Chapter Text
When Shane Hollander entered the train station in Toulouse the last thing he expected was to be hit by the same scorching heat he had been feeling outside. He took a few more steps into the building hoping to eventually start feeling the cool air conditioning but he had no such luck. Now that he was approaching the main area of the station it was even worse than outside because the number of people gathered in front of the Departures board was making the air very stifling.
Great!
Shane looked up at the board and saw that several trains were delayed. Some by hours! One was announced as suppressed without any further explanation. His own train, the 14:33 Intercités to Montpellier, was announced with ´Retard 15 minutes´. A fifteen-minute delay wasn’t too bad. Shane reached for his phone to make sure he still had some time to kill, but didn’t bother to look for a seat. With all those trains delayed, the sitting area was chaotic and most of those people weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Instead, he started walking through the station to find a convenience store. There was a Relay in the corner. Not the best option for something remotely healthy but it would have to do. He spent some time perusing the store for some kind of snack that he deemed healthy enough but all he could find were a few protein bars. He picked a sports magazine – probably all about French sports and events, but it would keep him entertained on the two-hour ride – and finally a big bottle of freezing cold water that he sipped as soon as he paid for it.
Once he put everything in his backpack he went in search of a bathroom, used the facilities and followed the signs to his platform, but paused when he noticed a coffee shop on the way there. He had a two-second debate with himself trying to decide if he should get a croissant and an iced latte.
Fuck it! Why not? he thought with a sigh.
Shane wasn’t playing hockey in the foreseeable future, if ever again. It wasn’t like the carbs and sugar would ruin his barely-existent career. But he couldn’t think about that right now. Not when he was about to spend two idle hours on a train. It would only make his thoughts spiral.
He got the latte and the croissant and only then made his way to the platform with a few minutes to spare. He calmly ate his pastry and sipped his drink as he waited, determined not to think about the low nutritional value of his snack. Well. There was no need for a macrobiotic diet anymore!
When the speakers announced the train, he checked his phone for the coach and seat number and double-checked that he was on the right platform. Yes, the platform board was announcing the train to Marseille. Shane wasn’t going all the way there, though. He was exiting in Montpellier where he was spending a couple more days. He had been in the city for five days and had already visited all the main tourist attractions there, sent all the pretty photos to his parents, Hayden, Jackie, J.J. and even to his grandmother. Now he was exploring other cities withing day-trip distance. He’d already been to Toulouse the day before and returned very early this morning to avoid the scorching heat and the crowds. His plan was to spend the entire day, but with over 40ºC in the afternoon, he decided it was better to return early and maybe come back the next morning. Either that or spend the day in Carcassonne. He still needed to check the weather apps and decide the best option in the middle of a heatwave. It was way too hot for his Canadian self. He was used to freezing temperatures and harsh winds. Not this boiling heat.
When the train finally arrived, Shane checked yet again if he was entering the right coach and finally stepped inside. The cool air that welcomed him felt perfect on his skin, making him sigh in relief after a very hot morning. He was quick to find his seat in the mostly empty 1st class coach. 22A. It was a four seat bay with a table and Shane, once again, looked at his phone to confirm that his place was the window seat, facing the head of the train. Not that it made much of a difference, the remaining seats of the bay were empty, like most of the car.
There were two businessmen sitting near the furthest door, an older lady two seats in front of them and when Shane sat he realized there was a young dirty blond guy in the bay across the aisle from his own. Window seat, facing the rear of the train, so fully visible to Shane. Why someone would willingly choose a backwards seat, he would never understand, especially considering that the rest of that bay was empty.
Shane tried not to stare at the guy as he took his earphones case, water and magazine from the backpack and left them on the table, got up again and put the backpack in the overhead compartment so it wouldn’t occupy the seat beside him, in case it belonged to someone boarding the train in the next stops. There were still three stops before Montpellier.
