Chapter Text
“And do you have your—!”
“Mom,” Shane sighed, cutting her off. They’d been going through the same back-and-forth for almost half an hour. Shane was starting to think she would rather strip the house bare than let him leave. “I got it.”
Yuna stepped around the corner, cradling a large brown coat in her arms. “You don’t actually,” she said, draping it over his shoulders. She looked at him sadly, running her hands down his arms, squeezing slightly at his elbows.
Shane couldn’t say he truly understood the drama of it all. After all, it was her fourth time sending him off. But, according to Yuna, it “never got any easier.”
Sensing that she had come to the end of things to add to the stack growing steadily in his arms, he smiled. “Mom,” he said, drawing her eyes up to his.
“Shane,” she sighed, relenting. “It never gets any easier, you know.”
“I know.”
“At least once a week,” she said. Her voice indicated that there was no room for compromise.
“I’ll call once a week,” he promised, taking a step back.
She stepped with him. “And you have to start looking for internships.”
“I will.” He took another step backwards, and then another.
She took two steps forward. “I’ll be sending you links. Make sure you look at them.”
“I will,” he said again. He reached a hand backward, finding the door handle.
“And you need a haircut,” she said disapprovingly. “Your hair is getting so long.”
“I’ll get one.” He opened the door behind him.
“And—”
“Bye, mom!” He let the door close in front of him. He didn’t intend to close the door in her face, but he would have been standing there until next week if he hadn’t. He’ll call and apologize, he decided. In exactly one week.
He scurried to the car waiting in front of his house and slid into the passenger seat, closing the door firmly behind him. From the driver’s seat, JJ snickered, looking at him knowingly. “Don’t even start,” Shane mumbled. He threw the coat into the backseat. “Just drive.”
To Shane’s surprise, JJ laughed to himself, nodded, and drove.
The trip to the university was around four hours, and Shane and JJ had already made this trip two times before. The two of them had met in Freshman year, both taking a math course neither had any interest in. JJ’s energy was infectious, and, for some reason, he directed it toward Shane. Shane was inexplicably drawn to him. Their friendship came easily.
“Shane,” JJ groaned. His left leg shook erratically where it rested against the side of the car. “You’ll never guess what’s happening to me right now.” His accent was thicker, making his distress clear.
“What?”
“Guess.”
“You just said I’ll never guess.”
JJ paused. “Right. Well, since you can’t guess, I will just tell you.”
“Awesome.”
JJ scratched at his scalp. “My parents think I’m joining the family business.”
The car was silent for a moment, then Shane laughed. JJ’s parents were the owners of a bank chain.
JJ was a history major.
“And why do they think that, JJ?” he asked.
“They may or may not still think I’m a business major,” JJ mumbled, taking a second to glance sidelong at him.
Shane stared back at him incredulously. “Didn’t you switch majors in Freshman year?”
JJ said nothing, turning his eyes back to the road. Shane could see his throat work as he swallowed.
“There’s no way,” Shane said. “You still haven’t told them?”
“They never asked!” JJ said defensively. “I just… kind of assumed they’d be okay with it.”
“And were they?”
Silence.
“JJ, were they?”
“Still haven’t told them,” he said quietly.
Shane snorted. “And I thought my situation was dire.”
JJ, seemingly happy to have the attention on anybody other than himself, perked up at that. “What’s your situation?” he asked.
Shane sighed. “Credit problems. Advisor emailed me a week ago telling me I need six extra science credits to get my degree.”
“Six?” JJ exclaimed. “Jesus Christ, man. How are you gonna fill that?”
Shane shrugged. “Micro.”
JJ blinked at him.
“Microbiology,” Shane expanded. “With a lab.”
JJ nodded slowly. “Right,” he said. “Sounds fun.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Nope,” JJ agreed. He reached forward, turning the volume dial on the radio, signalling the end of the conversation.
Shane sank into his seat, leaning his head against the window. JJ hummed under his breath, swaying slightly in his seat. The wind was warm. It blew his hair into his eyes.
He really did need a haircut.
The campus was as busy as it always was. Students lugged suitcases and argued with their parents. Girls kissed their boyfriends goodbye before entering the building. Shane looked around a bit longer than he usually did. After all, it would be his last first day of college.
