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New Year’s Eve was one of Ronan’s favorite holidays.
Part of that was due to the fact it was the one holiday when Gansey didn’t have to go to his parents’ house, and one of the few during which Matthew wouldn’t resent Ronan for not being with him and Declan and their sick mother. Not that Ronan minded going home to his family for Christmas and Thanksgiving, but it was good to have one day he could celebrate without having to navigate the complicated minefield of his relationship with Declan or put on a brave face for Matthew and Aurora. The Lynch family was full of love for each other, but they were also full of other things that made love a complicating, oftentimes exhausting ordeal.
The other reason Ronan liked New Year’s Eve was how universally acceptable it was to drink until you passed out on this date. Christmas was for going to church, and Thanksgiving was meant for gratitude and family time. Not even the 4 th of July had the same appeal, people too focused on firework shows and too many bad memories on Ronan’s part for it to be truly enjoyable. New Year’s, though? It was the ultimate Going Out And Drowning Yourself In Alcohol holiday. Which Ronan loved. He didn’t care if he was ending a bad year or starting a good one, as long as he could have a bottle in his hand and music loud enough in his ears to drown out his own thoughts.
He couldn’t even be bothered by the fact the music was shitty, the drink tasted like gasoline and the other party-goers were the lame, old money Henrietta pricks he had always hated. Ronan had always refused to go to Henry Cheng’s stupid parties when they were in high school together, a lifetime ago; the only reason he had allowed himself to be dragged to that one had been Gansey, who hadn’t been there to drag him places before, who had asked so nicely and reminded Ronan that this was the one holiday they got to spend together.
Gansey, who was holding Adam Parrish’s hand and smiling at him like a goddamn idiot in love.
Ronan took another swing from his bottle.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Parrish. He was nice, as far as Ivy League students could be nice to guys like Ronan Lynch; there was something in their DNA that prevented them from getting too close to the uneducated. He was a good match for Gansey: smart, funny, patient enough to listen to Gansey rambling about Welsh kings for hours on end, and kind enough to indulge him in going to Cheng’s stupid party. Well, maybe that last part had something to do with the small, dark-haired girl that, somehow, seemed to know both Adam and Henry Cheng. Weirder than that, she had somehow managed to befriend the first and date the second, a feat that seemed to impress Gansey greatly, but that only made Ronan wonder how was it possible that all five of them hadn’t been together in the same room before, given how freaking small Henrietta was.
The girl – Blue, Ronan kept having to remind himself, what a dumb fucking name – was currently yelling at Cheng about something, but he didn’t seem upset enough for Ronan to assume it was a fight. From what he had gathered, this was their normal way of communicating: Blue yelled a lot, and Henry smiled wildly and winked at her until she smiled back and slapped his chest playfully. It was disgusting, really.
Not as disgusting as Gansey and Parrish, though.
Or maybe that was the jealousy speaking.
Ronan tried to tune out all that – the fact that his group of friends suddenly consisted of annoying couples, and the burning hot anger in his chest when he realized this included Gansey – by closing his eyes and feeling the music or whatever people did on dance floors. That one in specific wasn’t as much a dance floor as it was Henry Cheng’s garden with a bunch of lights hanging over their heads and a thick mat rolled over the grass, which didn’t help. Ronan couldn’t forget he was there for Gansey, which made it sort of hard to forget everything else, even if the music was deafening. It was shitty music, and Ronan wasn’t even that good a dancer. He knew his efforts were useless.
After what felt like an eternity of swaying distractedly to the beat and watching Gansey and Adam make out and Blue and Cheng be disgusting, Ronan finally finished his first bottle of – well, he wasn’t sure, really. It tasted like some sort of flavored vodka for weak people like Gansey who couldn’t drink the normal one, and it looked like something that a single person shouldn’t be drinking a whole bottle of. Originally, they were supposed to be sharing it, as proven by the red solo cups the rest of the group was holding, but Adam said he didn’t drink, Blue was too tiny to stomach more than a couple glasses without getting dizzy, Henry had his own fancy drink and Gansey had apparently chosen to drink only Parrish’s saliva that night. So, Ronan had taken it upon himself to get sufficiently drunk for all of them with that single bottle.
