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The New Year’s party had grown loud in the way Jack liked best. Music spilled through the halls, voices rose and tangled, and someone had already knocked over a tray of drinks. Jack laughed at that, loud and unapologetic, the sound cutting clean through the noise like it always did.
Snow had begun falling sometime after midnight.
Jack noticed it the moment he stepped out onto the terrace, breath, boots crunching lightly against white stone. Snow always caught his attention. He told himself it was because it made everything look new, like the world had been reset while no one was looking.
Oswald was already there.
He stood beneath the overhang near the doors, posture straight, hands folded loosely, watching the snowfall with that quiet focus that made it seem like he was listening rather than looking.
Jack grinned. “I had a feeling you’d escape out here.”
Oswald glanced over, eyes calm, then nodded once. “It is quieter,” he said. “But not lonely.”
Jack took that as an invitation and stepped closer. Snowflakes landed in his hair and on his shoulders, melting almost instantly. “Good. I’d hate to interrupt your brooding.”
“I do not brood,” Oswald replied, then paused. “Often.”
Jack laughed and leaned back against the railing. “You’re allowed to tonight. It’s the New Year. Everyone gets at least one quiet moment before they’re dragged back inside.”
Oswald’s gaze shifted to Jack, something soft and thoughtful there. “You do not seem bothered by the cold.”
Jack shrugged. “Snow and I get along.”
He did not explain further. He rarely did. Snow had a habit of bringing memories with it, but tonight it behaved, gentle and harmless, drifting down like it had no past at all.
Above them, someone had hung mistletoe near the terrace doors, likely as a joke. Jack noticed it at the same time Oswald did. They both looked up. Then, just as quickly, Oswald looked away.
Jack’s smile turned mischievous. “Well. That’s dangerous.”
Oswald blinked. “Is it?”
“Extremely,” Jack said cheerfully. “Tradition is tradition.”
Oswald hesitated, then looked back at the mistletoe, clearly weighing the situation with more seriousness than Jack thought necessary. Snow continued to fall, soft and patient.
After a moment, Oswald stepped closer. Not rushed, not uncertain, he was just close enough that Jack could feel the warmth through his coat.
“If it is tradition,” Oswald said, voice quiet but steady, “then it would be rude to ignore it.”
Jack’s grin softened into something warmer.
The kiss was brief and gentle, more warmth than spark, more comfort than spectacle. Snow landed on their shoulders like a blessing that asked nothing in return.
From inside came a burst of laughter and Lacie shouting Jack’s name.
Jack pulled back, still smiling. “Guess that’s my cue.”
Oswald nodded, though his expression had softened, eyes lingering like he was memorizing the moment.
“Happy New Year, Oswald,” Jack said, bright and sincere.
Oswald inclined his head. “Happy New Year, Jack.”
They went back inside together, leaving behind the quiet terrace and the falling snow, carrying with them a moment that felt simple, light, and just enough like hope to last into the year ahead.