Original fiction: "A Very Cliche New Year's Eve Story" (PG)
Title: A Very Cliche New Year's Eve Story
Author: riviyan_questa
Rating: PG
Fandom: none
Word count: 1408
Summary: I have never kept a New Years resolution for an entire year. I thought I would get that up front right away, although I doubt any of you are shocked.
Note: First person POV. Written for a challenge, this past December. There is a picture. Also, this story is beta'd already. All grammar mistakes are intentional. (I do have a reputation to maintain.) Other notes after the story are under the cut.
Ah, New Year’s Eve. It is a time to reflect on the last year, and look forward to the upcoming year. One might go so far as to say the brand new year is a clean slate, to put aside the vices and mistakes of the past and resolve to do better in the future.
I have never kept a New Years resolution for an entire year. I thought I would get that up front right away, although I doubt any of you are shocked. It is a very select, self-controlled few that can keep those promises, and with all that self-control, can their New Years resolutions really be anything that drastic? That isn’t my point, but it is one worth visiting again in the future.
So when I resolved that this year, I would find a nice Catholic girl (one that I can take home to my mum, with a nice name like Maria or Charlotte), and at least be on my way to a being a good Catholic husband and raising good Catholic babies, I didn’t even really expect that I would get any further than maybe going to Mass (at Easter).
You see, it would have been entirely false to say I was remotely interested in a good Catholic girl, or a girl, even. It wasn’t that I didn’t like girls. I have many friends who also happen to be girls, and I’d had a girlfriend or two. But it was more that I was interested in a very specific person, who didn’t fit any of the above descriptors. His name was Evan.
I met Evan on a rather non-descript April day. You know, sun shining, flowers starting to bloom, Easter decorations going up. I was purchasing chocolate bunnies for my nieces. He was purchasing chocolate bunnies for himself. It’s all very cliché, actually; we both reached for the last Solid Chocolate Bunny with Crisped Rice or Whatever, and the next moment I had my tongue down his throat in the ‘Seasonal’ aisle. Our friends, family, and random acquaintances laughed politely at the variations of this story that we told. You know, that way you laugh when someone is telling you something you couldn’t care less about, but is supposed to be funny, and maybe they’ll go away if you just laugh and get it over with?
By August, we had rented a small flat. It would have been sooner, but there were difficulties renting a one-room flat for two men. But that is an entirely different story, and doesn’t really have anything to do with this one.
Oh right, the story. New Years resolutions, right? Okay.
So by August, we were living together, doing domestic things like picking out curtains and which generic Wal-Mart silverware we would use when we had guests over. Incidentally, these were the same guests that had stopped coming around the same time we started to coordinate our silverware.
It all fell apart rather quickly after that. Our picture-perfect domesticated queer life fell to pieces at 7:10 pm, on 18 October, 2008. He said I talked too much (can you believe it?), and I may have had some things to say about his inability to put his dirty pants into the laundry hamper. Obviously, we had other problems, and had for some time, or a bit of routine bickering would not have destroyed our relationship.
Long story short, by the twentieth, all traces of Evan were gone from the flat, and it now felt far too empty. The flat that had once seemed to overflow with our belongings and personalities was cold and empty.
Over the next two months, a series of seemingly unrelated events led to my attending a New Years party being thrown by a friend, one of the silverware-disliking ones. His name was Tim, and after Evan moved out, Tim and his fiancée Andrea didn’t mind coming to the flat. Evan had taken the silverware with him when he left.
I should’ve been suspicious the very moment I arrived at Andrea’s house, where the party was, because she lived with her parents. Of course she spent most nights with Tim, but she still officially lived there, and so her parents let us use their house. It had a hot tub and big, flat screen televisions and lots of space.
Anyway, my suspicion should have been aroused when I was greeted by a widely grinning Tim who quickly assured me downstairs and got me talking to a few people I had met, but didn’t know very well. We were chatting idly, when I made my New Years resolution. Tim and Andrea were so happy and so excited to raise their own kids and buy a house, and maybe a dog, that it made me want that, too. And if I found a Catholic girl, even my mother could not complain. So I vowed to myself--thank goodness, because it would be embarrassing if I had told people, but I’m getting to that-that I would find a nice girl and settle down.
Because I was still completely oblivious to the reasons behind Tim and Andrea’s odd behavior, I had a glass of champagne like everyone else, and we counted down to midnight. Ten, nine…. I caught Evan’s eye across the crowded room. I stopped calling out the count, and the next eight seconds seemed to move in slow motion. You know, like in the movies when all the background noise is muted and time moves slowly and the characters have an intense moment? I swear that happened.