The single bottle hadn’t been enough, but at least it gave him an excuse to step away. He grabbed Henry by the arm and leaned down to yell in his ear:
“I’m gonna get another bottle.”
Henry gave him an amused look and shouted back:
“Slow down, champ. I don’t think neither of us can carry you outside later!”
It was a joke, so Ronan gave him what could pass for a smile if you were high and wanted to believe in the kindness of humans, both criteria that Henry filled perfectly at the moment. Then, he turned around, not bothering to communicate Gansey of where he was going, and walked away from the crowd.
Henry Cheng had lived in what felt like an out-of-campus dorm room when he was in high school, but now, as a young adult, he had bought a freaking mansion , big enough for the sort of extravagant buffoonery he had always shown a knack for, and it took Ronan ten whole minutes and a lot of pushing and shoving to get from the front yard to the kitchen. There was a bar set outside with a real bartender mixing drinks, but the line was huge and Ronan didn’t need all that fancy stuff. He knew Henry kept beer in his fridge, because Gansey had told him; so that’s where he headed to.
He was expecting the kitchen to be either full of people assaulting the cabinets or completely empty, but, instead, there was only one person there: a thin , blonde and pale guy, sitting on top of the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal without any milk.
They both froze when their eyes met, Ronan because he felt a weird flash of recognition, and the guy because most people froze after realizing they were alone in a room with someone that looked like Ronan Lynch looked. It didn’t take long, though, for him to relax, his face opening up in a huge smile.
“Ronan? Ronan Lynch?”
Not for the first time that night, Ronan felt the pang of annoyance that came from the realization of how impossible it was to run away from people you used to know in high school in a town like Henrietta. Mentally, he compared that smiling young adult to the quiet shadow of a boy he used to smoke under the bleachers with. Noah Czerny had never been one of his closest friends – in his teenage years, Ronan had been too immersed in his self-hatred and troubled family to have close friends –, but he had been okay. There were worse people he could have crossed paths with.
“Hey, man”, Ronan greeted, without much excitement. That didn’t seem to affect Noah. He still had the same boyish energy and bright-eyed approach to everything he used to, even though he had to be closer to 25 than to 20 now; he had graduated a year before Ronan,
“It’s been a while, huh?” He gestured towards the table he was sitting on. “Come on, sit down. Let’s catch up. Do you want some cereal?”
Ronan didn’t take him up on that offer. He was still getting over the shock of running into Noah, and his stomach was rebelling against him after that bottle of vodka. Cereal seemed like a terrible idea.
“I came in here to get a beer”, he told Noah. That was also probably a terrible idea for his stomach, but beer, unlike cereal, would get him out of his head, so he ignored his body’s protests.
“I thought the drinks were outside”, Noah said, cheerfully. When Ronan walked past him on his way to the fridge, he could feel Noah’s gaze follow him.
“They are”, he replied.
Henry’s stupidly gigantic fridge was filled with take out leftovers (expected), vegetables (less expected) and vegetarian soy meat (Ronan was sure this was Blue’s fault), and it took him some time to find the beer bottles hidden all the way in the back. Ronan pulled one out, then, after a moment of hesitation, took a second one and turned around to offer it to Noah, who seemed genuinely surprised by the gesture, which annoyed Ronan a little. It wasn’t like he hadn’t shared his cigarettes with him all those years ago, under the bleachers.
Noah opened his bottle and took a sip, sighing.
“This is the first thing I’ve drank all night”, he admitted.
Ronan took another look at him, sitting on top of the table with his bowl of cereal. Noah had always been a little odd, really. If someone had asked Ronan who he thought he was most likely to run into in that exact situation, he probably would’ve said Noah. It was still weird, though, seeing a ghost from his past jump back into his life like that.
“Were you too busy hiding in here and eating Cheng’s Lucky Charms?”
“They’re Fruity Loops”, Noah countered, sounding offended.
“I’m sure they taste great with beer.” Ronan considered if he should end the conversation there and go back to his friends, weighed Noah’s bright eyes and pretty face against the memory of Gansey kissing Parrish, and decided against it. No one would even miss him, anyway, occupied as they were with each other. He leaned back against the counter and took a swing from his bottle, welcoming the bitter taste. “So. Did you come to the party because cereal taste better in Cheng’s kitchen than in yours, or did you get lost on your way to the fun?”
