Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

***

A few minutes later, boarding began. The announcement echoed throughout his terminal and immediately transformed the waiting area into chaos. Everyone stood at once, including Shane. He followed everyone else into the plane, boarding pass in hand, still feeling as though he were operating entirely on autopilot. The process itself felt strangely automatic. He handed over documents and walked through the long tunnel connecting the terminal to the aircraft, stepping inside the plane.. which felt fucking enormous. Rows upon rows of seats stretched ahead of him while passengers stored luggage and searched for seat numbers. Shane found his seat, shoved his backpack beneath the seat in front of him, and dropped into place with a heavy sigh. The second he sat down, the exhaustion and stress he’d been ignoring all morning seemed to attack him all at once.

This was really happening. He was actually doing it. The island.. the show. He was most worried about the mystery participant. He had no idea who she’d be. Somewhere on the other side of the world, people who were obsessed with the show.. like his mom, were already preparing for his arrival, and the crew of the show were waiting as well. Somewhere, production staff he’d never met were making schedules and organizing equipment.. and maybe the room he’d be staying in.

The plane continued filling around him as passengers settled into their seats. Flight attendants moved up and down the aisles checking seatbelts and answering questions. and finally, people checked their phones one final time before takeoff. Shane barely registered any of it. The moment he fastened his seatbelt and leaned back, his eyes instantly began feeling heavy.

The aircraft began moving at the same time Shane had closed his eyes. Just for a minute. That was the intention, anyway.

The next thing he knew, someone was gently touching his shoulder, causing his eyes to slowly open. A flight attendant smiled down at him. “Would you like something to drink?” For a moment, Shane had absolutely no idea what was happening. Then he noticed the window. Bright sunlight stretched across endless clouds, the ground nowhere to be seen. He blinked, looking around. The people around him sat quietly watching movies or sleeping.

He’d slept through takeoff. Completely.

Apparently his body had decided that staying conscious was no longer optional. He accepted water, thanked the attendant, and attempted to wake himself up. The effort lasted maybe twenty minutes. Long enough to drink something before exhaustion won again. His head settled against the seat, his eyes closing as he fell asleep all over again. This specific pattern continued for most of—if not the entire journey. Sleep. Wake up. Drink something, maybe eat a snack. Fall asleep again. The sun shifted positions outside. Flight attendants changed. People around him slept and woke and slept again. And Shane remained unconscious for most of it.

Honestly, it was probably for the best. If he’d stayed awake the entire time, he would’ve spent the journey overthinking. But thankfully, his brain finally got the rest it had been denied for days. The constant anxiety that’d followed him around since receiving that text message finally subsided. The only thing left to do was to arrive. And somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, while being homed with a stranger and watched by millions of people and thousands of miles away from home, Shane Hollander slept through the beginning of the biggest mistake or greatest adventure of his fucking life. Though, which one it would depend on what happened there.

***

The next thing Shane knew, the entire cabin erupted into applause. The sound startled him awake so violently that he nearly jumped out of his seat. He simply blinked at the seat in front of him while his brain struggled to catch up with reality. His neck hurt, one of his arms had gone completely numb at some point during the flight.

Around him, passengers were gathering their belongings while a handful of people continued clapping for reasons Shane had never fully understood. The plane had landed successfully.. Wonderful. That was exactly what planes were supposed to do. Slowly, Shane turned his head toward the nearest window. The endless clouds were gone. The sky remained bright, but now there was actual land beneath them.

Airport buildings sat nearby. The sight took several seconds to properly register. They had landed.. and fuck, he was really about to go on this show. His eyes immediately drifted upward toward one of the overhead screens displaying local arrival information, remaining seated for another minute, rubbing his eyes while trying to remember what he was supposed to do next.

Eventually the line of people trying to exit the aircraft began moving, forcing Shane back into reality. He grabbed his backpack from beneath the seat and followed everyone else toward the front of the aircraft. The closer he got to the exit, the warmer the air became.. and by the time he stepped through the door, the difference was impossible to ignore. The air felt heavier.. it felt.. tropical, and for a brief moment he simply stood there at the top of the stairs, staring out across the airport while sunlight reflected off distant water. It didn’t look real. None of this looked fucking real; especially considering that like four days ago, he was sitting on his couch laughing at the message that got him here, assuming it was a fucking scam. And now he was standing on a tropical island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean preparing to participate in one of the biggest fucking reality shows in the goddamn world.

Shane found himself looking around like a tourist.. despite the fact that he technically was one. Everything felt different. For the first time since receiving the text message, he actually had a moment to appreciate where he was… and that moment lasted all of ten seconds.

“Shane Hollander?”

