Pride and Joy ✓

twenty seven

SATURDAY. 01. JANUARY. 2022. 

THE air tasted like freedom and Denver's lips tasted like Nate.

Neither of them knew what time it was, only that it was some time after one a.m. and the party that they'd attended was still bursting with New Years celebrations; the life pouring out of the house and into the sky, fireworks exploding and glittering across a black canvas like kaleidoscopic splatters of paint. The music was still roaring and would be for another couple of hours; the people were still dancing, singing, and drinking, and they would be until their feet were heavy, and their throats were sore, and their heads were spinning.

But the party was behind them now. Above them, fireworks were still going off, embellishing the darkness with scintillating flares, blazes of colour, and the music was still in earshot, even if it was fading further and further into silence with every step they took.

They were strolling through a suburb that was already in slumber; parents silently finishing off their final drinks and carrying the kids to bed, couples cuddled on their couches and sharing their comfort underneath woollen blankets that smelled a little off while they watched a movie that they could quote word for word. There was no noise coming from these houses and often there was no light, though occasionally a beaming, hazy glow of warmth coloured the windows.

No one was driving here and the streets were quiet, so they walked in the middle of the road, just because they could. It was one of those nights where you could grab a handful of the sky and look down into your hands and find a star. It was one of those nights that belonged to them, like they were the only two people in the world, roaming an abandoned earth that could never feel lonely as long as they had each other.

Even with the darkness, it wasn't so dark that they couldn't see each other and Denver could always see the silver moonlight spilling over Nate's face; his silver skin, his silver eyelashes, his silver bones and silver heart, there was even a faint twinkle in the emeralds of his eyes. His hands were in the pockets of his jacket and he was looking at the sky while Denver looked at him, a slight slouch in his shoulders and his chin tilted upwards.

He thought of midnight and how Nate had cupped his face, and smiled against his lips, and murmured happy new year against his flushed skin, prickling with the heat that was born between them. His heart thudded now like it had then, throbbing vehemently against his chest as his veins pulsed with an excitement that thrived in the chaos. Even with the bright lights and blurring noise, Nate sent him dizzier than he had been all night and he never imagined that he would be so eager to feel that dizzy again.

Nate exhaled and a little white plume of smoke dissipated before his lips. "Come over here," he murmured, looking at him and smiling when he caught Denver already looking.

Promptly, Denver stared at the road in front, his face warm, even despite the frost in the January air. "Okay," he replied anyway, closing the gap between them as they walked further.

As soon as he was close enough, Nate shuffled a hand out of his pocket and reached out for Denver, threading their fingers tightly together so that their palms were pressed flat against each other's; one truth flushed with another; hearts beating inside the wrong chests, thrumming in yearning rebellion; two lives alining in the same star, two books to tell the same story.

"It was smart of us not to drive here ourselves," Denver muttered, clutching Nate's hand.

There was a faint smile on his lips, a bashful consideration in the shrug of his shoulders. "I'm not minding the walk so much," he remarked, nudging his shoulder against Denver's. "We'll be home soon."