Chapter Text
September, 1996
The wind whipped Shane’s starched navy tie as he stepped out of the car and got a first real look at the dirty gray towers of Wimberly rising above and around him. The day was cool for September in New England and the wind threatened even lower temperatures as the sun dropped closer to the treeline. He slowly took in his new surroundings, the way the stone buildings circled protectively around a large expanse of green, interrupted only by a few dominating sycamore trees and a sparse cross-hatching of pathways. He could imagine students gathering under the trees in warmer weather, their bone-white branches arching out and up in gentle green halos. The leaves had started turning yellow and there was a light dusting of them already gathering on the surrounding ground. Shane spotted a few large crows lurking in the branches, their bodies looking heavy as they soared from tree-to-tree.
Classes didn’t start for another two days but Shane had wanted to get there as soon as students were allowed to start moving in, knowing he would want the extra time to settle in and get his bearings around campus. As he made his way across the green to a building that looked like it might contain an office, a cloud passed overhead and everything dimmed for a few moments until the sun came out again, warm against Shane’s head and shoulders.
The main building door whispered open and Shane was immediately hit with the redolent aroma of old books, but also something richer, something he could only think to call mahogany. Dark wood engulfed him, and he was mesmerized by the daylight streaming through the windows. The beams almost looked like you could touch them as they cut through the invisible dust motes, only brought to life by the sun. He ascended a large wooden staircase and followed the signs to get to the second floor office, finding the door propped open. There didn’t seem to be anyone sitting behind the long, low secretary’s desk.
“Uhm… hello?” Shane called as he gently knocked on the doorframe. “It’s Shane… Shane Hollander? I’m here for freshman check-in?”
His stomach churned a little as he was met with the sound of ruffling papers and a few beats of silence before he heard muffled footsteps and a quiet “Oh! …coming!” from a room somewhere beyond the main office. An inconspicuous door swung open and Shane was met with the sight of a tall, friendly-looking man with salt and pepper hair, on the slightly plumper side of an otherwise athletic physique.
“Ah! You must be Mr. Shane Hollander, welcome to Wimberly!” He greeted him, his face crinkling into a smile. “I’m Principal Wiebe, we’re glad you made it safe and sound. Ms. Bauman is off today, so I’ll be filling in for her and showing you around the school myself.”
“Oh.. sure, great, thank you,” he hesitantly responded, “Nice to meet you Principal Wiebe.”
“You can leave your suitcase here, we’ll circle back before I leave you to settle into your room.”
“Ok,” Shane nodded with a smile, “I know I’m here a little early, I appreciate you taking the time.”
“No trouble at all, Shane.” And with that he led the way out of the office and back down the stairs to the main entry hall.
Principal Wiebe carried on about the history of Wimberly as they made their way first to the library. Shane was struck by the height of the ceilings when they entered the cavernous room, the long rows of books framing a central study area filled with large tables. The lighting was warm as the sun slowly crept lower, combined with the soft glow of the table lamps, and he knew he could spend a lot of time there getting lost in the many stacks.
Next was the Common Area, located on the opposite side of the building, their shoes pattering briskly across a staggering variety of tile, stone, wood, and carpeted corridors as they continued on the tour. Couches were scattered around the room, creating intimate pockets for students to gather in. A pool table dominated one corner, opposite a designated study area. The ceilings were noticeably lower than elsewhere in the building, creating a cozy and welcoming atmosphere.
“And if I’m remembering correctly, I think you’ll be spending quite a bit of time in this final room...” They were nearing the end of the tour, having gone through a swift but thorough rundown of the various buildings and classrooms. “This… is the Chess Club room” the Principal introduced with a flourish. If Shane thought the library was enchanting, the chess room was even better. It was small in square footage but the tall windows lining the far wall made sure it didn’t feel stuffy. A fireplace, currently cold & empty, promised warmth from the winter chill that would surely creep in through the old windows during the colder months. Shane pictured himself hidden away here for hours, the tall red velvet curtains closed against falling snow and a fire crackling quietly, soundtracking his practice games.
“Wow.. this is…” Shane’s words fell off before he could formulate an entire sentence, but Principal Wiebe was there to pick up where he left off.
“I know, it’s quite impressive. We’re excited to have such a gifted chess player amongst our student body and look forward to watching you progress.” Shane nodded and smiled shyly. “Now, why don’t we grab your suitcase and I’ll show you to the dormitory.”
They wound their way back to the office and then traveled outside along a damp cloister before arriving at the dorms, climbing yet another grand wooden staircase up to the 4th floor. Shane was panting slightly, his suitcase feeling heavier than he thought possible, as they walked towards his room at the end of the hallway before Principal Wiebe swiftly said his goodbyes and left Shane standing in the middle of his new home for the next four years.
