Part 1
Shawn didn’t post anything on Instagram the day he landed in Queensland. No wellness retreat snaps, no ocean views, no cryptic captions. For once, he wanted the silence. The kind that didn’t ask anything of him.
He slid into the backseat of the inconspicuous rental Robert had sent. No driver, no entourage. Just Robert himself at the wheel — baseball cap low, a faint tan line across his forehead, and that same easy, offbeat smile that had made their voice messages stretch too long into the night for weeks now.
“Still remember how to drive on the left?” Shawn asked, tossing his bag in the back.
Robert gave a dry laugh. “Mate, I’m letting you off the hook. You don’t have to try to be local.”
Shawn smirked, then looked out the window. They drove in relative quiet — nothing awkward, just familiar in a strange way. A few inside jokes. Robert’s playlist. Long stretches of road framed by pale trees, and suburbs that thinned out without ceremony.
The house wasn’t some wilderness hideaway. Just a low-built, modern place a bit inland, mostly glass and shadow, tucked behind a narrow street of quiet driveways and climbing bougainvillea. The kind of house that didn’t scream celebrity, but also didn’t apologize for being curated.
Shawn stepped into the entryway, toeing off his sneakers.
“Smells like tea and something green,” he said, sniffing.
“Eucalyptus diffuser,” Robert replied, tossing keys into a bowl. “You’re not the only one who dabbles in ‘wellness.’”
They both laughed — a little too long — then Shawn wandered into the open-plan kitchen, running his fingers along the cool bench top, grounding himself. Making himself at home.
***
That evening, they made dinner together. Simple. Pasta, a chopped salad, a few lazy sips of wine. There wasn’t pressure to talk, but they kept doing it anyway — the way people do when they’re both a little nervous about what the silence might say instead.
“So you’ve got like, actual free time?” Robert asked as he rinsed tomatoes, passing one to Shawn without looking at him.
Shawn shrugged. “For a minute. Everyone thinks I’m in Byron doing yoga and healing my chakras or whatever.”
Robert smiled, not mocking. “You’re healing them here, with tomatoes and awkward eye contact?”
Shawn smirked, chewing. “Apparently.”
They fell into a kind of rhythm, as Shawn got settled and spend these days at the house. Mornings over coffee and mismatched mugs. Afternoons in the pool. Evenings watching movies they never finished because they kept talking over them — not deeply, but stupid things. Childhood stories. Weird fans. The worst headlines they’d read about themselves.
Once, Robert found one of Shawn’s old music videos and put it on the TV, just to mess with him. Shawn groaned and hid under a throw pillow.
“You were something, dude.”
“I was twenty-one and possessed,” Shawn muttered.
But he was smiling under the pillow.
***
Time was non-existent, as the days continues. It was in the way their knees sometimes touched when they sat too close on the couch. Or the way they stood just a beat too long next to each other in the kitchen. How Robert started asking Shawn for help with the espresso machine he clearly already knew how to use.
There was one night — the fourth or fifth — when they stayed up too late talking outside. A storm was humming in the distance, but it hadn’t broken yet. The sky was heavy. Shawn was barefoot, wearing Robert’s hoodie without asking.
“Do you ever think about how weird it is,” Robert said suddenly, “to be this… known, and still feel like no one actually knows you?”
Shawn looked over, the expression in his eyes unreadable. He didn’t answer right away.
Then: “Yeah. All the time.”
A long pause.
Robert turned to face him properly. “Do you ever get scared you’ll forget how to just be a person?”
Shawn gave a quiet laugh, a little breathless. “Yeah. I guess that’s why I came here.”
They both went still.
Something shifted — small but noticeable. Like they’d stumbled into something fragile and true without meaning to.
Robert glanced away first.
“Sorry. Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable…”
Shawn shook his head. “No, no. It helps to talk.”
Neither of them moved.
Then Robert said, very softly, “You can keep the hoodie, by the way.”
Shawn’s smile broke, a little crooked. “I was gonna pretend I packed it by mistake.”