Noah laughed, brightly and with the same nervous edge he’d always had, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be that loud, even if he wasn’t loud at all. Actually, Ronan couldn’t remember him ever raising his voice, now that he thought about it. He had always been Barrington Whelk’s quiet shadow, and, when it was just the two of them, Ronan’s quiet shadow.
“Oh, you know”, he answered. “Just thought I’d, uh, avoid the crowds. Lots of people out there. Did you see the line to the bar?”
Ronan had, but that still didn’t make any sense.
“Why the fuck would you come to a party if you wanted to ‘avoid the crowds’?”
He regretted his words immediately when he saw the way Noah flinched at them. Or, rather, he regretted the accusing tone he’d used. Noah gave him this look, like he was deeply offended by the retort, that would’ve made Ronan apologize, if he was the type of person who apologized to anyone at all.
“You know what I mean”, he added, instead. “You like crowds, as far as I can remember. You went to Kavinsky’s substance parties.”
“So did you. Doesn’t mean you liked crowds .”
“This is hardly a substance party, though.” Ronan grimaced. He had gone to Kavinsky’s parties because he had been a teenage nightmare fueled by self-hatred and hormones, yet still they felt easier to handle than Cheng’s party right now. “The most dangerous thing out there is the DJ’s lack of taste.”
Noah chuckled. He had set the beer on the table next to his knee, and was now eating another spoon of cereal. Ronan was sort of surprised he hadn’t dumped the beer right into the bowl.
“It’s horrible, isn’t it?”, he agreed, around a mouthful of Fruity Loops. “I don’t understand how people can dance to this, and I danced to Justin Bieber’s Baby once.”
“I thought you were a pop punk guy, man”, Ronan said. “I’m disappointed in you.”
At that, Noah’s face lit up.
“I can’t believe you remember what kind of music I liked!”
“You had a red Mustang with a blink-182 bumper sticker on it. No one would forget that. ”
“Right. Right!” Much to Ronan’s amusement, Noah seemed a little embarrassed by his previous excitement, his pale cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “It’s just. Well, I wasn’t really expecting you to remember me at all. We weren’t exactly close, and I’ve been told I’m not the most memorable type.”
To be honest, Ronan didn’t expect himself to remember anyone he’d known in high school, given how hard he had worked on forgetting about absolutely all of them. But Noah Czerny was a good memory, he supposed. There had never been any expectations with him, no pressure to be better, no judgment for being the worst. Ronan didn’t have any reason not to remember him particularly, other than the time frame.
“I see you haven’t worked on your self-esteem issues” He took another swing, longer this time, marveling at how Noah just stared at him, mouth slightly open, waiting for him to finish. “Sure, I remember you. Same way you remember me, I guess.”
“Wha- You couldn’t possibly believe I could’ve forgotten you.” When Ronan just shrugged, Noah’s eyes widened. “Dude, you were the single coolest guy I’ve ever hung out with in Aglionby. Of course I remember you. I think everyone from school remembers you.”
“I don’t remember any of them”, Ronan said, not measuring his words at all, per usual. “Only you.”
This seemed to please Noah greatly: his face went pink again, but he smiled from ear to ear, nothing timid about his posture now.
“Really?”
Instead of answering, Ronan said:
“I thought the coolest guy you’ve ever hung out with in Aglionby had been that friend of yours. What was his name again? It was something dumb and pretentious, like Bartholomeus Dick McFucker The Third. You know the one.”
Naturally, Ronan remembered Barrington Whelk’s name just fine. The main reason he had paid any attention to Noah’s obnoxious friend had been that Whelk was better than him in Latin, which annoyed Ronan to no extent.
He half expected Noah to give him an update on Whelk’s life or drone on about how they had lost touch over the years, but instead he just grimaced.
“Whelk? I thought so, too. Until I didn’t anymore.”
There was really nothing in his words that led Ronan to this conclusion, but something about his expression made him say:
“Is that why you’re hiding in here? Because of Whelk?”