The room almost looked like an attic, with a pointed-arch window along the opposite end of the room and two twin beds framing each side of it. Shane and his future roommate each had a wardrobe and a small desk, the room looking perfectly symmetrical from where he stood in the doorway. An ancient looking rug covered most of the floor between the two beds. It was a little stuffy but it also had a warm, snappy aroma that reminded him of autumn. He quietly shut the door behind him and left his suitcase where it stood, and flicked on his bedside lamp before he collapsed onto the bed and observed the ceiling for a while. There was an undercurrent of nervousness and slight apprehension to all of his thoughts, but overpowering that was the excitement of a fresh start at a new school and new friends or at the very least he would be getting better at chess… he wondered who his roommate would be, if he would be nice, maybe they would both be in cross country, or maybe he wouldn’t be friendly and he would do things that annoyed Shane and he couldn’t possibly ever say anything about it or else his roommate might hate him, but at least maybe they could be polite and leave each other alone in a worst case scenario? He had no idea how much free time they would have, how many hours would be spent in his room studying.. or hiding… Shane suddenly shook himself out of his thoughts, enough with the hypothesizing, sat up, and unzipped his suitcase with determination before he proceeded to get lost in the calming ritual of unpacking.
–
The mystery of who his new roommate would be was solved late the next morning. He heard a hesitant knock at the door, followed by an excited “Hello? Anyone in here yet…?” as the door slowly opened. Shane was sitting on his bed (he’d claimed the left side) and had just tucked into re-reading some passages from their summer reading list when his head rose and he watched as the new boy slowly stumbled into the room carrying an oversized backpack, various practice gear, pads, and a helmet swinging off the back, along with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face.
“Oh! Hey dude! My name’s Hayden,” he greeted Shane as he dramatically dropped his bags on the floor and approached Shane for a handshake. He was on the shorter side, maybe not quite scrawny but he looked like he maybe used to be, with light brown hair and kind, open eyes.
“Hi there… I’m Shane… I guess you’re my new roommate?” he returned with a shy smile.
“Looks like it!” he laughed and slowly took in his surroundings. “God, I’m so out of breath, didn’t realize we would be on the 4th floor! Sorry about all this lacrosse crap, by the way. I guess I should have dropped it off in the locker rooms before heading up here… hey, what are you reading?”
“Oh, uh.. just going over some of the summer reading I guess. I want to make sure I’m prepared for our first class,” he answered with a shrug.
“Whoa, well, I can already tell your grades are gonna be way higher than mine,” he chuckled, then started to drag his belongings over to his side of the room. “I’m glad you took the left side because I totally would have taken the right side even if I had arrived first,” he smirked.
Shane wasn’t really sure how to respond to that, so he just smiled and nodded and debated whether or not it was rude if he continued reading his book or if he should try and talk more with Hayden.
He didn’t get the opportunity to overthink the moment too much before Hayden started excitedly asking Shane questions but continued to forget to leave room for him to answer any of them. “Where are you from? I’m from Montana, but the boring flat part, so this is way more green and mountains than I’m used to. Do you play any sports? I play lacrosse, obviously, haha. Did you meet Principal Wiebe yet? He seems like a super chill nice guy. Hey, I bet we’re in the same English class, huh? Maybe you could give me a summary of all the summer reading I definitely didn’t do…”
Over the course of the next few hours, Shane eventually was able to answer all of Hayden’s questions and find out way more about him than he even knew what to do with. He felt a little overwhelmed but he was mostly just glad that Hayden seemed like a nice, easygoing roommate.
After a rare pause in the conversation, Hayden’s head shot up to look at Shane. “Oh! I’ve been meaning to ask… do you know what’s up with the girls boarding school on the other side of town, St. Bridgets?”
“Uh… not much, except my friend that I grew up with, her name is Rose, she’s also starting there as a freshman–”
“DUDE! Hell yeah, we totally have an in to meet all the hot chicks there!” he exclaimed as he held his hand up for a high-five, and Shane was only slightly belated in recognizing that he should probably also put his hand up so they could complete the high-five. Their palms met with a resounding smack, and Shane silently wondered what he could possibly be so excited about having an “in” at the girls school for…
–
Shane sat in the stale, dim classroom as their English teacher, Ms. Wollen, lectured on the importance of thesis statements. He was uncomfortably warm, his tie feeling a bit too tight, and the smell of the overhead projector was starting to give him a headache. He noticed Hayden already seemed to be nodding off in his nearby desk. The teacher’s voice turned into a dull hum in Shane’s ears as he looked out the window, shifting into the slightly dreamlike state he often found himself in when he had too much on his mind.
