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"Mars," Benedikt glanced at his watch, interrupting Marshall's ranting about a White Flower client. The audacity! he had said. How could he not know who I am? Roma should've kicked him out the moment the man asked for me to hang his goddamn coat.
They were both perched up on the roof of the main Montagov residence, feet dangling off over the edge. The two of them had climbed up hours ago, when the sun had started to go down and the sky turned dark but for the glimmering lanterns and the twinkling stars, with bottles they stole from the kitchen pantry in hand.
It was not a very wise decision, Benedikt knew that, dangerous and stupid and reckless, but Marshall had insisted, saying it would be fun. When Benedikt had started to speak to protest, Marshall put a finger up to his mouth, promptly shushing him, and stuffed the bottles in Benedikt's bag. With a mischievous look on his face, the other boy had winked and bolted out so he would not get caught, leaving Benedikt with the bag of evidence. There was nothing Bnedikt could do then, so he simply sighed and cursed under his breath, before running after his best friend.
The bottles were all empty now, drained to its last poisonous drop, what's left of it muddling their minds. Benedikt felt a bit fuzzy, as if he were wrapped in clouds of cotton, but in the intoxication he found bliss. An odd freedom of a quiet mind, a luxury Benedikt did not often get; he found that he had not a care in the world. He wiggled his feet and rubbed his arms for warmth against the biting cold of December.
Being cut in the middle of the sentence, Marshall glared angrily at benedikt, mouth set in a pout, cheeks red from the passionate ranting along with the alcohol. "Oh so you too? Does no one have the slightest bit of respect for me at all-"
"Ten seconds," he reminded Marshall.
"Oh!" Marshall exclaimed. His anger seemed to dissipate from his body, his expression changing from indignation to excitement in a matter of milliseconds. "Of course! How could I have forgotten." He waved his arms over his head as if to warn the people of Shanghai of the new found information. "Ten!"
"Because you have been going on about the client for over a half an hour," Benedikt said plainly, looking back down at his wrist. "And it's eight now"
"So you don't think I deserve the least bit of common decency?" Marshall said, his words slurring. "Seven!"
"No. Quite frankly, I don't. Six."
"Oh wow, Ben," said Marshall, putting a hand to his chest as if he had been stabbed in the heart and was now weeping from the wound. "I can't believe you truly think I deserve to be treated in anyway but with the utmost respect."-Benedikt snorts-"We will talk about our crumbling friendship later. Five!"
"I will be waiting for it," Benedikt replied, an entertained smile still playing on his lips. "Four!"
"Well, until then." Marshall put an arm around Benedikt's shoulder, bringing them closer together. Benedikt could feel his heart jump with the touch. Marshall had done this a thousand times, Benedikt had too, but the alcohol coursing through his veins made him aware of every contact like a searing mark through his coat. "Three!"
Benedikt collected himself quickly, clearing his throat. "Two!" he yelled, though if Marshall heard the slight tremor that accompanied his voice, Benedikt did not know. He looked over and saw Marshall with a wide grin, overlooking the scene below them instead. He let out a small breath of relief.
"ONE!" they both yelled together, and as the words came out of their mouths, a flurry of fireworks rose to the sky and burst in a brilliant array of colours. From below, they could hear the crowds of people all over the city celebrating and laughing in joyous glee. The year was finally 1924, and the people of Shanghai were eager for change and new beginnings.
Marshall turned to him with a smile so breathtakingly bright that Benedikt struggled to think even in his state. "Happy New Year, Ben!" he laughed, and pressed a quick kiss on Benedikt's cheek.
All at once, time came into an abrupt stop. Benedikt could no longer hear the crowds from below, he could no longer hear the popping of fire crackers or the fireworks behind him. Everything halted, stopped in mid movement, but Benedikt was going a million miles per hour. His heart was racing and his brain was reeling with the fact that Marshall had kissed him Marshall had kissed him Marshall had kissed him-
Benedikt's head snapped to look at Marshall, whose dark eyes glittered in the low light of the night. "For good luck," his best friend said breathlessly, head tilting and smile still present, as if kissing Benedikt had been the greatest rush in his life.
They were so close now, almost nose to nose, puffs of breath passing in the small space between. Benedikt's eyes strayed to Marshall's lips–Marshall's lips that had been on his cheek just moments ago, red and slightly parted–and he could not bring himself to look away.
"For good luck," Benedikt echoed, not even bothering to hide the shake in his voice.
Seconds passed, minutes, hours, or even perhaps the whole year had come and gone; Benedikt did not know, did not care. Neither of them said a single word, neither of them could.
He was so close to Marshall that it would only be so easy to lean in. To forget himself and give in to the force that was pulling on him. To close the dreadful gap between them and just-
A firework boomed loudly, startling them both and shattering the moment. Benedikt felt a little pang in his thudding heart, a melancholy reserved for missed chances, and turned his face away. Marshall knew him too well, was able to read the emotions–hidden or otherwise–on Benedikt's face like a scripture. He was afraid that Marshall could read him now, could see the disappointment painted on his face.
Marshall draped his arm over Benedikt's shoulder again and started singing an off key tune. He was laughing, head turned back and glancing up at the stars above them. The light of the lanterns kissed his features delicately, creating a halo that surrounded his silhouette and made it look as if he were the sun.
For the second time tonight, Benedikt couldn’t look away from the sight of his best friend. He was art. A painting made with the most careful of strokes, a sculpture made by the gods themselves; so lively and so free and so, so beautiful.
Marshall Seo was the most beautiful thing Benedikt had ever seen.
He could feel the swell of emotions in his chest, emotions that only grew and grew until he was close to bursting from the sheer grandness of it. The feelings were not foreign to Benedikt, and were instead familiar. Comfortable feelings that felt like home. Next to Marshall, he suddenly could not feel the cold anymore.
Benedikt smiled then, and joined Marshall along in celebration.
Under the moonlight and under stars, two boys sat side by side on a rooftop, celebrating the new year. Under the moonlight and under the stars, two boys fell in love.