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Wilson didn’t know how he ended up here, at a loud party at someone’s house who he didn’t even know. Scratch that, he did know how. It was because he was a hopeless gay loser who was in love with his best friend, who happened to be invited, and invited him. Now he was standing in the corner of the kitchen, awkwardly watching Bran talk to his other friends. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing off the counter and heading out of the room. He really shouldn’t be here.
He managed to find a bathroom on the second floor, locking himself inside. He looked into the mirror, trying to slow his breathing. He was fine. It was just a stupid party, no one had even noticed him. He shook his head, huffing as he stepped back from the sink. Wil unlocked the door, making his way back downstairs and through the crowd to the door. He pulled it open, stepping out into the cool night air. Maybe if he was fast enough he could watch the fireworks from his roof.
Wil only made it a few steps before he remembered Bran was the one to drive him here, and therefore, had to take him home. Fuck. Someone inside yelled something like “5 minutes!”, and Wil started, kind of surprised that it was already almost midnight. He made his way to the edge of the deck, sitting down on the steps up to the large house. The stars were out tonight, the moon almost full. He felt someone approach from behind, but he pretended not to notice, continuing to gaze at the sky.
“Wil? You good?”
Wilson whipped around, finding Bran standing behind him. “Oh, I, uh, yeah, I’m fine.” He looked down.
Bran sat down next to him, stairs creaking softly as he did so. “Sorry, I got kind of caught up there, they wouldn’t leave me alone.”
Wil nodded, fiddling with his bracelet. From back in the house, he can hear “1 minute!” and people starting to gather around the TV.
“You should probably head back in, Bran. Countdown’s starting.”
“Well, are you coming?” Said Bran, bumping Wil’s shoulder with his.
Wil shook his head. “Nah, I want to stay out here. Too loud.”
“Okay.”
Wilson stood up, heading toward Bran’s truck. “I’m going to wait in the truck, take as long as you want.”
Loud yelling sounded from the house, ten seconds til midnight remaining.
Bran caught his arm. “Wait.”
Wilson turned back to him, a slightly confused look on his face.
Just as the shouting reached one, Bran tugged him in further, pressing his lips to Wil’s. They were soft and warm, and so much better than Wil had imagined, the kiss less bruising and more loving with Bran’s hand holding his cheek. When they parted, Wil was smiling slightly, a dazed look in his eyes.
“Happy new year,” whispered Bran, hand still on Wil’s cheek.
“Happy new year,” he whispered back, grinning.