As his eyes wandered out the second-floor window that looked out onto the green, they caught on a group of boys roughhousing and laughing under the largest sycamore tree. They were being loud enough that Shane could nearly make out what they were squawking about, but mostly he picked up on a voice with a different cadence than the rest. He couldn’t quite place the accent, but his eyes searched for the boy it belonged to. He wasn’t hard to spot, one of the tallest in their crew with his sun-kissed sinewy limbs and golden curls that caught the sunlight. He watched as the fabric of his t-shirt bunched and strained against his broad shoulders, the front emblazoned with Wimberly’s Mascot, a snarling gold lion, and a large “81” on the back. How did he already look like such a… man? Shane suddenly felt boyish in comparison, even though he had recently gone through a growth spurt over the summer and was diligently working out to try and keep up with his newfound height. He continued to watch as the boy pinned his opponent, then quickly jumped away and threw his head back in laughter, and Shane imagined he could see his Adam’s apple bobbing and he wondered what it would feel like under his fingers…
That thought snapped him back into reality, only realizing that Ms. Wollen had also called on him to explain the importance of citing your sources, her question dimly registered even in the depths of his trance. He rattled off the answer to the reluctant acceptance of his teacher, and busied himself with the notebook in front of him but his head started to swirl with questions: What was his name… would he have any classes with him? What was with the accent? When would he see him again…? He had never felt this surge of curiosity about anyone before, but chalked it off to simply wanting to make a few friends here, or at least not be labeled a freak as he’d had to deal with at his previous school. The rest of the class sped by, Shane hardly able to pay attention to whatever was being taught.
–
Coach Higgins was a short, burly man with cropped silver hair and a tendency to spit while we spoke, but he was surprisingly sincere and made sure to connect with each student during the cross country team’s first practice and learn about their running history and personal goals. Shane immediately liked him, thank god, and after introductions, they were given the freedom to run and explore the miles of trails that cut through the surrounding woods and fields for the rest of practice. Shane was delighted – this was his favorite part about running, floating along a winding trail and the way it made his brain shut off to the point where he was simply living moment to moment, each step carrying him through space in a way that felt inherently effortless.
The land was different from the flatness he was used to in Ottawa. The woods fluidly moved from dense, aromatic pine to high sparse clearings with impossibly large boulders that emerged from the soft earth and large swathes of dappled sun that created almost a strobe effect as he wound between the massive rocks. Finally dropping down to a lower elevation, he saw flashes of a dock floating on a small lake, which maybe could just be called a pond? He slowed down a bit to observe the placid expanse of water, already anticipating jumping in mid-run during the hotter months.
He continued on the trail, and maybe he got a little lost, until he found himself back at the gym just before twilight, apologizing to Coach Higgins for returning so late; thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind.
–
Much to his hidden delight, the next time Shane saw the boy was sooner than he hoped. He hadn’t noticed on his brief tour with Principal Wiebe, but during his first chess club practice, he found himself near a corner window that happened to have a perfect view of the lacrosse field where the team practiced each afternoon. He watched as the boy warmed up, then as he moved on to running laps and drills, often only seen in glimpses between the other boys on the team. The way he moved, almost like dancing at times, was the thing that kept drawing his eyes back to the field. He noticed Hayden laughing and felt happy that his friend seemed to be getting along with his teammates.
His chess partner was less than amused at Shane’s ability to win every match despite his eyes barely staying on the board aside from the few moments he used to contemplate his returning move.
–
Shane continues to observe the boy every opportunity he can.
–
Shane walked to the dining hall where he had plans to meet up with Hayden for dinner, the silhouette of the surrounding forest slowly disappearing into the darkening sky. He’d been waiting for the opportunity to catch Hayden outside of their drained evenings they usually spent quietly in their room after realizing that the boy was also on the lacrosse team. The air had a bite to it, but immediately dissipated when he pushed through the heavy doors that opened into the dining hall and was met with the humid warmth of dinnertime.
“Heyyyy buddy, good to see you,” Hayden greeted him with a smile and rose to meet him with a firm handshake and a slap on the back. They exchanged some small talk for a while before Shane finally asked him how lacrosse was going.
“Honestly, it’s super fun and most of the guys are nice except for this one dude, man. I don’t know what his deal is, but this guy will not stop chirping at me and it’s driving me insane!”
“Oh yeah? What’s his deal?”
“I don’t know, but he moved here from Russia not too long ago, Ilya Rozanov? A lot of the guys seem to like him and I guess he can be funny sometimes, but he will just not let up on me. He’s also always bragging about all the girls he has hooked up with, too.. like, come on dude, really?” He wiped a hand over his face and slumped onto the table. “This is going to be a long four years…” he replied as he shook his head in despair.
“He’s a freshman?”
“Yup, just my luck.”
Shane hummed in commiseration, but all he could think about was if this was the boy.
Ilya… Ilya Ilya Ilya… Ilya Rozanov.
They fell into silence as they dug into their food, it was bland but Shane had eaten worse. The dining hall was mostly empty at this hour, many of the students preferring to eat as early as possible to put a dent in their endless appetites. Hayden asked about chess and how it was going, but there wasn’t much to report on since they were all still figuring out their ratings. Shane had come into the school with an 1800, but most of the members hadn’t formally competed yet so they still had a bunch of practice matches to get through, but they were entertaining enough. He only lit up when Hayden asked about cross country, and Shane raved on about the trails he was slowly becoming familiar with.
They were the last two to leave the dining room and they slowly picked their way along the desire paths that decades worth of students had woven along the green. Both exhausted after their first week of classes, they quickly washed up and crawled into bed, falling asleep almost instantly.
