[Fic] The Student Project, Ch 1

[adevyish]

Title: The Student Project
Fandom: Game Changers/Heated Rivalry
Pairing: Shane/Ilya
Rating: PG13, eventually probably R
Word Count: 3,400

Summary:

Shane Hollander is a first-year student at the University of British Columbia. He just wants to study, make robots, and maybe not be caught sleeping in the lab overnight again.

Unfortunately for him, Ilya Rozanov is his classmate, and Ilya is looking for a team. Because Ilya has one goal: to pull off the greatest prank in UBC history.

Also on AO3

---

1. Paper Lions; Do You Wanna

Shane thinks he’s dreaming when he first sees them.

There’s a zoo of jumbo balloon animals bopping their way down the stairs. Strange shapes made of arm-sized tubes moving amidst rigid metal and glass railings. A shocking mass of primary colours that pop against monotone walls.

Last Shane checked it was 9:31 p.m., and whatever he’s seeing would make more sense if he’d fallen asleep in the lab again.

“Can you even buy balloons that big?” Shane wonders to himself.

A head pops out of the mess. A guy with light brown curls, an upturned nose, and a distracting mole on his cheek. “Yes,” he says, in a lightly accented voice.

Huh, Shane thinks. You learn something new every day. He adjusts his backpack and continues down the stairwell, trailing the balloons moving at the pace of a preschool field trip.

“Want to help?” the guy asks from the maze of balloons.

It’s polite to help, so Shane agrees. “Sure.”

“Thanks,” the guy sing-songs. He adds, with a tinge of triumph, “You are an accomplice now. So no snitching.”

“I’m not a snitch,” Shane exclaims.

“Shh,” the balloons say. “Here.” The tangle of balloons part in half, and honey curls reemerge from the fray. “You get the first half of campus.”

Shane takes the proffered balloons without thinking. He follows automatically as the guy continues down the stairs, colourful shapes bouncing behind him.

It takes Shane another flight of stairs before his sleepy brain kicks in. “Wait,” he says. “Who are you? What is this for?”

“I’m Ilya,” the guy says. “Everyone calls me Roz. This is my introduction to campus.”

Shane frowns. “Your introduction to campus?”

“Yes,” Ilya says, puffed up and all confidence. “I am introducing campus to me.”

A sense of dread takes Shane. “You are — oh no. Is this a prank? I don’t want to be involved in a prank. I want to go home and study.”

“Is a student project,” Ilya says with an emphatic tug of balloons. “For furthering study of engineering.”

“No,” Shane insists, stopping in the middle of a flight of stairs. “I can’t get into a prank. I need to go home. My mom is going to phone me and ask where I am.”

Ilya tilts his head, considering. “Tell her you stay late studying and will crash at a friend’s place. I have a place on campus, you can crash at it.”

Shane tries not to full-body cringe. “I’m not crashing in a dorm. There’s too many people! And you’re not allowed to have guests.”

“I live in my own apartment, it’s fine,” Ilya says.

“You live your own apartment? On campus?” It takes a few moments for Shane’s brain to process the statement further. “Wait, is this how those 48 Hour Mysteries start? I am not staying with a stranger. My mom is not going to let me stay with a stranger.”

Ilya, the stranger, whatever, tsks. “It is eleven p.m. You already told your mother you will crash with a friend and now you are finding lab to sleep in. Yes?”

That was in fact, exactly what Shane was doing. Now he is really freaked out. “How do you know that? Oh fuck, I am really going to be murdered.”

Ilya completely ignores his panic. The guy even rolls his eyes. “Everyone knows. They found you asleep on couch in robotics lab at eight a.m.”

Slightly reassuring, but also, rude.

“I was working on robots,” Shane mutters. “I’m in the robotics club.”

“Everyone knows that too,” Ilya says, “but rest of robotics club is not asleep on basement lab couch. It is September. You are a first year. It makes you look like, what is it. A keener.” Ilya and the gaggle of balloons start moving again, and Shane rushes to catch up.

“Fuck,” Shane says, dragging his own zoo along. “Don’t tell me everyone knows my name too.”

“No, they know you as the guy who fell asleep in the robotics lab. I know your name though,” Ilya says. “Shane Hollander. You are just below me in grades.”

It clicks for Shane. The back of an Adidas hoodie, the same one Ilya’s wearing now. A tidy row of printed numbers at the corner of a paper. “69811091!”

Ilya suddenly stops. He turns to Shane, brow furrowed, and asks, “You know my student number?”

“Uh, sorry,” Shane begins. “I saw you got a perfect mark on the case quiz they were handing back and I accidentally memorized it sorry,” he gets out in a rush.

“Oookay then,” Ilya says. He stands there on the stairs, looks Shane up and down. “Now you know who I am, can you help me with my project? I will pay you in pizza and a guest room.”

