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Steadying his breath, Christopher straightened his tie in the mirror. It was probably overkill, but there were going to be important people there tonight. All of his dads’ coworkers were going to be there. And their children. Heat flushed his cheeks, and Chris scowled at his reflection, ripping off the tie. It was definitely overkill.
“You almost ready, bud?” Buck called from the other room, and Chris felt his heartrate spike. No, he wasn’t ready.
He glanced at the clock, and scowled again. It was shaped like a rocketship, and bordered in shooting stars. How childish. He should replace it, maybe with a nice plain black one. Too bad Christmas had just passed.
There was still fifteen minutes before they absolutely had to leave, and he still had to work out what to do with his hair. The stupid curls wouldn’t lay flat no matter how much gel he slapped into them. He considered briefly yelling back that he wasn’t coming. But no, he had known about the 118 New Year’s party for weeks, and had promised he’d go. He could be spending tonight with his friends; Dad would be sad, but he would let him go.
They’d sat him down recently, Buck and Dad, and talked to him about alcohol and cigarettes and girls (and boys, but Chris wasn’t thinking about that), and he would rather go to the 118 party than sit through another excruciating conversation like that. In his pocket, the strawberry vape he’d traded six lunches in a row for at school burned. Dad and Buck would fucking kill him.
He still wasn’t quite sure why Buck had so much input into the way he was raised. He didn’t live with them (at least, not officially; the amount of nights he actually spent here would suggest otherwise), and he and Dad were “just friends”, whatever the fuck that meant. Honestly, it was starting to get on Chris’s nerves. Seven years and they were still skirting around the obvious. Chris adored Buck the same way he adored his father, but it was starting to drive him a little insane at this point.
A knock at the door made him grimace. Why did Buck insist on being early to fucking everything. It was a new development, probably trying to make up for years of being chronically late and unreliable, and it was fucking irritating.
It surprised him when Dad popped his head into the room.
“You good? We’re going in five.”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m good.” With a last scowl at the bird’s nest on his head, mocking him from the mirror, Chris snatched up his crutches and clicked his way into the living room.
Both Dad and Buck had put a little too much effort into their outfits tonight, either trying to impress or outdo each other, and Chris was sick of it. Just last week Dad had gone on a first date with the cashier at the coffee shop down the street, and Buck had sulked for three days. There was no second date, and they had switched coffee spots. At this point, it was just sad.
Chris was never going to be like that. His chest tightened at the thought of tonight’s guestlist, and he felt the familiar scowl forming on his face. He knew he was “going through a phase” as Buck had put it, a comforting hand resting a little too lightly on Dad’s arm where they thought Chris couldn’t see, but he couldn’t help that they were ridiculous and irritating.
“I’m ready,” he announced, aware that his voice sounded like a barely contained thunder cloud. His shirt was itching his skin in a way it didn’t usually do. Tonight was going to be a shitshow.
..
The Grant-Nash household was, as usual, immaculate. First responders and their families milled around on the perfectly manicured lawn, holding plates of barbecue. When Chris was grown, he was going to have a lawn like that. He would pay someone to take care of it, rather than chucking his teenage son twenty bucks to unevenly mow it with the shitty lawnmower whenever someone commented that it was getting too long.
“Chris! Hey!” Denny bounced up to him, slinging an arm over Chris’s shoulders. “I hoped you were coming tonight! Did you see that Harry’s come back for the holidays?”
Chris’s chest constricted.
“Oh, really? Wow that’s unexpected!” Chris winced. In his effort to sound casually surprised, he’d made his voice come out all strangled and weird.
Denny raised an eyebrow. It was infuriating that he could do that. Chris couldn’t do that.
“Yeah, man. He hasn’t been back since last Christmas. It’ll be good to have the gang back together.”
Like Chris wasn’t painfully aware of the exact amount of days Harry had been away.
“Oh, yeah.” He forced out a laugh. “Just like old times. Uh, where is he?”
“Haven’t seen him yet. May said he’s still in his room. Whatever, man. I’m going to get food.” With a last odd glance at Chris, Denny loped back over to the food table, where Jee Yun was very carefully stacking her own plate, under the watchful eye of Maddie.
Nearby, Denny’s moms were chatting with Athena, a toddler cradled on Hen’s hip. Chris didn’t really like little kids, but Eisha was alright. She thought his crutches were cool, and often created imitations out of sandpit toys, following him around Denny’s house with plastic spades tucked under her tiny arms. Denny thought it was funny, and gently tugged his little sister’s curls as he laughed at her. Chris thought it was kind of sweet.