*
In his dream, Shane is on a run. His legs are burning as he makes his way up the slow ascent to the mountainous boulders that rise above him impossibly large, slowly getting tighter and tighter to weave through. His lungs feel tight with anticipation as he rounds the next rock and finds Ilya standing there in his lacrosse uniform. He skids to a stop, just inches away from the imposing figure. The next thing Shane knows, Ilya is grabbing Shane’s shirt and pulling him forward into a bruising kiss and his stomach pools with a twisting ache. Their teeth clash against the wet heat of their mouths, Shane pushing his tongue into the terrifying pleasure that is Ilya’s kiss. He clutches his golden curls and hears Ilya groan as he tugs his head back to expose his throat. Shane presses open-mouthed kisses along every inch, his tongue tickling the Adam’s apple that has endlessly occupied his thoughts. He gasps as Ilya’s leg slots between his own and he slowly grinds his throbbing arousal into the hard muscle of his thigh. It’s too intense, he can’t get enough, he feels like he wants to crawl inside Ilya’s body and never leave. He hears him moan his name, “Shane…” and his stomach melts with need. “Shane….. Shaneee….. Shane,” he pulls back from the soft expanse of Ilya’s neck in a daze as the whispers of his name turn into more solid sounds, filling the room that’s slowly coming back into consciousness…
*
“Shane! Dude… wake up, it’s time for English and Ms. Wollen will kill us if we’re late again.”
The heat and confusion gradually dissipated and a new horror rose up in Shane’s throat as he realized he was face down on bed and, please please please don’t tell me I’ve been dry humping the bed in my sleep and Hayden saw me, oh God… but Hayden had already turned away with his head in the closet as he tried to find a clean uniform shirt to throw on. Shane groaned and slowly turned onto his side, facing away from Hayden with his face smashed into the pillow as he willed the tent in his boxers to die down before rushing to their first class of the day.
–
Shane was studying in the library and once again thinking about Ilya. Thankfully, he’s a hard enough worker that even his most distracted is better than many people’s best. He didn’t take this for granted, but often thought about how he would rather trade in being a good student for a less confusing and awkward demeanor around people so he wouldn’t have to constantly overthink the context of whatever everyone was saying.
He’d been watching Ilya for weeks now, trying to anticipate the ways in which they might cross paths. Most of the time he was only able to watch him from the chess room window. He felt like he could trace Ilya’s progress as he got better, more agile as he dodged his way through his teammates and smiled the whole way, his sweaty curls bouncing and… and… and thinking about watching Ilya through the window made him remember that he really needed to brush up on some of his chess theory.
He made his way to one of the dustier sections of the stacks in the 700’s and found the section on chess tucked between books detailing the nuances of various other strategy games. He located what he was looking for, the latest edition of My System, but all the neighboring titles started to catch his eye and before he knew it he was sitting on the floor surrounded by about 6 different books ranging from chess theory to military strategy and felt the excitement of dozens of different ideas slowly coming together and forming a deeper understanding of the topic he could never get enough of. He settled on taking only 3 of the 6 titles, and filed the others back. As he struggled to find space to place the last book back, he noticed a folded piece of paper that kept getting caught as he unsuccessfully tried to slot it in. He slid his hand in, plucked it out, and gently examined it; it was folded into quarters, and the image of a crow revealed itself as he pressed it open along his knee. He was impressed by the realism of it, the strokes felt fluid but intentional, with far less detail than he might expect for it to make such a striking impression. He was mesmerized, but quickly pulled his hands away as he realized he had accidentally smudged the tip of its tail feathers. The dark pigment smeared as he rubbed his fingers together, it felt dry, and he tried to brush the rest of it off on the carpet. A shadow of it still remained, but he carefully folded the drawing back up and tucked it into his books as he walked back to the dorms in a daze.
–
The next time he found a drawing, it almost felt like an accident. He made his way through the gym, the sun practically blinding him as it reflected off the polished wooden floors. He was searching for the storage room, which was supposedly down a hallway along the west side of the slightly churchlike interior of the gymnasium. He only found it because the door was already cracked open and he smelled the telltale musty scent of old practice gear, the sourness of it all wafting towards him as he pushed open the heavy door. His eyes searched for the hurdles he was assigned to retrieve, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, and of course he spotted them in the farthest corner under a pile of lacrosse sticks.
He moved away the sticks as gently as he could so he could get to the hurdles. He managed to untangle the four that had been requested, and was struggling to drag them out of the room without getting caught on the precariously placed equipment the room was packed with. Something white skidded across the dirty floor in front of him, and he dropped his jumbled armful of hurdles so he could bend down to pick it up from where it was lodged under an antiquated doctor’s scale. His heart raced as he pulled open the tightly-folded piece of paper to a striking rendition of the largest of the green’s sycamore trees; he could tell which one it was because of the huge knot in the trunk and the perfect, low-hanging branch that the boys were definitely not allowed to climb onto but always managed to have someone perched on it. He stared at it, lost, until he heard the main gym doors slam open and the cavernous room quickly filled with laughter and the squeak of sneakers. He rushed to fold it away and tuck it into the pocket of his sweatpants before gathering the hurdles back up and making his way back to the outdoor track where Coach Higgins was waiting, hopefully not too impatiently.
