Chapter Text
Phil takes a sip of the bright blue cocktail he’s just finished preparing. He pauses for a moment and then his face brightens.
“That’s actually really good!” He sets the jug on the breakfast bar and lines up his collection of mismatched glasses next to it. They’d been liberated from various drinking establishments around London by his friend Nav, then given to Phil as a housewarming gift when he’d moved into the flat.
“Those are stolen goods!” he’d spluttered as she’d proudly presented them to him. “I can’t believe you’re making me an accessory to your crimes.”
“Oh, shush,” she’d retorted, “if a bar is charging £11 for a gin and tonic, they can cover the cost of losing a few glasses here and there.”
As he hums along to the 80s playlist he’s got on in the background, he opens bags of crisps and snacks and empties them into bowls. His friends know this is about the limit of his culinary skills, so Jess is bringing over some vegan sausage rolls, and Norah will be covering them for dessert as usual.
He has to admit, he was secretly relieved when their original plans for this evening had fallen through. Sure, a games night won’t exactly be the most exciting New Year’s Eve any of them have ever had, but given the option between this and the noisy crowds that will be out and about in Central London, he knows which he prefers
He’s just throwing all the empty snack packets in the bin when he hears the buzzer go. He’s betting it’ll be Jess and Olly, they’re the only ones who ever actually arrive anywhere on time. He pushes the buzzer to let them in, and a couple of minutes later they’re at his front door.
“Happy New Year!” Jess yells, and throws her arms around Phil, followed by Olly who gives Phil a manly half-hug accompanied by a hearty slap on the back.
“So good to see you!” Phil says. “Ooh, let me take those.” Jess passes him the big plastic container she was holding, and they follow him through to the open plan kitchen and living space. They chat about how their Christmas celebrations went as they take off scarves and coats, and Phil carefully piles the sausage rolls onto a plate and adds them to the array on the breakfast bar.
“OK, what can I get you to drink?” he asks expectantly. “I’ve mixed up a cocktail, do you fancy a glass?”
“Actually, we stopped off at Tesco on the way and picked up some wine,” Jess replies, holding up a couple of bottles of red that she’s pulled out of a carrier bag.
“Oh,” Phil’s brow wrinkles. “But maybe a small one? Just to try it?” he suggests hopefully.
Jess smiles at him as she heads into the kitchen to rummage around in a drawer, and pulls out a corkscrew. “Probably best not to mix our drinks,” she says, deftly uncorking the bottle and pouring two glasses. “Olly’s got a shift tomorrow, so no hangovers for us, thank you!”
Just then, the buzzer sounds again.
“I’ll get it,” Olly offers, and disappears into the hallway.
Jess turns to Phil, wine in hand. “So how was your Christmas, honestly? I’m glad you ended up going home, I wasn’t keen on the thought of you rattling around this place feeling miserable.”
This year had been the first time it had ever crossed Phil’s mind not to go back up North for the holidays. He’d usually arrive a couple of days before Christmas so he could join in with all the Lester family traditions—sitting in the kitchen with his mum decorating the biscuits she’d baked and having his hand slapped every time he dipped his finger in the icing, drinking mulled wine and playing board games on Christmas Eve, visiting his grandparents and trying not to get caught stealing the chocolates off of their tree.
It had been even more special last year when, for the first time, he had someone to bring home with him. He’d been so proud to show them all that his life was finally moving forward, that he too had found someone special to share it with.
So the thought of going on his own again this year, back to being just Phil rather than part of a couple, hadn’t exactly filled him with joy.
Phil gives Jess a rueful smile. “It seemed like the best option. It turns out that in the end I just couldn’t face the thought of being here on my own.”
Jess shakes her head. “You know it wouldn’t have come to that,” she says, patting him on the arm. “Me and Olly would’ve turned up on your doorstep with a turkey and a Christmas pud and forced you to let us in.”
Phil doesn’t doubt it. Jess had taken him under her wing from his first day in the office. She’d been asked to show him around and introduce him to everyone, and he still teases her to this day about how she might have taken that responsibility a little too far, as she’s still looking out for him all these years later. He’d grown used to her gently bullying him into doing things she thought were good for him, whether it was finally parting ways with the emo fringe he’d been so frightened to change, or providing emotional support when he’d freaked out about moving into a flat on his own the day after he’d signed the lease on this place.
“I bet your mum’s mince pies made the trip worthwhile though.” A dreamy look comes over her face. “I still remember that time you brought a batch into work. God, they were good.”