Once Shane was fully settled into his seat, he selected his usual hockey podcast and started the latest episode… only to regret that decision less than ten seconds into it when the host announced they would be analyzing Shane Hollander’s recent scandal and consequent leave of absence. Shane couldn’t suppress the small groan that escaped him as he ripped the earphones from his ear and it took him all of his self-control not to throw them on the table. Still, this small outburst earned him a glance from the guy sitting across the aisle.
Shane felt bad enough to send him an apologetic look for disturbing his… whatever the guy was doing. And he was surprised when he got the smallest nod back. Now that Shane had actually looked for more than a second, he could see the guy had very unruly curls, a long nose, cute cupid’s bow and something that Shane supposed was a mole on the left cheek, by the couldn’t properly see it from his spot. The guy was dressed in a black tank top that showed off big, well defined biceps and his long legs were covered by black sports pants as he stretched them under the opposite seat.
Fuck! Now I’m staring, he realized and immediately brought his eyes back to his own table and the sports magazine. Yes, let’s see what’s happening at Roland Garros.
And to his own surprise, Shane started reading and in a few minutes was completely engrossed in the magazine instead of his own thoughts. French was his second language but he was fluent, it only took him a little more effort and that was enough to keep his thoughts focused on it instead of wandering where they shouldn’t, like the blond guy across the aisle or another blond guy back in Canada that blew Shane’s entire career into shambles only to break his heart a few weeks later. No. Back to Roland Garros!
It was only when the train started slowing down that Shane closed the magazine. They were probably approaching Carcassonne and he’d been considering going there the next day or the day after, so he looked out the window trying to catch anything interesting about the place but there wasn’t much to see yet. Only fields on both sides of the train. They were going so slow that Shane thought they were approaching the train station, but judging by the landscape they were still far away from the city.
Somewhere between Toulouse and wherever they were, the blond guy had put his sunglasses on and seemed to be dozing off, bathed in sunlight entering the window. The light was giving him an almost ethereal glow and once again, Shane had to force his gaze away from the guy’s peaceful face. Stop being a creep!
He turned back to his own window and with nothing to focus on other than field crops, his traitorous brain went back to another blond.
Matthew
Fuck, it still hurt to even think about his name. And the worst part was that part of Shane still missed him.
Two years of hiding, two years of rushed encounters whenever they could find the time for each other. Two years without ever going with him to a restaurant or a coffee shop. Two years keeping him a secret to protect them both only to be outed by a fucking paparazzi. Someone who decided to follow them to an empty beach in Malibu of all places! It was Hollywood. So many celebrities and movie stars to follow and that fucker went after a barely known Canadian hockey player who happened to go to a beach. Shane knew he was probably the most famous hockey player in North America. But Malibu had always felt like a different reality. Nobody cared about hockey there. He didn’t even remember ever being stopped for a selfie or an autograph the few times he had been there before, let alone be followed by paparazzi! That should have been his first clue that something was wrong about that entire picture from the beginning. The betrayal wouldn’t have hurt so much a couple of weeks later.
All it took was a single photo. They weren’t even kissing. Just holding hands on a fucking beach. Holding hands and his career fell apart in a matter of hours. First he lost his own locker room, then his C and lastly his job… kind of. The Metros Captain couldn’t be gay. Couldn’t hold hands with another man. Couldn’t have a boyfriend. Couldn’t be Captain anymore. Couldn’t even play. No matter if he’d won the team three Stanley Cups. No matter if he was a generational talent, light years ahead of any other player in the league. Best scorer, most assists, two MVPs. But none of that mattered because he couldn’t play hockey and be gay.
His career was as good as dead. The Metros benched him mid-season until further notice only because legally, they couldn’t fire him. The only reason why he wasn’t completely kicked out of the NHL was Yuna. His mother had negotiated a very solid contract with the team all those years ago that included a No-Trade clause and made it almost impossible for the team to fire him. But they tried to force him to resign. And, once again, it was Yuna who stopped him and suggested a six month leave of absence, hoping the scandal would be forgotten… or, at least, had died down by the beginning of the next season. But Shane knew his own team better than he knew how to skate. He’d lost the respect of his Coach and the locker room, there was no way his teammates would ever accept him back, least of all as their captain, not even with Hayden and J.J. still firmly on his side.
