AUGUST
Shane Hollander didn't like random roommates.
On paper, it was a fine concept.
Throw two people in a room together who don't know each other very well (or at all) and simply pray they don't kill each other.
His freshman year, it worked out fine.
He met Hayden Pike, who was a year older than him. The two of them got along great and the year was a lot better than Shane thought it was going to. The plan was he was going to live with Hayden again, for the rest of his college career.
That worked for two years, but fell through when Hayden got his long term girlfriend, Jackie, pregnant. He didn't drop out, but he decided to move in with her off-campus and do online classes to "provide for the family".
Shane couldn't blame him.
Not really.
The problem came in when he had already picked a room for his junior year.
And it was too late to change it.
So, he was stuck in Williams Hall, room 212 with an empty bed. He had gotten an e-mail two weeks before his move in day, saying the bed was assigned to someone named I. Rozanov.
He could have looked into him, and realistically, he should have.
But, he only got a few weeks to relax with his parents and decided to focus on anything else. Sure, his anxiety was eating him alive about it, but that was a problem he could deal with later.
Worse comes to worse, he just had to exist with the guy. There was no rule written anywhere that said he had to be best friends with him. It was a miracle he was close to Hayden, and he knew that it would be almost impossible to catch lightning in a bottle twice.
So, on move in day, Shane packed his car and drove the commute.
His family lived in Canada, and he was going to school in the states, so he technically classified as an out of state student, meaning that he simply had to make the trek a little earlier than most students attending the same program as him.
The drive was fine enough, and he got to the room at 11:30, all of his bags packed in a shopping cart.
Slowly, he clicked open the door, his eyes falling to the empty side of the room. Soon after, they wandered to the other side where he saw a man lying on his stomach, scrolling on his phone.
His hair was light, his eyes were bright, and he was wearing a black tank-top and shorts that were far too revealing according to Shane's standards. His feet were bare, and he was kicking them in the air.
"You must I. Rozanov?" Shane questions. "I'm Shane. Hollander. I'm your roommate."
He glances up and rolls his eyes. "Yes. Hello."
And that was that. He went back to scrolling on his phone, eyes focused, feet still kicking.
"So, what does the I stand for?"
"The what?"
"The I." Shane repeats, setting a bag on his bed. "Your name? I. Rozanov?"
He shakes his head. "Nothing." he answers. "I am Rozanov."
"Weird thing for your parents to do."
"Yes." Shane frowns. "What Hollander?"
"You can just call me Shane."
Rozanov groans. "What Hollander?" he repeats, emphasizing each syllable.
Shane promptly ignores the chill that goes up his spine hearing the Russian accent as Rozanov says it.
"Is this how this year is going to go?" Shane asks.
Rozanov looks at him. "Are you going to be this annoying this year? You tell me, Hollander."
"I'm not being annoying."
Rozanov presses his lips together in a thin line, eyebrows raised. "You kind of are."
"How am I being annoying?"
"You waltz in here… acting like you own the place." Rozanov answers. "Is kind of asshole move."
Shane rolls his eyes. "Oh you have to be kidding."
"Russians do not kid." Rozanov offers.
"And Canadians aren't annoying."
"I beg to differ." Rozanov tells him. "Are you going to gawk at me all day or are you going to finish?"
"I'm going to finish." Shane insists. "And then I'm going to talk to Scott to see about a room change."
Scott Hunter had been the one e-mailing the inhabitants of second-floor Williams Hall for a week, the perfect over-eager RA.
He was a senior, an English major and insisted in his introduction that despite his appearance, he really wasn't as scary as he seemed.
He also promised that he wasn't just doing it for the free room benefits, but Shane had his doubts.
"What good is a room change going to do after you finish?"
Shane stares at him. "For you, Rozanov."
He places a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Hollander!" he says. "I doubt Hunter will help. I saw him earlier."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Shane huffs. "You didn't…"
"I didn't give him a quickie or anything." Rozanov interjects. "His boyfriend was right there, it would have been rude. Besides, I do not kiss and tell."
"Great." Shane says, setting a bag down. After a moment of silence, he turns to Rozanov and his stupid smug grin. "You know, actually, I'm just going to go talk to Scott now. Maybe I can get a different room."
"I wish you luck, Hollander." Rozanov calls. "You would be doing me a favor as well."
—
Shane made his way to Scott's door, steps quick.
(There was the brief moment when he left that he paused to look at their door for the first time.
Written in perfect script were their names on hockey-sticks.
Shane Hollander written on one, the 'h' fit with a swirl at the end I Rozanov written on the other. There was little extra care put into his name, but they did put a line through the Z. Shane assumed only older people did that.
Other than that, though, it was clear that he wasn't learning Rozanov's name anytime soon. And it was becoming more and more clear he might just be living with a body-snatcher who decided to inhabit a tall attractive Russian.
It was also worth noting that other people's full names were written by their doors.
Across the hall alone was Rose Landry, Luca Haas and Kyle Swift. It was only Rozanov that was being elusive from everyone around him.)
The sooner he got everything sorted, the sooner he would be rid of Rozanov.
He got to Scott's door and banged on it until his hand was sore.