Phil nods, feeling a little pang of guilt thinking about the carefully wrapped package of Christmas treats he’d earnestly promised his mum that he’d save for this evening, but that hadn’t made it past his train journey home. In his defence, his mum knew the risk she was taking by leaving him unaccompanied in the presence of baked goods, and he’d needed something to cheer himself up, so he reasoned that he wasn’t entirely to blame.
They hear voices in the hallway and look over to see Nav and Freddie bounce into the room.
“Happy New Year!” they chorus in perfect unison, and then both burst out laughing. “Wow, we really do spend too much time together,” Nav says, kissing Phil on the cheek and grabbing a couple of sausage rolls at the same time. Freddie gives a friendly wave and makes a beeline for the alcohol.
Phil takes the opportunity again to try and drum up some interest in his cocktail.
“I know it looks a little bit like loo cleaner, but I swear it’s really nice!” he says beseechingly.
Nav just waves a bottle of Bacardi in his direction and says “Sorry, we’re on the hard stuff this evening!”
Phil gives a little pout, and Freddie pats him on the shoulder.
“No offence mate, but your cocktails are kind of…notorious,” he says apologetically.
”Uh yeah, notoriously bad!” Nav adds with a cheeky grin.
“Oi!” Phil squawks. “Take that back! You’ve drunk my cocktails loads of times and I’ve never heard any complaints!”
“Yes,” Nav explains patiently, “but that’s not at the start of the evening when we’re actually in full possession of our faculties. It’ll be at the point where everyone’s pissed, all the other booze has run out and we’ve got the choice between either draining the dregs of other people’s glasses or else drinking your hideous concoctions.”
Phil huffs and folds his arms. “Rude,” he declares.
“Nope, just direct, and you love me for it,” Nav says, with an angelic smile.
Phil can’t help but smile in return. She’s right, their friendship is definitely based on the theory of opposites attract. She’s outspoken, never afraid to tell other people what she thinks of them, or stand up for herself in an awkward situation. They’d never have got their deposit back on that first abysmal flat they’d rented together if she hadn’t gone into the estate agents and kicked up such a fuss that they gave them back the money just to get her to leave.
Of course, there were also the times when they’d be on a night out and Nav’s loud voice and tendency to say whatever came into her head would get them in all sorts of trouble, but he’s used to that by now. Sort of. Mostly.
“So how was your Christmas? How are all the family?” he asks.
Nav rolls her eyes. “It was horrendous! There were nearly 20 of us crammed into the house and I only managed to escape today because I told my mum there was an emergency at work. I’ve never eaten so much in my life—she even gave me half a loaf’s worth of turkey sandwiches as I was leaving the house, just to ‘tide me over til lunch’.”
“That’s mothers for you, never stop trying to feed you up,” Phil says.
Freddie quirks an eyebrow. “Like mother, like daughter then?” he says, as Nav’s eyes go wide and she belts him on the arm.
“Shut up! I’m just being a good flatmate and making sure you don’t starve to death from sheer laziness!”
“I wouldn’t mind if you could actually cook anything other than pasta,” Freddie retorts.
Phil just shakes his head as they squabble about which of them is the least worst at putting a meal together.
He and Nav had lived together for the first few years he’d been in London, and she hadn’t exactly taken the news well when he’d told her he was getting a place of his own.
“What’s going to happen to me?” she’d wailed. “I could end up living with an axe murderer, or a mouth breather or…or a Tory!” It had all worked out well in the end though, as she’d hit it off immediately with Freddie when he’d come to view the flat, and he’d soon been absorbed into their group of friends.
“So,” Nav says brightly, turning to Phil. “What fun and games have you got in store for us this evening?”
Phil’s face lights up. ”I’ve got this brilliant new game, you’re going to love it! As soon as Norah gets here, we’ll get started.”
Nav rolls her eyes. “How is she always the last to arrive when she literally lives upstairs?” she huffs.
Phil raises an eyebrow at this, and Nav looks a little sheepish. She’s also not well-known for her punctuality.
Freddie puts down his drink. “I’ll go and give her a knock,” he offers, ever the peacemaker.
The first time Phil had met Norah, she’d turned up at his door at about 10 o’clock at night, seemingly having forgotten that the old tenants didn’t live there anymore. When she’d realised, she’d still insisted that Phil let her in as she had a very important task she needed help with. It turned out she had a wedding cake tasting the next day and wanted his help to decide between the various flavours she’d been experimenting with. Of course, Phil had been more than happy to help, and as she left, he told her to come by any time, as long as she was bringing cake. So he’d become her unofficial taste tester, and before long, a friend.