Shane could waive his No-Trade clause but then what? What team would want him with all the problems that could bring to the locker room? Maybe the Admirals or the Raiders could eventually accept it but they didn’t have the cap space to accommodate his high value. And the teams that did, were in no position to ever let him dream of another Cup.
So yes, his career was over. If not now, then in another few months. He knew there was no other option but to resign and maybe find a job coaching some minor team or commenting hockey. Financially, he knew he was secure for the rest of his life, but he’d go crazy if he was forced into full retirement at 26.
But for now he was stuck in a fucking train in the middle of nowhere because his therapist thought it was a great idea for him to go on a long vacation in Europe. I’m sure people won’t recognize you there. And his mother agreed with her. He’d reluctantly picked France as his starting point because it seemed the more manageable option for him given that he was fluent in French and it was cultural enough to keep him entertained. What he didn’t expect was to get there in the middle of the fucking hottest heatwave ever registered! And speaking of heat… why was it so freaking hot in the train all of a sudden?
It was only then that Shane realized the cool air he felt before, coming from the small vents below the window was gone. Fucking great!
He looked around the train car. The businessmen had pulled the shade down their window and kept talking in low voices. The older lady was still reading her book but was now waving a hand-fan in front of her face. Only the blond guy looked completely unbothered by the heat, still dozing off with the sun hitting his face.
The train continued at a painfully slow pace for another ten minutes until it finally arrived in Carcassonne. Shane could see only a handful of people waiting on the platform but none of them entered that coach. The board outside announced a delay of forty-two minutes. And apparently they weren’t in a hurry to get to the destination because ten minutes later they were still stopped in the exact same spot.
The blond guy was awake now. He sat up a little straighter and removed his sunglasses to look outside, probably checking where they were. At least the platform was covered this time and that made the stay a little more bearable.
When the train started moving again the guy got his wallet from the backpack on the other seat, picked his phone from the table and got up, stretching a little. It was enough to make his tank top ride up and let Shane see the very well-defined abs for a second before the guy started walking in the direction of the bar, clearly not worried about his backpack being stolen.
The train kept going slower and slower. That was going to delay them even further. Not that Shane was in a hurry to get to Montpellier, he had no plans for the rest of the afternoon other than deciding where to go the next day and maybe getting an early dinner at the hotel.
The guy returned to his seat a few minutes later with a cold bottle of water and this time Shane caught the faint scent of cigarettes that hadn’t been there before. He wondered if the train had a smoking area but it was really none of his business. And before he could think more about it, the train came to a stop. Again! In the middle of rural nowhere. Under 40ºC. With no air conditioning.
“Fuck!” Shane muttered low under his breath and took a long gulp of his water. It was warm at his point but it was better than nothing. Were they trying to boil the passengers alive?
Another thirty minutes without moving.
Shane was using the magazine as a fan, waving it right in front of his face but that was doing very little to cool him down. It looked like the rest of the passengers weren’t doing much better, all of them fanning themselves with whatever they were able to use. All but the guy across the aisle. He looked perfectly happy to stare at the landscape outside and sip his water, as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. He’s probably on vacation, Shane thought to himself. Okay, so am I, but this slow torrid train ride wasn’t part of the plan and it was staring to get on his nerves.
“Mesdames et Messieurs, votre attention s’il vous plaît,” came the sudden announcement, “En raison d’un incident technique, ce train terminera exceptionnellement son trajet en Gare de Narbonne. Les voyageurs à destination de Marseille sont priés de descendre du train avec l’ensemble de leurs bagages et de rester sur le quai. Un train de remplacement assurera la poursuite du voyage vers Marseille. Nous vous remercions de votre compréhension.”