It clicked open and someone who seemed to be around Shane's age answered, smiling. "Hi." he says, fit with a New York drawl to his words. "Are you here for Scott?"
"Yes, I am." Shane replies. "I'm Shane."
He nods. "Ah." he turns his body to the side, inviting him in. "He should be back soon, he's chatting with maintenance right now."
Shane walks in and turns to face the mystery man. He had brown hair, deep brown eyes and a kind smile. It was also not lost on Shane that he was wearing pajama shorts and a oversized t-shirt.
"Alright." he answers. "Should I wait here or…? I don't mean to intrude…"
He smiles. "Oh, no, you can wait here. I don't mind." he insists. "Scott told me you might be by."
"What?"
"Just… get comfortable." he says, smiling. "I'm Kip, by the way. Kip Grady. I'm an Art major."
"Are you waiting for Scott too?"
Kip frowns. "I'm his boyfriend." he offers, gesturing to himself.
"Oh." Shane says evenly. "That makes more sense."
Silence fills the dorm.
God.
Where was Scott?
Shane resisted the urge to look around his room, especially with the knowledge that Scott Hunter's boyfriend was standing in front of him. He didn't want to know what the two of them got up to behind closed doors, especially if he was going to communicate with Scott without dying of embarassment.
"So, how long have you two been together?" Shane asks, desperate to fill the space. He just hoped Kip would be okay with a total stranger asking about his love life.
Kip smiles softly. "Freshman year."
"Is that so?"
"Yep." he smiles. "I was lost on campus and ended up walking around one night and met Scott. He offered to walk me back to my dorm and I invited him to dinner as a thank you."
Shane smiles. "And the rest is history?"
"More or less." Kip tells him. "We've been going out since."
"And you… live here?"
"Between you and me, an RA can get away with a lot." he says. Shane could have inferred that from the extra large mini fridge he passed when walking in, but it was nice to have someone else acknowledge the privilege. "It helps that I'm here on scholarships and financial aid and living with my boyfriend gets rid of me paying for housing."
"Are you talking about me again?"
Shane hadn't even heard the door open, much less Scott Hunter come in.
Once Kip heard his boyfriend, though, it was hard to miss him. Scott was tall, and he looked like he would play a sport if he had the chance. He was wearing an orange sweatshirt and black shorts, a soft smile on his face at the sight of Kip.
"Every chance I get." Kip answers, kissing him. "This is Shane Hollander." he says, turning Scott to face him.
"Sorry to barge in."
Scott smiles. "It's all good. It's nice to meet you officially." he promises, extending a hand to him. "So, you're the one living with Rozanov, right?"
"Y-yes? How did…?"
"I met him earlier." he tells him. "Figured once his roommate got here, I'd be hearing from him."
Shane frowns. "So, does that mean there's no way to get a new roommate, then? Or to move out?"
Kip laughs.
"Kip." Scott says, voice firm. There's nothing harsh in it, rather, it's laced with teasing and adoration. "Don't."
"Sorry sweetheart." Kip says, unapologetically.
"Unfortunately, if you couldn't tell from my wonderful boyfriend, there's no way to change your room assignment." Scott says, turning to face Shane.
"Great."
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Shane."
"I'm not!" Kip pipes up.
Shane and Scott turn to face him. "Kip…"
"Sorry! I can smell a movie plot from a million miles away." Kip says, hands up. "This is classic—"
"My life is not a movie."
"But it'd be a boring movie if you moved out of the dorm." Kip offers. "Running from Rozanov isn't going to solve anything."
Shane rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to kick the wall.
He knew better than to do that, though. The walls in dorm rooms were famously thin and he didn't want to torment whoever had the privilege of living next to Scott Hunter and his boyfriend.
"Do you at least know his name?"
Scott shakes his head. "I don't."
"There's no way it's not written somewhere."
"Even if it was, I wouldn't be telling you." Scott says, smirking. "You can work up to that."
"Did you have to work up to his name?" Shane asks, pointing to Kip, as if there was any confusion.
Kip smiles. "Nope."
"Once again… not helping."
"I'm not here to help." Kip says easily. "I'm here to love you and look pretty."
Scott rolls his eyes and kisses his boyfriend fondly. "And you do both flawlessly."
"Okay. And on that note, I'm gonna go!" Shane interjects. "Thanks for nothing!"
"Actually, Shane, before you go…" Scott says, scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Here's my number, and Kip's. My door is closed to complain about Rozanov, but you seem chill if you want to talk."
"Thanks." Shane smiles, stuffing the paper in his pocket. "How old are you that you give me your number on a piece of paper?"
"I'm not that old."
"Whatever you say, Hunter."
By the time he got back to the dorm, Rozanov was gone.
For a brief moment, Shane hoped that he had moved out in the time he was gone, but his side of the room was just as packed as it had been when he left.
His eyes fell to his desk, glazing over a small Russian flag that was on the wall.
It didn't make much sense to Shane that Rozanov would be going to college in the states, especially if he was from Russia, but Shane himself was from Canada, so there was no use in casting stones.
On his desk was also a photograph that caught his eye.
Sure, above his desk were polaroids of Rozanov with who Shane assumed were his friends, but those were worn from age, falling apart at the corners and half-assed on the wall.
