looked at the couch, a furtive grin already on his face.
“ What?” Cliff asked, his tone a mixture of assertive and amused.
“Nothing!” Ilya held his hands up like he had been caught. “ Finish your movie. ”
Then he disappeared back down the hallway.
The second the bedroom door closed, Hayden groaned, “ Ilya is so fucking weird.”
Cliff just chuckled and looked back at the screen.
By the time the movie was over they had finished the bottle of wine.
As the credits rolled Hayden’s stomach dropped a bit. The end of Ratatouille meant Cliff was leaving. Tonight had felt normal and now it was over. For a few moments they sat in silence.
Cliff stood up to grab his coat from the arm of the couch, “ I should probably get going.”
“ Oh yeah, ofcourse.”
Cliff paused in front of the couch, “ It was nice seeing you again,”
“Likewise,” Hayden met his gaze.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, as if they were both waiting for the other to say something more.
“ I gotta go get Ilya,” Cliff said, his gaze breaking from Hayden’s.
Cliff walked down the hallway to where Shane’s bedroom was.
Hayden’s mind was calm but also confused. Him and Cliff had watched a movie together and it felt very friendly, not necessarily heated like their last interaction.
Maybe they wouldn’t ever see each other again, or maybe they would be friends, both options meant their night together would become insignificant.
Cliff wandered back into the living room, with Ilya by his side, “ Bye Hayden.”
“ Bye Cliff.”
Hayden didn’t turn around to watch Cliff leave, but when the door closed he knew it was over.
Tuesday April 27th 2026, 3:00 pm
23 year old Hayden Pike.
The office smelled faintly of dust, the crinkled pages of old books and coffee.
Professor Kensington sat across from him, reading over a stack of papers with the same expression she always wore: mildly disappointed in the entire academic institution.
Hayden sat slouched in the chair opposite her desk. His mind was supposed to be on his research proposal, but as Kensington's words got bigger and duller his thoughts floated off.
Kensington was his supervisor, she was blunt but a genius. When her and Hayden’s brains connected they could have fixed every world problem.
Outside the window, spring had finally arrived in Montréal. Students crossed campus in open jackets and sunglasses, acting as though twenty degrees Celsius was tropical weather.
"...and what do you think?" Professor Kensington asked.
Hayden blinked, "What do I think about what?"
The professor sighed, crossing her legs, "I just spent three minutes discussing your research proposal."
"Oh."
She stared, and Hayden stared back, letting out an apologetic smile.
"Right, my paper."
She squinted at his face, "What were you thinking about?" she asked.
Hayden considered lying, he took a deep inhale, "My future."
Kensington leaned back in her chair, "That's usually code for a person.”
Hayden groaned, dragging his hand over his face, "Why does everyone keep saying that?"
"Because you're twenty-three."
"And you’re forty seven, let's talk about you."
Professor Kensington slid his proposal back across the desk, "Finish your revisions by Friday."
"That's not a response to what I said."
"No, but it's the response you're getting."
Hayden grabbed the papers, "You know, one day I'm going to become a respected psychologist."
"Finish your revisions by Fridayyy," she cooed.
"Heartless." Hayden huffed.
"Friday," she repeated, waving him away.
Hayden stood up from the desk, holding the stack of papers to his chest.
"Friday," he confirmed.
"Good," she replied, putting her glasses back on and looking down at the book on her desk.
Hayden pulled open the office door, "You're my least favorite professor."
Professor Kensigton didn't even look up, "I'm your supervisor," she said, marking up whatever she was reading.
"Exactly."
The door closed behind him.
Warm spring air greeted him immediately.
McGill's campus buzzed around him. Students sat on patches of grass, backpacks abandoned beside them. Somewhere nearby somebody was playing music through a speaker
Track: Big Thief - Simulation Swarm
Hayden opened his bag to add his research proposal before he began the walk home.
Life felt strangely normal, almost disappointingly normal. Him and Cliff watched Ratatouille last night but nothing actually changed. They had said goodbye, and now Hayden was back to reading journal articles and procrastinating deadlines.
And maybe that was ok.
McGill was beautiful this time of year. The old architecture mixed with the spring flowers made it feel like some sort of fairy tale.
When he got to his apartment complex he stopped, and took in a breath of air, the spring pollen dancing up his nostrils.
Hayden had decided to take the stairs, walking up three flights before he got to his floor.
When he opened the door to his apartment he immediately knew Shane wasn’t home. He wanted to be alone right now, to take in the precious silence.
