Alone With You: A New Years Eve Short

Across the campfire, Neil’s laughing.

In the short amount of time that Neil has been a part of their merry gang of knights, a terrible nickname for their childhood friend group that never really filtered out of use despite aging, David has gotten used to hearing Neil laugh.

Neil’s always laughing or chuckling or giggling or, occasionally, snorting air through his nose when he finds something particularly sarcastic funny. He’s got a big, goofy grin that takes up half his face, and eyes so blue that when they sparkle, David thinks there might be literal diamonds inside of them.

David’s gotten used to it, in his own way. Sure, it still almost fells him each time, like a punch to the chest, watching the way his eyes scrunch up and his chin tilts towards the sky, bright laughter spilling through the dark night. But he’s developed a response — which is to look pointedly away, but still keeping Neil right within his peripheral so that he can witness it without outright staring.

Tonight, bathed both in starlight and the flickering orange glaze of the flames, Neil looks so happy that David’s chest tightens into a painful, twisted knot. He keeps his fingers curled around the hot tin mug, the warmed wine in it almost painfully hot against his fingertips. It’s good. It’s distracting.

It was Greg’s idea for them to all go camping. A New Year excursion, he’d said brightly, and when Daniel, Tom, and Peter agreed, David had no choice but to yield. He hadn’t wanted to — but it wasn’t like he could say that he was afraid of what he’d feel tonight, drunk and under the stars with Neil on the knife’s edge of a new year.

Neil was Peter’s friend first, then Greg, then Daniel and Tom, and then David had met him, and he’d been…

Well, floored isn’t the right word. Floating wasn’t, either.

It had been steadying. Like he really was planted firmly on the earth — for the first time, after seeing Neil’s diamond eyes brighten as he recognized David from the stories their friends had shared, from the way he said his name in introduction, tongue curling around the letters so softly, David had felt entirely steady for the first time in his life.

It’s a difficult feeling to shake. When Neil is here, David feels entirely sure in his own bones. Falling in love with the man had been inevitable, after David realized that.

“Are you ever going to tell us,” Neil says, head tilting to the side as he grabs David’s gaze, pulling David up as he straightens his neck again, bringing David with him with nothing more than eye contact. “What happened with you and Kate?”

David starts. His eyes must be comically wide and he regrets every last drop of alcohol he’s had tonight — his cheeks are way too pink, and way too visible in the firelight, for Neil of all people to be asking him about this.

I had to break up with her because I realized I was in love with you, you asshole.

“I… don’t know what you mean,” David replies, then chugs the rest of his wine. He waves his cup in the air until Peter sighs and refills it.

Daniel watches him with a furrowed brow. “C’mon, David. We all know you dumped her out of the blue.”

“I did not dump her,” he bristles. He had loved Kate. Just…

What’s love compared to a soulmate?

Jesus, he sounds like a thirteen-year-old. This is why no one can ever find out. Not just that Neil could never be interested in him like that, but because the absolute way that David is gone for him is humiliating.

“You sort of did,” Greg adds, but he’s grinning. He’s had a thing for Kate for ages; this is good news, as far as Greg’s concerned.

“David,” Neil says, and damn him, because David’s head swings immediately, eyes locking. “You can trust us.”

David’s heart does a funny flip. He coughs and distracts himself by taking a large gulp of the hot wine. It burns a little going down, and he’s not quite able to break his eye contact with Neil, but it’s something, at least.

“I just… figured out that it wasn’t what it was meant to be.”

The words burn in exactly the same way the alcohol did; unpleasant, but bearable; necessary.

Neil’s expression softens — just at the edges. The quirk of his lips because a smile rather than a grin, the corners of his eyes widen, and his head tilts just a little bit forward, a jut of a nod. It’s barely perceptible; David sees it right away, of course, as he’s catalogued every expression Neil’s made in his presence over the last six months. But no one else even really glances at Neil, let alone notices the shift in his eyes.

The topic changes, as it always does, and before long, any thought of David and Kate are forgotten.

Neil, though, keeps watching him. It’s just a flickering glance here and there, nothing open and obvious. If it had been, say, Peter watching him this way, David probably wouldn’t have even noticed. But David was too well-attuned to the feeling of Neil’s gaze — firmer than a caress, but just as fleeting — and he couldn’t drink enough or say enough to distract himself from it the whole night.

They ring in the new year with shouts and shots — Daniel and Tom kiss and Greg pouts the rest of the night that Neil didn’t kiss his but Peter’s cheek when the alarm went off on their phones. David studiously says nothing and busies himself getting drunker.

When Greg finally begs off for sleep, Peter and Tom follow him toward the tents. Daniel fell asleep a half hour ago cradling a bottle of rum, and after taking several photos for blackmailing purposes, they covered him with a blanket and let him be.