She saw Chris and wriggled in Hen’s grip, begging to be set down. Chris kind of hoped Hen wouldn’t. He was a little too distracted to play with Eisha right now.
Buck and Dad had made an immediate beeline for Bobby, moving in the ridiculous synchronicity that always made Chris’s eyes roll, and now the three of them were eyeing the steaks turning on the grill. Eddie and Buck had managed to snag beers from somewhere, and a little flicker of hope sparked in Chris’s chest. Maybe they would FINALLY let him drive them home. He had started lessons, and he had been begging his dads – sorry, Dad and Buck (eye roll) – to let him drive them someplace. They said not until he actually got his permit. Whatever.
May was hovering near Ravi, wide-eyed, as Ravi completely ignored her in favour of arm-wrestling with Lena at one of the tasteful picnic tables. Chris didn’t know why he was even trying. Lena beat him every single time. But Ravi was gritting his teeth and throwing his entire skinny body into the challenge. Lena had a beer in her free hand and was not even straining. She was, maybe a tiny bit, Chris’s idol. He made a mental note to say hi to her later.
She always patted his head and called him “Kiddo”, which was embarrassing, but she gave solid life advice and always had good stories to tell. Whatever Lena did, she did it with her entire soul. No hesitation and no regrets. Chris admired that.
Chim was chatting with a couple of people Chris didn’t recognise, but he was pretty sure by their stance that they were cops. He felt his lip curl. Fucking pigs. He turned away, keeping that sentiment to himself. Harry’s mom was a cop.
Besides Denny, there were not many others here that were Chris’s age. He could be at Ethan’s right now, playing video games and stealing whiskey that had been watered down a dozen times over. Ethan’s mom really needed to buy a new bottle. But, Harry was here. Somewhere. Chris was trying so hard to play it cool. He missed his friend, that was all. It definitely had nothing to do with the risky texts they sometimes exchanged at two in the morning, pretending it never happened and returning to the group chat with Denny in the light of day.
It was strange, thinking of Harry as anything other than a mate. It made Chris’s skin itch, and the back of his neck uncomfortably hot. He didn’t like it. It was weird. Seeing Harry in person would put things back to normal. It had to.
This thing with Harry was very new. Only a few months old. He wasn’t sure who had started it. They’d been in the group chat talking about the ‘talk’ Chris had just been given, when the conversation turned to what they all thought of the topic. Then, somehow, Harry and Chris had ended up in their own chat, getting a little too comfortable with sharing their thoughts. It was a one off, just exploring something new. That’s all. Until it happened again. And then again. Chris’s palms were sweating.
He released his hold on his crutches to wipe his hands on his jeans, heading unconsciously towards the house. He wasn’t doing it on purpose. He was just wandering around the party, seeing who was here. Denny was chatting with the daughters of one of the cops. Josh, Maddie’s mate from dispatch, was watching the arm wrestle. Chris rolled his eyes, wondering if Ravi and his pathetically skinny arms knew he had so many admirers.
The patio doors stood open, an invite that Chris couldn’t truly understand: come on in, we have no secrets. Chris’s bedroom door remained permanently and firmly closed. His crutches made dull thuds on the hardwood floor.
Would it be weird to just show himself up the stairs and knock on Harry’s door? Surely the fact that he hadn’t come down yet meant something. Maybe he really didn’t want to see Chris? But surely he would have at least said hi to Denny. Those two were always better mates. They had known each other far longer.
Pulse thumping, Chris checked the group chat. A meme from Denny. A half-hearted “merry crisis, lads” from himself. Not much else. They had all been too busy with family shit this week. Harry’s dad had taken him on some kind of fancy trip for Christmas, and he’d had no time to be checking his phone. His door loomed dark and silent at the top of the stairs. Chris scrunched his face and knocked.
“For fuck’s sake, Mom!” There was a scuffling noise, and Chris recoiled. If he spoke to Dad or Buck like that, he’d get his ass (metaphorically) handed to him. “I said I’ll be down in a bit!”
“It’s uh,” Chris cleared his throat. “It’s me.”
“Oh.” On the other side of the door, the scuffling stopped. The lock clicked. “Yeah, come in.”
With one unsteady foot, Chris nudged open the panelled wood. Harry stood in the middle of the hurricane disaster bedroom, clothes in various shades of black strewn from the window to the large suitcase in the middle of the bed.