The one on his desk stood out because it wasn't like that at all. It was in a gold frame, and the glass that was holding the picture was clean.
It depicted a young boy — around ten, if Shane had to guess — sitting on a woman's lap. She was beautiful, her soft eyes smiling at the photographer. They were both flashing genine smiles and it was easy to see the resemblance.
It must have been an old photo of Rozanov and his mother, but Shane was thrown for a loop at how happy he looked.
There was a young twinkle in his eye, which was expected of a photo taken when he was so young, but there was more to it. He didn't look like he was holding back. Like, right then, with his mother was the happiest he had ever been. Like even at his young age, he knew life couldn't get better than right on his mother's lap.
Soon, Shane felt bad.
He could have stood there all day over-analyzing everything on Rozanov's side. But, if he was going to be difficult, Shane wasn't trying to make things harder by furthering the existing rift between the two of them.
So, he turned back to his side, and focused his attention on unpacking, all while texting Kip. He didn't have any problems with Scott, he just felt weird.
Befriending your RA felt like dating a coworker, so Shane wanted to avoid it if he could. But, befriending your RA's long term boyfriend? Now that was free game.
(It was more like uncharted territory, but Shane was willing to overlook that for science.)
Shane:
Hi Kip! It's Shane :)
Kip (Scott's Boyfriend)
heyy shane !!
the lack of auto-caps being off is throwing me for a loop lmao
you and scott should start a club
Shane:
The lack of what being off?
Kip (Scott's Boyfriend)
ugh nothing
how's it going over there?
use nice language, scott is reading this over my shoulder
and asking why you haven't texted him yet
Shane:
It's going okay. Rozanov isn't here.
And hi, Scott. Glad you're here in spirit, I'll text you soon, promise.
Speaking of…
Kip (Scott's Boyfriend)
No, Shane. I don't have Rozanov's number. And even if I did, I wouldn't give it to you. If you want it, you'll have to get it yourself from the man in question.
sorry scott stole my phone
Shane:
Ugh what's the point of texting the RA if he can't pull strings for you?
Kip (Scott's Boyfriend)
oh he can, he's just choosing to be difficult
Shane:
Slap him for me, would you?
Kip (Scott's Boyfriend)
consider it taken care of
Shane:
Scott if he did that on the ass just know that is not what I wanted nor what I meant in the slightest! Just in case!
Kip (Scott's Boyfriend)
I am not at liberty to discuss this with the people on my floor, Shane.
Shane:
Okay gross. Go flirt with your boyfriend away from me, please!
By the time Rozanov came back, Shane was done unpacking.
There wasn't much to his decor, just a few family photos and one or two posters from a few movies he enjoyed. He had brought more, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to deal with Rozanov's opinions about every little thing that he did.
He already felt like he was being watched and he had been there for less than a day.
"Did you have a good time?" Shane asks, not looking up from his phone.
Rozanov gives no indication he even heard Shane so when he flops on his bed and starts taking off his shirt with a, "Yep." in reply, Shane nearly jumps out of his skin.
"Oh." he answers. "I'm glad. That's good!"
Rozanov fidgets with his waistband and smiles.
Shane, stupidly, looks up just as he's taking off his pants.
His legs are toned.
Yeah, he had been wearing shorts earlier, but Shane didn't let himself look. Faced with Rozanov now, he swallowed, desperate to hide whatever was trying to bubble out of him.
"Yep." he repeats.
There's something within his tone that makes Shane crazy.
The way the words come off of his tongue, hanging in the air like he's trying to test Shane.
He wasn't in the mood to deal with it, if he was being honest.
But, Kip's words echoed in his head.
Running from Rozanov, no matter how tempting, wasn't going to solve anything.
If he wanted to have a semi-healthy roommate relationship with him, it was clear he'd have to make the first move.
On instinct, he tried reaching for an interest Rozanov might have. There were no personality indicators on his side, though. The only thing Shane knew was he was Russian, had some kind of interest in men, and that he valued who Shane assumed was his mother a lot.
Other than that, his mind was blank.
So. Instead, he sighs. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No." Rozanov answers instantly. "You are not interesting to have done something wrong."
"Fuck off, I'm plenty interesting."
Rozanov hums. "Hm… not really."
"What makes you think you know me that well?" Shane inquires, putting his phone down.
He shouldn't be testing Rozanov like this.
He knows that.
At the same time, there's something about him that makes Shane crazy.
He couldn't just ignore that, even if every bone in his body was shouting danger.
Rozanov glances at Shane's wall.
He knows what he finds before he opens his mouth again.
"You have a Lord of the Rings poster." Rozanov says. "Return of the King, right?"
Shane frowns. "Yes," he answers. "So, what? I have good taste and that makes me not interesting?"
"Interesting people do not have a Lord of the Rings poster on their wall in college." Rozanov tells him. "Interesting people have pictures of their friends. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. Hook-up. Something."
"So, what, you've had sex with everyone on your wall?" Shane questions. "Is that what you're saying?"
"I am saying you are not interesting." Rozanov repeats. "If you want to believe my sex life is that good, you can."
And that makes Shane's blood boil.
He isn't really sure why, either.