“David,” Neil says, and David’s head snaps up. He prepares himself to hear Neil bid him goodnight, too, and braces himself when Neil smiles. “Come sit by me.”

It takes a second, but even before David’s mind catches up to his thoughts enough for him to understand, his feet are scrambling. His cheeks burn and he’s grateful for the darkness to hide the blush as he crosses the small camp they’ve made and settle against a fallen log beside Neil.

On accident, he sits too close. On purpose, he doesn’t scoot over.

Their legs are stretched out in front of them, thighs pressing, and David’s throat is swelled with the beat of his pulse.

David watches the fire until his speeding heart steadies. He can feel the heat of Neil’s leg against his own, almost hotter than the flames only a few feet away, and it’s only from the months of practice that he doesn’t say or do anything.

Now that they’re alone — or, as alone as they ever are, really, with the sleeping bodies of their friends only a stone’s throw away — David can’t help but drink the sight of Neil in. He pulls his knees to his chest, resting his cheek on the curved, cool denim there, and just… stares.

Neil lets him.

Better, Neil stares back.

David feels warmer with Neil’s gaze on him. When Neil’s lips twitch into a smile and he lets it still there, just spread lightly like he’s so pleased his face can’t help but relax, David feels it like the lapping water of the ocean, warmed by the day’s sun, and he feels just as powerless against Neil’s eyes as he does against the sea.

“You’re so quiet,” Neil says, eyes sparkling. His fingers are twisting around a beer bottle, tearing at the label, but he doesn’t glance down at all. His eyes are locked on David’s — David can see the flickering of the flame in them.

Then Neil has to go and ruin the moment, as he always does, by grinning cheekily. “Mind you, I could use the break. You usually prattle on endlessly.”

David rolls his eyes. “Like anyone can get a word in edgewise around you, Neil,” he scoffs. Neil laughs and David can’t help but beam brightly at the sight of it. He feels something unfurl in his chest, halfway between peace and excitement, and he’s sure that if anyone could hear his pathetic inner monologue right now, he’d be laughed out of the whole city. Or, forest as it is, he thinks wryly.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Neil says, finally tearing his eyes away. He looks at the fire. It’s dying — the embers burning low, the heat barely reaching them anymore.

David startles. “What are you talking about?”

“Earlier,” Neil elaborates uselessly, huffing when David rolls his eyes again and gestures for him to continue. “About Kate.”

Oh.

The tips of David’s ears burn a little. “Don’t be,” he requests, trying to make it more a command than a plea.

Neil, oblivious as always, doesn’t notice. “I just mean, it was clearly hard for you, and we shouldn’t be making it harder by prying, and—”

“Neil,” and, there, David’s begging.

Neil shoots him a scowl with narrowed eyes. “David, I’m trying—”

“I’m aware and I’m asking you to not.”

Neil throws the label from the beer bottle to the fire. It doesn’t make it. David laughs and so does Neil, and the tension bleeds out from the moment as quickly as it came.

“I’m…” David hesitates when Neil’s eyes find him again, wide and earnest and so pretty that David thinks he might keel over right here and now. “I’m a bit ashamed. That I couldn’t… be enough for her.”

“She said that?” Neil’s jaw drops and a fierce, almost steely, look passes his eyes.

David’s so surprised, he scrambles to correct him. “No! No. Just… Kate’s great. And I love her. I just…”

He stops again, throat closing a bit. He really does regret hurting her.

Neil, of course, understands almost immediately. “You just don’t love her.”

David expects to blush. He expects for his usual reaction at Neil reading him so clearly to blossom on his face and in his chest. Instead, there’s a look on Neil’s face, not just understanding but knowing, that stops David short.

The air between them isn’t as cold as it should be for a December night.

Or, well, January morning.

Spending the first few moments of the dawning year beside Neil, warmed to the bone from just his gaze and soft smile, David can’t help but feel like this is already better than last year. One year ago, he didn’t even know Neil — what kind of life had that even been?

Neil’s expression flickers, lips parting, and David realizes a heartbeat too late that he’d been speaking aloud.

“Fuck,” he says.

Neil lifts an eyebrow. “Fuck,” he agrees, and then he’s on his knees, one leg sliding between David’s, and then he’s pressing their lips together.

For a long, lingering moment, David doesn’t move — he doesn’t breathe, or lift his hands, or kiss back. He can’t. The shock is so strong that he barely can register the weight of Neil’s body against his, let alone the press of Neil’s lips.

It takes him so long, in fact, that by the time he’s lifted his dead weight hands, Neil’s pulling back, an uncharacteristically vulnerable tilt to his expression.

“I—I—did I… misread…?”

And David’s a lot of things, but he’s not a liar, and he’s not a coward. Not really.

At least, not anymore.

He winds his hands in Neil’s hair — god, it’s as soft and thick as he’d imagined — and he’s angling their lips together within seconds of the words leaving Neil’s mouth. He hesitates, though, just a second, eyes widening as he realizes the absolute enormity of what he’s doing.

