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“Tonight we are young, so let’s set the world on fire! We can burn brighter than the sun!”
Even from the back of the bar, Tommy can hear the loud crowd of drunks chanting the song, probably tripping over their own feet and spilling their cheap drinks onto the floor as they hold each other. Tommy thinks they’re dumb, and endearing.
Tommy puffs his cig and looks at his watch: 11:45.
Great, another year that goes by and once again, he has no one to kiss for the countdown. He thinks it’s pathetic, it’s not like he doesn’t have any choices, it's just… he doesn’t know if he’s ready for them, if he can dive in and allow himself to kiss—
The screech of the door opening takes him out of his thoughts. He looks over from his spot on the wall and smiles at the person he sees come out.
“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Howie’s probably just as drunk as he is, given the way he moves. He’s surprised he isn't sprawled on their booth given how much he usually drinks. Tommy’s never gotten used to drinking with Howard Han.
“Just having a smoke. What’s the life of the party doing here though?”
Howie’s one of those people that just attracts everyone, at least according to Tommy. Once he has you in his sight you are forced to become his friend. And you’ll do it gladly because… It's Howie after all.
He sees him get closer and stand beside him, leaning against the brick wall “Same thing as you apparently. C’mon give me a hit.”
Tommy smirks and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the box with their usual brand. It’s not a habit either of them are proud of, constantly being scolded by Hen and Karen when they visit and even Sal has called them out on it more than once. But what can you do, their line of work pretty much lays the foundation for substance abuse.
They will quit. One day.
But tonight’s not going to be when that happens.
Howie grabs the box, grinning with all his pearly teeth showing. The bastard’s smile is perfect, with no proof of his smoking habits. “You are a saint, you know that?” He pulls out one of the cigarettes and puts it in his mouth, raising his eyebrows to let Tommy know he’s ready.
Tommy sighs and pulls the lighter, and is forced to put his own cig in his mouth because of the breeze that threatens the flame to extinct. Carefully covering the fire, he lights Howie’s cigarette and goes back to smoking his, putting the box and lighter back in his pocket.
Howie takes one drag and moans at the feeling, looking satisfied with the smoke reaching the confines of his lungs “God this is good. Shame we’ll probably die from this.”
“Don’t tell me, lung cancer, right?”
Howie giggles “Well, not yet, thank goodness,” they both laugh softly at the reference. Superman , 1978.
Hen likes to tease them about it, calls them cinephiles as if it’s a bad thing. So what if they love movies? So what if they know their favorites by heart? That only proves they have a liking for something. Although it is true that they may spend a little too much time watching films than the average person.
But it’s their thing, and that’s what matters.
After a few more smokes Howie looks at him “So, how are we doing tonight?”
Tommy arches an eyebrow “Apart from the fact we didn’t die last week?” Howie’s push on his shoulder makes him laugh, raising his hands as a peace offering, “Relax, I’m just teasing.”
“Not funny Kinard, not funny. And it wasn’t a bad theory!”
“I told you the basis was all wrong! How can you believe the end of the Mayan calendar is the actual end of the world?” Howie rolls his eyes at the question and takes another hit, showing his middle finger at him. Tommy just chuckles and takes a drag.
“You think Hen and Karen are already asleep?”
Howie blinks at him “Why, you wanna try and call them for new years?”
“I was thinking more like crashing on their couch,” Howie laughs at him and reminds him that they probably wouldn’t like to be bothered by a couple of drunks, especially not on New Years’ Eve. He wiggles his eyebrows at the last sentence, the alcohol letting his inhibitions down.
Tommy isn’t going to admit this out loud, but he’s sort of jealous of Hen. He’s always looked up to her on a personal level, ever since she bravely told everyone at the station off and showed how proud she’s of herself. He wants nothing more than to have even a grain of her confidence.
He wants to know what is like to love yourself enough to go after what you want.
He takes another hit and looks at the moon, shining over them and serving as the only source of light besides a few neon signs. It's oddly terrifying, to see something that's so far away it seems foreign to you but it actually rules your life, needing it to survive. He feels as if the moon would know all of his secrets if he stood here long enough for her to get deep into his veins.
He looks back at Howie, changing the topic “So, what are your resolutions this year?”
“Not quitting, that's for sure.”
Tommy chuckles “Amen to that,” and both men clink their cigarettes together, their own version of what they call a nicotine toast.
Howie looks at the night sky for a moment, pensive. “I think I want to find love this year,” he looks at Tommy, a sad expression on his face “Do you think that’s cheesy?”
Tommy smiles warmly and holds his shoulder for a little while. He really hopes for Howie to find someone, he deserves it. Howie has a good heart, and an even better soul.
Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve Howie as a friend, especially not after the way he treated him his first months as a probie. His heart is filled with shame and regret at the memory, at the way he pushed him away just so that he couldn’t be known and found out. Nowadays he could not imagine ever letting him go, he’s been wrapped around Howard Han’s finger. And he isn’t ready to be unfolded.
“Not for one second Howie. After all, which one of us has a romcom as their favorite movie?”
Love, Actually . That’s his favorite movie, and very few people know about it. Howie was one of them.