A voice cut through the crowd immediately.

Shane turned toward it and found two people moving directly toward him with the sort of confidence that only came from knowing exactly who they were looking for. One was a woman carrying a clipboard. The other was a man wearing a production badge around his neck. Both looked focused.. and both were smiling. “Hi, Shane,” the woman said as she approached. “Welcome.”

Shane blinked. “Uh… hi.”

“How was your flight?”

“I think.. good?” The answer earned a laugh.

“You think?” The male beside her asked, smiling at him as his arms crossed.

“Well, I slept through most of it.”

This time both crew members laughed. “Honestly,” the man said, “that’s probably the best way to do it.”Before Shane could respond, the woman checked something off on her clipboard and nodded to herself before leaning in to whisper to her coworker. Shane couldn’t fully hear them, but he was pretty sure that she’d said something along the lines of “He’s beautiful.” and "This season will be good.”

She must’ve felt Shane’s confusion, because she quickly turned back to him with that same excited smile as before. “Perfect. We’ve got transportation waiting.” The speed of the interaction threw him off. It felt like stepping onto a moving walkway that he hadn’t realized was already..moving. One second he was standing alone inside the airport, and the next, he was being escorted through it. The pair had already started walking… and Shane found himself following them blindly. If it hadn’t already been confirmed that this wasn’t a scam, he would’ve thought that they were gonna murder him in the tropical forest.

By the time they reached baggage claim, one of them already knew which luggages belonged to him. His suitcases barely appeared on the carousel before they were removed and loaded onto a cart. Shane mostly stood there watching everything happen around him. The whole thing felt less like traveling and more like being swept into a life that he knew nothing about… and the moment they exited the airport, he spotted the vehicle waiting near the curb. A large black SUV sat parked nearby while the male production employee loaded equipment into the back. The clipboard woman stopped walking and turned toward him, her smile dropping into a serious face, but Shane could still tell that she was being kind. “Before we head out, ..we need your phone.”

Shane froze. “My what?”

“Your phone.” For a second he genuinely thought she’d made a mistake.

“My phone?”

“Yep.”

Shane stared at her.

She stared back.

“Oh, you’re.. not kidding.” The woman nodded sympathetically.

“You’ll get it back once filming concludes.”

“A month from now?”

“A month from now,” She repeated. Shane felt bad asking the question because he was pretty sure that she’d gone through this exact conversation dozens of times… but the first thing Shane thought about wasn’t himself.

It was his mother—because he’d remembered that she told him to contact them whenever he landed. So, instead of immediately giving up his phone, he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled it out. He glanced down at the screen. Several messages waited for him from Hayden, Rose, and approximately enough texts from his maman to qualify as a small novel. All completely harmless, though. One message literally consisted of nothing except a reminder to drink water despite the fact that she had personally packed enough beverages to hydrate him for weeks.

Shane quickly opened their conversation and typed a message.

Shane glanced down at his phone one last time before handing it over.

The response appeared so quickly that it was obvious she'd been staring at her screen waiting.

Another message followed.

Then another.

Shane sighed out loud, looking up to the lady with a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry, my mom is worried.”

“It's okay! I can buy you about.. thirty seconds,” she quickly replied, smiling again.

Shane couldn't stop smiling.

The typing indicator appeared instantly. Unfortunately, that was as far as she got. The woman gently extended her hand. Shane looked down at his phone one last time. Then sighed, handing it over.

***

The drive to the resort passed by quicker than Shane believed that it would. He’d spent most of it staring out the window, watching as the scenery floated by. Every few minutes, he would catch glimpses of water so fucking blue that it looked fake. The two members from the production staff who sat in the front of the car explained bits and pieces of the filming process occasionally, but Shane only absorbed about half of what they said into his mind. His brain was still having a little bit of trouble catching up to the fact that he’d gone to sleep in Canada and woken up in Huahine-iti.. but before he knew it, the vehicle was slowing down in front of two very massive fucking gates. The estate looked big on TV, but in person, it was absolutely ridiculous–especially for two people who didn’t know each other. This wasn't a house–it wasn’t even a fucking mansion. This place was a goddamn luxury resort. Multiple of its levels, if not most of them, overlooked the ocean as glass reflected sunlight in every direction. Shane thought he was still dreaming on the plane for a second. And.. Oh God, that infinity pool. It seemed to disappear into the fucking horizon itsself. For several seconds, Shane was only able to sit there–staring in shock. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Shane muttered beneath his break. One of the crew members smiled beside him.

“Yes, that is usually the first reaction.”

“I think this place costs more than my entire family tree,” Shane added with a gasp as he was led inside by the woman with the clipboard.