“Uh, hey, man.” Chris shuffled forwards. Harry didn’t turn. “You good?”
“Yeah. Just having a mild crisis. None of these fucking clothes look right.” His black jeans were so tight they looked almost painted on, which Chris wasn’t noticing. He focused instead on Harry’s complicated top, jet black with lots of zips and buckles. His voice sounded far too casual to be greeting a friend he hadn’t seen in a year, like he was forcing it. “And I fucked up my face.”
“Can I see?”
“I guess.” Harry turned around, letting Chris see his face for the first time in a year. Photos weren’t the same, and the connection on their video calls was always bad, the quality turned halfway down to pixels. His jawline had gotten sharper, his tight coils of hair a little longer. Around his depthless eyes, black eyeliner was smudged outwards like a raccoon.
It looked unfairly good against his dark skin.
When he stepped forward, angling his face sheepishly so Chris could see the mess, Chris realised that he’d had a growth spurt. He was a little older than Chris, but the had never been that much taller. It made his stomach feel weird.
“I told you I’ve been like, fucking around with eyeliner and shit, yeah? Well for some fucking reason, I can’t get it right today.” He stomped past Chris to slam the door, and then lowered his voice, sending uninvited shivers down Chris’s spine. “Oi, you got any nic? I can’t get any here without Mom finding out and flipping her shit.”
A zing of satisfaction went through Chris’s spine as he dug the vape from his pocket. He’d done something right. He handed it over without hesitation, not even bothering to take a hit himself. He didn’t really like it and very rarely used it; it always made him cough horribly. Harry closed his eyes in bliss, pursing his lips to exhale. Chris cleared his throat and turned away when he realised he was staring.
“I don’t think the eyeliner looks bad,” he told his friend, just to change the topic. “The shirt is a little overkill though. What else you got?”
Harry steadily filled the room with thick vapour from his lungs as he fumbled around in the mess for his shirts, lining them up on the bed for Chris to see, and Chris eyed them cautiously. It felt like a lot of responsibility to be allowed to chose a shirt for someone as cool as Harry. He could have called Denny and asked for help, but he hadn’t. He’d chosen to let Chris in and ask for advice. Mentally, Chris tugged away the little smile forming on his mouth and tucked it away for later.
“What about this one?” Chris motioned to a long-sleeve tee, plain black except for the splashed logo from some band that Chris would never admit he didn’t know. “That seems for low-key enough for a family thing.”
Harry cocked his head to the side, considering, then scooped it up.
“Okay, I’ll put it on. Can you, uh,” his lips moved weirdly as he motioned with his hands for Chris to turn his back.
Chris’s cheeks burned as he obeyed, hearing the slip of cotton and the light thud of the rejected top being thrown to the floor. They had never been shy with each other before. This, like so many other things, was new.
Harry rummaged in his belongings for a while longer, pulling on various accessories, until he stood in front of Chris and the mirror and gave a satisfied nod.
“It’ll do.”
It’ll do? He looked amazing. With smoke leaking out from between his lips, various bands of leather and chain at his wrists and throat, dark skin glowing gently against all the black, he looked like one of those alt boys Chris liked to watch on TikTok. Next to him, in his “nice” jeans and button down, Chris looked like a baby.
Maybe he should have gone for the tie.
“Alright, we should head down. Oh, and Chris?” Harry hesitated for a long moment, before stepping forward, right into Chris’s space, reaching forward to tuck the vape into Chris’s pocket for him, lightning-quick, making Chris jolt. He pulled away instantly, almost jumping backwards to put physical space between them. “It’s good to see you.”
..
“We can only just see the fireworks from here,” May was telling a distracted Ravi, fiddling with a strand of her hair. Chris followed his line of vision and realised that he was watching Josh. Good. He was far too old for May, even if May didn’t seem to care.
“But we can sure hear them,” Athena breezed past, “Just glad I ain’t working tonight. Last year was pure chaos.”
“Well,” Bobby wrapped an arm around her waist, taking the glass of wine from her hand and setting it down on a nearby table so he could pull her in for a quick kiss. Ew. “We earned it.”
“Yup,” Buck chimed in from somewhere behind Chris, making him jump. He was holding a near-empty beer, free hand resting lightly on the arm of some random woman in a glittery dress, playing absently with her sleeve. “Both Christmas and Thanksgiving on the same year? Bloody nightmare.”
