Another one written for the M/M Romance Group’s Flash Fiction threads, this time to celebrate the New Year.
New Year, New Start
As the countdown began, Kyle closed his eyes, letting go of hope until next year, and joined in. “Ten… nine…”
Goodbye 2013, and good riddance. Bring on 2014. He needed a new year, one he wasn’t going to spend working so hard he felt ill all the time, for no reward but being able to (just) pay rent on a tiny, lonely flat. He wanted a year where he didn’t have to nurse a broken heart, or explain yet again that no, he was single now, that Flynn had left him at last, gone flying away across the ocean in search of a brighter, better life than Kyle could offer him.
So here he was, by the Thames again, waiting for the fireworks to go up over the London Eye, surrounded by all his mates, the crowd so deep that it was worse than the tube on a Monday morning, trying to pretend that it didn’t feel like there was a great gaping space by his elbow. The last time he’d done New Year’s without Flynn, he’d been seventeen and watching the fireworks on his mum’s telly.
The crowd around him were grumbling as someone shoved through. Kyle took a step forward, making a little space. It left him pressed against the barriers separating the crowd from the river, the rails cold against his bare hands. Should have brought his gloves. Flynn had always had to remind him, and now he couldn’t remember on his own.
A hand landed on his shoulder, tugging him round.
Warm arms around his waist, holding him tightly, and Kyle opened his eyes in time to see Flynn, grinning at him so brightly it couldn’t be true.
And Big Ben began to strike, the crowds broke into a cheer which drowned out everything but the thunder of Kyle’s heartbeat, and, as the fireworks lit up the sky, Flynn kissed him, his hands coming up to frame Kyle’s face and his mouth eager and tender. Kyle hung onto him, bewildered and amazed, as the air above them filled with light and thunder and confetti, and Flynn just kept kissing him and kissing him.
It wasn’t until the last echoes died away that Flynn pulled back to shout, over the rumble of the crowd, “I’m back! I came back for you!”
“No!” Flynn’s smile wobbled into dismay and he leaned in, close enough that he could say right into Kyle’s ear. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should never have left.”
“You’re back for good?” Kyle asked, still not quite sure this was real.
“Yes!” Flynn exploded, and Kyle looked at him properly, realizing that it wasn’t just the rain that was misting on Flynn’s cheeks. “If you want me back, that is. I get if you don’t, because it was a really shitty thing to do, and I hated the place when I got there, and—”
Kyle put his hand up to cover Flynn’s mouth. He always did talk too much. “You’re really back?”
“Would have been here at lunchtime. My plane was delayed because of the weather, and I had a right job finding you in this crush. Welcome back to Britain, right? And my job starts on Friday, yeah, so I hope you can bear to let me have the sofa, at least, because I don’t know where else in London I can crash with no notice.”
Typical Flynn, Kyle thought, but it was fond again, instead of bitter as it would have been a few weeks ago. “Going to leave again?”
“No,” Flynn said, and went quiet for a moment, resting his face against Kyle’s shoulder. Then he confessed, his voice soft enough that Kyle wouldn’t have been able to hear it, “I hated my life without you in it. I love you.”
He’d only ever said it exuberantly before, but it felt like it mattered this time. It felt true, so Kyle said, “Yeah, okay.”
“Okay?” Flynn breathed hopefully.
“Yeah,” Kyle said. “Come home.” Things weren’t perfect, and they’d have to talk in the morning, but right now Flynn was here and loved him again. That was a pretty promising start to the year.
Flynn kissed him again, as the crowds heaved and began to fray apart around them. There was laughter from their mates and cat calls and a few nasty jeers from the crowd around them, but Kyle barely heard it. He had Flynn in his arms again, and he didn’t care about the cold or the rain or the audience. It was 2014, and it was going to be a very, very good new year.
Copyright Amy Rae Durreson 2014