–
Hayden of all people had become his main source for any scrap of information about Ilya, and it was usually in the form of various complaints about whatever new chirp he’d come up with and how annoying it all was. He started to feel like this entire year might be defined by the glimpses of Ilya that he’d been able to catch, even if they’re mostly filtered through Hayden’s juvenile griping.
He was almost late for 4th period after listening to Hayden ramble on about practice throughout the entirety of their lunch and he was parched, so he dodged between the miasma of musky bodies to get at least a few sips at the water fountain before he was late to class. He almost slammed into one of Hayden’s teammates (what was his name? Something Marleau?) as he pivoted around him to get to the fountain. At first all he saw was a mass of honey blond curls as he quickly halted in place. Ilya slowly turned his head and immediately found his eyes; how had Shane never seen his eyes before? They were a prism of green, blue, gold, with a shot of brown in his left and he felt like he was falling into them. Ilya’s tongue, basically wrapped around the stream of the fountain, quickly drew Shane’s gaze to his mouth. The way his pouted lips closed between swallows, he found his eyes darting between his eyes mouth throat eyes throat mouth before they were captured back into Ilya’s gaze. The moment felt like it could have been hours, but he snapped back into the present as Ilya’s finger slipped off the button controlling the trembling arc of water and he slowly rose, never breaking eye contact.
“Your turn.” he tossed at him with a smirk, and Shane watched as he sauntered away, bumping shoulders with Marleau as they both made their way down the hallway.
–
Later that week, Shane snatched his fingers away as he felt a sharp pain slice his middle finger. He’d been mindlessly dragging his hand along the wall on his way to class before it had caught along the bottom of the water fountain, and he now dipped his finger into his mouth to catch the tiny beads of blood that were slowly rising to the surface of his fingertip. He lowered his head to inspect what could have possibly sliced him, and spotted the sharp corner of a folded piece of paper tightly tucked underneath the fountain. He knew it would be another drawing before he even began to open it, and slowly smiled as he recognized the woodland pond, the surrounding trees reflected in the water, only broken by the gentle charcoal-rendered ripples that spread out from where the dock calmly floated.
–
At this point Shane supposed you could call the drawings he had found so far a collection. They were tucked away in the middle drawer of his desk but he felt them always, unable to resist taking them out and studying them whenever he found himself alone in their dorm. He was unlucky enough for Hayden to walk in on him one day while he stupidly had them all laid out on his desk and he scrambled to collect them, silently swearing at himself as he realized he was probably smudging the delicate charcoal. Oh well, too late.
“Uhhhh, did I catch you at a bad time dude?”
Shane cringed at the assumption that he had been jerking off or something and quickly responded, “No, what? I’m just studying for my history final…”
“Alright dude, whatever you say… hey, what’s this?” Hayden bent down to pick up what Shane realized way too late was the sycamore tree drawing, and he cringed as Hayden pressed it flat under the lamplight to inspect it. “Did you draw this?!”
“What? No, I don’t know who drew it.” He snatched it back and crumpled it up, barely making it into the trash can because he was so flustered. Why was he so flustered? “I found it in the trash and was curious,” he mumbled. “I don’t know why I even picked it up, it’s stupid.”
“Hey no need to get all weird about it, I was just curious.”
“Ok, well… yeah. I don’t know what it is, but I found it in the trash so now it’s back where it’s supposed to be I guess.” Hayden didn’t look convinced, but he dropped it since Shane was clearly not willing to talk anymore about it.
“I’m headed back out to lacrosse practice… see you later?”
“Yeah man, sounds good… see you later.” Shane sheepishly returned, his face burning. He listened as Hayden grabbed his gear and quickly headed back out into the hallway. He sat there, frozen, until he heard his footsteps rhythmically thumping down the stairs and then slowly faded away to nothing. With a start, he lunged for the crumpled drawing in the trash can and delicately smoothed it back out on his desk, noting the areas where the charcoal had smeared in his haste to rid himself of the drawing. He cursed himself, he shouldn’t have had them out unless he knew Hayden would be at practice and there was no chance of him barging in on his private reverie. He opened up his desk drawer and neatly filed the drawings away underneath a few notebooks, this time taking the care to lock the drawer, and tucked the key under his alarm clock. The drawings felt private, sacred, made for no one’s eyes but his own even though who knows who else could have been finding these drawings in other places, places Shane didn’t get to first. He slumped onto his bed to lay down even though it was far too early to think about actually sleeping; his eyes traced the patterns in the woodwork above his head as he let his mind wander, ruminating about the person behind the drawings that he knew deep in his heart were meant for him and only him.