This time, Shane didn’t even feel ashamed of his frustrated groan. They were one hour late already and who knew when they would arrive in Narbonne at the current pace. Judging by the sounds from the other passengers they were just as frustrated as he was. All except the guy. He looked more confused than frustrated and this time he looked directly at Shane.
“Excuse me,” the guy said with a heavy accent that Shane couldn’t immediately place. It was Slavic for sure, probably Russian but he didn’t know any Slavic language enough to pinpoint the origin. “This train ends… in… Narbonne? We have to leave?”
“Yes,” Shane confirmed with a nod, “if you’re going past Narbonne you need to change trains,” he explained with some basic hand gestures, not sure if the guy could fully understand English. “They said to wait in the platform for a replacement train to Marseille.”
The guy nodded, Shane wasn’t sure if that was his way of thanking him or if confirming that his understanding was correct. Maybe a bit of both. It was only some seconds later that an actual answer came. “Thank you.”
The next fifteen minutes went by in scalding slowness that only made Shane feel more and more anxious. He was sweating and hated it. As a professional athlete, of course he was used to sweating, even in public, but that was in his sport clothes and his hockey gear, during practice, games, when he went for runs or at the gym. Places where it was socially acceptable and even expected to sweat. Doing it on a train felt wrong and was making him uncomfortable. Even more so because he didn’t know when he would be able to get back to the hotel and finally take a shower.
When the train finally reached the station, Shane quickly grabbed his backpack, shoved his belongings inside and went to the nearest door. All he wanted was to get out of that forced sauna.
But of course it was even hotter outside in the mid-afternoon. Shane immediately tried to find some shade on the platform, just like the rest of the passengers as soon as they exited.
Once everyone was outside, the conductor finally left the train.
“Attendez ici,” he said loud enough to be heard by everyone. “Votre train arrivera dans sept minutes. Conservez les places indiquées sur votre billet.” And with that he was gone without any additional information.
The blond guy was only a few steps away from Shane and he had the same look on his face from the previous announcement, as if he wasn’t sure he understood the message. His French was probably very basic. So, before he could ask again, Shane took a step to him.
“He said to wait here,” he explained, “the train should be here in seven minutes and we should keep the seats indicated on the ticket.”
For a second, the guy looked a little surprised that Shane bothered to relay the information without any prompting.
“Oh. Thank you,” he said with a small smile and Shane tried not to stare but damn, the guy was beautiful and now that he was close enough, he could see how blue his eyes were. They brought out the color of his dirty blond curls.
“You’re welcome.”
Once again, Shane had to force himself not to stare, so he returned to his previous place under the shade of a pillar while the guy went to the opposite one, under the intense sun but away from most people. It was only then that Shane noticed he was rolling a black travel bag at his side, with his backpack resting on top. A very luxurious brand in size L. Shane knew that because he had the exact same model back in his hotel room, but in silver instead of black. So, most likely a tourist, then.
Shane waited the promised seven minutes. The air outside the train didn’t feel as oppressive but it was still very hot, so he was still sweaty. At this point, everyone was.
Ten minutes and there was no train.
Shane checked his phone, tried to find any information but all he was able to get was the announcement that his original train was delayed one and a half hour.
Fifteen minutes and there was no sign of a new train. Some people were clearly considering going inside the station to ask, but they didn’t want to risk missing the train.
The guy was still in the same spot, slowly smoking a cigarette. Shane didn’t know if he was allowed to smoke there, he couldn’t see any sign forbidding it, so it was none of his business.
He also had no business staring at the curls or the way those round lips curled around the cigarette. Definitely not his business how his Adam’s Apple looked when he lifted his neck to blow out the smoke up into the air instead of the platform. Get a grip, Hollander!
Thirty minutes and Shane was actively stopping himself from looking at the guy and trying not to check how far they were from Montpellier and if it were viable to call an Uber.