It had taken Nav a little longer to warm to her though. Where Nav is plain spoken and direct, Norah seems to float through life, paying very little attention to the world around her. The benefit is that she rarely seems to notice when Nav gets snippy, or makes a sarcastic comment. And then Freddie will step in to smooth it all over and they’re back to being a dysfunctional but happy family again.
While they’re waiting, Phil goes over to his shelves and pulls out the newest addition to his games collection.
Olly peers over his shoulder. “Hmm, looks intriguing.”
“It is!” Phil agrees. “So how it works is you’re the owner of this bird sanctuary and….” Phil gets into full flow, explaining the concept of the game.
Nav doesn’t look too impressed. “So it’s a board game about bird watching? Wow. I mean, it’s one thing to stay in for New Year’s Eve, but this is really getting into old lady territory.”
Noticing Phil’s slightly miffed expression, Jess intervenes. “Shut up Nav, you haven’t even given it a go yet,” she says, taking the box out of Phil’s hands and putting it down on the table. “So, how do we play?” she asks, turning to Phil.
“Oh, there is one thing I did mean to mention, you can only have up to five players, so we’ll need a couple of us to team up?” Phil says, pushing his worries to one side.
“Great! I’ll go with you,” Nav says a little too eagerly.
Jess raises a disapproving eyebrow. “So you can get away with not actually playing and just be on your phone all night? Nope, me and Olly will be a team.”
Nav concedes with a shrug, as if to say that she can’t be blamed for trying.
Olly perks up at the suggestion. “Sounds good to me.” Jess shuffles her chair closer to him and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.
Nav eyes them with a look that’s half irritation, half envy. “Ugh, couples,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Phil wouldn’t have put it quite the same way, but he does get the sentiment. Jess and Olly have been together since before Phil met them. In fact they’ve been together since they were at school, and although he knows that their relationship isn’t perfect, that they’ve had their own difficulties to overcome, he still can’t quite help putting them up on a pedestal and hoping that one day he might find someone he’s that compatible with. He doesn’t want to feel jealous of one of his best friends, he tells himself he isn’t, but pushing something aside doesn’t make it go away altogether.
Just then, Freddie and Norah make their appearance. Norah is carrying a large white cardboard box, which she carefully sets down on the kitchen side.
“Ooh, what have you brought us?” Phil asks eagerly, starting to get out of his chair.
“Not now, Philip,” she chides him gently. “It’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait until later.” Her attention is caught by the cocktail jug sitting on the side. “What’s this?” she inquires, picking it up and tilting the liquid from side to side to inspect it.
“It’s a cocktail I made,” Phil replies. “But you don’t have to try it if you don’t want to.”
Norah carries on looking at it for a moment or two, then gives a decisive nod. “Actually, I think I will.”
“Great!” Phil says, ignoring the stifled laughter from the rest of his friends.
She turns her attention to the food. “This is all very…brown.” she says, picking a single peanut out of a bowl and putting it in her mouth.
Phil is about to make an apology when Freddie reaches over and pats his hand reassuringly. “I for one was very impressed with the food. I mean, just look at that crisp buffet—the care, the skill, the attention to detail…that’s a work of art right there.”
Phil stifles a grin as Freddie continues to shower him with praise.
“No word of a lie mate, it’s a genuine talent. Oh, apart from the Twiglets. They can get in the bin.”
They get into a heated discussion about whether it’s possible to dislike Marmite and still like Twiglets, which Phil is well on the way to winning, when Jess brings them back to the box sitting in the middle of the table.
“Sorry to interrupt, but are you actually going to explain this game to us at some point,” she says, gesturing at the piles of cards on the table, “or are we just picking it up by osmosis?”
Even after Phil’s gone into detail explaining the intricacies of the game, his friends still seem to be in various states of confusion. He just says optimistically, “I’m sure you’ll pick it up as you go along, don’t worry! I made my family play it on Christmas Day and if they managed it, I’m sure you all can.”
Nav picks up a pot of small, colourful pieces.
“Remind me again what the eggs are for?” she asks.
“Eggs?” Norah says, picking one up for a closer look.