At precisely midnight, and I know, because people were counting, Evan stood in front of me, looking like the last time I saw him, except I think he had another ear piercing. After four, I lost count. I sipped my champagne along with everyone else, including Evan, because that is just what you do at midnight. And that other thing.
That other thing that I had not expected. As soon as my champagne flute had left my lips, it was replaced by something altogether softer and warmer. He kissed me! Like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t moved out in two days and taken the matched silverware. For a moment I was shocked, as these things zipped through my mind. Then I noticed other things. You know, like the feel of his lips, and the mouth that tasted like champagne and chocolate, and his fingers threading through my hair. I gave in after an embarrassingly short amount of time. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Maria, or maybe Charlotte, waved goodbye and wandered off to find some other former altar boy, one who was not currently sucking face in the middle of a crowded room and oops, possibly pouring champagne down the back of their ex’s shirt.
We were rather rudely interrupted by the arrival of Tim and Andrea. Tim clapped me on the back and Andrea looked smug. They had planned the whole thing! Even the way Evan smiled at them gave it away. They had schemed and plotted to get me here and I was completely unaware, chatting with the people whose named I forgot and making New Years resolutions that I would never keep.
We talked, of course. We sorted it out. I would try not to talk to him while the football game was on the TV, or I would at least wait until halftime. Usually my ramblings weren’t really that important. I do know better than to talk about important things during the football game, except when it benefits me. That is how I got the taupe throw cushions when Evan didn’t even want throw cushions (after I explained to him what a throw cushion is). And Evan would make an effort to put his pants in the laundry basket.
The other issues, the ones leading up to the talking and dirty pants thing, we talked about those too. Funny how someone who talks so much couldn’t figure out how to talk about stuff that matters, right? Well Evan came home with me after the party, home to our home, not just my home, and he never really left after that. I would’ve taken him back anyway. Even without the talking about important stuff.
So, you know, I didn’t think my New Years resolution would last, not really, but somehow, I expected it to last longer than five minutes into 2009.
fin
Note: Because it has been mentioned to me by a reader and I see no way to make it clearer while maintaining the flow of the story, I will clarify the bit about the silverware. This reader thought it seemed out of place to be making social commentary about homophobia. I'm not trying to do anything of the sort. The friends stopped coming by because Evan and the narrator were one of those sickeningly sweet couples who are infuriating to be around. Other readers thought my intention was apparent, but I thought I would mention it anyway. If anyone is still reading at this point.
Author: riviyan_questa
Rating: PG
Fandom: none
Word count: 1408
Summary: I have never kept a New Years resolution for an entire year. I thought I would get that up front right away, although I doubt any of you are shocked.
Note: First person POV. Written for a challenge, this past December. There is a picture. Also, this story is beta'd already. All grammar mistakes are intentional. (I do have a reputation to maintain.) Other notes after the story are under the cut.
Ah, New Year’s Eve. It is a time to reflect on the last year, and look forward to the upcoming year. One might go so far as to say the brand new year is a clean slate, to put aside the vices and mistakes of the past and resolve to do better in the future.
I have never kept a New Years resolution for an entire year. I thought I would get that up front right away, although I doubt any of you are shocked. It is a very select, self-controlled few that can keep those promises, and with all that self-control, can their New Years resolutions really be anything that drastic? That isn’t my point, but it is one worth visiting again in the future.
So when I resolved that this year, I would find a nice Catholic girl (one that I can take home to my mum, with a nice name like Maria or Charlotte), and at least be on my way to a being a good Catholic husband and raising good Catholic babies, I didn’t even really expect that I would get any further than maybe going to Mass (at Easter).
You see, it would have been entirely false to say I was remotely interested in a good Catholic girl, or a girl, even. It wasn’t that I didn’t like girls. I have many friends who also happen to be girls, and I’d had a girlfriend or two. But it was more that I was interested in a very specific person, who didn’t fit any of the above descriptors. His name was Evan.
I met Evan on a rather non-descript April day. You know, sun shining, flowers starting to bloom, Easter decorations going up. I was purchasing chocolate bunnies for my nieces. He was purchasing chocolate bunnies for himself. It’s all very cliché, actually; we both reached for the last Solid Chocolate Bunny with Crisped Rice or Whatever, and the next moment I had my tongue down his throat in the ‘Seasonal’ aisle. Our friends, family, and random acquaintances laughed politely at the variations of this story that we told. You know, that way you laugh when someone is telling you something you couldn’t care less about, but is supposed to be funny, and maybe they’ll go away if you just laugh and get it over with?