“Well, not technically. ” Noah shrugged, an awkward, shrinking gesture coming from him. “I’m hiding because of my own actions. Motivated by and against Whelk, but it’s not technically his fault, I mean, he didn’t make me do anything. I brought this on myself, really.”
He spoke so fast that it took Ronan’s drunken brain a full minute to process the words (during which Noah stared down at him like he was afraid of his judgment, which was a funny concept, considering how very few reasons he had to care about Ronan’s opinion of him at all). When it finally did, Ronan realized he’d made the right decision not going back to Gansey and co. His night was going to be so much more interesting with that wonderful, naive-looking boy. His heart sped up in his chest.
“Noah”, Ronan said. “What did you do?”
Noah opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t get the chance to say anything, because a vaguely familiar looking man chose that moment to barge into the kitchen, and Noah froze mid-sentence. The new arrival ignored Ronan completely, his gaze fixated on Noah, a mocking smile on his lips.
“You’re fucking dead, Czerny”, he announced. Noah looked even paler now.
“Oh God”, he said, pathetically.
The guy’s smile only grew bigger. He wasn’t making any movements that indicated he was going to attack Noah, but Ronan tensed up, ready to get in the middle if things got ugly. He was pretty sure Noah couldn’t defend himself against someone that big, and he had been itching for a fight for a while now, anyway.
“Yep”, the guy said. Ronan remembered him vaguely from his Chem lab, some jerk that was more concerned about showing off his muscles than about learning something – which Ronan could’ve respected, if it hadn’t been for the atitude. Some things never changed, it seemed. “If I were you, I’d get the fuck out right about now, man. Whelk is gonna put the fear of God in you when I tell him.”
Ronan finally got tired of being ignored. He took a step forward, bottle held loosely in one hand, the other ready to swing if necessary.
“How about you don’t fucking tell him?”
The stranger didn’t seem alarmed by Ronan’s presence, although he did seem a little impressed by Ronan. He looked at him from head to toe and took a step back before turning his attention back to Noah, that dumb smile still on his face.
“Your new boyfriend looks cool”, he said. “I don’t think he can protect you, though, Czerny, my man. Whelk’s angry as shit.”
Both him and Ronan waited for Noah to say something, and, when that didn’t happen, the stranger just nodded, like his silence had confirmed something, and pulled a phone out of his pocket.
Before Ronan could understand what the fuck was happening, Noah had leapt off the table, dropping the cereal bowl on the floor with a clang, and was standing besides him, his fingers closing around Ronan’s wrist.
“Let’s go”, he urged, and he sounded so panicked it almost scared Ronan. Almost. “We need to go. ”
Because his night was already a mess, he had nowhere better to be, and he was sort of afraid Noah would get killed if he didn’t come with him, Ronan followed him through the backdoor and into the backyard.
If Noah was really trying to avoid crowds, the backyard was a better choice than the front yard, but it still wasn’t perfect. Although there was no dance floor or bar line there, small groups of people were scattered around, laying on the lawn or sitting on the numerous benches that seemed to have been put there specifically for this purpose. Noah looked around frantically before relaxing a little, the hand that had been on Ronan’s wrist now gripping his fingers. Ronan suspected that, if there were any trees, Noah would have hidden behind one. Since there weren’t any, he dragged Ronan to a faraway corner, where the lights of the party didn’t quite reach and the shadows were long enough to offer a minimal hiding place.
After one last look around, Noah sat down on the grass, sighing in relief, as if moving from the kitchen to the backyard was somehow a guarantee that whatever he had been running from wouldn’t find him. It seemed like a dumb idea to Ronan, to become literally a sitting duck like that, but it wasn’t really his problem, so he sat down in front of Noah.
“Man, I’d kill for a joint right now”, Noah said, longingly. “Or even a cigarette. You know, just like the old times, huh?”
Ronan didn’t have a joint or a cigarette, but he offered Noah his bottle of beer, which he was still clutching in one hand. Noah accepted gratefully, taking a long sip and sighing after. He sighed a lot, Ronan remembered, both when he was pleased and when he was sad, although the latter had been more common in their high school years than the former.