“They look more like pastel M&Ms,” Jess observes. “You’d better keep them well away from me. After another glass of wine or two I’m pretty sure I’ll forget you aren’t supposed to eat them.”
The game gets going, albeit slowly as Phil patiently guides them through it.
Looking over at her board, Phil suspects Norah hasn’t actually paid attention to any of the rules and is just building a beautifully aesthetic collection of birds, but who is he to judge?
Nav’s strategy on the other hand is to try and convince him that she now understands the rules better than he does, waving the instructions in his face and trying to argue that her ever more illegal moves are actually perfectly acceptable.
Jess and Olly spend most of their time whispering to each other, working out their team tactics, but being a team of two doesn’t seem to be helping them much in terms of scoring points.
In the end, it’s Freddie who’s the winner, coming up with a spectacular combination move right at the end to push Phil into second place.
As Phil packs everything away, the conversation turns towards what the year ahead might bring.
“Well, my resolution is simple—don’t date so many idiots,” Nav declares, folding her arms.
Once the reaction to that dies down, Nav continues. “I’m serious, do I need to remind you of the catalogue of disasters that has been my dating life this year?”
“Well, I for one don’t need any reminding,” Freddie says. “I’ve already lived through each and every one in excruciating detail.”
Nav punches him on the arm. “Well, what are flatmates for if not to help you dissect your dating life?”
“Hold on a sec,” Freddie retorts. “If that’s the main purpose and function of a flatmate, then doesn’t that leave you out of a job?”
“Ah that’s true,” Nav concedes. “But you know, just because you don’t have any need for relationship advice, doesn’t mean I don’t make myself useful in other ways.”
Jess jumps in then. “Speaking of making yourself useful, if we do end up buying our own place this year, we’ll be calling in favours from everyone we know to help get it fixed up.”
“Have you already got somewhere in mind then?” Phil asks, surprised.
“No, not yet,” says Olly. “But on our budget, we can either afford a decent house in a crappy area, or a crappy house in a decent area, so it looks like we’ll be roping you all in to help us make whatever hovel we end up buying into something liveable.”
“As long as you bribe us with food, I’m in,” says Phil. “Feed me pizza and I’m all yours.”
He had been relieved when Jess and Olly changed their minds about buying somewhere outside of London to get more house for their money. So he’ll happily muck in and help out—not that he’s actually got any skills to speak of, but he’ll give it a go.
“Well, if all goes to plan, this could be a pretty big year for me,” Freddie says. He’s been on the waiting list at the gender clinic for over two years, but has finally managed to get an appointment for the coming April.
Nav puts her hand over his. “It’s going to turn out just like you’re hoping, and if it doesn’t, then I’ll go in there and kick their arses for you. You know that, right?”
Freddie grins. “I guess I’ve got nothing to worry about then.”
“Exactly.”
“For myself,” Norah pipes up, “I reject the reductive structure of the Gregorian calendar that serves to alienate us from the innate cycles of nature. I shall be considering rebirth and new beginnings at Imbolc instead.”
There’s a pause, and then Nav is the first to respond. “Well, good for you!” she says, making a heroic effort not to let her thoughts play across her face. “And what about you, Phil? Any grand resolutions for the year ahead?”
Phil hates being put on the spot like this, especially when he has no clue how to answer. The honest truth is that rather than any life changing ambitions, all he’s really hoping for is that his life this year will be just a little bit less shitty than the one just gone. He doesn’t want to bring down the mood though, so instead he deflects.
“Well, to spend even more nights like this with my fabulous friends of course!” he says, hamming it up, and everyone groans and laughs at the obvious flattery.
“We did have some great times last year, didn’t we?” Olly says, changing the subject. “Like our glamping weekend in Wales when it didn’t stop raining for a single second and we spent nearly the entire time sheltering in the pub. Oh, and going to Secret Cinema, that was the best.”
Phil isn’t prepared for the wave of emotion that Olly’s words bring. That was the last proper night out he’d ever had with Ryan, probably the last happy memories that Phil has of them together. Things had already been going downhill for a while at that point, but they’d both put that aside and entered into the spirit of the occasion, dressing up in 80s clothes and taking selfies under the neon lights. A few weeks later, it had all been over.
Phil, lost in his thoughts, doesn’t realise at first that Norah is trying to get his attention. When he finally looks up in response to her calling his name, she has a look of gentle concern on her face, and Phil is reminded that she can sometimes be more observant than he gives her credit for. But rather than ask any awkward questions, she simply asks “Should I serve dessert?”