* end of Part 1 *
Shawn didn’t post anything on Instagram the day he landed in Queensland. No wellness retreat snaps, no ocean views, no cryptic captions. For once, he wanted the silence. The kind that didn’t ask anything of him.
He slid into the backseat of the inconspicuous rental Robert had sent. No driver, no entourage. Just Robert himself at the wheel — baseball cap low, a faint tan line across his forehead, and that same easy, offbeat smile that had made their voice messages stretch too long into the night for weeks now.
“Still remember how to drive on the left?” Shawn asked, tossing his bag in the back.
Robert gave a dry laugh. “Mate, I’m letting you off the hook. You don’t have to try to be local.”
Shawn smirked, then looked out the window. They drove in relative quiet — nothing awkward, just familiar in a strange way. A few inside jokes. Robert’s playlist. Long stretches of road framed by pale trees, and suburbs that thinned out without ceremony.
The house wasn’t some wilderness hideaway. Just a low-built, modern place a bit inland, mostly glass and shadow, tucked behind a narrow street of quiet driveways and climbing bougainvillea. The kind of house that didn’t scream celebrity, but also didn’t apologize for being curated.
Shawn stepped into the entryway, toeing off his sneakers.
“Smells like tea and something green,” he said, sniffing.
“Eucalyptus diffuser,” Robert replied, tossing keys into a bowl. “You’re not the only one who dabbles in ‘wellness.’”
They both laughed — a little too long — then Shawn wandered into the open-plan kitchen, running his fingers along the cool bench top, grounding himself. Making himself at home.
***
That evening, they made dinner together. Simple. Pasta, a chopped salad, a few lazy sips of wine. There wasn’t pressure to talk, but they kept doing it anyway — the way people do when they’re both a little nervous about what the silence might say instead.
“So you’ve got like, actual free time?” Robert asked as he rinsed tomatoes, passing one to Shawn without looking at him.
Shawn shrugged. “For a minute. Everyone thinks I’m in Byron doing yoga and healing my chakras or whatever.”
Robert smiled, not mocking. “You’re healing them here, with tomatoes and awkward eye contact?”
Shawn smirked, chewing. “Apparently.”
They fell into a kind of rhythm, as Shawn got settled and spend these days at the house. Mornings over coffee and mismatched mugs. Afternoons in the pool. Evenings watching movies they never finished because they kept talking over them — not deeply, but stupid things. Childhood stories. Weird fans. The worst headlines they’d read about themselves.
Once, Robert found one of Shawn’s old music videos and put it on the TV, just to mess with him. Shawn groaned and hid under a throw pillow.
“You were something, dude.”
“I was twenty-one and possessed,” Shawn muttered.
But he was smiling under the pillow.
***
Time was non-existent, as the days continues. It was in the way their knees sometimes touched when they sat too close on the couch. Or the way they stood just a beat too long next to each other in the kitchen. How Robert started asking Shawn for help with the espresso machine he clearly already knew how to use.
There was one night — the fourth or fifth — when they stayed up too late talking outside. A storm was humming in the distance, but it hadn’t broken yet. The sky was heavy. Shawn was barefoot, wearing Robert’s hoodie without asking.
“Do you ever think about how weird it is,” Robert said suddenly, “to be this… known, and still feel like no one actually knows you?”
Shawn looked over, the expression in his eyes unreadable. He didn’t answer right away.
Then: “Yeah. All the time.”
A long pause.
Robert turned to face him properly. “Do you ever get scared you’ll forget how to just be a person?”
Shawn gave a quiet laugh, a little breathless. “Yeah. I guess that’s why I came here.”
They both went still.
Something shifted — small but noticeable. Like they’d stumbled into something fragile and true without meaning to.
Robert glanced away first.
“Sorry. Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable…”
Shawn shook his head. “No, no. It helps to talk.”
Neither of them moved.
Then Robert said, very softly, “You can keep the hoodie, by the way.”
Shawn’s smile broke, a little crooked. “I was gonna pretend I packed it by mistake.”
* end of Part 1 *