Shane genuinely had no more words upon entering. It was absurd. Every single room felt enormous and the expensive furniture occupied spaces inside that were larger than Shane's entire apartment back at home. No wonder he had to sign an indemnification agreement. At one point, he wandered into a bathroom that was genuinely fucking bigger than his entire bedroom. His luggage had already arrived by the time he finally reached his room.. Or.. a room? There were two California Sized King beds on either side of the room with their own closets and spaces, Shane assumed that one side was for him and the other was for the woman who would be here with him. That made him happy–at least he wouldn't be forced to sleep in bed with a stranger on the first night. And the final thing he noticed before beginning to put his things away was the joint balcony that overlooked the crystal-blue water that sat below it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he repeated again, putting his clothes, accessories, and shoes into the emptiness inside the closet that was meant for him.

A producer of the show found him a little later for a final briefing of how everything was gonna go. It was mostly things that he’d heard already–but something was new. Not only did he find out that he was going to be mic’d up 24/7, but he also found out that he wasn't allowed to look into the camera if he could help it. It would be hard, but Shane believed that he could ignore the camera. And finally, the official filming schedule.

“Filming begins in exactly five hours from now,” the producer said to him with a smile.

Shane blinked at her. “What?” The producer's smile melted into a sympathetic look.

“We know you’ve been traveling, but–”

“Yes, for like.. Two whole days.”

“We know; but there's a strict schedule. These episodes have specific times that they need to be recorded, edited, and aired. If one thing is thrown off, we won't have a show.. So, five hours.”

Shane sighed, raking a hand through his hair. The producer could almost tell that the man was slowly beginning to regret his choice. “The episode won't air until tomorrow, though. Today is just introduction footage and first impressions.”

The male rubbed his face. “I hear you. Do I have time to get a power nap in?”

“Oh, yes. In fact, please go take a quick rest.”

That was all the permission he needed, nodding before scurrying off to his..their room again, collapsing face first onto the mattress–and Oh God, it was soft. He was practically melting into the bed.. but at the same time, he was so supported. Before he knew it, there was someone knocking on the door.

Apparently, three hours of napping can be gone in the blink of an eye.. however, he did feel well rested for the first time in days. It made him think that he could actually do this. So, within the next hour, he’d showered, done his hair, dressed himself, mic’d up, and was now receiving final instructions from the staff. They reminded him about the camera rule and that the microphone would be clipped beneath his shirt–that every word and every sound made would be recorded. It became painfully obvious how hard it would be to not think aloud when he spoke moments later.

“I wonder how many people are listening to me right now,” he hummed, raking a hand through his hair in the same manner he did earlier.

“Several,” a producer immediately answered. Shane let out a final sigh, shaking his arms to get the nervous jitters out before filming officially started.

***

For dramatic purposes, the production had him climb back into one of the vehicles with his carryon bag and reenact his arrival to the estate. Turns out, reality television wasn't always as spontaneous as the people that watched it imagined it to be. Shane found himself exiting the SUV once more and walking through the property as cameras captured each and every reaction he had. Honestly, the way he reacted was still genuine. There were so many parts of this place that he hadn't seen yet. He wandered through the lounge areas that overlooked bodies of water, and he discovered outdoor seating areas bigger than entire goddamn houses.. And eventually, his curiosity led him into the kitchen. It was enormous..and outside. The countertops were marble and everything looked spotless. All the appliances looked new and never used, leading him to wonder if they replaced them each year.

Shane hummed to himself while dragging his fingertips across the counter, looking down at it for only a few more moments before looking up and being met with drinks sitting mere inches away from him. Several cocktail cups sat neatly arranged in the corner of the counter, and his eyes immediately widened.

“No fucking way,” Shane exclaimed, approching the drinks. Jingle Bucks.. his favorite. For those of you who don't know what that is, its vodka.. Vodka mixed with fucking cranberry and ginger ale–a combination of his favorite drinks. Shane stared down at the glasses for a singular second before scooping one up into his hand, not even questioning how they knew his favorite alcoholic beverage. But still, he cautiously took a sip.

“Oh my God.”

He took another sip, slower this time, really savoring the taste.

“Oh, my God,” he repeated. And with the third sip, he said, “This is fucking criminal,” and he was sure that production were somewhere loosing their minds out of entertainment, but he didn't care. He only cared about how perfectly these drinks were made.

He spent the next hour wandering through the estate with his cocktail in hand. And although the alcohol wasn’t strong enough to have much effect on him, it would surely smooth out some of the nervousness–or.. the anticipation–he was feeling at the moment. Shane continued to explore, realizing that every time he thought he’d seen everything, another section would appear.. like magic or something until eventually his cocktail was empty.. and naturally, he was gonna go get another since they were so fucking delicious. The kitchen wasn’t far at all, so he headed back.

