Chapter Text
The sun was blinding, beams of light seeming to shoot out of every single cloud that barely covered the sky. Beating down over the top of his head, rolling along his shoulders and arms and legs. Reminding him that he had dressed horribly for this. Horribly. Though, in Shane’s defense, he had barely been given any warning. Rose owed him big time for this. She knew that he had a lot on his plate right now and here he was, stacking on more and more.
They had leveled a lot of trees for this.
They barely had the subfloor down and Shane was expected to be here at the first crack of sunlight. Just to oversee a group of students. As if Shane knew the first thing about architecture. He could hear Rose in his head, telling him that it wasn’t even a big deal, he just had to order them around. Keep up morale. Which was even worse, actually. They had real construction guys here. Shane was entirely unsure of why he was needed.
Right. Stop complaining about volunteer work. You’re being selfish again. Right. This is for a good cause. This is for the community.
Shane breathed in deep, coughing immediately at all the unsettled dust that met him. He kept coughing, a loud hack that he was trying to desperately to cover before anyone in the surrounding area managed to notice. Which, in all reality, was way more people than he had expected. Too many students. He already had to deal with enough of those during class.
Again. He was being rude again. Right? That felt- that was a rude thing to think. He had great students.
Shane jumped inches into the air when someone reached out to pat him on the back, distracting from both his near death experience and his panic at being put outdoors.
“Shane!” A cheery voice greeted him. The kind of voice that had never met a day of unrest. His mother. She smiled at him as if she had already had two coffees today. She probably had. “I thought I was hearing things when Rose said you volunteered to take her spot. I am so happy to hear you gave our project a second chance.”
Right. Volunteered. He definitely hadn’t actually volunteered. More like….coerced.
He wasn’t about to ruin his moms day by telling her he had no interest in this recent philanthropic project of hers, as nice as he was sure it might be. Shane knew where to draw the line. People did not like when he expressed dislike for….normal things. Events. He loved charity, he really did. How could he not, coming from a family like his? But he also liked to try to push himself as far from his mother’s community projects as possible.There was no need to keep drawing their connection to the public eye. It only made the students itchier when they found out what level of nepo baby Shane technically was.
He didn’t need to give them more ammo. Rose kept saying that he needed to grow more of a backbone. Put his foot down when things got too…rowdy in his classroom. It was hard when they rarely took him seriously.
Oh well. He had been dealing with college students for a few years now. He could keep dealing with them. No big deal. It wasn’t like he was on the brink of collapse or anything. He was actually a pretty solid professor. It was hardly his fault that students weren’t very interested in sociology.
“Shane? Honey?”
He was daydreaming again. Talking to himself in his head. Shane shook his thoughts back and forth and gazed back at his mom, schooling his features back to neutral.
“Are you excited for the next few weeks?”
No. Not really.
“Of course I am,” Shane answered, creeping sincerity into his voice. He loved his parents, he really did. Sometimes they couldn’t fully tell when he was being…whatever this was. This shield he put up when he didn’t want to hurt his mother’s feelings. This really was important to her, even if half of it was optics. She was a genius of a woman. “What will I- uh, what will I be doing? Do you know?”
Of course she knew.
She definitely picked up on his nerves this time, smiling much more warmly at him as she stepped a bit closer.
“Nothing too wild, I promise. We’re outsourcing some of the supervising work. I know you can wield a hammer and a drill, so you might have to do a bit of rough work-“ Shane cringed. Yeah, he wasn’t out of shape. Not by any means. But. “But mostly, you’ll just be the eyes and ears for when our big guys can’t give the students their full attention. We were kind of short on volunteers from the University, so I’m overjoyed that you decided to help out.”
She was using client speak on him. Shane didn’t mind, but it did amuse him. Sometimes he understood where parts of his personality came from. Other times he didn’t, not at all.
“No problem,” Shane said, loosening his shoulders a bit once his moms hand fell. He didn’t mind being touched, not really. Most days. But he was tense today, his features hard to maneuver. “Have they told you who I’ll be in charge of specifically?”
Shane’s mother looked just past him and let out a happy noise.
“There they are!” She cheered again, just as happy as she was to see him. A bus had rolled onto the barren land, kicking up more dirt in its wake. Shane coughed again, this time into his arm. He watched as the bus door open and out filtered-
His worst nightmare.