The corners of Howie’s mouth twitch upwards, a silent nod that expresses everything words can’t “So, what are your resolutions, Mr June?” Tommy snorted a laugh, shaking his head. Howie has been teasing him about being selected as Mr June for 2013’s calendar ever since it was announced, but he doesn’t mind.
It’s actually kind of fun.
He finishes the cigarette and stomps on it before leaning back against the wall “Well… I think I’d like to take more risks this year, and obviously to amp up to 150 in the gym if I can.” Okay he is definitely trying to make it less serious, and based on Howie’s reaction it did not work.
“Tommy…” his tutting makes him roll his eyes, “That’s a good resolution, you shouldn’t try to make it more… digestible. I mean, at least yours is more doable.”
Tommy frowned, a little confused, “And why wouldn’t yours be doable?”
He didn’t think finding love in a year could be that hard, at least not for a guy like Howie. He had so much to offer, so much devotion and care that it would be crazy to think nobody would accept it. Plus, Howie's like super hot.
When a guy looked like Howie; soft raven hair, nice smile, dark eyes and crazy abs; it was hard not admire him.
Howie scoffs and gives one last drag to his cigarette before tossing it on the ground and stomping his foot on it “I can’t even get a new years kiss Tommy. I don’t think finding love would be realistic.”
Tommy blinks at him “Realistic? C’mon Howie. You,” he points his finger at him “You out of anyone here could get a kiss. Like, you could just go back in there and find any girl, easily.”
And he means it. He’s seen the way some women look at his friend, they want to talk to him, to get to know him. It’s odd to him how Howie just doesn't try to be himself around them sometimes, when he could charm them easily that way.
Howie rolls his eyes, but the rest of his demeanor shows sadness “Says the man who looks like a Greek god.”
Tommy could be taken aback, but he isn’t. Howie could be an ass whenever he was irritated or angry about something, which is why he lets this slide. He gives him that look, that ‘stop that now’ look, and ducks his head, kicking his feet against the dirty alleyway floor.
He notices Howie looks for him, leans closer to make him look at him in the eye “Hey, sorry dude I didn’t… I didn’t mean to sound that shallow. Are you okay?”
He bites his lip and raises his head, “It’s fine Howie, it’s just… you’re not the only one who isn’t kissing anybody tonight.”
Howie’s eyes widen, he looks genuinely taken back by his statement “But… W-why? How?”
Tommy hadn’t kissed anyone in so long, it was making him insane. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t just go to a club and find himself anybody, it’s just… he wanted to kiss someone who actually liked him back. Someone who would look at him as something more than just a pretty face or a good time. He yearns for that.
And it kills him inside.
He laughs bitterly “Look, Howie… I haven’t had a New Years’ kiss in like over three years. Even when I’ve dated it never lasts up to this,” he closes his eyes for a few seconds and opens them to find Howie’s eyebrows pulled together in a concerned expression “I don’t want to bother if it isn’t with someone who likes me, or that I like back.”
Howie’s lips form a soft smile, and he titles his head “There’s no one right now?”
Don’t—
“It’s not like they know I exist,” his lips tight into a fine line, preventing himself from saying too much.
Howie puts his hands in his jean pockets, his thumbs curl around the belt hoops, “Didn’t you say you wanted to take more risks this year?”
And fuck, that’s Howie poking right where it’ll hit the most. The worst is that he knows he’s right. He knows it’s cowardly to sit around and mope about what you can’t have when you could try for it. When you have the chance for it. When you could actually make a move for it.
He sighs “The year hasn’t even started yet. And it’s not like I want to kiss a stranger tonight.”
“Well that’s unfortunate, ‘cause I saw a pretty blonde out there who looked at you all night. Maybe you could try with her.”
Tommy laughs from his belly and shakes his head, if only he knew .
“Okay you don’t want a stranger, go try with someone from the B shift then, or the 133! We know some of them” And that’s the clearest sign that Howie’s drunk, because it was one of the most ridiculous ideas he’s ever had.
“I don’t think I should be kissing a coworker, Howie.”
Howie rolls his eyes “Listen man, it’s not going to be the end of the world to kiss someone tonight, regardless if they like you or not” he gets a little closer and pats him on the shoulder “You just have to enjoy it, Tommy.”
Ten, nine, eight! The countdown has started.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, feels like a lifetime has gone by and his hazy eyes meet Howie’s. He moves closer, shifting his body so that he’s in front of him.
Seven, six, five!
He bites his lip as he sees the world in them. Sees that person that showed him he didn’t have to close himself off to new people and possibilities. And he sees the moonlight shower his face. There’s a softness that’s not easy to find in men like them, in men whose image has always been associated with roughness, where being soft means that you love.
And that made you weak.
Four, three, two!
He stays looking at those eyes. Those eyes that care for him, that love him in a way he has never been loved, that want the best for him. Those are the eyes of his dearest friend, one of the few people he thinks he’ll ever be able to trust. Those are the eyes of Howard Han.
And that… that was his mouth.
“Howie…”
‘One!’ he hears.
Fuck it , he thinks. And dives in.
