Chapter Text
It’s New Year’s Eve and EJ is alone in his hotel room.
He can’t even lie and say that this is unusual. Every single year, his parents take him to some fancy skiing resort for Christmas. He has fun skiing down the slopes, enjoys the fresh mountain air and the countless hot chocolates. But when night falls, his parents go out to dinner together and he’s left to entertain himself.
He has no problem being on his own. He’s had a lot of practice, after all. It’s just on nights like this one, when he hears music coming from somewhere else in the resort, when he knows everybody’s having fun and celebrating, that it stings a little bit.
Not enough for him to go out and do something about it, though. He’s not great at making friends - has had enough practice to figure that out, too - and parties aren’t really his scene. The crowds kind of freak him out, even if he’d never admit that. He’s tried the whole ‘NYE party in the hotel lobby with random kids whose parents wanted an evening alone’ thing a dozen times before. It’s even less fun than it sounds.
So it’s New Year’s Eve and EJ’s sitting on his bed. He’s put his sweatpants on already, has a half-empty mug and a box of chocolates on his nightstand, and just cracked open a new book. He’s getting in a bit of self-pity for being alone and getting ahead in the English Lit class he’ll be taking after the holidays. It’s not a bad way to spend the evening, really.
Naturally, that’s when his dad walks in and ruins everything.
“Son, why aren’t you dressed? The party’s in full swing,” his dad asks, adjusting his tie. He raises a disdainful eyebrow at EJ’s worn-down hoodie.
“I’m not going this year,” EJ keeps his eyes firmly on his book. Mr Lockwood has just arrived at Wuthering Heights. He figures this next part is probably important since Wuthering Heights is literally the title of the book. “Figured I’d just have a quiet night in.”
His dad sighs.
“Elijah, your mother and I want you to have fun. The kids’ party in the lounge was fun last year, wasn’t it?”
It wasn’t. Someone had spilt punch on his new shoes, the music had given him a headache and he’d forgotten his room key, so he was forced to wait for his parents to return the whole time. EJ hadn’t told his dad about that, though, and he’s not about to do so now.
“This book is for school,” EJ says instead, holding it up so his dad can see the cover. “I don’t want to be behind before I get there.”
His dad plucks the book out of his hands. “Get dressed,” he orders, “and go to the party. Some socialising will be good for you.”
EJ opens his mouth to protest but when he sees the look on his father’s face, he knows arguing would be a wrong move. Looks like his mother won the argument about what restaurant they’re going to tonight. His dad never did like Italian.
“Can I at least have my book back?” he asks as he gets up and opens his closet. His dad doesn’t have to know what he does at the party, after all. If he wants to sit in a corner somewhere near a lamp and read the whole time, that’s nobody’s business but his own.
“Be good,” his dad says, smacking the book against EJ’s shoulder. EJ grabs it before his dad can head out. Then, he turns back to his closet and picks out a different shirt, sighing.
So much for a quiet night in.
The party is in full swing when EJ arrives. The lounge is bigger than he remembered, with a small dance floor in the middle and some couches and chairs to the side. A couple is doing some karaoke on a tiny stage in the middle of the room, but very few people seem to be paying attention to them. Instead, everybody’s talking to each other and dancing to the music still playing in the background. It’s almost loud enough to drown out the awful singing coming from the couple, who are now holding hands and nodding seriously at each other as they sing about their love.
EJ heads over to the couches, swerving around people as smoothly as he can. He’s only bumped into two people by the time he sits down, which he counts as a win. Nobody even spilt their drink on his mint-green button-down.
That’s a shame, actually. He likes this shirt, but he would happily sacrifice it if it meant he could go back to his room and read in peace. At least he remembered his room key this time.
EJ opens his book and finds his page again. He gets about a minute of uninterrupted reading done - more than he was expecting, really, but a guy can hope - when a bright spotlight shines on him. He has to shield his eyes from it, angrily blinking till he can see again.
Before he can figure out what’s going on, though, two strangers are already dragging him up, his book falling on the couch next to him. Before he can even process what happened, he’s already being shoved on the karaoke stage, a microphone in front of him and the lyrics to a cheesy love song on the screen.