The bus was just a run of the mill charter bus. Nothing special. No obnoxious Greek letters to indicate that-
Well, fuck.
“Mom,” Shane hissed suddenly, getting closer as she waved to bus full of frat boys. “You cannot be serious.”
“Most of them are sports majors,” She hissed back, waiting for the boys to get closer and never losing her grin. “You know how important the schools scholarship program is-“
Of course. Shane wanted to stomp his feet like a child. Right, his mom would have ulterior motive. Get behind the frats and sororities of the school, who were already obligated to do a certain amount of charity work each semester. And then you could weasel money of their potentially wealthy parents who were trying to get their sons a hot spot in whatever sport they participated in. It wasn’t the best look.
There was also nothing he could do about it.
“Wave,” His mom instructed, elbowing him in the shoulder. Shane nursed the ache with a pout but raised his hand anyway. “Hi there, so glad you could make it. Oh, thank you. Yes, I do have a husband-“
Shane rolled his eyes and stepped to the side, refusing to play into his mother’s act for now. She was great at it, he was not. So no need to pretend.
Shane really did not want to have to deal with this particular group of young men. For a multitude of reasons. He already knew they could be difficult, as seen by their need to try and charm his mother within seconds of meeting her.
But they were also…
You know.
Lugging around lunch bags and wearing tank tops and athletic shorts and-
And Shane really needed to stop focusing on things he should not be focusing on. He had to focus on- on-
Not sneezing in someone’s face.
The man in front of him (man? He had to be like, twenty. Maybe twenty-one. God willing. What?) stared at Shane in shocked silence.
He wasn’t even-
He was like two feet away.
“Really?” He asked, voice thick with a foreign accent and face unamused. Russian. An exchange student. Shane had only met a few in the past, but certainly never a Russian one. Or maybe he was getting the accent wrong. Maybe he was- “No apology? That is it?”
Really, he had to be Russian. That was like…a place where models come from, right? Because he sort of looked like a model, with the strong jaw and blond hair.
“Hello?” He asked, waving a hand in Shane’s face rudely. His features twisted, beginning to look more weirded out. “Are you having stroke? Is that- are you okay?”
“Yep!” Shane chirped, finally shaking off whatever…that was. “Hi, hello. I’m Shane Hollander. Professor Hollander. Uh.”
A few more guys stepped up behind Russian Guy, as if they thought Shane might be announcing something important.
“I am supposed to supervise you, so. That’s- that’s what I’m doing. And I’m very sorry for-“ He flapped a hand toward the Russian man, cheeks heating at his blue eyed gaze seared into Shane.
“No problem,” The man said, grinning just a bit before stamping down on it a second later. “Ilya. Rozanov.”
Shane nodded, barely having a moment to process the name before the rest of the frat began to bizarrely introduce themselves to him. One by one.
How odd.
—
It was hot.
Too hot.
Shane was actually just-
Just leaning against a truck nearby, pretending that he had any clue what he was doing. He was given a sheet of tasks, embarrassingly handed over by his own mother. The University Center for Civic Engagement covered the title, obnoxiously cursive and obtrusive. Art collective and community outreach center. Shane knew what they were supposed to be doing. It was basically a glorified art museum that would half-house wealthy students projects and also…well, okay. Half would be a public studio that held free classes for the community. Still. Shane knew they had to counter some of the good with….less good. Otherwise they would see no funding, whether they had fingers in the fat wallets of rich parents or not.
Shane had already read his list four times. Again and again, until the words were basically planted behind his eyelids.
“That should- yeah, you can just- you guys can carry those out.” Shane pointed toward the truck full of drywall, feeling quite useless in his slacks and button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair already matting to his forehead.
“Absolutely, captain.” One guy saluted him sarcastically, shirt already wet with sweat as he lifted himself into the truck. Shane was pretty sure none of them were following the proper procedure or protocol. Then again, no one was stopping them. Jesus Christ, what was he supposed to do? The whole lot of them started lifting dry wall in groups, lugging it down the makeshift steps outside the truck. Okay, that seemed…fine.
“Careful!” Shane called, watching as two of the guys wobbled one piece of drywall dramatically, laughing like little idiots as they looked over at him. “Hey, stop- don’t do that.”
“Just a little fun,” Russian guy- no, Ilya called. Ilya. “No worries!”
Shane huffed and leaned back against the truck behind him, nearly elbowing the metal surface.