March, 1997
Despite the cold, wet weather that never seemed to even hint at the upcoming spring, Shane started going to most (all) of Hayden’s lacrosse games. It was a good show of support for his best friend. That’s what he told himself. Just… being a good friend, and paying a lot of attention to the players and trying to infer the rules of a game he had never even thought about before coming to Wimberly. He found the way the bodies twisted and dodged mesmerizing, the predatory way they circled each other and grappled during the face-off felt primal, stripped down, and it made Shane vibrate with anticipation.
His eyes felt magnetized, tracking Ilya’s movement across the field and catching bits and pieces of the chirps that he was constantly throwing at the other players, clearly being a menace, but it never seemed to truly fluster any of the boys much. His favorite part of the games was when Ilya was facing off with another opponent, which is exactly what he was now about to witness. There was such a severe intensity to him, visible throughout his entire body, that contrasted with his normal loose demeanor. Shane’s eyes followed the way his shorts wrapped tightly across his muscular thighs as he leaned over into the face-off, the creases of fabric bunched at his hips that basically lead his eyes up and over to observe the way it pulled around his ass, his concentration breaking when Ilya successfully won the face-off and took off, head sweeping the field as he looked for an open teammate to sling the ball towards. Shane squeezed his eyes shut to try and dissipate the train of thought his brain was very unhelpfully leading him along, but he felt helpless as his eyes kept finding Ilya over and over again until the Lions eventually won the game.
–
It’s the first beautiful day of spring – finally – and Shane laid in the middle of the green during his free period. The sun felt warm on his skin as his eyes drifted shut, following the subtle patterns that appeared in orange and pink as the sunlight filtered through his eyelids. The green had been mowed earlier that week so the scent of freshly cut grass kept occasionally finding his nose. His head was resting comfortably on his bookbag after a lot of minor adjustments as he nestled his neck to fit between his lumpy textbooks. He ran his fingers through the grass, gently stroking individual blades between his fingers as he tuned into the distant sound of some of the boys passing a football back and forth, a mixture of laughs and the occasional hollered chirp…
His mind eventually wandered to Rose, and he realized with a start that he hadn’t thought once about the promise they had made to write to each other while at their respective schools in order to make sure they stayed best friends because she was never, ever, ever letting them drift apart, you dummy (in her exact words). As he sank back into his thoughts, he recalled Hayden’s question about St. Bridget’s, about having an “in”, but he hadn’t brought it up again and now that he thought about it, he kind of was wondering what it was like for her over there, if she had made friends (of course she had, she was Rose) and what types of extracurriculars she might be in (drama, no doubt), how hard her classes were… he had thought he would surely see her over their Christmas break to catch up, but his mom had mentioned something about the Landry’s going somewhere warm for the holidays and that was the last he thought about it until now.
He felt himself slowly drifting, the tempting lull of sleep caressing the edges of his consciousness. There wasn’t really any harm in taking a short nap, especially since the day was so beautiful, and the sun felt so good as it gradually soaked into his dark uniform pants, warming his body throughout. Just as his mind was approaching unconsciousness, he felt a tickle on the tip of his nose, which he scrunched in an attempt to relieve the itch. He quickly opened his eyes after he felt a flutter react to his slight movement, and a black and orange blur gradually revealed itself into a butterfly that seemed to have alighted on his nose. It slowly flexed its wings back and forth into his gentle focus, and a smile began to creep onto his face. Suddenly, he heard quickly approaching footsteps that neared dangerously close as someone almost grazed him in an attempt to catch a rogue football. Startled, he rose to his elbows, the butterfly miraculously never leaving his freckled nose. His breath caught as his eyes found Ilya standing a few feet away, a sheepish look on his face as he clutched the football against his chest, breathing heavily. A small spark of recognition crossed his face as their eyes locked, but Ilya’s gaze quickly dropped lower and Shane could almost feel it as it traveled across his face, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, making sense of the scene before him. Shane felt his own eyes scanning the state Ilya was in: hair disheveled, panting, tiny beads of sweat balanced along the skin just above the perfect bow of his lip. The top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing the smooth expanse of his neck and collarbones and the glint of a gold chain that sparkled as it shifted across his damp skin with each breath. Their eyes eventually found each other again, but the spell was soon broken as the butterfly decided that now was the time to fly off into the light breeze, but neither of their gazes followed its departure. Ilya’s head cocked slightly as his face broke into a grin and he offered him a slightly breathless and very cheeky “Sorry,” before running back to his waiting companions.
Shane’s gaze remained fixed at the now empty spot he’d occupied and realized that he had not taken a breath in quite a long time, perhaps not since he first recognized the intruder as none other than Ilya Rozanov himself, and he drew in a slow, shaky breath that filled his lungs to almost bursting before roughly huffing it out as he reclined and his head found his bookbag one again. His entire body felt like it was buzzing as he continued to take deep breaths, but he knew his mind wouldn’t settle again for quite some time.