“No way,” he says, but someone grabs his arm when he tries to leave the stage. The DJ, dressed in what has to be the ugliest shirt EJ has seen so far - and one of the people he almost fell over earlier was wearing a neon, pineapple-printed crop top in a skiing resort, so that’s saying something - grins at him, patting his arm. He has a pair of headphones dangling around his neck and a microphone in his free hand, the other still squeezing EJ’s arm.
“Sorry, dude,” he says into the microphone, not seeming very sorry at all, “but the spotlight’s chosen you. Who knows, maybe you’ll thank me for this one day.”
With that, the DJ jumps off the stage and the next second, music starts playing. EJ crosses his arms, digs his fingernails into the fabric of his shirt. No way is he seriously singing in front of all these people - even if most of them don’t seem to be paying attention at all. He doesn’t do this, doesn’t do crowds and spotlights and expectations. He steps back, carefully keeping his face blank so nobody can see how unsettled he’s feeling, when he suddenly hears a voice coming from next to him.
Of course the particular cheesy love song he’s been chosen to sing is a duet. Just his luck. Now he can’t leave without looking like a giant jerk, and he usually tries to avoid that.
EJ turns back to the mic, sighing, and looks at the guy next to him. If he’s terrible, EJ’s getting off stage regardless of what people will think. He can be back in his hotel room in a minute if he hurries, he thinks.
The guy next to him doesn’t seem happy to be here either. His brown hair is curly and looks a little damp as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. He’s wearing a powder blue shirt underneath a blazer. It’s a bit much for a casual party like this, but he pulls it off. His eyes are locked firmly on the screen in front of him as he finishes the first verse.
Then, he looks straight at EJ. His eyes are brown and he arches an eyebrow at EJ, challenging him. EJ’s frozen in place, still one step away from the microphone. A couple of seconds ago, he would’ve given anything to leave this stage. Now, though, he’s not so sure that’s what he wants anymore. His duet partner is kind of cute, after all. It’d be a shame to leave him hanging.
The guy rolls his eyes and turns around. He’s clearly gotten the impression that EJ’s not going to sing. EJ jumps forward, unfreezing just in time to rush his way through the first line of the next verse. He fixes his eyes on the screen, resolutely not looking at his partner till he’s almost done and it’s time for the two of them to sing the chorus together.
If the guy is gone, EJ can leave too, he decides. He’s tried. He won’t look like a dick anymore if he’s the last man standing. He’s not going to sing an entire duet on his own. That’s slightly out of his wheelhouse.
EJ finishes his verse. He glances over his shoulder.
The guy’s still there.
They launch into the chorus together. Their voices sound good together, EJ thinks. He’s smiling despite himself, momentarily forgetting why he hates this kind of thing so much.
The guy smiles back, doing some shuffled dance moves as he sings. He’s pretty, EJ thinks, switching between focusing on the lyrics and his partner. Looks confident despite his awful dancing. It’s admirable, really.
The guy tosses his blazer off when the chorus ends. Distantly, EJ hears the crowd whoop, sees them gather closer to the stage, but he’s having too much fun to focus on it. Both of them have taken their mics out of the stands. They’re dancing together, singing to each other. It’s the happiest EJ’s been this whole trip.
Naturally, it ends almost as soon as it’s getting fun.
When the song ends, the two of them are standing close together, both breathing heavily as they look at each other.
The crowd claps and cheers loud enough to startle EJ out of the moment. The guy in front of him chuckles.
“They didn’t pay this much attention to the last act,” he says, the hand holding his mic dropped to his side. The comment is just for EJ.
EJ shrugs. “We were a lot better than the last act.”
The guy grins.
“You're very confident for someone who looked ready to bolt the second that spotlight landed on you.”
“You’re the one who almost left the stage before the chorus even started,” EJ shoots back, grinning too.
Before the guy can retort, a heavy hand lands on EJ’s shoulder, startling him. It’s the DJ from earlier, with the headphones and the ugly shirt.
“Told you so,” he says and wrenches the mic out of EJ’s hand. With a light shove, EJ’s stumbling off the stage, and the DJ’s announcing the next act already.
EJ looks at the couch, where his book still lies open. Then, he looks at the guy on the other side of the stage, who’s trying to pull on his blazer and shake out his curls at the same time.
It’s an easy choice, really. His father would be proud.
EJ walks up to the guy, gives his most charming smile and asks him if he wants to step outside.
Ricky didn’t even want to go to the stupid party. It was bad enough his dad had dragged him here, pretending this was just a regular winter break and his mom wasn’t moving her stuff out of their house at that exact moment. He didn’t even like skiing.