Ilya definitely saw, lips tucking to the side as if to hide a laugh. And then he winked at Shane.
Well.
That was annoying.
Annoying. Right.
Shane pulled at the collar of his shirt and ignored him.
—
Lunch with a bunch of frat guys and construction workers was not on Shane’s bingo card for the week. Or year. Or life, really.
He didn’t mesh well with most men. Or people.
It was awkward enough without people trying to talk to him. How was he supposed to relate to any of them? Then again, his mother would say that he would have had no issues before he became a professor. He had sports, sure. He was athletic. He just…couldn’t talk much.
So, he was eating outside.
Technically, everyone was eating outside. Just. Under makeshift tents so that they could finally get some relief from the sun. Realistically speaking, Shane should have wanted to take an ounce of that relief for himself. Or maybe….he should hide in his car. But to do that, he would have to move. Somehow walking to his car was more embarrassing than just…sitting on the edge of a truck and eating his food.
“A meager lunch of…what is that?” A voice asked from the left of Shane, causing him to nearly drop his sad sandwich. “Is that- tuna? Or-?”
Ilya reached out to touch his bread and Shane glared at him, pulling it back instantly.
Ilya grinned.
“It- no, it’s Turkey. Obviously.”
“How many piece? Like…two?”
Shane breathed through his nose. Ilya was kind of….hard to look at, considering all the sweat and his soaked white tank and-
“It’s- processed lunch meat isn’t good for you. I try not eat it very often but I was in a rush-“
“Why do you have it if you are in rush?”
Shane frowned down at his sandwich, confused by this entire conversation.
“What?”
Ilya rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide it.
“In your house, in your- why do you have it if you do not enjoy it?” Ilya asked, sounding his words out better this time. Maybe pure annoyance made him speak better English.
“I never said- I like it, but it’s not good for me.” Shane felt like he was arguing with a child. He sort of was, his probable age occurring to Shane for a second time today. “But I have some if I want to be- uh.”
“Lazy?”
Shane glared again, taking a bite of his sandwich as if in defiance.
“Oh, sorry. Too mean? Not lazy. Not lazy.”
Shane chewed his sandwich and kept glaring.
“Shouldn’t you be eating? We have to start again soon,” Shane concluded, ready to be done with this guy. He smiled too much, it was getting kind of weird. Why wouldn’t he stop smiling? “Hello?”
“Sorry, just distracted.”
Oh, whatever.
“By what?” Shane asked, looking behind for a moment in paranoia.
“Just…” Ilya leaned forward and gazed more intensely at Shane. “All the sweat on your collar. You are very sweaty guy.”
Shane let out a sigh through his nose, choosing to ignore that last statement. And the urge to flip Rozanov off. He left in the next moment. Without even announcing his departure.
What an asshole.
—
Shane was exhausted by the time he left on his first day. He needed a shower and at least one beer. Maybe not. He shouldn’t drink on a weekday. He had class in the morning, anyway. It was a bad idea.
He just…
Wanted to relax. So he did.
The wine just sort of happened.
Shane really was serious about not drinking on weekdays. But it had been an exhausting day and wine wasn’t even a big deal, right? It was basically fruit juice, that was what his mom would have said anyway. And his father would have laughed and agreed.
Three glasses of wine later and Shane was stuck on his phone, his nose way too close to the screen as he scrolled an app that he had absolutely no business being on.
Instagram.
Tragic, embarrassing. He was too uncool for social media and he knew that, he really did. But….Rose insisted that he keep a locked account and use it to share photos of his mom’s cats. So, he kind of just had a lot of cat pictures.
Shane knew he wasn’t supposed to be on the app, and definitely not while mildly tipsy. Tipsy? Okay, maybe drunk. Headed toward drunk, while he splayed out messily on his living room couch. He had already turned the volume on his tv down, not quite interested in the random season of survivor he had turned on.
Shane was an idiot.
Ilya Rozanov was easy to find. Probably because his name was unique around here.
His instagram was also….pretty interesting.
Shane scrolled through each photo with no small amount of shame, scowling at each one as he passed it by. Whatever. Typical frat boy stuff. Posing in photos of three, four, ten. More. Smiling at the camera. Glaring at the camera. Wearing stupid little polos and shorts and-
Ilya did seem to dress different than the rest of them. Less clean cut, less pastel. Just. Why did he seem to have such an aversion to covering his chest? Why was he so- he even looked rude in his photos. As if he wanted to fight the person behind the camera. Or he was always winking. Smirking. Shane glared harder, his grip on his phone tightening. He was pretty sure this guy didn’t even own shirts that fit. He couldn’t. Everything was so tight, so form fitting. All black, everything.