–
Shane suspected the moment would haunt him, but it seemed to stay seared fresh into his brain as the days grew longer and sporadically warmer, the trees finally starting to show the first blushes of green. The event had caused a chain reaction of thought spirals, every moment of the memory a new opportunity for him to imagine the various scenarios that could have played out, each one getting more and more confusing and unhinged. He couldn’t stop thinking about the sweat that had collected above Ilya’s upper lip and how he wanted to lick it off and taste the sour saltiness, the way the chain had rolled across his flushed skin and how it might feel against his teeth if he dragged his mouth over the hollow of his collarbones, mapping the expanse with his tongue. A branch suddenly appeared before him and he had to dodge it, almost tripping due to his speed, but he swiftly recovered his footing and this only made him run faster, push harder, anything that might help chase the demented scenarios that now tortured his every waking moment out of his head.
The trail he was running on was a familiar one, so he felt especially stupid about his near-tumble, and as a result he refused to slow down at all, even as he made the choice to go uphill when he was met with a fork in the path. His lungs were starting to burn as he continued to push himself harder than he knew he should be and there was soon a coppery taste in the back of his throat, his exertion causing the small capillaries in his lungs to burst into the familiar metallic tang. As he crested the top of the hill, he slowed down slightly, only because a cramp started to creep in along his ribs, sharp and hot. The woodland pond gradually came into view, and he stumbled to a stop when he reached the dock and collapsed onto his back, his heartbeat pulsing loudly through his entire body, racing even faster than the thoughts he couldn’t seem to escape. His breathing eventually slowed down from hot, desperate pants to smoother inhales and exhales, heart rate at a less alarming level, and finally he was able to bask in the pleasant buzz of endorphins that came rushing into his brain, settling his thoughts for a few quiet moments.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been before he opened his eyes, mind slightly clearer than it had been in weeks. He rocked his head back and forth along the rough dock and got lost in the kaleidoscope of brown and green above him, and he traced the edge of the large swath of blue sky the trees framed around the pond. A bird called somewhere to his left and above him, and he searched for the source of the sound. It remained hidden despite his careful observation, and his eyes fell to a ladder that descended into the pond off the far side of the dock. As if drawn by some external force, his eyes zeroed in on a sliver of white tucked into where the ladder connected to the dock. He rolled onto his side and stretched his arm out until his fingertips brushed the folded piece of paper and he was able to pluck it from its hiding spot. It was slightly damp from last night’s rain, but the majority of it seemed to be protected from the moisture. He almost tore the soft seam of the paper as he unfolded it onto the dock. The first thing that he noticed about the drawing was that it was in color. This was new. The stunning illustration of a monarch butterfly looked like it could almost lift off the page before him, and his heart flipped in his stomach with recognition. What were the chances of finding a drawing of this specific butterfly that had definitely been perched on his nose and his mind helpfully supplemented him with flashes of Ilya’s recognition, the way his eyes traveled across his face, and the connecting stare between them that left no doubt in his mind that Ilya had noticed it too. But despite the eerie coincidence, there was no way Ilya could be the artist behind Shane’s collection of drawings. Ilya played lacrosse, he hung out in the green with his friends, he terrorized and charmed his classmates and the occasional teacher with his melodic, accented ribbing, and this new version of him sitting down, hunched over and solitarily drawing in a notebook absolutely did not fit into the mental construct of him that Shane had been gradually building over the last few months.
He continued to stare at the butterfly, the potential connections being made in his mind, and pondered the likelihood that these random drawings he kept finding were in any way related to Ilya. He decided that the chances were low, he was just making this up with the pathetic hope that Shane might cross his mind, but not just that; it was impossible that he even knew enough about Shane for the drawings to be anything other than an imagined and desperate plea for him to be noticed by Ilya. The swirling thoughts in his head may have been quieted briefly, but they took on a new, more complex texture that was interwoven with a shameful desire as Shane picked his way back along the path towards the school.
–
The air was stuffy in their dorm room and Shane was doing his best to remain focused on studying for their biology final but Hayden seemed to be trying his best to not let him get any work done. He’d been complaining about Ilya off-and-on all night, the endless chirps the other boys were starting to playfully join in on, how he always seems to get it worse than everyone else and it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet. Hayden’s rambling would have been distracting regardless, but his preferred topic of discussion tonight left Shane feeling dizzy and unable to make sense of anything in the book in front of him. Before he realized what he was saying, Shane blurted out a question that had been burning inside him for too long.
“Hey, so… this is totally random, but uh…” he pulled at his eyelashes a little before continuing, not looking up from his book “What’s up with Ilya anyways? Is he in the arts department or like, what does he do besides tease you at lacrosse practice?” He cringed at his awful transition and the attempt to sound casual.
Hayden immediately scoffed, “What are you talking about, dude? I can’t even imagine that guy being able to draw a flower! Maybe a dick, though…” cracking himself up at the idea. “I mean, realistically if he was drawing anything, I bet he would be drawing nudes of all the St. Bridget’s girls he’s always bringing back to his room and hooking up with. I don’t know how he gets them in here or how he’s even in touch with them, but Marleau complains about it constantly. And if he was drawing nudes, he would most definitely be sharing with the team.”