Chris hadn’t minded. He’d spent both holidays with his Abuela and her amazing cooking.
It was nearing midnight, perhaps half an hour to go, and judging by the wobble in Buck’s stance and his proximity to the woman, he was quite tipsy. Chris started to wonder what was going on there, and then decided he didn’t want to fucking know. Buck rarely got actually drunk, but he was one of the rare adults that was actually fun to be around when they were drinking. Some people were far too loud and rude. Chris shot a glare at the gaggle of cops.
Denny had vanished twenty minutes ago, giggling and pressing his finger to his lips as he caught Chris’s eye right at the moment one of the cop-daughters dragged him into the hedge. Either he was being brutally murdered, or he was having the time of his life. Chris scrunched his nose at the thought. The group chat was going to be excruciating for the next three to five business days.
Harry was around somewhere, always busy chatting, and always on the complete opposite side of the party from Chris. Chris was fairly certain the taller boy was avoiding him, and it put a sour taste in his mouth. Under the soft fairy lights, he looked like some sort of demon put there specifically to fuck up Chris’s night. He scowled, searching for his father.
He found Dad quickly, over by the long-cold grill, leaning against a pole and scowling in Buck’s general direction. Immediately, Chris switched routes. Fucking nope. If Dad and Buck didn’t sort their shit out soon, Chris was genuinely going to lose it. The nearest he could figure, both of them were too afraid of themselves. They both had trauma, and neither of them wanted to drag the other down. That wouldn’t happen though. Chris had been watching those two losers patch each other up for seven years. After every fall, no matter how minor, they landed firmly in each other’s arms. Well, metaphorically. Everything would be less frustrating if it was literally.
In Karen’s gentle but firm grasp, Eisha was fussing. She had been tucked into May’s bed hours ago, too young to stay up until midnight, but had recently re-woken, demanding to be part of the party. She loved the fairy lights and the upbeat music, and the way everybody fussed over the new words she learned. She was a late talker, and all of the parents among the group rushed to praise her every time she said a clear word. Chris understood what it was like to be a little different, and he wouldn’t begrudge her that. She looked tired but happy, some kind of dessert smeared across her face.
With no options left, Chris slunk to the edge of the patio, sinking down and leaning his crutches against his knees. He checked his phone and sighed. Twenty minutes to midnight. So much for a fun New Year with Harry and Denny.
“You good there, Kiddo?” Knuckles ruffled his hair, just a little too hard, and a body plopped down next to him. Automatically, Chris leaned into Lena’s shoulder. He was too old for that, but he drew comfort from it anyway.
“Everything just sucks.”
“Are you talking about your dads? Or Harry?”
Chris sat up straight to squint at her. He hadn’t expected her to know what he meant.
“Um. Both, I guess.”
“Yeah,” with her beer, she waved in the general direction of Buck and Dad, and Buck’s random new woman. “That’s real fucking hard to watch.”
That was another reason Chris liked her: she never held her tongue around him. He was practically grown up; contrary to Dad and Buck’s belief, he could handle a little foul language. Lena took a sip of her beer. Chris had half a mind to ask her for some.
“Right?” He agreed, glad someone else saw it for what it was. “What the fuck is Buck doing?”
It was a test. Lena didn’t correct his language. She passed.
“Trying to make Eddie jealous, I think. Look at how he keeps looking back at your dad to make sure he’s seeing.” Disgust coloured her voice. “It’s pathetic. I say if you want something, just go for it.”
“Huh.” Chris turned the words over in his mind. Just go for it. Huh. Maybe she was right. “Can I have some of your drink?”
Under the glowing lights, Lena just smirked.
“Nice try, Kiddo. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Yeah,” Chris huffed a sigh, imagining all the things he wanted right now. All the things that were currently ignoring him. “That was easier, though.”
“I’ll bet. Anyway, Ravi wants a rematch. He may be my best fucking friend, but he is about to eat shit.”
“Again.” Chris couldn’t help the grin.
“Yup,” Lena agreed, standing and stretching. “Again. Have a good night, Kiddo. Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year, Lena.”
He watched her walk away, words spinning in his mind. If you want something, just go for it.
Denny still hadn’t returned. He was going to cop a whole lot of shit for that, Chris silently vowed, but right now he was sort of glad Denny was distracted. He had two things to do, and fifteen minutes to do them in. Both were equally terrifying, but if Lena (who was maybe perhaps the coolest person in the world) believed in him, Chris could do it. Leaning heavily on the pole beside him, he stood up.