He holds his jaw with one hand, curling the fingertips on his neck. It’s soft, it’s tender, it’s lips on lips that don’t kiss back. He doesn’t want to open his eyes just yet, because if he does… he fears Howie’s wouldn’t even be closed.
But then he feels movement. He feels his friend, practically his best friend , kiss him back. And that’s what truly scares him. So he pulls back.
He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol that makes him feel like Howie was kissing back, but he can’t take it back, not now. Not when his eyes flutter open and he sees that darkness locked in on him. He’s embarrassed, so fucking embarrassed he doesn’t even think he can look at Howie.
“I-I… Howie, I’m so—” and it’s like his brain is short-circuiting.
Because Howard Han takes him by the neck and pulls him back to him, crashing their lips together. And he can’t believe it, not even when Howie’s going at it headstrong: their noses are smashing, his hand is traveling to his hair pulling it and he’s pretty much sucking his upper lip.
It’s kind of ironic that this happens with fireworks as background noise.
Tommy can’t help it but kiss him back with the same force, and one of his hands looks for stability in the wall while the other looks for grounding in Howie’s waist. Howie’s free hand travels to his hip, keeping him there. As if Tommy was ever going to pull away from this.
He never thought his lips would feel like this, soft even when he’s trying to devour him with them. And speaking of devouring, a moan escapes him when Howie bites his lip and deepens the kiss, feeling their tongues meet sloppily for the first time. The taste of alcohol intoxicates him more than the one that courses through his veins.
Their bodies flush together, neither of them wanting to stay away for even a second. Howie’s back meets the brick wall and he groans, both from the sudden hit and the fact that their hips were closer than ever, grinding against each other.
This is something Tommy had never expected. He never thought he’d ever get to know how Howie’s dick felt like, even through his jeans. And the worst (or best?) is that it wasn’t bad.
It was glorious.
But nothing good lasts. And their stupid lungs need stupid air to breathe so they pull away, very much reluctantly if you ask them. It's in that moment where both men realize their necks hurt like a bitch, but that's not the most important thing.
It's how they look.
Tommy's lips are crimson red and there's tiny bite marks in his cupid's bow. His cheeks have a blush that's not far off from the tone of his lips. You can't even see the blue in his eyes thanks to the way his pupils have dilated. And his hair is a mess, all ruffled and electric spikes jumping all over the place. It was going to be impossible to make himself look presentable.
Howie's not much better. Just like Tommy his lips are a burning shade of red, all plump and angry in a way that itches. There’s another, bigger kind of darkness in his eyes, the dark brown of his eyes overpowered by the black. The skin of his chin is raw thanks to Tommy’s stubble, and will probably become a problem for him in the next hours. All the signs of kissing were laid out on his face.
They were wrecked. A mess. Absolutely ruined by that kiss.
Their eyes meet, completely dazed from what just happened. It takes a while for both of them to process what they’ve done, but when it does they start laughing.
More like, burst out laughing.
Tommy hides his face in the crook of Howie’s neck, his shoulders shaking as the cackle turns into a wave of giggles. His hands hold Howie’s biceps and the other man holds his back, caressing it softly. “Holy shit, Howie.”
He can’t believe this even happened, even when he still has the lingering feeling of Howie’s lips on his. Even when his jeans feel so tight it’s a little painful. Even when he still has his body plastered against Howie’s. He still can’t believe they kissed.
And he can’t believe it doesn’t even feel weird.
Howie chuckles “That… wasn’t so bad. Not at all.” Tommy lifts his head to ask if he’s sure and that he shouldn’t lie if it wasn’t good. Howie simply arches his eyebrow and looks down at… his boner. Tommy gave Howie a boner. And that makes him laugh softly.
“Well, he also thought it was good,” it should make Tommy feel embarrassed to talk about his dick in third person, but all the shame seems to have been thrown out of the window.
Especially since Howie also laughs about it, making the air feel much lighter.
“Did you… I mean, was it really okay? Because I was afraid you were gonna punch me or something,” it makes him wince to hear himself say that. He knows Howie would never do that and it is a wild assumption to make, but that kind of fear was always lingering inside of him. And he feels like Howie catches on to it, based on the way his face softens and the hug he receives over it, arms wrapped around him for a little longer than he was used to.
“I don’t regret this Tommy, and I hope you don’t either. I also hope you don’t become a stranger any time soon over this, I like having you in my life,” the hug ends and Howie holds him by the shoulders “Besides, now you can take some pointers from me if you want to kiss someone.”
“Hey! I’m not that bad you little shit.”
And they’re laughing.
And it’s fine.
Howie sighs “Just… promise me that you’ll take a risk every once in a while. Make a move, it won’t kill you.”
Tommy smiles at him. A genuine smile. “I will, Howie. In the meantime, I think we should get going, don't you? Traffic’s already a nightmare and I’m definitely crashing at your place tonight.”
Howie laughs and shakes his head “Fine. But not before we get a few shots, let’s celebrate a little!”
And Tommy nods, and they go back to the bar and get so drunk they can’t remember anything about that night for the next week. But that’s okay. Because Tommy’s always going to agree with any of Howie’s plans, no matter how crazy they can get.
He just hopes his liver can survive them.