“ Almost like the old times”, he corrected himself, then smiled at Ronan gingerly.
He’s cute, Ronan’s brain supplied instead of an answer, unhelpful as ever. Not that Noah hadn’t been cute before. Ronan remembered more than one occasion in which he had wondered about Noah Czerny’s messy hair, his constantly chapped lips, his predisposition to cut himself on things that weren’t good for him, boys and drugs and cars alike. He had wondered if Noah would’ve let him kiss him, and gotten the impression the answer was yes. Or would’ve been, if Noah hadn’t been so wrapped up in Barrington Whelk at the time.
Which seemed to not be true anymore, considering what Ronan had just witnessed in the kitchen. He took the beer bottle back from Noah, took a sip and said:
“So, why is Whelk trying to kill you? Did you steal his girlfriend or something?”
He vaguely remembered Whelk having a girlfriend during their Aglionby days. And he also remembered that Noah had been jealous of her to the point where it was embarrassing to watch them interact with each other.
Noah didn’t really look like the “stealing other people’s girlfriend’s” type, though; Ronan was just saying things. He was more than a little surprised when Noah lowered his gaze to his own knees, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, and looking mildly ashamed. Ronan raised an eyebrow at him.
“What? Really? Well, congrats, man. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
The light was too dim to be sure Noah was blushing, but Ronan could guess.
“It isn’t that!” Noah winced a little at how loud his voice came out, biting his lower lip in a habit Ronan had always considered infuriating, because it forced him to look at Noah’s mouth and that was simply distracting. “I, well. Quite the opposite, actually.”
“Don’t make me play charades with you, Noah.”
“Fine. He stole my girlfriend.” Noah waved a hand towards Ronan, who got the hint and handed him the bottle. He took a long sip, grimacing a little at the taste, and Ronan wondered if he was finally starting to regret eating all that cereal. “Well, no, I don’t think I can say he stole her, ‘cause, you know, she’s not a thing. Also she was very willing to go fuck him behind my back, from what I’ve been told. But then again, it was Whelk who told me that, so…”
Distantly, Ronan thought Henry’s small girlfriend would’ve gotten along with Noah.
“So, is that why he’s trying to kill you? Because he slept with your girlfriend? That’s stupid, even for a knob like Whelk.”
“Right, you never did like him, did you? I remember you once said…”
“Noah.” Ronan didn’t mean to be rude, but he remembered how easy it was to distract Noah. “Is that why you’re running from him?”
Noah looked even more embarrassed, which didn’t make sense, considering that the next words to come out of his mouth were, in Ronan’s opinion, the coolest thing he’d ever said:
“Ah, that. No, I, uh. I’m running from him because I trashed his car when I found out.”
It was against Ronan Lynch’s moral code to be impressed, and yet he couldn’t help the expression of shock on his face. He tried to reconcile his Noah Czerny, who was always walking a step behind Barrington Whelk like an obedient puppy and fully willing to die for him, who didn’t have eyes for anyone other than his stupid best friend, with this new Noah Czerny, that not only had gotten a girlfriend (shocker), been cheated on by her with said friend (not so much of a shocker) , and then trashed Barrington Whelk’s beloved car. It was such a jump that he couldn’t make sense of it without another sip from the beer. All the while, Noah stared at him with those big blue eyes that had seemed so innocent and naive all those years ago.
Finally, all the Ronan managed to think of was:
“Was it still the same one he had in Aglionby?” Noah nodded, clearly confused as to why that mattered. Ronan let out a low whistle. “Guess your balls have finally dropped, then.”
His tone was maybe a little too mean to use with someone he wasn’t intimate with, but that was how Ronan used to talk to Noah when they were sort-of-friends in high school, and Noah had never seemed to take offense because of it. That, apparently, hadn’t changed with time. He looked only mildly wounded.
“I didn’t mean to do it”, he said, like Ronan had questioned his decision, instead of complimenting him . “It just sort of… happened. I was angry, and his car was there, and I had my skateboard with me, and then I sort of just. Smashed a window. And then another window. And then the headlights.” Noah paused, considering. “And then I keyed the outside. Not, uh, not with my skateboard. With my keys.”
Again, Ronan was impressed.