Shane has to ask. “Do I even want to know what you’re doing?”

“We!” Ilya exclaims cheerily. “Will give each faculty a mascot!”

It sounds harmless, Shane tells himself. He’s already involved. He gives himself a half second, takes in the springy curls and the riotous balloons. He huffs. “Fine.”

Ilya starts back down the stairs, and Shane follows. One more flight brings the two of them to the ground floor. Ilya, with his many balloons, attempts to push open the door. Shane stays on the second step; he’s worried getting any closer would make the balloons pop.

Finally, Ilya spins around and pushes the bar handle with his butt. A very firm butt, Shane notes absently, cupped very nicely by a form-fitting pair of black jeans. He wonders if Ilya has a workout routine.

The door opens with a hiss, cold air rushing in. Ilya backs out into the night, tugging his balloons low to pass through the doorway. With a quick spin, he’s out and holding the door for Shane.

“Thanks,” Shane says.

“Welcome,” Ilya says, letting go. The door closes slowly.

Shane follows him down the back alley. “Wait,” he says. “Why am I thanking you? I’m the one helping you.”

“No, not helping,” Ilya says. “Accomplice. Come on, we need to get away from Engineering before someone sees us.”

Ilya turns onto a small lane that Shane’s never notices. It’s brightly lit and quiet, but for a slight buzz of electricity. Even campus’ innumerable squirrels are asleep. Shane briefly considers losing the balloons and booking it in the direction of the bus loop, but then he’d have to wait half an hour for the bus and walk another half an hour home. He’d get home after midnight and wake his parents. Fuck.

“Where are we going?” Shane asks, swerving around an awkwardly parked van.

Ilya raises an eyebrow. “So you are in?”

“Well, I’d like to know where I’m going before I sign up.”

“Not that far,” Ilya replies.

“That’s not an answer,” Shane says.

Ilya’s eyes flick towards Shane’s. Shane looks back, waits. Their balloons bounce along merrily.

“Medicine first,” Ilya says. “Is closest. Then Science, Arts, Commerce, Education. Agriculture and Forestry last, they are closer to my apartment.”

Shane runs through the list once more in his head. “Not Pharmaceutical Sciences?”

“Pharmacy is not a faculty,” Ilya says.

Shane shakes his head. “Pharmaceutical Sciences is a faculty. It says so in the Academic Calendar.”

Ilya frowns at him. “You read the whole academic calendar?”

“Well, yeah,” Shane says. “It’s a book?”

Ilya spins, agitating his balloons. “There’s a book? You read a book? You are in engineering; there is this thing called the internet, you know? U-B-C dot C-A.”

“Shut up,” Shane says. “You can’t diss your accomplices.” And anyway, Shane thinks, the front half of the Calendar was very readable. Lots of information about courses and rules, all laid out in neat print.

“Okay,” Ilya says, clearly disagreeing. Shane wants to shut him up with a copy of the Academic Calendar, right now. Right in those curls.

He lets it go as Ilya leads them and their balloons into a small path between two buildings. The waist-level street lights do little to provide visibility.

“We are here,” Ilya says, turning right. “Medicine.”

A series of concrete steps begin at their feet, leading to what looks like a small bunker. To their left is a large concrete wall, and above that a looming building.

Shane stays at the bottom of the stairs. “This is a little weird,” he says.

“This is a public space,” Ilya says from the top of the stairs.

“No, not like that,” Shane says. “It’s dark and empty. We’re the only people around for blocks.”

Ilya does a one-eighty, comes back a few steps. “Do you want the giant blue snake? It is supposed to be big and nurturing. You can keep it, instead of Faculty of Medicine. It will not eat you.”

Ilya sounds earnest, but Shane doesn’t think he’s serious. Shane shakes his head once. “No, I’m fine.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Ilya says. “Remember you have giant animal army on your side.”

“Roz, they’re balloons,” Shane says. But somehow, the distraction works, Shane feeling a little less out of place in this weird corner of the campus he’ll be part of for the next four or five years.

At the top of the steps, Ilya gets him to hold both sets of balloons. Ilya fishes a rock out of his backpack the size of a fist. Neat rope wraps around it, punctuated with a bow.

“Where did you get even get that from?” Shane asks.

“Wreck Beach,” Ilya answers. “Many good rocks there. Many naked people too.”

“That’s environmental disturbance, you shouldn’t do that,” Shane protests. “And don’t lie — no one’s actually naked at Wreck Beach.”

“Oh?” Ilya says, voice rising. “Have you been?”

“Shut up,” Shane says with feeling.

Ilya’s hand reaches out for Shane’s balloons. Shane holds them out, and Ilya pulls out the bright blue shape of a snake. It’s surprisingly detailed — Shane thought that a guy doing pranks would have blown a single green balloon and called it a snake. This snake, however, is a few thicker balloons carefully braided into a rising body, with several thinner balloons pieced together to make a threatening hood.