He just knows he didn't want to get made fun of by his roommate for liking a movie.
He presses his lips into a thin line, grateful to have not put out his When Harry Met Sally… poster.
If Rozanov was ripping him to pieces over a cult classic, he didn't want to know what he would think of that.
And everything about that movie meant too much to him for Rozanov to ruin it for a stupid rivalry.
"Fuck you Rozanov."
He smirks. Even in the dark, Shane can feel it. The way his mouth quirks up and his eyes widen. "If you ask nicely."
Shane groans and turns over, forcing his eyes closed before he could say something he'd really regret.
—
r/roommates
Posted by hollan3r • 2h ago
My roommate might want me to go crazy
It's been less than a day and I fear this man wants me dead already.
I'm not the easiest guy to live with, I get that and I'm almost positive my former roommate and my parents can agree.
But my new roommate and I have had two conversations and whenever I catch him looking at me, it feels like he just found out I killed his cat and laughed as he grieved.
And it's weird because he goes after anything and everything about me for seemingly no reason. I even went to the RA earlier and he told me that he figured he'd seen me because of who I'm living with, which isn't a great sign.
I don't know. Maybe I'm making a big deal out of nothing, but it doesn't feel like that. Not to me, anyways.
Advice appreciated, but not needed. I just needed to complain before I rip my own hair out (or his if that gets better results, but it doesn't feel like it would).
1.2k comments
u/w3rprks 121 points • 1h ago
op this is giving enemies to lovers i expect an update in two weeks maximum
u/land3y 261 points • 1hr ago
→ replying to u/w3rprks
two weeks?? i feel like they'll last a week
u/w3rprks 121 points • 1hr ago
→ replying to u/land3y
i'll take that bet
u/hollan3r 521 points • 1hr ago
→ replying to u/w3rprks and u/land3y
Considering I'm straight, I don't find this to be a good use of your time. But knock yourselves out.
u/land3y 261 points • 1hr ago
→ replying to u/w3rprks
didn't realize that was a factor might have to not do that bet after that
—
Ilya had no strong feelings about Hollander.
Really. He didn't.
He knew how he came across to people, especially strangers. Nobody liked him right from the start.
That was just the way life went, even from when he was young. But, when he made the choice to live in a double instead of a single, he hoped that whoever his roommate was would be an okay enough guy.
He didn't, however, expect Shane Hollander to be the one to walk in the room.
Or his freckles.
Or his perfect hair.
Or his perfect face.
Or his stupid Canadian accent.
Ilya was comfortable enough with himself. He knew who he was.
An asshole to everyone around him, especially upon first meeting, but he wasn't just an asshole.
There was more. There had to be.
He wasn't just the Russian guy that sat in the back of classes, praying nobody noticed him.
Not anymore.
Not since moving out of Russia when he was seventeen.
He was loud, confident, comfortable and proud. Proud to be Russian. Proud to be bisexual.
And painfully embarrassed to almost immediately be down bad for Shane Hollander.
Every word he said felt like honey running down his spine, and he was happy to live with that forever. But he also knew he couldn't let himself live there.
Just from initially meeting him, he knew who Hollander was.
He knew he was timid. That much was clear from his body language, completely within himself.
He knew he was anxious. He kept tapping his foot and refused to make eye contact the entire time the two spoke.
He knew he was trying his best.
Trying his best to communicate with Ilya. And Ilya was letting it crumple right before him because he couldn't shake the feeling of lust coursing through his veins.
He could barely look at Hollander for more than a second without feeling his head spin with something he hadn't really felt since he was a young hormonal teenager.
So, when Hollander made a lame excuse to leave, Ilya made a sex joke, texted Troy and left the dorm before he even answered, desperate for air.
Ilya:
where are you
i need an escape even if youre being boring
He waited for what felt like a lifetime before his phone buzzed in his hand.
Troy:
You're lucky I love you, Rozanov. Come by my dorm, we can chat.
Harris just left, so don't worry about interrupting anything.
Ilya:
can we go for a walk?
Troy:
Get here first, and then yes.
Ilya:
you are a lifesaver thank you
Troy Barrett's dorm was connected to Williams hall, and Ilya had never been more grateful.
He met Harris first.
He was recording something for the school's social media Ilya's freshman year, and he got roped into being in the video.
When every comment was obsessing over Ilya's accent, Harris insisted that he became a regular guest.
Soon after, Ilya met Harris (at the time friend, soon turned boyfriend) Troy. He meshed well with him, and the two of them had been friends since.
He got to his dorm, banging on the door like his life depended on it.
Troy opened it after a minute and smiles. "Are you dying Ilya?"
"No." Ilya answers. "What makes you think that?"
"The urgency, for one." Troy says, stepping aside, letting Ilya into the room. "What's going on?"
"My roommate."
Troy nods, like that was enough to go off of. When Ilya doesn't say anything else, he makes a gesture with his hand. "Your roommate…" he urges. "You gotta give me more here, man."
"Is too pretty." Ilya says, defeated.
Troy barks out a laugh so loud, Ilya feels it bounce against the walls.
Ilya throws himself onto Troy's desk chair, bringing his knees up to his chin and frowning.
"That is not helpful."