He kept scrolling, reading all the stupid little one word descriptions on his photos. So cool. He must be so cool. Everyone probably thought he was the coolest guy in the frat.
Shane didn’t mean to message him.
It just sort of happened. The guy wasn’t even- he was barely malevolent. But Shane had an itch under his skin and he couldn’t quite stop himself.
Shane Hollander: ur head is massive
He slipped down on the couch, lips firmly settled into a pout. He could message whoever he wanted. Why didn’t he do it more often? Wine couldn’t be all that bad if it gave him the courage to actually talk to people.
He didn’t expect a message back. And so quickly too. He would have thought someone as cool as Ilya wouldn’t even bother to get online. He probably ignored every single dm he got.
Ilya Rozanov: are you even supposed to be messaging students?
Shane scowled again. He had to be using google translate. There was no way.
Shane Hollander: I can do what I want. Why are you awake? You have class tomorrow.
Shane didn’t have to wait long for another reply.
Ilya Rozanov: are you serious? It is not even 10 pm. Are you an old man?
Rude. Shane almost gave up then. And he would have, if the itch under his skin would just stop growing and agitating him.
Shane Hollander: not old. You’re just a baby. Not my problem. Big headed baby.
Shane didn’t immediately get a reply this time. He even had time to get up and dump himself into his actual bed, eyes fluttering shut for a second before he managed to pry them open at the sound of his notifications going off.
Ilya Rozanov: you are drunk? You sound drunk.
Shane hated that Rozanov had managed to clock him so quickly.
Shane Hollander: none of your business
Childish. He was being childish.
Ilya Rozanov: why is your profile private? I want to see your photos.
What an odd thing to say.
Shane frowned at his phone and tried to decipher why Ilya would want to see his pictures. They were boring anyway, so it didn’t matter.
Shane Hollander: can’t follow students
Ilya Rozanov: so you can message me but I cannot follow you? Is that it?
Shane felt a flush pool over his face, spreading down his neck and chest.
Shane Hollander: you should have ur profile set to private if u don’t want people to see it
Ilya Rozanov: should I? I like when I know people are looking me up on purpose
Shane let out a huff of air, reaching up to brush hit hands over his face. His phone dropped down onto the bed, the screen still lit up.
“What the fuck am I doing?” He asked himself. He didn’t know this man. They had never even met before today. What was Shane’s problem?
Shane Hollander: I can’t do this rn
Ilya Rozanov: because you are drunk?
Shane sighed loudly, leg shaking anxiously against his bed. He wanted to lay down, he did. But he sat propped up against the headboard. His stomach kept flipping uncomfortably, his throat going drier by the second.
Shane Hollander: yeah, don’t feel so good
Shane did not expect a reply now. He had already thoroughly embarrassed himself. His stomach hurt and his head hurt and his eyes were blurry. He never acted like this.
Ilya Rozanov: then sleep.
Shane snorted and rolled his eyes.
Shane Hollander: yeah thx for advice, good advice
Ilya Rozanov: you have such a big attitude for such a short man
Shane stared at his phone in shock, mouth open for a few moments too long. Because? What? Huh? Why would he just-
Shane Hollander: screw you, I’m going to bed
He let his phone fall again, finally giving into the urge to close his eyes. As it turned out, sleeping while sitting up did cause your entire body to hurt the next day. Pretty badly, actually. He could just blame it on Ilya Rozanov.
—
Shane had normal clothing on this time.
He technically wasn’t supposed to be at the build site today, Rose was. But again, she had convinced him to drop by after his last early class of the day. Luckily for her, he had no classes after lunch. Still. It was the hottest part of the day and there was absolutely no way he was going to strut around in slacks again. Especially not while nursing a wine hangover. He felt awful enough, no need to add khaki into the mix.
Shane was….
Pretty ashamed, actually. Did that mean he was ready to seek out Rozanov to apologize to him? No, not exactly. If anything, Shane only wanted to avoid the other man. No need to pretend that he wanted to talk to Rozanov. There was nothing to discuss. Shane had been drunk and vaguely lonely in his apartment. Not a big deal. He was pretty sure that people made drunk mistakes all the time, right? That was pretty common.