He rounded the wall covered in green leaves and stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that someone else was there.

Not a crew member.

A man.

A man stood near the counter, holding one of the cocktails that Shane had previously been enjoying. He was tall with broad shoulders and curly.. but dark-ish blonde hair that was pushed away from his face. Whoever he was, he looked expensive. He looked like he belonged on the cover of magazines. Shane, frozen in place, was thankful that he hadn’t been noticed yet.. or maybe he had..? Either goddamn way, his brain was completely fried out.. because that wasn’t a woman.

Oh God.

That’s not a fucking woman. The entire time, he’d assumed that his housemate would be female. Not that anyone had told him they would be.. but because it was The House, the show known for creating romantic connections.. so he’d just assumed–incorrectly assumed that… fuck. He could only watch as the stranger took a sip of one of the cocktails, then paused, frowning.

“Hm,” he quietly said, taking another sip. The man looked down at the glass as he pulled it away from his lips. “Why would somebody do this to Vodka?” he complained. His accent was immediately noticeable. Shane instantly realized.. this man was Russian. “Vodka is good.. cranberry.. is good, da. Ginger ale, also good,” he added, staring at the drink as if he was evaluating it. “Together.. is confusing.” Shane nearly laughed at his final verdict, unable to stop the sound from leaving his mouth. The stranger instantly looked up, his piercing blue eyes locking onto Shane's brown ones.

Consumed with panic, he turned around and left in the opposite direction without a word. Not.. walked, he fucking left as quickly as he could. He ventured all the way over to the pool, taking his shoes off and rolling up his pants before putting his legs into the water, letting the warmness of it coat him all the way up to the bottom of his kneecaps to distract himself from the fact that his housemate was a man.. a very attractive man.. a very attractive Russian man who hated Jingle Bucks. Just thinking about it made him groan and bury his face into his hands. He had no idea what his mom would think when she saw the episode aired and realized that his housemate was a man. Unless.. unless she did this. He hadn’t been in a relationship with a woman in almost two years–or a relationship in general.. so maybe she just.. assumed or something? He’d find out later–a month later. For now, he was too busy being approached by a shadow, causing him to look up.

It was the same man.. and he was still carrying his cocktail. “Hello,” the man said, copying what Shane had done with his shoes, socks, and pants before sitting down and putting his legs into the water as well. By no means was he super close to Shane. He was just.. there.. Maybe a foot or two away? Shane sat up straighter when the male spoke to him.

“Hi.”

The man smiled at him, and God, his smile was worth maybe a billion fucking dollars. “I think maybe.. you run away from me?”

“No,” Shane instantly corrected, his breath catching in his throat before he sighed, willing to admit the truth. “Maybe a little,” he added.

“Mm. I am Ilya,” he said, his accent rolling through the words naturally. “Ilya Rozanov.” Shane nodded at that before turning back to the water, not realizing that it was his turn to tell the male his– “Name? You have a name, da?” he asked, taking a small sip of the cocktail in his hand.

Shane flinched, his eyes darting over to the blonde male just a little before flying back down to the pool water. He began to kick his legs beneath its surface before responding. “Shane Hollander,” he finally replied.

“Shane Hollander,” Ilya repeated, and Jesus fucking fuck. It sounded like butter coming off of his tongue. Shane couldn’t believe that it was only introduction time and his mind was already reacting to a stranger based on their accent and looks. He didn't know this man.. but he was terribly intrigued. “Very nice place, yes?”

“Yeah, it is.”

They went silent for a little while longer, and within that time, Shane was trying to avoid staring at him.. though it was nearly fucking impossible. The blonde eventually let out a huff and turned to him, inching just a little closer. He set his drink right next to Shane's leg before backing into his original space again. “You can have. It is not good.. lets introduce properly now.” Ilya said, making a show of bringing his fist up to his mouth and clearing his throat. “Hello, I am Ilya.”

“Shane.” was the only thing he said in response.

“Okay, Shane, you are how old?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Really? I am twenty-two.”

“No shot. You’re kidding me?” Shane gasped, turning towards him and finally engaging in a conversation. The producers nodded at one another from far away, watching through the cameras around the island. During shooting time, none of them were meant to be fully on set, they had their designated areas with their own rooms, activities, kitchens, bathrooms, you name it. But when they saw the two men interacting with one another, the awkwardness now fading away, they couldn’t help but high five each other. This was the fastest two participants had begun chatting it up with one another since the first season of the show. They’d picked the perfect fucking pair.