"I'm sorry dude." Troy manages through wheezing laughs. "But… your problem with your roommate is that he's too pretty?"
"Yes." Ilya repeats, voice soft. "He has these freckles… and he's from Canada so he has this accent."
Troy stops mid laugh and turns to him, eyes deadly serious. "Did you say something asshole-y?"
Ilya groans. "What do you mean 'asshole-y'? I am not an English professional but—"
"Something that made you sound like an ass, smartass." Troy interjects, sitting on the floor. "Did you say something a person who doesn't know you might see as rude?"
Ilya frowns. "Most likely," he answers. "I could barely look at the guy let alone figure out what to say."
"Ilya…"
"It wasn't my proudest moment, I'll admit!"
Troy purses his lips. "Come on, we're going on that walk now before you say something that makes me think you're an asshole."
"I am an asshole." Ilya offers, standing up. "Is part of my charm, no?"
"A real asshole." Troy mends.
Ilya smiles and follows Troy out of his dorm.
The two of them fall into a rhythm rather quickly, chatting about anything and everything under the sun.
Well, almost.
There were a few times Ilya felt that Troy was thinking about Harris and quickly directed him away from that topic, still traumatized from when he had walked in on the two of them early in their relationship.
He saw enough of them that day, and had no plans to see that much of his friends again.
The walk was nice, and the two of them ended up getting dinner and spending the day together.
It wasn't until 8:30pm when the topic of Shane Hollander came up again.
Distantly, Ilya wondered what he was doing in their room, but he turned his head away from that quickly.
Whatever he was doing was his business and Ilya knew that better than anyone else.
"What did you say his name was?" Troy questions, scrolling on his phone.
This couldn't be good.
"Shane." Ilya replies. "Hollander. Why?"
Troy smiles. "I found his Instagram." he says casually, scrolling up. "And his Letterboxd."
"His what?"
"How old are you?"
"Twenty."
"Ancient."
"You're…"
Troy smiles and turns his phone to Ilya.
He was looking at a simple interface, all things considered. His profile picture was a photo from a movie Ilya didn't recognize and his "FAVORITES" were painfully predictable.
When Harry Met Sally, Wall-E, Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, The Searchers.
Ilya had seen three of them, and had only enjoyed one. The others were painfully fine, if you asked him.
"Why do I care about this?"
"This could be your in!" Troy insists.
Ilya rolls his eyes. "My what?"
"Your in. If you find a way to compliment one of these movies, he might ease up and you two could talk instead of chew each other out."
"Right. Okay."
"Don't force it, though."
"Right, right."
(Later, when Ilya got back to the dorm, he really didn't mean to comment on the movie he hated.
It was just the easiest one to comment on in the moment that didn't make him look like a stalker.
Under the covers, he texted Troy only to receive a "☹️👎🏻" in reply less than a minute later.
His in with Shane Hollander would simply have to be something else.)
Something shifted two weeks into the semester.
It started simple.
Ilya started not getting up for classes.
His earliest was at 10:45, so realistically, he should be able to get out of bed and get there with time to spare.
But the thought of getting out of bed became something that brought him physical discomfort to the point that he'd rather die than try.
He played it off whenever Hollander was around.
He either coughed, claiming a mysterious but non-contagious illness, or just had headphones on and didn't make eye contact.
The two of them still hadn't built a bridge, and it didn't feel like either of them were willing to budge first.
So, Ilya wasn't getting up for classes.
The next thing was less simple. Harder to explain. He stopped eating as much.
He meal-swipes sat at the same number for four days before he threw up the water he had been more or less living on.
Hollander noticed that.
He made a comment under his breath about how Ilya should be eating his vegetables and getting a good night's sleep instead of going out every night.
Truthfully, when Ilya "went out", it was either to clear his head in the stairwell or to see Troy.
But there was no convincing Hollander of that, so he didn't try.
Everything came to a head the last Friday in August.
Almost a month of living together, and Ilya could count on one hand the amount of non-hostile conversations he had with his roommate.
He was sitting on the bathroom floor, dry heaving when Hollander walked in.
He had a lecture on Fridays that ended at 1:45. By Ilya's calculations, he tended to get back around 2. Usually, he would make himself scarce.
That day, it felt like too much.
His mind was hurting and he didn't want to do anything he might regret, especially when he knew Hollander could find him.
So, naturally, he was in the bathroom.
The door was shut, the fan was on to cover his sobs and the lights were off to not hurt his eyes.
He wasn't sure what Hollander thought was going on, but he heard the knock.
"Rozanov." Hollander sounded pissed. Ilya was in their bathroom, so it made sense. "What are you doing?"
Ilya didn't say anything.
His lips were too dry, he couldn't form a sentence even if he wanted to.
"Rozanov." Hollander repeats. It was firmer, grounding Ilya to the reality he was living in. "Are you okay?"
Still nothing came out.
Only a choked up sob Ilya had been holding in since he heard the door to their room click shut.
It was then that Hollander must have realized the door wasn't locked, because he pushed it open, eyes widening at the sight of Ilya.
He didn't want to imagine how awful he looked.
His eyes were bloodshot, he was pale, shaking and in the middle of what felt like his hundredth breakdown that week alone.