His apartment smelt softly of lavender.
He put all of his stuff down, gathered fresh clothes and went to take a shower.
The hot water hit his bare skin, trickling down his face and body. He lathered himself in soap, cleaning thoroughly before rinsing and turning the shower off.
His shower had slightly fogged up the bathroom mirror. He dried his body off, and changed into a soft cable knit sweater and a pair of sweat pants.
He walked into his room, sat down at his desk tucking one leg beneath him, as he opened his computer.
Hayden continued his search for respectable summer internship opportunities. He had yet to find one that checked all of his boxes.
Clinical research assistant, research coordinator, graduate trainee.
Half of them required you to be older, and the other half were unpaid with terrible hours.
His phone buzzed on his desk, the familiar ringtone stopping his search. He picked the call up.
“ Hi mom,”
"Hello, stranger."
Hayden rolled his eyes, "I called you three days ago."
"Exactly. Three whole days without contacting your poor old mother."
He could hear dishes clinking through the speaker. His mom was probably cleaning the kitchen, she always liked to be busy with something.
"What are you doing?" Hayden asked.
"Making dinner."
"What's for dinner?"
"You don't live here anymore."
"That wasn't my question."
His moms crackly laugh rang through the phone, causing his heart to warm.
"Chicken parmesan," she muttered.
Hayden groaned, " you're sick."
"You're dramatic."
"That's genetic."
"Unfortunately."
Hayden smiled to himself, the call turning briefly silent. The kind of silence that only brewed before his mom was about to berate him with questions.
"How's school?" she asked.
"Good," he replied quickly.
"How's work?"
"It’s fun, Professor Kensington’s tough but fascinating,”
"How's life?" she questioned, her voice that of a concerned mother.
Hayden narrowed his eyes, "There it is."
"There what is?"
"The setup." He said, shifting in his seat.
His mother laughed, "I'm just asking."
"No you're not."
"Hayden."
"Mom."
"Are you seeing anyone?"
"There it is," he groaned.
She made a triumphant noise through the speaker causing Hayden to lean further back in his chair.
"No."
The answer came too quickly, but it was the truth. He wasn’t seeing anyone. His mother immediately noticed his change in tone.
"Hm," she hummed.
"What does hm mean?"
"It means that sounded suspicious."
"It wasn't suspicious," he said.
"You're a terrible liar."
"I'm literally studying psychology."
"Which somehow makes you worse."
Hayden snorted, and his mother continued, "So there is someone." she cooed.
"There isn't."
"Hm," she repeated.
"Stop doing that."
"Hm."
"Mom."
She laughed again, the sound almost musical. For a moment he was twelve years old again, sitting at the kitchen counter doing homework while she made dinner and his siblings fought.
Life had felt simpler then. Without the stress of sex, deadlines, and money.
"Seriously," she said more gently, "are you happy?"
The question caught him off guard. Hayden stared out the apartment window. Montréal stretched beneath a grey spring sky. People crossed the sidewalk below. Cars moved. Life moved. Often he felt like he was standing still while everything else continued forward.
"I think so," he said quietly.
"You think so?"
"I don't know," he sighed.
His mom was silent for a moment, the air in his apartment whistling through the room.
"You don't need to have everything figured out."
Hayden laughed softly, "easy for you to say."
"No, it isn't."
He paused. Sometimes he forgot his mother was a person just like him. She had always been so strong, rarely showing her emotions.
His parents had divorced when he was young, his dad taking the weekends leaving his mother to take care of him and his siblings for all of the week days.
When he was younger he had always worshiped his dad when he shouldn’t have. Most of the time his father wouldn’t even pick him and his siblings up for the weekend, leaving his mom to break the news that "daddy doesn't want you”.
"I mean it," she said. "You're twenty-three."
"Ancient," he scoffed.
"You are impossible."
"I know."
"And Hayden?"
"Yeah?"
"If someone makes you happy, don't overthink it. Have fun."
He looked down at his desk, "goodbye, Mom, love you."
She laughed softly,"love you too."
Then the line went empty.
Hayden put his phone down and returned to the applications. His mind was elsewhere as he read through the listings.
He read the same line over and over again, then a ping from his phone disrupted him.
He clicked his phone on, thinking it might be from Shane; however, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the text was from an unknown number
Quickly he opened his messages app.
Unknown number : Hi Hayden, it's Cliff Marleau. Are you free right now?