“David,” Neil says, and David’s heart swells.

He kisses him. It’s six months late — a lifetime late, really — and David can’t get close enough. One hand stays fisted in Neil’s hair, the other sliding down his chest to his zipped coat, gripping the cold material tight. Neil gasps against his lips, mouth parting, and David uses the space to kiss him deeper. His tongue swipes across Neil’s bottom lip, the heady taste of whiskey and beer mingling with the brightness of starlight that is natural to Neil. He’d been sobering up, feeling almost close to normal before, but as soon as Neil makes a soft, mewling sound, his tongue lavishing against David’s, he’s drunk as he’s ever been, intoxicated with it.

“Neil,” he gasps, before pressing his lips against the corner of his mouth, down his jaw and up again. Neil’s arms wind around his neck, fingers curling into his hair, and he arches, head tilting back to expose his neck, and David can’t stop — he smells like smoke from the fire and sweetness from the alcohol, a bit like earth and sweat and it’s so fundamental, so elemental, and David feels like this moment itself is rooted in the ground, in history.

It’s dramatic and embarrassing and it makes him pull back with a small huff of a laugh. He presses his forehead into the crook of Neil’s neck, breathing in deeply, and he’s shaking — from the cold, from the adrenaline, from the relief.

“David,” Neil says his name, and for the first time, David can hear how he says it. Just a little bit breathless, a little bit surprised — no different from before, no different than usual, but open and honest and David isn’t sure what he was hearing before, but it wasn’t this.

Neil sits back on his heels. David’s hands fall to his waist, holding him steady as he leans back on his heels. Neil’s hands fall to David’s shoulders, fingers curling around him, and the easy weight of it burns David.

“Neil,” he says his name the same way he always does, too — but this time, he can feel it when Neil shivers, eyes widening just a little, and this time, David’s allowed to surge forward and kiss him.

Their lips move together, soft now, the soft brush of Neil’s stubble pressing a light burn against David’s clean-shaven face. He can feel the give of Neil’s bottom lip, the plush softness of his tongue as it gently swipes along the slit of David’s mouth, and they kiss until his jaw aches and his lungs burn.

“So I didn’t misread that, then,” Neil says, the first real words between them after their first kiss.

David’s chest leaps, bright like a laugh, but softer. “Nope,” he confirms.

David doesn’t know how much time has passed; his legs are asleep and his eyes are fuzzy with exhaustion, and now that Neil isn’t kissing him, he’s aware that he’s cold and uncomfortable. Neil is shifting in his lap like he is, too, but he’s also grinning widely and his eyes are flickering across David’s face, like he can’t stop searching his expression.

“We should talk about this,” David murmurs, thumbs stroking along the edge of his hips, along the soft give there.

Neil cocks his head, nose scrunching. “Now?” he asks, though it’s interrupted with a yawn.

Fuck.

Affection so strong that it feels like a physical touch surges through him. Swallowing down the nerves building, he leans over and very lightly presses a kiss to Neil’s cheek, then one on the tip of his nose.

“Tomorrow?” David suggests. “How about we sleep now?”

David stands, legs tingling as he shakes them loose, and offers Neil his hand. Neil rolls his eyes when David wiggles his fingers, giggling softly when David tugs him too hard, pressing them together, and David grins down. Gently, they kiss each other once more, before David manages to get them both over to his tent. 

Once inside, David all but collapses on the laid out sleeping bag. It takes almost no effort at all to drag Neil with him.

As soon as they’re laying flat, Neil relaxes immediately, slumping toward him. He yawns again as he goes. It takes a few seconds to shift them until they’re comfortable, Neil curled against David’s chest, his cheek against David’s chest with David’s arm wrapped around Neil. He can feel the way his body is moving, up and down, breathing evening out.

“I’m glad you said all that, earlier.” Neil says against his neck. It’s soft and almost inaudible, but he sighs softly, a decidedly pleased sound.

“I am, too,” he admits, even if he can barely remember what words accidentally slipped out. “I’ll say more in the morning.”

“Please do,” Neil says, then yawns again. David tugs him closer, smiling even as his heavy eyes fall shut.

Outside, the soft sounds of nature work together to craft a lullaby, held together by the sound of Neil’s breathing.

“I’m going to tell you things, too, David. For the record.” Neil’s voice is low with sleep, a little too breathless, and David’s arms unwittingly tighten around him.

“Is this because you regret not kissing me at midnight?” David teases.

Neil huffs, the laugh soft against his skin. “I don’t.”

“Do to,” David presses a kiss to the crown of his head. Neil snuggles closer. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, David,” Neil says, and as David fades to sleep to the sound of Neil’s breathing, he can’t help but think this really might be the best year yet.

Originally published on Patreon.com/unrealimogen. Subscribe for more free queer shorts.