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It was the day after Christmas when Neo's friends came up with the brilliant (read: absolutely ridiculous) plan to meet up and watch fireworks on New Year’s Eve. The idea was simple: meet up about an hour before midnight at this picturesque hillside — the kind with a view perfect for star-gazing, fireworks-watching, and, apparently, scheming. There were benches lined up along the edge, facing the city; their friends claimed it had the best visibility for the show.
Most of the group bailed immediately.
“Family dinner,” they said.
“We’re busy,” they said.
“My aunt’s cousin’s friend’s dog is having puppies,” one of them said — which, honestly, should’ve been a red flag in itself.
Only Avoma and Neo, coincidentally, still had that night free.
Or so they thought.
Because behind the scenes? Their friends weren’t arranging a casual get-together — they were arranging a setup. A prank. A date. Whatever word fit best. All because they’d grown suspicious of the two boys and their… behavior lately.
Suspicious was generous. In their eyes, Neo and Avoma were one accidental lip brush away from confessing.
And honestly? Fair.
The signs were all there: the lingering touches, the way they sat too close, the sharing of food even though Avoma pretended he hated it, Avoma letting Neo nap on him like some kind of living pillow, Neo letting Avoma play with his hair like he was crafted solely for it… They’d seen it all.
Their friends’ logic was solid: if they get the two alone under literal fireworks, maybe they’ll finally realize they like each other. Or combust. Either outcome was entertaining.
The only concern was the risk that one of them would back out at the last second — which would ruin, and I quote, "the yaoi potential." Those were their friends’ exact words. No shame. None.
And that was exactly what happened. Two days before the event, Neo suddenly said he wasn’t going.
The next morning? Avoma said the same.
Their friends panicked. They threw out every trick in the book — persuasion, guilt-tripping, bribery, emotional manipulation, the promise of free snacks… and somehow, it worked. Neo caved first, agreeing to go. An hour later, Avoma did the same.
It was suspiciously synchronized. Almost romantic. Or tragic. Or both.
---
Neo arrived first.
He wore dark wide-legged jeans and a slightly oversized gray shirt layered with a jacket for warmth. He looked comfortable but out of place — sitting alone with his hands clasped, eyes scanning the area every few seconds. Ten minutes passed. No familiar faces. Not one.
His heart sank.
Not because he was scared of being alone, but because he genuinely thought he might be.
Avoma arrived moments later — black baggy pants, his signature blue hoodie, breath visible in the cold. He glanced at his watch.
11:17 PM. Not terrible timing… but something was off.
Where were the others? Seven people were supposed to show up. Seven. Not zero. His gaze shifted — and there Neo was, sitting at the far-left bench, framed by the moonlight, completely unaware he was being stared at.
Avoma checked his watch again.
11:25 PM.
“Seriously? No one else?”
He approached hesitantly, hands shoved deep into his pockets. It almost felt like walking toward a dream — or a trap. A romantic trap. Which was worse.
He slowed behind the bench, took a breath, then stepped forward.
“Hey. Been here a while?” he asked, casual on the surface but undeniably nervous.
Neo jolted like someone had just fired a gun beside him.
“A-Avoma? Oh. Uh—yeah. I’m surprised Spek or Giuseppe isn’t here yet.”
He kept glancing around like his friends would leap out from behind a bush yelling “Surprise!” at any moment.
Neo chuckled under his breath, staring down at his hands.
“I really thought I was gonna be alone. For a moment.”
A pause. A breath.
Then, quietly —
“I’m glad you’re here, Avoma.”
Avoma’s heart malfunctioned. Short-circuited. Died. Respawned. Whatever it did, it wasn’t normal. Heat rushed to his cheeks; he swallowed hard enough to hear it.
“I— what? You thought everyone bailed? No way. They’re probably on their way. Relax.”
Which would’ve been comforting if Avoma didn’t sound like a malfunctioning AI robot experiencing Feelings.exe.
Neo laughed.
“I hope so.”
Avoma wanted to be swallowed whole by the ground.
---
The awkwardness finally eased. Conversation came naturally again — jokes, small talk, the kind of soft silence that doesn’t feel empty. It was almost nice.
Until their friends picked that exact moment to text and reveal the truth.
The messages came in one after another:
> “lolllll we set u up”
“HAVE FUN ON UR DATE 🎆💙”
“kiss maybe?? for science?? smh”
Neo froze.
Avoma combusted.
Both were red enough to be mistaken for fireworks.
There was outrage — loud, sputtering, barely coherent.
There were threats of violence.
There were vows to never trust anyone again.
But beneath all that indignation was something else — something quieter, warmer, terrifying.
Hope.
Because if everyone else could see it…
maybe it was real.
---
They didn’t realize it hit 12:00 until the first firework split the sky open in color. Neo’s head lifted, eyes wide as the night bloomed in gold and red and white overhead. Avoma looked up too, the light reflecting on his face — then looked down just once.
Just long enough to see the fireworks reflected in Neo’s eyes.
He froze. Everything blurred: the cheers, the explosions, the wind. All he could register was Neo — lit up in color, black hair moving with the breeze, eyes wide like someone rediscovering wonder. Beautiful in a way that hurt to look at.
Avoma leaned closer without thinking, helpless to it.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered — barely audible, almost swallowed by the fireworks.
Neo heard enough.
His face flushed. His lips parted.
And he smiled — soft, sincere, devastating.
Their shoulders touched. Then their knees.
Neo’s hand found Avoma’s, hesitant at first, then confident — fingers threading together like they’d done it before in another life. Their eyes met, both startled and fond, like something ancient clicked into place.
And for a moment — just a moment — it felt like the world had stopped just for them.
The first kiss was soft, almost hesitant — a gentle brush of lips, testing, careful. Neo’s lips barely parted; Avoma mirrored him perfectly, their breaths mingling in the cold night air. It lasted a heartbeat before they pulled back, eyes wide, hearts racing, the space between them electric.
Neo laughed nervously, forehead resting lightly against Avoma’s shoulder. “Oh my god… we just—”
Avoma groaned, cheeks hot. “Yeah… we did.”
Neo tilted his head again, closer this time. And Avoma, on impulse, leaned in — just a little — and pressed their lips together again.
This second kiss was different. Confident. Hungry. Avoma let his lips move against Neo’s deliberately, teasing, pulling back slightly only to press forward again. His tongue slipped in, brushing softly against Neo’s, exploring, coaxing, demanding as Neo’s own tongue met him halfway. Lips parted, teeth barely catching each other in playful nips, tongues tangling and gliding in perfect rhythm, tasting the shock and warmth of the other. Neo gasped softly, caught off guard but melting instantly, hands finding Avoma’s hoodie, clutching him closer.
Avoma hummed against his lips, a low, teasing sound, one hand cupping Neo’s cheek while the other threaded through his hair, holding him like he belonged there. Neo’s arms wrapped around Avoma’s neck, pressing their bodies closer, syncing with the chaos of color and noise in the sky above.
When they finally pulled back, it was slow, reluctant, breathless. Their foreheads rested together, lips brushing occasionally, smiles spreading like wildfire. Neo’s golden eyes shone with awe, Avoma’s blue gaze soft but proud, almost mischievous — because maybe he knew just how good he’d been.
“Happy New Year, Avoma,” Neo whispered, voice trembling with warmth.
“Happy New Year, Neo,” Avoma replied, fingers still entwined, holding tight as the fireworks raged on.