..
“Dad.”
The low, hissing voice seemed to catch Dad by surprise, making him jump a little. Chris hid a vindicated smirk. Dad was literally so consumed with scowling in Buck’s direction that he hadn’t even heard his son approach.
“Oh, hey, buddy.” He sounded strangled. “How’s your night going?”
“Shit,” replied Christopher plainly, holding up a hand to ward off the incoming reprimand. “You and Buck are being dumb. He’s going to kiss Ms Shiny Dress at midnight if you don’t do something about it, and then you are going so sulk for the next month.”
“I’m not- what?” Dad’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Like the thought had truly never crossed his mind. “What the hell, Chris? Where is this coming from?”
“Please,” Chris rolled his eyes, shoving every ounce of sarcasm in his body into the movement, making sure Dad saw it. He was one hundred percent convinced of his position here. “You guys are absolutely pathetic about each other, and if you don’t kiss him at midnight and then have an actual conversation afterwards, I’m moving in with Lena.”
“Lena,” Dad turned his eyes heavenward, as though the pollutioned-out stars could save him. “Of course.”
“I mean it, Dad. I’m literally sick of whatever the hell this is. Talk to Buck, and kiss him. Or kiss him and then talk. I don’t care what order you do it in. Just do it, or I’m disowning you both. I’m well old enough to apply for emancipation.”
“How do you even know that word?”
“You’re changing the subject.” Chris held firm. He was bluffing, and Dad knew that, but he genuinely was sick of this. “I’ve got things to do. I’ll see you after midnight. Happy New Year.”
“Uh, yeah,” Dad still looked like a stunned fish, stealing glances at Buck every time he thought he could get away with it. Buck was stealing glances right back, arm wrapped firmly around a thin waist in a sparkly dress, but they never seemed to look at the same time. “Happy New Year, bud.”
With a last scoff at his father, Chris left.
..
“Harry.” Despite his crutches, Chris was good at sneaking when he needed to be. Next to Maddie, Harry jumped.
“What?” The taller boy picked furiously at his choker, clearly trying to pull himself together.
Chris got it. After the conversation with Dad, he was feeling confident, but this next mission was going to be far harder. If Harry rejected him, their little group would implode. Chris sort of wished he had a choker of his own to pick at. He settled for scuffing the toe of his shoe on the perfect grass.
“Want to watch the fireworks with me?”
Harry shot a glance at Maddie, who had tactfully turned away, seeking out her husband and Jee.
“You mean you and Denny?” Harry was still fidgeting. The air between them felt hot, despite it being the middle of winter.
There was the out. Chris could agree, pretending that he didn’t know exactly how Denny was currently occupied. He could still save the situation.
Then he remembered how he felt, under the covers with his phone at 2am, hiding even though he knew nobody would disturb him, and drew in a deep breath.
“No. I mean with me. Just me. You and me.” The unnecessary over-explanation made him cringe, but Chris was about to implode from nerves. Sue him.
“Yes.” The reply was far too quick, far too eager, and Chris’s heart thudded even as Harry coughed and tried to rectify himself. “I mean yeah. That would be alright, I guess.”
“Cool.” Chris tried to play it off like his pulse wasn’t so erratic he felt close to passing out.
“You can see it better from the roof. I was going to watch it from up there.” Harry told him, and then glanced at Chris’s crutches, hesitating. Immediately, Chris’s heart sank. His fucking disability. Right. Well, that was that. Chris turned to leave.
“Wait.”
The hand on his bicep was only the lightest of grips, but it burned all the way through his coat.
“I, um, I think I know a way to get you on the roof. A safe way,” Harry clarified, as Chris’s eyebrows rose towards his hair. “Just have a look and see what you think. If you don’t think it’s safe, we can watch them from the yard like everyone else.”
..
The cherry picker was folded in on itself, neck settled into its small body like some kind of dinosaur.
“Bobby rented it from some company to fix one of the gutters. I know how to use it.” Harry shifted from one foot to the other, black clothes and dark skin camouflaging him almost completely on this side of the house, away from the laughter and lights.
Chris eyed the little machine. The metal frame looked awfully thin, but Harry had told him it was safe. And, more importantly, he’d thought of this way for Chris to enjoy the activity, disability be damned.
“I have the keys.” Suddenly, Harry’s little detour to the garden shed made sense. “If you want to get on the roof, I can lift you right up to that flat bit, and then climb up and help you onto it. I won’t let you fall. I promise.”