Forty minutes and he was pacing in circles and rubbing his hand through his hair. He should be home. He should be begging some school to let him coach the kids or opening his own hockey school. Or something! What he shouldn’t be doing was waiting for a missing train in the middle of nowhere, France, lusting after strangers under 40ºC. Was it too bad if he called a taxi to the nearest airport and went home?
“Here,” came the Slavic voice. Shane could have sworn it was a Russian accent. And the guy handed him a cold, unopened bottle of water. “You look like you need this.”
“What?” Shane finally stopped pacing to stare at the guy. This time he had good reason to stare. A complete stranger was offering him water out of nowhere. He still had his own in the backpack, but that was probably soup now. “Where…” He was so surprised that he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence and ask where the guy had gotten the water from.
“Machine.” The stranger seemed to understand the question anyway and pointed at the vending machine a few feet away away from them. There was a small line of people getting cold drinks and snacks. “You looked like… you need water.”
Yes, Shane needed water. And a train. And to get back to the hotel where he could take a long shower and relax and maybe not book the next flight back to Ottawa so that he could hide in his childhood room at his parent’s home. And not get lost in the blue of a stranger’s eyes.
“Thank you,” he said in what he hoped was a steady voice. “That was kind of you.” He smiled almost shyly and opened the bottle to take a sip. The cold water made him feel a little more grounded and he sighed without realizing. “I guess I needed that.”
The stranger nodded at him with a look that Shane couldn’t decipher but before either of them could say anything there was the loud announcement.
“Le train Intercités numéro 5987 en provenance de Bordeaux et à destination de Marseille, dont le départ était initialement prévu à 15h58 entrera en gare voie 6. Il desservira Béziers, Montpellier Saint-Roch, Nîmes Centre, Arles et Marseille Saint-Charles.”
“Really? Not a fucking word about the two-hour delay?” Shane muttered as the train approached the platform and he remembered that the guy probably didn’t get the entire announcement. So he pointed at the vehicle. “Our train.”
“Same seats, da?” Something about the tone and the intense stare from the blue eyes told Shane that the guy wasn’t only confirming the information from the conductor earlier. It sounded like an assurance. It sounded like ‘Don’t freak out. I’m here.’
Once again, Shane forced his own anxiety away… or at least tried to. It wasn’t the kind f thing he could just ignore, like broken ribs or torn ligaments during the playoffs. He’d worked himself into full panic attacks in the past. He knew that when it got bad… it could get very ugly. But the arrival of the train and the cold water were enough to soothe his nerves a little.
“Yes. Same seats.”
Slowly the crowd started boarding the new train and Shane followed the guy to their coach, checking it was the correct one. As soon as he entered the car, he felt the cool air hit his entire body. “Oh, fuck, yes,” he sighed in relief and dropped into the same seat as before.
“No sauna this time,” the guy smirked at him from his seat and for once, Shane had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.
“Well, you looked way too comfortable in the heat.” Shane didn’t mean it as an accusation but realized a little too late that he sounded almost bitchy. That made him close his eyes in embarrassment. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to –“
The stranger laughed and waved him off. “Is okay.” Clearly he wasn’t offended by the outburst. “I like heat.”
There was liking heat and then there was actively seeking it out in the middle of a heatwave. But that was something else that Shane wouldn’t be able to understand. Again… Canadian. So he only responded with a small smile and tried to relax in the seat, slowly sipping the cold water. That had been a nice gesture.
Except… ten minutes later the train was still there. Still not moving. What the fuck is going on with this train now?
He looked out the window trying to see something different, any sign that would tell him the train was about to move, but there was nothing. Only passengers waiting for other trains.
“Why are we still here?” Shane muttered to himself only realizing he’d spoken aloud when the guy shrugged in a clear ‘Who knows?’ gesture.
