Chapter Text
Montreal, Late Winter
SHANE'S POV
Shane hadn’t planned on going to The Backroom. Hell, he hadn’t even planned to see his friends. However, his date with the handsome and established Marcus had ended earlier than planned. The newest record was 9 pm, but who was actually keeping track?
The night had started out fine. Shane made sure to arrive 30 minutes early to have his pre-date anxiety attack; forgoing reaching out to Rose, because he could do this. He could get out of his car, walk into the restaurant, and have dinner with the man of his dreams. If anything, it was only just a man who checked all his boxes: ambitious, successful, and attractive.
Shane exited his car and made his way to Lumière de Ville. The restaurant was intimate and polished, with low light and quiet music. The seating was designed in a way to encourage hushed conversations. Shane noticed the bar with an assortment of bottles labeled with words he couldn’t pronounce, even if it was a life-and-death situation. This wasn’t the kind of place Shane would have ever chosen himself, but perhaps this was what he was missing in his past relationships—class and sophistication.
Marcus had spent the past month wooing Shane, and Shane finally accepted the invitation. Everything about the night felt right. The food, the service, and the way in which the conversation easily slipped from backgrounds to goals to the things they desired in life. It all seemed to be falling into place, right up until that moment—the one that always arrived eventually, reminding Shane that his love life was an utter… complete… joke.
As they lingered over the dessert menu, Shane decided to ask the burning question: “What are you currently looking for relationship-wise?”
Marcus traced the edge of his wine glass and said, “I guess nothing too serious. I’m in an open relationship. My boyfriend is currently in the States for work, so we agreed that we both get to have our needs met.” He then smiled as if he had just told Shane the weather for the week.
Upon hearing the revelation, Shane choked on his water. He waved off Marcus’s concern, forcing a smile that felt brittle at the edges.
“I… okay,” Shane said after a moment. “I don’t think I realized that.”
He set his glass down carefully. “You know what? That salmon isn’t really sitting well in my stomach, so I’m probably going to call it a night.” Shane didn’t give Marcus much time to respond as he was already sliding on his jacket, pulling out his worn-down brown leather wallet. He pulled out $65 to cover his portion before telling Marcus to have a great night, as the man attempted to offer another time to meet.
Now, Shane was walking up to the familiar meeting ground. The Backroom wasn’t impressive, not in the slightest. However, that was the point. From the outside, the bar barely announced itself. A narrow brick exterior tucked between a closed storefront and a late-night café. Its sign was modest and weathered, with chips of paint missing and the lettering dulled by years of Montreal winters. Warm light spilled through the windows, shining like amber against the darkness, inviting those who already knew to look for it.
The lights were always low, in a way that felt intentional, with a glow that softened rugged edges rather than sharpening them. You could tell the booths hadn’t been replaced in years; the bar was scuffed enough to prove it had been used and loved; and the air always smelled faintly of fermented grains and a hint of bleach. The sound of sizzling from the deep fryer in the back could be heard between the unfiltered conversations.
Shane and Rose had started coming here not long after they moved to Montreal. Shane would be attending McGill University, while Rose would make noise as she chased opportunities that felt out of reach anywhere else. The Backroom had been theirs at first. They would meet up and seek refuge there after a long day if they weren’t ready to call it a night and head home to their small apartment with walls so thin you practically had to whisper.
Then came along Hayden.
Hayden, who spotted Shane a mile away during his first semester at McGill. In spite of Shane’s initial reluctance, he could never shake off the man after the first ‘hi’. Hayden was the type to show up uninvited, then drag Shane out of his bed and into the world. He was able to make life feel less terrifying simply by refusing to let things stay serious for too long.
Then, Hayden brought Jackie months after being introduced through Rose, and she decided to stick around. Two years later, she was still here.
Svetlana arrived by accident after a Tinder date with Rose that went nowhere romantically at the time, instead led to a bond so confusing that it only made sense to them. They’d never bothered to define it properly. The two ladies were friends, even sometimes more. Svetlana and Rose’s dynamic was easy and unceremonious in a way that suited them both. The woman with honey brown curls, which perfectly framed her face, and an aura of groundedness fit easily into the group, as if she’d always meant to be there.
And then came him. Ilya Rozanov was Svetlana’s childhood friend; the two had met when they were six in Russia. At the age of 12, Svetlana emigrated to Canada after her father, who had previously served as the Russian Minister of Internal Affairs, retired from government service to take a permanent advisory role at a national public safety institute. Ilya followed along after his mother passed away. No one other than Svetlana knew why, and no one ever pushed for an answer.
Ilya was a thorn in Shane’s side, the kind you notice every time you move but can’t get out because it's embedded into your skin. Sure, he was charming. Point to any person, and by the end of the night, they would be walking out of the bar with Ilya. However, his charm came with no follow-through, no plan, and far too much confidence for someone with nothing going for him. And Shane could admit that yes, objectively, Ilya was attractive. Actually, Ilya was irritatingly attractive. He was 6’1” (only an inch taller than Shane, a fact Shane made a point of reminding him of) and had a well-built, strong physique. Shane was almost jealous of the way Ilya was naturally gifted with the body of a gladiator because the guy ate like shit, but you would never know. He possessed blond curls with hazel eyes that people sickeningly fell for.