It was the hope in Harry’s voice that undid him. Chris felt himself nod.
The ride upwards was terrifying, and Chris was glad he had the foresight to lay his crutches down and hold firmly to the railing around the little platform. He supposed workers were usually strapped in, but with four minutes left until midnight, he hadn’t wanted to waste the time.
As promised, Harry scrambled up a nearby tree to meet him at the top, holding Chris’s arm to make the transition onto the roof as easy and non-horrifying as it could be. Once they were on the roof, though, Chris felt better. It was fairly flat, and with Harry’s hand still on his arm, the bumpy terrain was easy enough to navigate.
Harry led him to a dip in the roof, small and flat between two points. A blanket was folded in a corner, and when Chris sat, Harry hesitantly wrapped it around both of their shoulders. Heart thumping hard enough he was sure Harry could hear it, Chris leaned stiffly into the other boy’s shoulder. The arm Harry wrapped around him felt just as stiff.
From here, they could see the entire party. As midnight marched its way forward, the chatty little groups dispersed, people gravitating towards the person they wanted to spend the last moments of the year with.
Maddy wrapped herself up in Chim, Jee tucked between them on the garden bench. Athena and Bobby held court, pressed against one another in the centre of the crowd. Ravi hovered within arm’s reach of Josh, and the dispatcher didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. May was laughing with Lena, both of them seeming content with watching the arrangement the others were finding themselves in. Karen and Hen were cross-legged on the grass with Eisha and an array of toys. A swathe of fabric that Harry pointed out as Denny’s shirt was poking out of the back side of the hedge.
The woman in the sparkly dress was pouting in the corner. Hope flickered in Chris’s chest as he followed her furious expression, and found Dad and Buck deep in some kind of serious conversation at the edge of the garden, mostly obscured by the lattice of climbing plants. If they weren’t going to finally kiss, at least they were talking.
“I don’t hate the city when I see it like this.”
The low voice in his ear made Chris shiver, and he tore his eyes away from the party below. Beyond the rooftops, the L.A. skyline was illuminated against the glow of light pollution. It was nothing special, but with Harry’s warm body pressed against his side, Chris had to admit that it wasn’t bad. In his lap, Chris twisted his hands together.
A long moment passed in silence, and then on the horizon, the first firework sparked. The boom that followed set the neighbourhood dogs barking in time with the cheer that went up from the gathered group below.
Chris watched, enchanted despite himself.
“What’s your new year’s resolution?” Harry’s voice was still low, like they were sharing secrets that even the soft wind wasn’t allowed to overhear.
Still watching the distant fireworks, Chris turned the night over in his head. He had plenty of resolutions at the tip of his tongue: Do better in school. Learn to play guitar. Quit vaping.
He remembered Lena’s words. If you want something, just go for it.
Harry was a line of heat against his side, the stolen keys to rented machinery hidden in his pocket. The blanket was warm over their shoulders. He hadn’t even asked for Chris’s vape.
Chris took a deep breath.
“This.”
Not sparing a second to properly think it through, Chris tilted his head up and pressed his lips against Harry’s. It was just a peck, skin brushing skin against the backdrop of the New Year fireworks, but Chris’s heart thudded like he might die.
As soon as he pulled away, he ducked his head, hiding his flaming face. Oh, shit. He’d done it. There was no going back now. He wouldn’t have been proud of himself, if he weren’t so terrified.
“Oh.” Beside him, he felt Harry melt. “You- I thought- Oh.”
“Oh?” It was a miracle that Chris’s voice worked. “That sounds bad.”
“Definitely not bad.” Over the distant boom of the fireworks, Chris heard the other boy clear his throat. “I just didn’t think… I thought this was like a text only, we don’t talk about it type of thing.”
“Do you want it to be?” Chris forced himself to ask. He readied himself to pull away, dreading the reply.
Below them, Dad placed his hands on Buck’s biceps, finally, finally, drawing him in for a kiss. Enchanted expression visible even from here, Buck went willingly. A bubble of warmth burst inside Chris’s chest.
“Do I want to be stuck in a weird online-only relationship with the person I’ve had a crush on for months? Fuck no.”
Before he had a chance to process the response, fingers were under his chin, and Chris lifted his head just in time for soft lips to press against his. On the backs of his eyelids, the fireworks continued to explode.
Happy New Year, indeed.