Phil, ever the sugar addict, brightens at this. “Yes, please! Do you need anything, a knife, or serving spoon?”
She smiles. “No, no need for that.” She retrieves the box from the kitchen and carefully places it down on the table before making a show of revealing what’s inside.
“Ta da!” she says, revealing a stack of cupcakes each topped with the cutest pink marshmallow piglet wallowing in chocolate buttercream mud.
“Oh my god, you guys are going to have to stop me from eating that entire box,” Phil groans, his eyes widening in anticipation.
“Not a problem!” Freddie says, reaching over and grabbing two to pass to Nav and then grabbing another two for himself.
"Oh my God, these are amazing," says Jess, looking blissful.
"I do love cupcakes, but it’s like all the fun is on the top half. I mean, you could chop off the bottom and then you could eat twice as many, but just all the good bits."
Norah nods thoughtfully. "That’s a interesting concept," she says.
"Yeah," Phil continues enthusiastically. "You should definitely look into that. Cupcakes, but tops only. No bottoms allowed."
Freddie quirks an eyebrow. "I wouldn’t necessarily use that line in your marketing, people might just get the wrong idea."
Nav starts to laugh. "That could be your niche, cupcakes for tops," she giggles. "Hold on a second through, if the cupcakes are tops, maybe you’d be selling them to bottoms?"
Phil’s shaking his head but grinning anyway. "That was a perfectly legitimate business idea, and look where your filthy minds have taken it."
Jess suddenly looks at her phone. “Hey, it’s quarter to twelve already. Put the telly on, Phil, so we can watch the fireworks.”
Phil fishes out the party poppers and streamers he’d stashed in a cupboard and hands them out and they all crowd around the TV, and they all sing along rather tunelessly to the band who are doing this year’s New Year’s Eve show on the BBC. Before long, the view cuts to the Thames Embankment, where crowds of people mill about, waiting in anticipation for the show to start.
They shout along with the countdown to midnight and then as Big Ben chimes and the fireworks begin, they all hug and kiss and wish each other a happy new year. Phil feels warm and fuzzy, and it’s not just the effect of the alcohol he’s drunk. He doesn’t quite know what it is that makes some people become so fundamental in his life while others come and go, but whatever it is that has brought them all together, he’s thankful for it.
The firework display is amazing, beautiful colours and shapes painting the night sky. Phil is transfixed, wondering at the creativity that goes into creating something so stunning and yet so temporary.
As he watches, he finds his mind wandering back to last New Year’s Eve. To be honest, on the whole the night had been pretty awful, crammed into a noisy pub with a load of Ryan’s friends, not being able to hear a word anyone was saying and just hoping he was smiling and nodding in all the right places. But at midnight, they’d gone out onto a terrace that had a view over the river of these same fireworks, bundled up in warm coats with their arms wrapped round each other and Phil giggling as he tried to wind his scarf around both their necks without strangling either of them because Ryan had forgotten to wear one.
He looks over and sees Jess with her arms wound round Olly’s neck. They’re talking in low voices, Olly murmuring something that makes Jess laugh and look soft at the same time, locked in their own little bubble of intimacy.
Phil looks away to see Nav and Freddie over by the breakfast bar. They’re sadly contemplating the now-empty bottle of Bacardi, and seem to be seriously considering risking a glass of Phil’s cocktail. He smiles as he watches them, heads bent together. He has to admit that although there are many things he loves about having his own place—the peace and quiet and not having any arguments about whose turn it is to do the washing up—he does sometimes miss how connected he and Nav were when he saw her every day.
He feels Norah coming up beside him, slipping an arm around his waist and tilting her head to rest on his shoulder.
“Earlier on, when Nav asked you about your plans for next year, you didn’t want to answer.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Yeah,” Phil concedes. “I’m just not really feeling the whole new year, new you thing. I reckon my life will just drift along the way it usually does. I’m not getting my hopes up for anything special.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Norah says. “There’s something shifting in your energy, you know.”
“Is there?” Phil asks uncertainly.
“Hmm, I’m getting a sense of someone new coming into your life, someone who will have a great impact. An energetic warrior. Someone with a hasty personality, quick to love or hate.”
Phil raises an eyebrow, rather taken aback. “Well, thanks,” he says. “I guess I’ll keep an eye out for that, then.”
“Don’t worry,” Norah says, patting him on the arm. “What’s meant for you doesn’t pass you by.”