He looked to his left and watched two girls walk hand in hand into the girls' dormitory. He looked to his right and watched as two people, a girl and a boy, sat on the curb, passing a lit cigarette between the two of them. He frowned at that. Classless.
The girl, who seemed to sense his gaze, turned to look at him. The boy turned as well. They locked eyes. Shane looked away.
JJ stumbled out of the car behind him, grunting from the weight of two suitcases and a backpack. “Whew,” he said, wiping his forehead. “You ready?”
Shane, who only brought a single suitcase with him and the coat wrapped around his shoulders, nodded, and they made their way into the boys' dormitory. On the fourth floor, JJ split off, leaving Shane to ride by himself up to the sixth.
Hayden was in the middle of plastering a poster on his wall when Shane entered the room. “Hey, man,” Hayden said without looking at him.
“Hey,” Shane said, eyeing the poster. “Since when were you a hockey fan?” he asked, gesturing toward the “You Can’t Buy Happiness, But You Can Buy a Hockey Stick,” poster Hayden was taping to the wall of their shared dorm.
“I’m not!” Hayden said happily.
Shane knew better than to ask any follow-up questions. Hayden’s posters were a mystery better left undiscovered.
He stuck his suitcase in the corner of the room, opting to deal with it later, and plopped onto his bed. His side of the room was plain for the most part. Nothing but bare walls and a dark blue comforter. His only real piece of decoration was the night lamp he kept on his bedside table.
Across from him, Hayden let out a breath, tossed the tape he was using into an already growing pile of clutter, and sat down to face him. “What’s your schedule looking like then?” he asked.
Shane pulled out the screenshot he took. “Um,” he started, “Neuro, Biochem 2, Stats, Ethics, and… Micro,” he said, pocketing his phone. “And you?”
Hayden blinked at him. “Business ethics, corporate finance, and, um. Painting.”
Shane tried his hardest to stifle a laugh. A pillow came flying at his head.
“Stop laughing!”
“I’m not,” Shane laughed, tossing the pillow back. Hayden huffed, hugging the pillow between his legs, but a smile crept onto his lips.
Conversation with Hayden came easily. They’d known each other since high school, but they hadn’t become friends until their junior year. Hayden was popular and outgoing. He was loud, and he was loved. Shane wasn’t any of those things. He had friends, yes, and people liked him, even though he wasn’t always sure why, but they couldn’t have been more different.
In eleventh grade, they started looking at colleges. Shane ran into Hayden at a table during a college fair, looking through the pamphlet for Kings Lake University. Shane picked up a pamphlet, too.
And now he was here, listening as Hayden complained about something Jackie did.
“And then she was like, you never put me first!” Hayden threw his hands up. “And I was like, then where do I put you? Second? That’s not even that bad.” He sighed. “Anyway, she broke up with me. Don’t think she liked that last part.”
“Wow,” Shane said drily. There wasn’t really any point in offering comfort. The two of them would be back together before the day was over.
Hayden didn’t seem too hung up on the situation, anyway. He hummed to himself, picking lint off his sock. Then he perked up. “Oh, I never asked, by the way. How are you and Rose?”
Shane stiffened. He and Rose were… well, they weren’t really anything anymore. “We’re fine,” he lied.
“Just fine?” Hayden laughed. “C’mon, man, you can give me better than that.”
Shane shrugged. It wasn’t that he wanted to lie to Hayden, but that he didn’t really know himself. He and Rose had dated for a little while. They’d met in Sophomore year. Rose was his lab partner in chemistry. She was nice, he thought, and she was smart. And she looked adorable in lab goggles.
They shared their first kiss in junior year, and it was nice, so they dated. But when things got complicated, Shane ran away, and she didn’t chase him. They hadn’t spoken all summer. Shane didn’t know where they stood. So he said again, “We’re fine.”
Hayden may have been many things, but he wasn’t completely stupid. He studied Shane for a moment, nodded, and let it go. “You’ll tell me when you tell me,” he said.
Shane was grateful.
The Micro professor was a short, stubby man. He had a dark moustache that curled like a comma. “Think about my moustache when you hear Vibrio cholerae,” he’d joked. “It’s comma-shaped.”
