The village had been loud in the way only end-of-year celebrations ever were—not constant noise so much as bursts of it, laughter and music and the crack of fireworks leaping into the cold night sky in fits and starts. It was the kind of sound that pressed against Avery’s senses from all sides, bright and busy and almost overwhelming if he stayed in the middle of it too long. His core responded to it instinctively, a soft glow pulsing in time with the noise, brightening when the cheers swelled and dimming again when the sound ebbed, like it was trying to keep pace with the night.
He’d enjoyed it, though. He always did, in small doses. Lanterns strung between buildings glowed warm gold against the snow, villagers passing cups of spiced cider back and forth, children darting between adults with sparklers clutched in mittened hands. Someone had set up a fiddler near the well, and the tune was crooked and joyful and entirely too fast.
D3r had hovered at his side the whole time, a solid presence in armor and cloak, close enough that Avery could lean into him when the crowd surged or the noise spiked too sharply. They’d been invited together—explicitly together—which still felt like something Avery was allowed to marvel at. Not “and your… companion,” not awkward pauses or sidelong looks. Just them, as a unit, welcome at the table, welcome at the fire, welcome to stay for the night if they liked. Avery had arranged that part ahead of time, quietly, slipping a few coins to the innkeeper earlier in the day and securing a room with a small hearth and a window that looked out over the square. He hadn’t told D3r yet. He liked having small, good surprises tucked away, like smooth stones in his pocket, or like the way his core would flare a little brighter whenever he thought about it.
He tried not to think about it too hard since he didn't want to accidentally give it away just yet.
As midnight crept closer, the crowd thickened, everyone gravitating toward the center of the village where a great iron brazier burned. The air smelled like smoke and pine resin and snow. Avery could feel the countdown coming before anyone said it out loud, a collective breath being drawn, voices rising in anticipation. He glanced at D3r, the glow of firelight reflecting off the smooth planes of his helmet, and felt a strange, warm tightness settle in his chest. A year ago—less than that—this would have been unthinkable. Him here, invited, safe. Him standing beside someone who chose him, again and again, without conditions.
“Avery,” D3r said, voice low and pitched just for him through the noise, “you’re drifting.”
Avery huffed a soft laugh, shoulders lifting. The light in his core flickered sheepishly. “Sorry. Just—thinking.”
“Dangerous habit,” D3r replied, dry as ever, but there was fondness in it. Avery could hear it even without seeing his face.
The first call of the countdown rang out then, someone with a booming voice shouting numbers into the cold air.
The crowd joined in almost immediately, voices overlapping, laughter breaking through. Avery’s heart started to hammer, sudden and wild, and he realized with a jolt that this was it. This was the moment he’d been circling around in his head all evening, the thing he’d decided on and then doubted and then decided on again.
Avery reached out and caught D3r’s wrist, fingers slipping into the familiar weight of gauntlet and fabric. He tugged gently, a silent question. D3r followed without hesitation, letting himself be guided away from the press of bodies and into a narrow alley that smelled faintly of bread and old stone. The noise dulled behind them, muffled but still present, the numbers echoing off walls.
Avery climbed first, boots finding purchase on a low stack of crates and then a jut of stone, years of scrambling over rooftops and ledges making the movement easy and instinctive. He held a hand down for D3r, who took it, armor heavier but movements sure. They emerged onto the roof of a nearby house, snow crunching softly beneath their feet. From here, the village spread out below them, lanterns like fallen stars, the crowd a shifting, glittering mass. Fireworks bloomed overhead, painting the clouds in brief, brilliant color.
Avery turned to face D3r fully, the world narrowing to just the two of them and the cold night air between. His core glowed bright and steady now, betraying exactly how he felt. He could feel his pulse in his throat. He swallowed, then smiled, small and a little nervous, and reached up with both hands.
“Trust me,” he said, barely louder than a breath.
D3r stilled instantly, whatever question he might have had cut off by the look on Avery’s face. He nodded once, a simple, absolute thing.
The shout of zero exploded from the village below, cheers and bells and the thunder of fireworks crashing together. At the same moment, Avery rose up on his toes and slid his fingers beneath the edge of D3r’s helmet. His hands were steady, despite the way his heart was trying to leap out of his chest. He lifted just enough—just a fraction—to expose D3r’s mouth, the line of his jaw, the warmth of skin against cold air.
The kiss was soft, at first, a careful press of lips that carried all the things he hadn’t known how to say out loud. Thank you. I’m here. I want this. He lingered, just for a second, just long enough to make it real, to let the noise and light and joy of the new year wash over them both. Fireworks burst overhead, close enough that Avery could feel the echo of them in his bones.
Then he pulled back, hands lowering, letting the helmet settle back into place. He stepped back half a pace, breath fogging in the cold, and opened his eyes.
He reached up, hands warm and certain as they came to cradle Avery’s face, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones. He leaned in, helmet tilting just enough this time, and kissed Avery back through the narrow opening, a little firmer, a little surer. It wasn’t long—seconds, really—but it was enough. It was everything. Avery made a soft, surprised sound against his lips, something between a laugh and a gasp, and D3r felt it, felt the way Avery melted into the touch, the way his glow brightened even more, and the way his hands fisted briefly in the front of D3r’s cloak as if to anchor himself.
When they finally parted, the cheers below them were still going strong, the village lost in its own celebration. Avery’s face hurt from smiling.
“Well,” D3r said quietly, voice rough in a way Avery had learned to recognize, hands sliding to to Avery's waist. “Happy New Year to you too.”
Avery laughed then, bright and unguarded, leaning forward to rest his forehead briefly against the cool metal of D3r’s helmet. “Happy New Year,” he echoed. He hesitated, then added, “I, uh. I got us a room. At the inn. Thought… we might not want to walk back in the dark after.”
D3r’s hands tightened slightly at his waist, a subtle squeeze that sent warmth rushing through Avery despite the cold. “Thank you ”
“Of course,” Avery said, a little bit shy now. “Anything for you."
They stayed on the roof a little longer, watching the last of the fireworks flare and fade, the village slowly settling into a softer, contented hum. Snow drifted lazily down, catching in Avery’s hair, dusting D3r’s shoulders. For once, the future didn’t feel like a vast, unknowable thing pressing down on him. It felt close. It felt warm. It felt like an inn room with a crackling hearth, like shared cider and quiet laughter, like the memory of a kiss stolen at midnight and given back without question.
Eventually, they climbed down, hands brushing, steps in sync, and made their way through the lantern-lit streets toward the inn. Avery glanced up at D3r as they walked, the glow of the new year reflected in the polished metal of his helmet, and felt something settle into place inside him.