But as if to answer his question, the train speakers came to life with another announcement:
“Mesdames et Messieurs, votre attention s’il vous plaît. En raison d’un incident technique, tous les voyageurs sont priés de descendre du train avec l’ensemble de leurs bagages et de rejoindre le train de remplacement en voie 2. Nous vous remercions de votre compréhension.”
“They’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Shane groaned as he hit his head against the headrest.
“Another change?” the guy asked, not too impressed with the idea of moving again but still way too calm, way too collected in the middle of this train ride from hell.
“Yes, another change,” Shane answered with an annoyed huff and grabbed his backpack a little more roughly than he normally would. “We have to move to platform 2.”
Now that got the tiniest flash of annoyance from the stranger. But it was gone so fast that Shane wasn’t even sure if he’d imagined it.
“Same seats again?”
“Hmm… I… I don’t know… I suppose so.” Shane admitted as he waited for the stranger to get his travel bag from the rack near the door and they exited the train together. Shane tried to remember if the announcement said anything about seats but he was so annoyed with the entire thing that he couldn’t tell. “Sorry, I don’t remember if they said anything about the seats.”
“We keep same seats, then,” the stranger said with a shrug as if that were obvious and they made their way together to the other platform along with the other passengers leaving the train.
Shane noticed that everyone looked more frustrated than before. But a delay of almost three hours did that to people!
This time when the guy entered the new train, Shane didn’t even bother to check if they were in the right coach. He really didn’t give a damn at this point. All he wanted was to get out of there.
Shane collapsed on the same seat as before and left his bag next to him. The other guy was still sat on the opposite bay but this time instead of the window seat he took the aisle one, for some reason, still facing the rear of the train.
Now that they were settled, the guy looked just as unbothered by the entire ordeal as before. Shane looked back and saw they were now alone in the coach. He didn’t know if the other passengers found another transportation or picked different seats this time. Were they in the wrong place? Well, who cared?
In spite of the cool air of the car, Shane’s hands were sweating and that only made him feel worse. He checked the time on his phone. 7PM. He should have arrived in Montpellier more than two hours ago. Why weren’t they moving yet? He huffed again and rubbed his sweaty hands on his dress shorts.
Fifteen minutes later and they were still there! Why? What the fuck is happening?
And suddenly the train started moving.
Shane didn’t even try to hide the sigh of relief. Except, that relief was very short lived because ten seconds later the train stopped again.
“No, no, no, no, no,” he muttered. They hadn’t even left the platform! “Fuck!”
Shane groaned again and rubbed his face. The train had moved so there was someone there to make it happen. And it had fucking worked. So why were they stuck there for hours? None of this made sense!
With another huff, Shane got up from his seat, leaving all his things there. He walked to the door and looked outside, hoping to see something different from that spot, but there was nothing new there. Only the same platforms and the same people waiting for the trains. He could even still see the train station building. With another huff, he walked to the other car and noticed it had only a few passengers there, including the older woman from before who was now talking to another passenger. They both looked annoyed but nowhere near as much as he was feeling.
He went back to the door and tried to open it but it didn’t move. Tried again and nothing happened. “Fuck!” He was stuck here. Now he couldn’t even leave! Was this shit even legal?
What the fuck was going on? Did this mean they were about to depart? Should he call someone? He had no idea what to do so he returned to his seat and rubbed his eyes.
He reached for his phone on the table to check the time again and it took him two tries for his sweaty fingers to activate the screen. 19:15. “Fuck!” He muttered again under his breath but apparently it was loud enough to be heard by the other guy, because for the first time he actually looked concerned.
What time was it in Ottawa? Should he call his mom? She’d know what to do or who to call to help him out f this hell trap! What if she couldn’t? What if he couldn’t even reach her? Now even the cool air felt difficult to breathe. Yes, he needed to call her. Or maybe the police! What was the emergency number in France?
Shane was about to grab his phone again when the guy suddenly sat on the seat right in front of him, stretched his hand and smiled. “Hey. I’m Ilya.”