He just….needed to focus on not over exerting himself for the day. And not looking like he had gone on a confusing bender the night before. The wine had been empty by the time he had woken up, nearly late for his first class. He had to spend most of that class grading papers and assigning busy work, so. Yeah, that was why Shane didn’t drink on weekdays.
He nursed a coffee to his chest and pretended that he wasn’t violently sweating in his track pants and dark t-shirt. No one could tell. Why was he even bothered by the idea that someone might be able to tell?
It took around ten minutes for someone to finally notice him standing over by the trucks, avoiding his actual responsibilities. The boys had figured out what they were supposed to do, hadn’t they? So, they clearly did not need him.
“You are looking….”
Shane repressed a sigh, cheeks flooding with heat. This was the last person he wanted to speak to right now. Rozanov stood in front of him a smirk on his face, already sweaty and somehow still wearing a shirt. Shockingly. Shane had seen what was beneath said shirt on his instagram last night. It wasn’t entirely shocking.
“What do you want?” Shane asked, trying to pivot his body language so that he looked less inviting. It was hard when he felt so awful.
Rozanov ignored the question.
“I miss the other clothing,” He said, accent thick as he lifted the water bottle Shane had yet to notice and took a big swig. “When you looked like nerd. Tiny nerd. Much better than someone with big head, yes?”
Oh for-
“I did not-“ Shane stopped and started again. “I had a weird night, okay? I am sorry for being unprofessional. It was not- I don’t do that often. At all. I don’t do that.”
Rozanov was not going to let it go. He only stepped a bit closer. Too close. Shane looked around, made sure no one noticed.
“You know,” Rozanov said, his voice like silk. “I think the school would not like their teachers acting certain way. You agree?”
What the-?
“Are you threatening me?” Shane asked, frowning as his heart rate accelerated. Yeah, he should have maybe thought through his actions a bit better. Sue him for being a drunken idiot, okay? “Seriously?”
Rozanov let out an obnoxious laugh, stepping back again.
“No, of course not. It just- it means you must have really been looking for me.” No, it did not mean that. “Can you imagine? Little, old me? With big head?”
Why was he being so annoying? Shane understood that he had been both rude and obtrusive the night before. Yeah, okay. But he had already apologized. Was that not enough?
“I said I was sorry.” Shane felt wooden now, confused why it wasn’t helping Rozanov any. He only looked amused by Shane. “Is that good? Can we move on now?”
Rozanov seemed to think it over, tapping his chin obnoxiously.
“No, I do not agree to your terms.” Oh my god. “Would be better if you got on your knees and say how sorry you are for crossing boundary of student-“
Shane flushed brighter, stomach turning unpleasantly.
“That’s not funny. I am very sorry, I said- it was a mistake, okay? I don’t even know you. I’m sorry I was so rude to you. I don’t know what came over me.”
Rozanov smirked in silence, choosing to break it after an excruciatingly long stare down.
“Sure, you do not know why you had to find my instagram page. Sure, Mr. Hollander.”
The name slipped off his tongue, a tickle against Shane’s ear drums that had him shifting back and forth on his feet. Whatever. He was just being a dick.
“I think you have wood to move.”
Rozanov seemed to be repressing a childish joke. Shane was just glad to watch him leave, finally able to breathe again.
—
Shane didn’t have to be back at the build site until the weekend. So, he spent his week as he normally wood. Grading tests, reading through practice essays, fumbling his way awkwardly through a handful of lectures. He used to be good at public speaking, but lately….he was diminished, his brain too focused on other things.
Like not scrolling through instagram agajn.
It was stupid, really. He had no reason to sift through his messages, no reason to keep checking for new ones he might have missed.
No reason to look at pictures of Ilya Rozanov and try to decipher what his major might be. It was none of Shane’s business, least of all due to the fact that he was pretty much stalking a student. A student. A student who was nearly ten years younger than him. What the hell was wrong with Shane? Why would he even entertain the thought of-
What?
He should call someone. That girl he met last April. He should call her, see if she wanted to go out for a drink or- but he had ended things awkwardly. They had slept together twice and the vibes had been off. She had noticed.
Shane kept obsessing over a boy. A boy. A student, oh my god.
He went so far as to delete the stupid app from his phone.
But you know, Shane could never truly keep himself from doing stupid shit. He was bound to mess up eventually.