"Jesus, Rozanov." Hollander says, dropping his phone on the hard bathroom tile. He drops to the floor and starts to reach for him when he stops dead in his tracks. "Are you…" he pauses, unsure. "God."
Ilya coughs, licks his lips.
Desperate to actually say something instead of just stare at him with wild eyes. "I…" he croaks. "Water."
English was failing him.
He felt his face heating up with embarrassment. He already felt bad enough that Hollander found him like this, much less that he could barely communicate with him.
Hollander nods, leaves the bathroom and comes back with an open water bottle. "Here."
Ilya took it, chugged most of it and nods. "Thanks."
"Are you okay?" Hollander repeats. "Stupid question. Sorry. What's going on? What do you need?"
"I…" he pauses, thinking. "I do not know."
Hollander nods, helping Ilya off of the bathroom floor. He must be as sweaty as he feels, because Hollander starts wiping his hand on his shorts once he gently places Ilya on a chair.
"Breathe." Hollander instructs. "Have you eaten?"
"No."
"Do you want to eat?"
"No."
He purses his lips. "Would… would me eating help? Help you… feel okay with eating?"
Ilya looks at him. "Sure." he says slowly. "If you are hungry, you can just eat."
Hollander stands.
"Can you…"
He turns. "Yeah?"
"Can you grab my phone?" he requests. Hollander nods and comes back, handing it to him. "Thanks."
They stay like that, for a while.
Hollander picking at a small salad and Ilya scrolling on his phone, trying to function again.
He looks at Hollander at one point, eyes wet.
"I…"
Hollander looks away from his salad at the sound of his roommate's voice, eyes wide. "What?"
"I have depression." he states quietly.
He had only told one person before.
But that one person was out with his boyfriend, and Ilya knew better than to interrupt that.
Why he was telling Hollander of all people, Ilya wasn't exactly sure.
Maybe it was because he was delirious.
Maybe it was because he wanted to mend whatever weirdness was stopping them from being friends.
Maybe he just wanted to feel less alone.
Or maybe, just maybe, he trusted him.
Whatever the reason, the confession sat in the air, with Hollander just staring, like that would solve everything.
"Okay."
"Sometimes… I forget." Ilya carries on. "I forget to do things. Eat. Sleep. Get up."
Hollander nods. "Is this…"
"Yes."
His eyes widen with what Ilya could only see as recognition. "Earlier this week when I…"
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you say something?" Hollander asks. "You've never held back before when it comes to putting me in my place."
Ilya shrugs weakly. "I did not feel up to it."
His eyes meet the photo of his mother on his desk.
"She was happy. And then she wasn't." he wants to say.
He wants to tell Hollander that he didn't want him to see him as weak, like so many people in Russia saw his mom after she died.
He wants to tell him he didn't want Hollander to feel responsible for him.
"God, Rozanov." Hollander says slowly. "I'm so sorry. I would never have…"
Ilya nods. "I know."
"Please… keep me in the loop next time?" Hollander requests. "I'm not asking us to be friends or anything, but just, tell me when something is going on."
He can't promise him that. He can't promise him he'll remember to let Hollander in. He can't promise that he'll want to.
But, against his better judgement, he nods.
—
🔎 therapist near me
🔎 side effects of depression medication
🔎 mental health tracking apps
🔎 depression and suicide correlation studies
🔎 irina rozanova obituary
Ilya Rozanov,
Welcome to our services! The first available date for you to meet with a professional in our program and in your area is 17 September.
If anything happens before then that you need to talk about, please do not hesitate to contact us.
SEPTEMBER
September brought Shane Hollander back to Reddit.
He had downloaded the app when he got his phone a few years before, and since posting about his issues with Rozanov, he more or less ignored the app like the plague.
Every time he opened it, he just saw notifications about that post.
People chiming in with their viewpoint on Shane's relationship with his roommate, and far too many of them commenting on how he and said roommate had "tension".
The thought made Shane want to hurl.
Not because he was homophobic or anything. Simply because it was with him.
Since everything happened at the end of August, he had been encouraging Rozanov to talk to him.
That plan didn't always work, but Shane was taking steps to make sure that he felt safe in their room.
He bought him a new water bottle and left it on his desk with a sticky note for him to find. It was large enough that Rozanov would be okay filling it and taking it around in order to stay hydrated.
Rozanov thanked him with his own sticky note.
And that quickly became how the two communicated.
Shane would wake up to an empty dorm and find a note plastered on the bathroom door.
Sometimes Rozanov was out with his friends.
Occasionally, he was at the library or even the gym early on the weekend.
Every once in a while, he was in bed and the note was on Shane's desk, politely asking Shane to fill his water and saying it was going to be a hard day.
An okay day eventually, but a hard day.
And Shane knew to give him space on those days.
The reason Shane went on Reddit was because he needed to discuss Rozanov.
It was nothing bad. It was just a simple question.
Was he catching feelings for Rozanov or was he simply being a good roommate.
Because truthfully, Shane was unsure.
It felt friendly enough.
It felt like something he might do for Hayden or one of his friends back home.
There were instances when Rozanov would end his notes with 'xx' and Shane knew he wasn't imagining the fluttering that would buzz around in his chest, banging against his ribcage.