Unfortunately, they shared a friend group, a bar, an endless loop of nights that always ended the same way: baiting, escalating, then arguing. At this point, when Shane and Ilya started going at it, everyone would just turn away and mute them out.
Shane slipped inside before anyone noticed. The door closed behind him with a soft thud and a slight creak. Shane didn’t realize how cold he was until the warmth hit his skin, and he felt as if a sheet of ice was melting off of it. The familiar noises echoed throughout the establishment. People laughing, with the low hum of music dancing through the air. Shane’s eyes adjusted to the lighting and scanned the open space. He quickly spotted his friends and Ilya sitting at their usual booth near the back of the bar. Rose, Svetlana, and Ilya were squeezed into the right side while Hayden and Jackie sat across from them. Their bodies were angled inward, their drinks already half-gone, and they were engaged in deep discussion.
As usual, Rose noticed him first. Her blue eyes narrowed, and her eyebrows knitted together as Shane approached the group. He definitely looked out of place in the current setting. His unzipped coat revealed the short-sleeve beige polo sweater he had chosen, which fit perfectly in the right places. The sweater was paired with black twill khakis and white sneakers. Tonight, Shane had actually put thought into his hair that had grown over the past month.
Upon reaching the booth, Shane practically threw himself into the open space next to Hayden. He didn’t wait for an invitation or offering. After the night he had, Shane reached straight past Hayden and plucked the beer bottle from his hand, taking a long swing. The cold liquid was bitter and flat on his tongue. He never liked beer because the familiar taste was unpleasant, but he still indulged here and there because it got the job done.
“Hey!” Hayden protested. “You know, I could’ve bought you one,” he added as Shane wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Well, you weren’t drinking it fast enough,” Shane muttered as he sank into his seat. He played with the label on the bottle, focusing on the condensation dripping from its glass figure.
Hayden blinked at his now-empty hand, then at Shane. “You good?”
Shane took another sip, continuing to avoid his friends’ faces. He could feel all of their eyes piercing through him like needles. Shane had never been well-versed in expressing his feelings or articulating his thoughts. His mom always tells him that he spends more time in his head than the hours of the day permitted.
Shane let out an exasperated sigh. “Define good.”
It was Rose’s turn to investigate him. She leaned in closer, voice full of the softness that always pulled him out of his shell. “Why are you here? I thought you were on a date.”
Shane finally looked up and briefly met her eyes. He didn’t want to go into the same old details. Well, as usual, my date was a total scumbag. But what’s new? How many times is this now? Four? Shane thought to himself. He then gave a tight smile that fooled no one.
“Date ended early.”
You could cut the tension with a knife as the table became silent. A few seconds later, Hayden let out a low whistle. Jackie smacked Hayden’s arm and gave him her infamous death glare. Svetlana nodded her head, already reading between the lines.
“And?” Rose prompted gently, trying to fish out more details.
Shane lifted the bottle again to his lips and took a sip, slightly grimacing at the taste. He then shrugged. “Turns out I’m great at picking men who like to keep their options very open.”
Shane should have known better than to say it out loud. Before the words could fully settle, a light chuckle could be heard, causing a crawling sensation creep up his spine. Shane could feel his freckled face begin to warm and knew his cheeks were now displaying a dusty rose tint. He was aware that across the table, someone was about to make the night go from bad to worse. Shane didn’t look; he didn’t have to look. Only a certain sound could make him feel like his blood was so heated to the point his skin would burst like a broken pipe.
From across the table, Ilya leaned back against the booth with a smirk, as if he’d been waiting for his chance to add his unwanted comments. “Shocker,” he said.
“Not helping,” Shane bit back while shooting him a glare.
Ilya held up his hands, unapologetic. “You look like hell. It’s the same look you’ve had for the past two months, actually.”
“Wow, Ilya. Thank you so much,” Shane responded with an attempt at sarcasm. “You really know how to boost morale.”
“I’m just saying. You have these dates; you either fall for them and rush into something that we all know will last a few weeks, or you immediately agree to these dates, and they end up being the biggest assholes because you didn’t know anything about them besides their first name.”
Shane let out a breath through his nose, slow and deliberate. “Ilya, you have no idea about what you’re talking about,” he said sharply.
Ilya scoffed. “I know you.”
“I guess since we know each other, you won’t mind my thoughts about you,” Shane shot back. “You only like sex because you like being wanted. You’re great at that part—hell, I’ll give you that. But then you just always bail before it turns into something you actually have to deal with. Not even caring about who it hurts in the process.”
Ilya’s smile didn’t fade, rather it sharpened as though Shane hit something sensitive. He goes to open his mouth to respond, but Rose cuts in at the nick of time.
Okay,” Rose says firmly. “That’s enough.” The table then went still.
Shane couldn’t tell how long he and Ilya held each other’s gaze, communicating something unspoken between them, until Hayden cleared his throat and Jackie reached for her drink.
Whatever that had been, it wasn’t finished.
Everyone at the table knew it.