The ropes holding the balloons are tangled together. Ilya picks them apart, his hands brushing Shane’s. They’re a little dry, but warmer and softer than Shane expected.

“Not these ones — there.” Ilya pulls the rope he wants. “Hold these,” he tells Shane. Shane takes the other ropes in his right hand, opens his left when Ilya gives a little tug.

Ilya does something with the rope and the rock, and sets them down in front of the left set of doors. The balloon snake bobs once, twice, and settles in. It blocks the red doors perfectly.

“Next one: Science.”

Another deserted alleyway leads them back to the familiarity of East Mall. They pass a lone student walking in the direction of the bus loop. The student completely ignores Shane, Ilya, and their menagerie of balloons.

Undisturbed, they continue across University Boulevard, past the Chem-Phys Building, and come to a stop in front of a two-storey glass cube. Ilya plucks a blue thing from Shane’s collection, swaps it with his jumble of animals.

Shane takes in the balloon sculpture in Ilya’s hand. “It looks like a turtle.”

“Of course, because it is a turtle. I am a very good artist,” Ilya boasts.

Shane doubts that, but continues admiring the turtle regardless. It floats happily in front of the dark glass, dancing with its reflection. “Did you make all of these?” Shane asks.

“Yes, you are my only accomplice so far,” Ilya says. He bestows Shane with a grin and a wink.

Shane feels his face heat up, and desperately hopes Ilya can’t see it. This part of campus has way too many lights. He’d like some dark alleyways again.

He manages to calm his heart, slightly. He surreptitiously checks his cheeks with the palm of his hand: not too warm. He glances in the darkened glass of IKB: he looks normal.

Time to continue the conversation. Shane poses, “What’s the point of the balloons anyway?”

Ilya responds like he hasn’t just caused great emotional upheaval in Shane. “You know the stunt where engineers put statues around campus,” he says. “Everyone called the statues art. People praised them. Then a few months later the engineers smashed them all up and told everyone it was their statues.” Ilya mimes a smash and four balloon animals jerk towards him.

Shane had not, actually. He says as much.

Ilya tsks. “Cannot believe you are part of the most distinguished engineering school in the world and do not even know your history.”

“Distinguished? It’s like, third in Canada.”

“I’m not listening to someone does not even know about the statue stunt.”

“Balloons won’t last that long though,” Shane says, eyeing the one in his hand. “They might pop overnight.”

“I coated them all,” Ilya replies casually, as if Shane hasn’t been lowkey worried about the idea for the past half hour of his life. Continues Ilya, “I think they will not stay past the morning. But it is fun! Once people see many balloons, and none in Engineering, it is obvious it is engineers.”

It is obvious, but doesn’t seem like the kind of braggadocio Ilya seems to be into. “Shouldn’t you have put a bigger balloon in front of Engineering?” Shane asks. “With a cool animal or something?”

Ilya spins to look at him. He reaches out and tugs at Shane’s remaining balloon. “You are a genius,” Ilya exclaims. “You are right, why did I not think of that. You have to be my accomplice for all future stunts.”

“No,” Shane says vehemently. “I need to go home at normal people hours.”

“Okay, Mister Robotics Lab. You’re staying at my place, so I have all night to convince you.”

“You can try,” Shane says.

Ilya places the last of Shane’s assigned balloons — a purple peacock — in front of Arts. Not wanting to have to swap balloons again when Ilya does his thing, Shane insists on keeping the remaining ones.

“Are we halfway done?” Shane asks.

“Yes, we turn around now. Commerce next.” Ilya stops at the first intersection of paths, and nods at the concrete column jutting out of a dark mesh of trees. “You know the Clock Tower stunt, yes?”

Shane does, actually, but wants to see Ilya’s face when he asks: “The what?”

Ilya’s jaw drops. “You don’t know the Clock Tower stunt?”

Shane laughs. “I’m joking,” he says. “We put a Volkswagen bug on the top of the tower. Yeah, I know that.”

“Good,” Ilya says. “I do not have to abandon you in middle of nowhere.”

Still laughing, Shane replies, “This is not the middle of nowhere. We are in between two libraries right now.”

Ilya hums. “Ah. You live in library.”

“No way, I don’t like IKB. It’s both a really old and a really new library. That’s weird.”

“You only like new buildings? Or old ones?”

“I’m fine with both,” Shane says. “I just think buildings should stick to one style. Like, Koerner’s fine. It’s pretty new. The basement stacks are nice and quiet and I like looking at the garden while I study.”

Ilya tilts his head, and nods once. Shane gets the sense Ilya’s not necessarily agreeing with him, but filing the information away for later.