So, yeah.
Shane was back on Reddit.
Rozanov was out, the sticky note he had left that morning saying he was going to be out with Troy and then go to therapy afterwards.
He had been going semi-regularly since the 17th, and while Shane never asked for details, the way Rozanov came back was proof enough that whatever they were discussing was helping.
And that was all that he cared about.
r/advice
posted by hollan3r • 6hr ago
Am I (20M) falling for my roommate (also 20M) or am I just being a good roommate?
Okay, so if you saw me post something about my roommate about a month ago on r/roommates, this is indeed about the same guy.
And some of you in the replies might have genuinely called this one, so pat yourself on the back right now and then lock in because I need advice about this.
Last month, I came back from a class around 1:50.
He had been acting stranger than usual that week, but I figured it wasn't my place to comment. God knows if I was going through something and someone I barely knew called me out I'd squirm out of my skin.
But, this day when I got back, I found him on the bathroom floor and he kind of… opened up to me? He told me something about himself that I'm guessing he hasn't told a lot of people before.
Since then, I've been trying to be nicer to him.
It started small enough. Not noticeable if you weren't really looking.
I noticed pretty quickly that he's bad at remembering to drink water, especially when he's out and about for classes. And when he does, he just chugs a plastic water bottle and calls it a day.
So, I took it upon myself to buy him one.
It arrived at our dorm and I left it on his desk with a simple note "You drink out of this".
Since then, we've communicated through sticky notes. He tells me when he's going to have a hard day, and we've started to celebrate mini victories through them.
We still don't talk, not really.
We've gotten dinner on campus together once or twice and a friend of mine asked if we had "gotten over ourselves" to which I had no reply.
Because I honestly don't know.
Now, here's the problem.
Recently, he's been flirting — maybe — with me and I don't know if I'm falling for him or if I'm just happy that he's comfortable enough with someone else to openly flirt with them.
I could always talk to the aforementioned friend of mine, but he, like a lot of people on here, think we're destined to waltz into the sunset together so I'm not super keen on that.
I don't know.
I'm not sure if this is the kind of thing you guys can help me with, I just know that I need help and didn't know where else to go.
4.6k comments
u/brtt 172 points • 1hr ago
yeah it sounds like youre in love op
u/w3rprks 182 points • 1hr ago
i foresaw this !!!!! 🤭🤭
u/land3y 269 points • 1hr ago
→ replying to u/w3rprks
this is iconic of us
u/hrrs 418 points • 1hr ago
If this is a sexuality crisis and a falling for your roommate situation, I need to go get popcorn.
u/jzzywihit 193 points • 1hr
get this gay shit off of my reddit what the fuck
u/wulfbrd 12 points • 1hr ago
is your roommate straight? because if he's not, he's definitely flirting with you
u/hollan3r 516 points • 1hr ago
→ replying to u/wulfbrd
I'm ninety percent sure he's bisexual.
u/wulfbrd 12 points • 1hr ago
→ replying to u/hollan3r
figure that out first
u/hollan3r 516 points • 1hr ago
→ replying to u/wulfbrd
And how do you recommend I do that?
u/wulfbrd 12 points • 1hr ago
→ replying to u/hollan3r
talk to him ??? he's ur roommate ??
Once mindlessly scrolling through the replies on his own post as well as other posts with similar energy, he left the dorm.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and he hoped that someone was home if he knocked on Scott Hunter's door.
Luckily, there was. Scott answered the door almost immediately, smiling at the sight of him.
"Hey Shane!"
Shane nods. "Hi, Scott." He scoots past him and walks into his dorm, grateful that he didn't interrupt Scott and Kip. "Where's Kip?"
"At work."
"I thought he was on financial aid and not paying for room and board."
Scott closes the door. "Oh, he is. But he doesn't exactly want to be broke, either. He works at the coffee shop in the library on the weekends." he pauses, examining Shane. "So, what's going on? You look like you saw a ghost."
He shakes his head, pacing around the dorm.
It was too small to comfortably pace in, and it only took him five strides to cross it, but he couldn't imagine himself standing still either.
He stops and looks at Scott.
He looks so free, so comfortable. He's wearing a t-shirt that is a little too tight and shorts.
He looks happy, even with his face scrunched up to form a concerned expression.
The guy was young, out, and living with his boyfriend, of course he was happy.
There was no reason he shouldn't be.
"You're gay, right?" Shane blurts.
Scott laughs, leaning against the wall. "What gave it away?" he asks. "I thought I was being so secretive."
"Yeah, if you want to be secretive maybe don't gush about your boyfriend when you first meet someone."
"Shane, it was a joke." Scott deadpans, running a hand over his face. "I'm very gay, yes."
He stops, examining Scott.
He said it with so much certainty that Shane felt weak in the knees. The thought of being that open, loud and proud made him feel sick.
"How… how did you know?"