“Good job, man. I always thought that fucking car deserved to be trashed.”
Noah, in turn, seemed very surprised by the fact Ronan was impressed by his act of senseless destruction of private property, which was stupid, considering Ronan used to hang out with Joseph Kavinsky. He also seemed delighted by it, which pleased Ronan, although he would never admit that.
“Really? I mean, it was ugly, but I wouldn’t go as far as saying it deserved it. The car didn’t sleep with my girlfriend.”
Ronan thought about Gansey’s ridiculously orange Camaro.
“I didn’t think it deserved to be trashed because it was ugly”, he said. “I thought it because Barrington Whelk is a fucking dick.”
For a moment, it looked like Noah was about to defend his former best friend – and then he started laughing so hard he had to grab his stomach. It was the first time Ronan saw him laughing like this, so loud and so unabashed, and it turned him into someone else entirely; now, Ronan could imagine him taking a skateboard to a windshield in a moment of rage, and that picture did weird things to his insides.
“He really is”, he said, after catching his breath. “God, I can’t believe I used to be in love with him.”
He didn’t seem at all concerned about Ronan’s reaction to this declaration, but it was impossible to tell if it was because he knew it had been obvious to everyone, or because it had also been obvious to everyone that Ronan was gay as a rainbow and had no moral high ground to judge anyone about their partner choices (see: Joseph Kavinsky).
“ I can’t believe it either”, agreed Ronan, because he had never pretended to understand Noah and Whelk’s friendship before, and he wasn’t about to start now. Noah shrugged.
“I guess we really didn’t know what was good for us back then.”
He didn’t have to mention Kavinsky by name for Ronan to know that this was what he was referring to; it was the only one of Ronan’s self destructive behaviors Noah had been aware of during their short friendship. Ronan had never felt the need to self-destruct around Noah, and he wasn’t feeling it now; the burning hot anger that had filled his chest only ten minutes ago was slowly melting away, partly because it had consumed all of its fuel – Ronan hadn’t seen Gansey making out with Parrish in a while –, partly due to Noah’s soothing presence. There was something about the way he always presented himself as not being a threat and the clear blue of his eyes that made the world feel more bearable, if only for a moment.
This was another thing that hadn’t changed in all those years apart. Which, now that Ronan thought about, weren’t that many years, in the big scheme of things.
“I highly doubt we know what’s good for us now”, he said, pointing to their – now empty – bottle of beer, then to the people a few feet away. “I mean, you came to the party even though you knew Whelk could be here.” He waited for Noah to say that this wasn’t truth, but he just looked down and kept quiet, so Ronan proceeded: “And I… You know what, doesn’t matter. You’re doing worse than me, for once. Were you trying to get yourself killed by showing up tonight?”
Slowly, Noah lifted his gaze from the grass beneath him to meet Ronan’s eyes. For once, he didn’t look embarrassed, or apologetic, or shy. He was smiling, the expression just suggestive enough that it made Ronan’s eyes dart from his lips down to his chest and back to his face. He shuffled until he was kneeling instead of sitting down, within arm’s distance from Ronan.
“I was trying to find something else”, he said. “ Someone else, if you will.”
There were no doubts about who he was expecting that someone to be. Ronan felt a thrill down his spine in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time, not even when he stole glances at Gansey. Gansey was the steady warmth in his heart, his best friend, his whole world, so that it was hard to tell one feeling apart from the other. Noah was something else entirely: the flash of possibility, a glimpse into a future he had never considered. Not someone to hurt. Not someone to be hurt by. An equal. A stranger. A ghost from his past.
The stakes were very low, and Ronan didn’t feel like spending New Year’s Eve alone.
“Has it always been like this?”, he asked, not because it mattered, but because he needed to know. Seeing Noah frown, he clarified: “If I had kissed you, back then. Under the bleachers. Would you have let me?”
Noah leaned forward. Ronan could see the specks of glitter on his face, part of his New Year’s look or just a sign that he had been at Henry’s party for hours; with him, it was hard to tell.
“I wanted you to”, he said. Almost whispered, really; Ronan could barely hear him over the distant noise of the party. “God, Ronan, you have no idea how much I wished you would.”