Shane felt a small pit in his stomach open up and slowly grow larger and he could feel the tips of his ears reddening. His eyes stayed locked onto his textbook… he could feel Hayden staring at him, probably wondering why Shane couldn’t even look at him.
“Speaking of which, what’s up with your friend Ros–”
“I’ve gotta go,” he stood up abruptly, almost tipping his desk chair over in the process. “I forgot I have to get some chess practice in before the tournament.”
“Uh.. okay?” Hayden sounded confused and he tried to follow up with a question before Shane interrupted him again.
“Sorry. Um… I might be gone for a while, so I’ll probably just see you in the morning,” he mumbled as he spun around once, twice, looking for his shoes that were normally placed neatly by the door, and why weren’t they where they always were? He couldn’t get out of there fast enough and he started panicking before he saw them shoved partially under his wardrobe, snatched them up, and hastily shoved his feet in.
“Sure,” Hayden responded. “Good luck I guess? Maybe we can get breakfast together or something?” But his question was left hanging in the air because Shane was already halfway out the door and he didn’t look back as he shut it behind him and walked in a daze down the four flights of stairs, out into the humid night. He didn’t remember the rest of his journey to the chess club room, but at some point he came out of his borderline fugue state and found himself sitting in front of the board he had been practicing on earlier that morning. The patterns and possible plays and outcomes that always came to him effortlessly were nowhere to be found. Instead, his head was filled with images of Ilya with faceless, soft, female bodies. He knew enough about sex that he could imagine what it might look like, but the idea of having sex with a girl was something he had basically never thought about even though a part of him knew he should be, so his intrusive and overpowering thoughts had a vagueness around them, but the sour feeling in his stomach kept twisting tighter.
Any opening moves he tried to strategize weren’t working at all and he kept losing in almost every studied scenario. He forced himself to stay for at least an hour so he wouldn’t have to face Hayden, tried not to panic about getting his shit together before the tournament, and then took the (very) long way back to their room. Shane breathed a sigh of relief as he cracked open the door and found Hayden thankfully asleep, or at least pretending to be. He quietly undressed and slid into his cool sheets, shivering just a little. He knew deep down that sleep would be impossible tonight, but he obediently laid there and tried to silently will the sleep to come as he drifted on the cusp of unconsciousness but never quite fell in until finally, as the sky was just starting to lighten, he succumbed to his exhaustion.
*
The heat of the water feels real as Shane stands under a showerhead, one of about a dozen that line the wall of a bright white locker room. He knows he’s dreaming, but the water feels so good that he sinks into the warmth and gets lost in the feeling. The steam fills his lungs, it’s almost painful, but it feels like a purification of sorts that he welcomes gladly. His ears pick up on a sharp squeaking noise to his left and he suddenly notices that Ilya, of course, has joined him and is showering a few stalls away. He knows he shouldn’t be looking, but he can’t help but stare, the muscles on Ilya’s back and shoulders flexing as he wets his hair and proceeds to slowly lather soap across his chest and stomach. Shane’s cock twitches between his legs, betraying his arousal. He keeps trying to turn his head, but the dream won’t let him look away, every attempt ending with his eyes still filled with the imposing figure. Ilya slowly turns around to look at Shane and he feels like prey as Ilya surveys his entire body up and down, pausing on his quickly hardening dick with a raised eyebrow before his eyes wander back up to meet Shane’s and he knows he could never look away now even if he wanted to. Ilya’s hand gradually wanders from where it rests along his neck, grazing over his chest and hardened nipples, and across his abs in lazy patterns before following the line of soft hair that starts at his belly button and ends spread around the surprising length of his cock. He traces his fingertips along his growing erection before grasping it and lazily giving it a few pumps as Shane’s eyes widen and a throbbing tension begins to build in him. He’s frozen in place, fully facing Ilya now as he watches him slowly approach, his hand never leaving his thickness. He stops in front of Shane and his vision is filled only with the mass of tanned flesh in front of him, water trailing in rivulets over the landscape of his body. Their eyes lock again, Shane can see the invitation there, his hands hang uselessly at his sides and he nods helplessly, whispering a ragged “yes” before he can even think about what it might mean and a smile tugs at the corners of Ilya’s mouth. He gently takes Shane’s now aching erection into his other hand and a moan escapes Shane’s lips as he swirls the precum that’s been gathering across the slit of his flushed head, teasing him. His hips jerk into Ilya’s grip and he takes that as encouragement to start stroking him in earnest, the pressure and speed slowly building until Shane, breath hitching with every pull, quickly loses all composure and begins rutting into Ilya’s hand, chasing his far too quickly approaching release. Ilya’s hand works the two of them in tandem and the sight of it becomes too much for Shane to bear; he tumbles over the edge and Ilya quickly follows him with a strangled groan, stroking them both through their orgasms, and he hears Ilya’s name keen from his lips as he wakes up with a disheveled gasp.
* * *