Commerce and Education are neighbours, and the two of them divest an crocodile and an owl. At Education, the leafy part of Main Mall begins. It’s a wide boulevard blanketed by large oaks, but is usually too crowded for Shane to enjoy. Campus at night is much nicer, even if he’s with a classmate he only knows in passing.

Shane glances at Ilya. The street lights glow softly from between thick leaves. It softens Ilya’s features, blurs his moles and brows.

“So this is what you do in your free time?” Shane asks. “Pranks?”

“I have other hobbies too. Sexy cars. Sexy girls. Sexy boys.”

“Oh,” Shane says, heat returning to his cheeks. He looks down at the sidewalk, and peers at Ilya through his eyelashes. “That’s cool.”

“Yes, I am very cool.”

“I don’t mean cool like that. I mean like, I’m fine with it. If you like boys. I’m not going to freak out and run away from you or anything.” In fact, now that the possibility is available, Shane’s mind is helpfully running through everything he’d like to touch. The curls, the nose, the biceps being camouflaged by Ilya’s Adidas hoodie.

“Cool,” Ilya says, pulling Shane’s mind back on track. “So you are still okay to crash at mine.”

“Yes sure,” Shane says. He realizes it sounds too eager, and adds, “Only if your apartment is clean. And your guest room is clean.”

“No, the bed is covered in pizza crusts.” Ilya rolls his eyes. “Of course it is clean. No one has slept in guest room since I moved in.”

Shane fiddles with the balloon strings. “Cool. I mean, yeah, that’s fine with me.”

“Okay,” Ilya says.

Ilya leads him between thin columns holding up a massive beam, from which extend an aged lattice. The structure is a little like the famous front of the Museum of Anthropology, if someone shrunk it down to one storey and made it out of brick and old timber.

Past it, Shane follows Ilya into courtyard with a walkway on one half and trees on the other. They stop in the middle, and Ilya reclaims another balloon animal from Shane.

“Perfect place to raise a cow,” Ilya declares, setting a green figure down.

“I don’t know,” Shane says. “I think you need a little bit more dirt and grass.” Ilya snorts.

Shane is left holding a single string, attached to a green squirrel with an oversized tail. It trails the two of them back through the brick trellis, through the oaks, and across the street to a warm concrete building across the street.

Ilya reaches for his hands. He just misses them and snags the last string. Shane isn’t sure if he should drop his hands, and they hover there, just under Ilya’s, as he watches Ilya’s long fingers tie the final knot.

Ilya steps away, breaking the spell. The balloon squirrel stares back at Shane.

“Thanks,” Ilya says, rising from the concrete. “My favourite partner-in-crime.”

Shane shakes his head. “Didn’t you say I’m your only partner-in-crime so far?”

“Ah, but only my favourite gets to stay in my guest room.”

“You’re such a liar,” Shane says. Ilya does not dispute this, and grins.

They settle into quiet, comfortable silence, following the bright lights of Wesbrook Mall to south campus. It is past midnight when they arrive at Ilya’s building, several more minutes before they are inside his apartment.

The lights come on as Shane is still unlacing his running shoes. He’s tired enough that he’s finding the double knots a little tricky. There’s no shoe rack, so he places his shoes perpendicular to the wall.

Ilya is already in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. “What do you want to drink?”

“Water is fine,” Shane replies. He follows Ilya to the kitchen and leans against the counter. He finds himself blinking awake a half second later.

“No, no,” Ilya says. “I promised you pizza.”

“’M not really a fan of pizza,” Shane says. “Sleep now. Shower first.”

Ilya sets a glass of cold water in front of him. “Drink this, then I will show you guest room and bathroom.”

“’Kay.”

The guest room is tidy and clean as promised. Shane is tempted to fall right into it, but knows the idea of dirtying a fresh-made bed will annoy him too much. He takes a quick shower — skipping the bath products because Ilya’s smell too strong — and bundles himself into his spare set of clothes.

When he comes out, he sees Ilya on the navy couch, watching something on the TV. “Shower’s yours,” Shane says.

Ilya glances up at Shane. “Okay,” Ilya says.

Shane studies the light dancing across Ilya’s face. “You should go to bed,” Shane says. “If you’re in my lectures, then we both have physics at nine.”

Ilya looks at him for a long second. He gets up and turns off the TV, and walks towards Shane, stopping a little too close to Shane.

“Good night,” Ilya says, in a low voice.

Shane whispers back. “Night.”

---

Notes

The two stunts mentioned in this chapter both happened — the sculpture art in the 1960s, and the Clock Tower VW in 1980 and 2014.

It doesn’t come up in this chapter, but this fic starts in 2009. (Technically: AU where the print Academic Calendar was discontinued one year later.) When I looked up 2009 Canadian university rankings, an autoplay video about Heated Rivalry popped up. Thanks Maclean’s.

---

Onto Chapter 2