Ronan would. He would’ve done it back then, and he would do it now. He could see the scene playing out in his head, like a memory or a – yes, a dream, that’s what it was. He had dreamed this before. Maybe more than one time.
Ronan would do it, except he didn’t get the chance. Because Barrington fucking Whelk chose this exact moment to storm in, push Ronan aside and punch Noah right on the nose.
Ronan had only a moment to process what was happening, and it was all he needed. His body was up and on Whelk before his brain had even had the time to compare that jerk to the jerk from his memory, but it didn’t seem like the difference would be very big or significant – both had been assholes to Noah and to the world population in general, except now Ronan could actually do something about it.
Plus, he had been itching for a fight, anyway.
The first punch hit Whelk on the side of his head, sending him tumbling down onto the grass. Noah made an undignified noise and crawled away from him, while Ronan went in for a second blow. He wasn’t expecting Whelk to actually know how to fight, and he didn’t; men like him were used to opponents that didn’t dare raise a hand to touch them, and Ronan Lynch had no such reservations. It was an easy enough fight, almost too easy; the side of Ronan that was always a little bloodthirsty was disappointed.
He could hear Noah’s voice calling him, but it got lost in a sudden cheer coming from the groups of party-goers. Whelk spat on Ronan’s face, thinking this would be good enough a provocation, but Ronan just punched him once in the stomach, then one more time for good measure, before getting up and taking a step back. Noah rushed to his side, putting a hesitant hand on Ronan’s arm, like he was getting ready to stop Ronan from going back to the fight.
“Oh my God”, he said, sounding either scared, or in awe, or both. “Are you okay?”
Ronan didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were trained on Whelk, waiting to see if he would charge at him or Noah again.
“I’m fucking great. He won’t be, if he ever comes near you again.”
Whelk had finally scrambled to his feet, and spit again, this time at Noah’s feet. His lip was swollen and his nose was bleeding, Ronan noticed, with a rush of dark satisfaction.
“I should’ve known Czerny wouldn’t last a minute without a boyfriend to crawl after.”
Didn’t seem to be a problem when you were the boyfriend, Ronan thought, but he couldn’t say that; Noah was already looking wounded enough.
“Beat it”, he told Whelk instead. “If I see you around again, I’ll make your face match your car, skateboard and all.”
For a moment, it looked like Whelk would argue; Ronan could see him weighing his options in his head, the shame of having Noah fuck him over with no consequences versus the shame and physical pain of being beaten up by Ronan Lynch at a New Year’s Eve party. On Ronan’s arm, Noah’s hand tightened, as if he could possibly contain him.
Then, Whelk shot them both a venomous look, turned around and stormed off, looking even angrier than when he had been punching people before.
Noah waited until he had disappeared from their sight to turn to Ronan, touching his cheek with a gentle, cold hand to turn his face.
“Are you really okay? Oh, my God. You’re bleeding.”
Ronan ran his tongue along his lower lip – yeah, he was definitely bleeding. It was nothing, though; he was more concerned about Noah’s hands on him, one on his face, one on his arm, both abnormally cold even for the December weather. He had always been cold, Ronan remembered that, whenever their hands brushed while passing cigarettes. He had never touched Ronan with so much intention.
“I’m fine. Fucking peachy” Ronan checked Noah’s face for bruises, but there weren’t any, at least not that he could see in the dim light. “Seriously, man. I’m fine. You should worry more about yourself.”
Noah raised the hand that was on Ronan’s arm to his own cheek, rubbing it absently. It was probably where Whelk had hit him, but he didn’t seem to be in pain.
“I’m okay. He barely touched me before you tackled him to the ground.” His eyes lit up with excitement, so undisguised Ronan had to smile. “Which was awesome, by the way. Thanks for that.”
“I should be thanking you. I’ve been looking for an excuse to punch Whelk in the face since freshman year.”
Around them, people seemed to be talking louder, hugging each other and singing to the music coming from the front yard. Suddenly, Noah’s eyes went wild. He fished his phone from his back pocket, and, upon looking at the screen, groaned.
“Bad news?”, asked Ronan. Noah shook his head. He seemed suddenly shy again.
“Look at the time.”