At least, Shane thought it was a joke. The man hadn’t smiled when he said it. And he wasn’t smiling now.
“In my hands here, I have your lab assignments for the semester.” He waved the paper in the air as if to emphasize. “I’m going to call out your groups now, but you can access this information through the class link located in your syllabus,” he said. Clearing his throat, he read off the paper in a loud, bored voice.
Shane let his mind drift away. By the looks of it, most of the class had too. The man had the charisma of a can of paint. It had taken him everything to stay awake in the past few lectures. He took the opportunity to look around. The girl to the left of him drew lazy flowers on her iPad screen. The boy to the right of him was scrolling through Hinge. Shane sighed.
“—and finally, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov,” the professor called. “These are your groups for the semester. If you don’t like it, I don’t really care. If you have any complaints, I don’t really care.”
Shane looked around. The name wasn’t familiar. Nobody looked back at him, so he gave up. Lab was once a week on Fridays. He figured he’d find out then.
By the time class was up, Shane could hardly keep his eyes open. He put his laptop in his bag as quickly as possible, wanting, more than anything, to be beneath his covers.
But as he entered the elevator, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“We should probably exchange numbers, yes?” the person said, stepping into the elevator behind him.
“Um,” Shane looked around, but they were alone. He was talking to him.
“Ilya,” the man said as an explanation. “Your lab partner.”
He had an accent. That was the first thing Shane noticed. And then he realized. “You’re the smoker,” he blurted.
If Ilya was taken aback, he didn’t show it. “Yes,” he said, smiling slightly. “And you are Shane.”
“Right,” Shane said quickly. “Sorry, yes. Shane Hollander. Um. Your lab partner.”
“Yes,” Ilya said. And then it was quiet.
Shane wondered if the elevator was going slower than usual. “Sorry, he said again, fumbling for his phone. “Here, you can put your number in,” He watched as Ilya’s fingers flew over the screen.
When Ilya handed his phone back, Shane saw he’d sent a message to himself.
Shane:
Hi
Ilya pulled out his own phone. Shane’s phone buzzed in his hands.
Ilya:
Hi
Shane exhaled through his nose, pocketing his phone as the door opened on the bottom floor. Then a thought crossed his mind. “Hey, how did you know who—” he started, but Ilya was already gone.
Shane ran a hand through his hair, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. He hadn’t really had to socialize with anybody new since Rose. He was out of practice. “Jesus Christ, Shane,” he mumbled to himself. He stood there until the doors closed again.
Ilya hadn’t been to lecture all week, and Shane was frustrated. It was Friday, and because he had the worst luck imaginable, he was stuck in the 6 pm lab. He should have known Ilya wouldn’t show up. They hadn’t communicated since that day in the elevator.
Ilya didn’t go to class. Ilya smoked cigarettes in front of school with his girlfriend. It should have been obvious he wasn’t going to take this seriously. He’d probably dropped the course already. Shane was silently fuming in his seat, hardly listening as the lab instructor, a young Black lady with round burgundy glasses, explained the day’s objectives.
Then the door opened, and Ilya quietly entered the room, toque on his head and binders stacked in his arms. He whispered an apology to the lab instructor and slipped as quietly as possible to the corner of the room where Shane sat.
Shane glanced at his watch. “You’re late,” he grumbled as Ilya organized himself.
Ilya stared at him for a moment, then huffed a laugh. “Five minutes,” he said.
“Six.”
“Okay.” Ilya pulled off his hat. His hair was slightly damp. “Six minutes.”
Irritation flared in Shane’s gut. Why even wear a hat? It was August. “Whatever,” he said.
Ilya glanced at him. “You are mad?”
“No.”
Ilya laughed. “Okay.”
“Why are you even taking this class anyway?” Shane said, firmer than he intended. He didn’t know why he was so frustrated. Ilya’s attendance was none of his concern.
No, he argued back. It was his concern because Ilya was his lab partner. Shane didn’t have room to fail a course. Not when he’s supposed to be building his future here. He nodded internally, satisfied with the justification.
Ilya shrugged. “Because,” he said.