"That I was gay?" Shane nods. He couldn't speak if he wanted to, his mouth had gone terrifying dry once the question escaped his lips. "I guess I always knew." Scott answers evenly. "I never really fit in when I was younger. Didn't play sports, didn't have a lot of friends who were girls. I kept to myself. People called me sensitive. Threw around slurs I didn't know or understand at the time. Once I got to high school, I realized that I might be the thing that people had been holding over my head for so many years. It terrified me. The person you see before you didn't happen until college. The cool, confident, out person, I mean. When I met Kip, I wanted to be better. So I started letting myself feel proud of myself instead of hide it away out of shame or fear that I was wrong. Being gay has never been a choice per se, but I made the choice to be proud of my identity and I wouldn't change that for the world."
Shane stares at him like every word that came out of his mouth was in a language he didn't understand.
And maybe he didn't.
Growing up, he never really interacted with the queer community.
Not really, anyways.
There were rumors about a few people in high school, but Shane focused on his classes and promptly ignored any discussion of other students' sexualities.
As a result, he himself didn't explore much.
He just stuck himself into what he knew and stayed there.
He had the image of someday, in college or afterward, figuring himself out. Trying to understand the puzzle and what piece went where.
With everything with Rozanov, though, those pieces were falling faster than he was ready for them to.
"Are you okay?" Scott questions lowly.
"I… I think…"
Scott stares at him, eyes wide. "Shane…" he says slowly, not moving an inch. "Are you saying…"
Shane looks at him, eyes welling with tears. "I think so."
Shane closes his eyes, desperately trying to not cry when he feels arms wrap around him in a hug.
Slowly, without thinking, he wraps his arms around Scott, leaning into the hold ever so slightly.
He squeezes his eyes shut harder, but it's no use.
Before he can stop them, tears start flowing and he just stands there, holding Scott like the world might end if he lets go.
"It's okay, Shane." Scott says slowly, not letting go. "Being gay, I mean. It's okay."
Shane nods. "I know." His voice is small, cracked.
Scott disconnects him from the hug and frowns. "I promise you that it's okay. You aren't alone in this. You're the furthest thing from alone." he insists. "I'm here for you. And if you tell Kip, he'll be here for you too. Or anyone else, for that matter."
"Tell Kip what?"
Scott turns to the door and smiles softly at the sight of his boyfriend.
Shane wants that with Rozanov.
He directs his attention back to Shane, who's fully crying, tears streaming down his cheeks and already staining his shirt.
Kip smiles at Scott, eyes widening at the sight of Shane Hollander crying in his room.
"Shane? What's going on? What happened?"
Shane looks at him weakly. "Oh nothing." he says quietly, sniffling. "Um." he pauses and looks at Scott for some form of reassurance. He nods slowly and smiles. "Let's just say there are three gay people in this room."
It takes a minute for his words to register with Kip, but once they do, he lunges forward and wraps Shane in another hug.
"Shane!" Kip exclaims. "Oh my God!"
Shane smiles, patting Kip on the back. "I see why you like him." he says, vaguely gesturing to Scott.
Kip disconnects from the hug and smiles. "I can't believe this." he tells Shane. "When… how long…" he pauses with a knowing smile.
Shit.
"Is it Rozanov?"
Shane frowns. "It's not not Rozanov."
Kip jumps. "I knew it! Have you told him? Is this a secret relationship situation?"
"I haven't… Scott? A little help?"
"Sweetheart, why don't we give Shane a second." Scott says slowly. "Take your time, Shane."
And that's just what Shane does.
Eventually, he breaks and tells them that he may or may not be falling for Rozanov.
Tells them he doesn't know what that means for him, especially since he doesn't know how Rozanov identifies.
(They both try and fail to suppress a laugh at that, as if straight Rozanov was the best joke Shane ever told.)
Half-way through explaining everything, his phone buzzes from beneath his thigh with an unknown number.
Unknown:
hey it's rozanov
thanks for your number earlier
and thanks in general
He smiles.
He had completely forgotten he gave Rozanov his number. He had written it on one of the sticky notes, it was an after thought, really.
Shane just wanted him to have it in case anything happened and he needed to contact him, but he didn't think his roommate would ever actually take him up on that offer.
Shane:
Of course. I'm in your corner, Rozanov.
Rozanov:
ilya
Shane:
What?
Rozanov:
is my name
you asked what the i stood for
is ilya
Shane:
It's really pretty.
I'm still calling you Rozanov, though.
It feels too weird to call you anything else at this point.
Rozanov:
thank you hollander
and yes please
just Rozanov
unless you are dying
Shane:
And what if you're dying?
Rozanov:
i am dying after you
my life will be longer
Shane rolls his eyes and smiles.
Roz— Ilya and he weren't going to be friends, not really. But as long as they could be cordial, the two of them could hypothetically co-exist.
Hypothetically.
—
hollan3r logged The Searchers
★★★★½ • rewatched 26 September
Even if some people don't see the perfection of this, it will always be one of my favorites.
with roommate, comfort film, men <3
ily23 logged The Searchers
★★★ • watched 26 September
i mean sure if that's what floats your boat
with roommate, recommended, first time
hollan3r logged Alien
★★★★ • watched 26 September
I personally would've had a sensory overload just being on that ship
Shoutout to the fact that she saved the cat though, that was very real
with roommate, first time, stressed
ily23 logged Alien
★★★★★ • rewatched 26 September
my number 1 film for a reason !! it is perfection of film making if you ask me
with roommate, comfort <3, stressed !!
—