He turned his phone so Ronan could see the screen, where huge numbers read 00h07. Ronan frowned.
“Yeah? Happy new year, I guess.”
Putting the phone back in his pocket, Noah mumbled something, too low to be heard over the people yelling around them. Ronan understood the unusual cheering now, at least; he must’ve punched Whelk around the exact time the clock struck midnight. He leaned in closer to Noah.
“What?” Noah mumbled again, and Ronan shook his head. “Look, man, I told you I don’t wanna play charades.”
“We missed midnight.” This time, Noah all but yelled. Ronan frowned.
“Yeah?”
They were so close he could feel the huff of air on his face when Noah sighed, seeming desolated.
“I was going to kiss you at midnight”, he explained.
Ronan blinked once, twice, three times, in a way he was sure made him look stupid. Maybe it was the beer, or the fight still buzzing through his veins, of the proximity to Noah, but his brain seemed slower than usual, and the words took a full minute to fully sinking. A minute during which Noah stared at him, doing that annoying thing where he bit his lips and made Ronan watch, looking for all the world like he was about to turn around and bolt. It was outrageously endearing. Ridiculously attractive. Absurdly cute.
Then, Ronan finally realized Noah was waiting for an answer, even though he hadn’t asked any questions. He said:
“You’ve wasted three years.”
It was Noah’s turn to blink, surprised.
“What?”
“ Three years you knew me, and didn’t kiss me once.” Ronan was aware he was sounding annoyed, but the way it made Noah wince was very entertaining, so he continued: “I’ve waited this long, man. I don’t care if I had to wait another seven minutes after midnight.”
He waited for Noah to get the hint. Ronan watched the realization dawn on his face, the way his expression went from confused to surprised to nervous to determined, and it was the best thing he’d seen all night. Finally, Noah took that final step to close the space between us and kissed Ronan on his bleeding mouth.
It was like in Ronan’s dreams. Hell, it was better than in Ronan’s dreams, because his horny teenage past self couldn’t even begin to imagine how soft Noah’s lips would be on his, or the way Noah would cling to him, hands gripping his arms, or the delighted little noise he would let out, relieved like he had been waiting for years – and maybe he had, maybe Ronan had been waiting, too, and maybe this was all that they had needed all those years in Aglionby, the one thing that could relieve them and not destroy them, the one thing they could share that would’ve been better than cigarettes.
Ronan wasn’t thinking of Gansey and Parrish, or Whelk and Joseph Kavinsky. For a glorious moment, there was just Noah, and the fire that always burned deep in Ronan’s stomach seemed to burn brighter, better, not burning him from the inside out, but lighting him up to illuminate the moment.
It seemed like they’d been like that forever when Noah finally pulled back, laughing a little when Ronan tried to chase him. Ronan opened his eyes to find him smiling, looking pleased and a little impressed – if it was at himself, for having the courage to do that, or at Ronan, it was hard to tell, but it didn’t matter, anyway.
“God, we really should’ve done this sooner”, he said. Ronan grinned.
“Well, we have plenty of time to do it now.”
Noah’s smile had a hint of mischief now, like it used to when he would show Ronan a pack of cigarettes or a blunt under the bleachers in Aglionby.
“Happy fucking new year”, he said, and he sounded so incredibly proud of himself and happy. Ronan reached down to grab his hand.
“Do you wanna go hang with my friends?”, he asked. As much as he would like to stay there and make out with Noah until dawn, he still owed Gansey the one holiday they could spend together, and, somehow, the idea of seeing him suck on Adam’s tongue didn’t seem so bad, as long as he had Noah by his side.
“Do your friends happen to include Henry?” Noah grimaced a little. “I haven’t even said hi to him yet. I was too busy running for my life.”
Ronan told him yes, and they started making their way back into the kitchen, then through the house, back to the front yard, with the horrible DJ and the long ass bar line. It all seemed better now, somehow, although very little had changed. As usual, Noah’s presence made Ronan’s world seem a little more bearable, if only for a night. Or maybe it wouldn’t be just a night – who could tell? From where Ronan was standing, this new year of his life was looking very promising, which was new.
New Year’s Eve was definitely Ronan’s favorite holiday.