Shane almost replied, “Because what?” but he stopped himself. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter as long as Ilya did what he was supposed to. “Well, be on time next time,” he opted for instead. “You missed half of the instructions.”
“I read the manual last night,” Ilya said easily, seemingly unbothered.
“Sure you did,” Shane said. He cursed himself as he said it. He didn’t know why he was so worked up. He felt hot and uncomfortable. He fought the urge to pull at the collar of his shirt underneath the lab coat.
“I did,” Ilya said, showing his first sign of annoyance.
Shane opened his mouth to say something else when the lab instructor interrupted. “Guys!” she called, effectively cutting him off. “Are you listening?”
“Yes,” Shane said, quickly facing forward. “Sorry.”
“Right,” she said. “Then which bacteria are we working with today?”
Shane’s stomach dropped. He tried to look down at the lab manual in front of him.
“Influenzae,” Ilya said. The syllables rolled slowly out of his mouth, accent thicker than before.
The instructor looked at him. Shane looked at him, too. “And what agar will we be using?” she asked.
“Chocolate,” Ilya said immediately.
The instructor smiled. “Good,” she said. “And what can this bacteria cause?”
Ilya thought for a second. Shane wracked his brain. “Otitis media,” Ilya said. “Epiglottitis and meningitis.”
“How do you treat it?” the lab instructor fired back.
Shane knew this. He knew this. Ilya opened his mouth to answer. Shane beat him to it. “Ceftriaxone!” he blurted. “And rifampin for prevention.”
The instructor finally pulled her eyes away from Ilya. “Good,” she said. She turned back to the rest of the room, satisfied. “In front of you, you have two beakers…”
Shane felt Ilya’s gaze on him. He chose to ignore it, but he was sure the heat of embarrassment on his face gave him away. Eventually, Ilya relented.
The lab was easier than Shane expected. And, to his surprise, Ilya knew exactly what he was doing. They hadn’t spoken since the instructor's grilling, opting to communicate through actions and soft directions.
Shane would say, “Pass me the plate,” and Ilya would pass it wordlessly. They worked annoyingly seamlessly.
Shane sighed to himself. If Ilya was going to be his partner for the semester, they would have to have a proper conversation at some point. And, clearly, he was a bit wrong about him. Kind of.
“So,” he said. Ilya looked at him, but Shane pretended to be preoccupied with swabbing the plate. “What are you studying?”
“Guess,” Ilya said.
Shane bit back irritation. He was trying to be cordial here. “Just tell me,” he said through his teeth.
“Mmm,” Ilya hummed. “No.”
Shane’s hands tightened around the plate. “What’s your problem?” he snapped.
Ilya stared back at him, unimpressed. “I should be asking that.”
Through the haze of his annoyance, Shane knew Ilya wasn’t being irrational. He had pre-judged him. He deflated.
“Fine,” Shane said. He ran his hands down his lab coat and stuck his chin out. “I’m sorry.”
Ilya grinned at him. “Okay. Good.”
“So…”
“So, what?”
“What are you studying, then?”
Ilya thought for a second. “Let’s make a deal, yes?”
Shane wanted to say no. In hindsight, he isn’t really sure why he didn’t. But something, something he couldn’t really explain, made him say, “Fine. Okay, sure. What is it?”
“You guess my major in 2 weeks, I do something you want. You don’t, and you do something I want,” Ilya said. “Deal?”
Shane frowned. He didn’t know Ilya. Who knows what Ilya might ask him to do? As if sensing Shane’s apprehension, Ilya waved him away.
“Don’t worry, nothing crazy. Something fun.”
“And how do you know I won’t just look it up?”
“You won’t,” Ilya said easily. “Will you?”
He wouldn’t.
Ilya peeled off one of his gloves and held out his hand. “Deal?”
Shane stared at it. Hayden’s voice echoed in his head. “Just do it, man,” it taunted. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
JJ’s voice chimed in. “Do something interesting for once, dude,” it said. Shane sighed and took Ilya’s hand.
Ilya grinned, and maybe Shane should have backed out then. The delight on Ilya’s face was far too grand to be innocent. But he was distracted.
Ilya’s hand was strikingly warm.