But his dad had been so excited for them to get away that Ricky had done his best to be nice. He’d fallen down dozens of times before they decided that skiing wasn’t really for them, had played hours of basketball in the gym in their hotel. He hadn’t even brought his mom up once, despite how much he wanted to.
When his dad told him earlier that evening that he wanted to go to some fancy party at the hotel, he’d immediately supported that idea, thinking he could facetime Big Red and talk to his friend for a bit. He’d wanted a quiet night in, really. But his dad wanted him to have fun, too, so there he was, at some stupid party he never wanted to attend, and just when he’d decided to sneak out, the DJ had chosen him for karaoke.
The guy he was singing with had done a terrible job of hiding his terror when he got on stage. Ricky had felt bad for him, really. He knew exactly how that felt. That pity was the only reason he’d stayed and started singing. He’d almost left, thinking his partner was just going to do his very best impression of a statue the whole time, when the guy finally started singing.
They’d sounded good together, Ricky thought. It had been fun, too. And when the song had ended and they left the stage, the guy had asked him to leave the lounge for a bit and Ricky had readily agreed. After all, leaving the party had been exactly what he wanted to do too.
“I’m Ricky, by the way,” he says, following his partner outside. The air is cold enough to sting and it’s completely dark outside, the only light coming from the hotel itself. Close to midnight, probably.
“EJ,” the guy turns around. His eyes are captivating, much lighter than Ricky knew was possible. He can’t quite tell if they’re blue or green, but he does know he’s probably been spending an embarrassing amount of time staring at them.
“Hi,” Ricky says, running a hand through his hair. EJ’s eyes follow the movement, which doesn’t really help Ricky’s staring problem.
“Hi,” EJ looks a lot more at ease than Ricky feels. He’s leaning against a low brick wall, turning sideways so he’s facing Ricky. “You sounded pretty good out there.”
“Thanks. I mean, you too.” Ricky sincerely hopes he’s not always this terrible at talking to people. He thought he wasn’t but then again, he also didn’t think he liked singing, and he was pretty sure he’d really enjoyed that just a few minutes ago. “You must practice a lot.”
EJ shrugs. “Not really. I was in a school musical once, but I dropped out before the show.”
“Why?”
“Oh, just a scheduling conflict.”
“Oh. That’s a shame, though. I bet you would’ve been amazing.”
“Thanks.” EJ coughs, turning away from Ricky for a second. Ricky’s glad for it - now EJ can’t see how red his face is getting. Ricky doesn’t really know anything about musicals, let alone if EJ would be good at them.
He does think so, though. EJ’s voice is amazing and Ricky’s pretty sure that was important for musicals.
He’s attractive, too. All the best actors are good-looking, right?
“How about you?” EJ asks, turning back to Ricky. “You looked at ease on stage, you must perform a lot.”
Distantly, Ricky hears a countdown starting. It must be close to midnight.
“Yeah, sure. My showerhead’s very impressed with me,” Ricky jokes. EJ laughs and moves a little closer.
The countdown gets louder as it reaches the end. Somewhere in the distance, fireworks go off. Ricky hears cheering coming from every direction, but their little corner of the world is quiet as they take in the sights.
“Happy New Year,” he finally says, smiling at EJ.
“Happy New Year.” EJ smiles back.
Somewhere above them, a door opens. People walk out and onto a balcony, undoubtedly to look at the fireworks. Ricky’s suddenly reminded of his dad.
“I should go,” he says apologetically, “gotta find my dad.”
“Right,” EJ nods. He looks a little disappointed. “Yeah, I should leave, too.”
Ricky doesn’t leave, though. He gathers all his courage, hopes that he can pull this off without stumbling over his words, and pulls his phone out.
“Any chance I could get your number first?”
EJ’s smile is the best thing Ricky’s seen all day - all of yesterday included since today is maybe two minutes old. His eyes sparkle, the skin near the corners crinkling.
“Only if I can get yours, too.”
They swap phones, putting in their numbers and names. Ricky’s just looking over the new contact in his phone, EJ Caswell in the centre of the screen, when he asks EJ where he lives. If they’re gonna be texting, it’d be nice to know what timezone EJ’s in.
When he turns around, though, all he sees is the door swinging shut and a figure disappearing around the corner.