By August, we had rented a small flat. It would have been sooner, but there were difficulties renting a one-room flat for two men. But that is an entirely different story, and doesn’t really have anything to do with this one.
Oh right, the story. New Years resolutions, right? Okay.
So by August, we were living together, doing domestic things like picking out curtains and which generic Wal-Mart silverware we would use when we had guests over. Incidentally, these were the same guests that had stopped coming around the same time we started to coordinate our silverware.
It all fell apart rather quickly after that. Our picture-perfect domesticated queer life fell to pieces at 7:10 pm, on 18 October, 2008. He said I talked too much (can you believe it?), and I may have had some things to say about his inability to put his dirty pants into the laundry hamper. Obviously, we had other problems, and had for some time, or a bit of routine bickering would not have destroyed our relationship.
Long story short, by the twentieth, all traces of Evan were gone from the flat, and it now felt far too empty. The flat that had once seemed to overflow with our belongings and personalities was cold and empty.
Over the next two months, a series of seemingly unrelated events led to my attending a New Years party being thrown by a friend, one of the silverware-disliking ones. His name was Tim, and after Evan moved out, Tim and his fiancée Andrea didn’t mind coming to the flat. Evan had taken the silverware with him when he left.
I should’ve been suspicious the very moment I arrived at Andrea’s house, where the party was, because she lived with her parents. Of course she spent most nights with Tim, but she still officially lived there, and so her parents let us use their house. It had a hot tub and big, flat screen televisions and lots of space.
Anyway, my suspicion should have been aroused when I was greeted by a widely grinning Tim who quickly assured me downstairs and got me talking to a few people I had met, but didn’t know very well. We were chatting idly, when I made my New Years resolution. Tim and Andrea were so happy and so excited to raise their own kids and buy a house, and maybe a dog, that it made me want that, too. And if I found a Catholic girl, even my mother could not complain. So I vowed to myself--thank goodness, because it would be embarrassing if I had told people, but I’m getting to that-that I would find a nice girl and settle down.
Because I was still completely oblivious to the reasons behind Tim and Andrea’s odd behavior, I had a glass of champagne like everyone else, and we counted down to midnight. Ten, nine…. I caught Evan’s eye across the crowded room. I stopped calling out the count, and the next eight seconds seemed to move in slow motion. You know, like in the movies when all the background noise is muted and time moves slowly and the characters have an intense moment? I swear that happened.
At precisely midnight, and I know, because people were counting, Evan stood in front of me, looking like the last time I saw him, except I think he had another ear piercing. After four, I lost count. I sipped my champagne along with everyone else, including Evan, because that is just what you do at midnight. And that other thing.
That other thing that I had not expected. As soon as my champagne flute had left my lips, it was replaced by something altogether softer and warmer. He kissed me! Like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t moved out in two days and taken the matched silverware. For a moment I was shocked, as these things zipped through my mind. Then I noticed other things. You know, like the feel of his lips, and the mouth that tasted like champagne and chocolate, and his fingers threading through my hair. I gave in after an embarrassingly short amount of time. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Maria, or maybe Charlotte, waved goodbye and wandered off to find some other former altar boy, one who was not currently sucking face in the middle of a crowded room and oops, possibly pouring champagne down the back of their ex’s shirt.
We were rather rudely interrupted by the arrival of Tim and Andrea. Tim clapped me on the back and Andrea looked smug. They had planned the whole thing! Even the way Evan smiled at them gave it away. They had schemed and plotted to get me here and I was completely unaware, chatting with the people whose named I forgot and making New Years resolutions that I would never keep.
We talked, of course. We sorted it out. I would try not to talk to him while the football game was on the TV, or I would at least wait until halftime. Usually my ramblings weren’t really that important. I do know better than to talk about important things during the football game, except when it benefits me. That is how I got the taupe throw cushions when Evan didn’t even want throw cushions (after I explained to him what a throw cushion is). And Evan would make an effort to put his pants in the laundry basket.
The other issues, the ones leading up to the talking and dirty pants thing, we talked about those too. Funny how someone who talks so much couldn’t figure out how to talk about stuff that matters, right? Well Evan came home with me after the party, home to our home, not just my home, and he never really left after that. I would’ve taken him back anyway. Even without the talking about important stuff.
So, you know, I didn’t think my New Years resolution would last, not really, but somehow, I expected it to last longer than five minutes into 2009.
fin
Note: Because it has been mentioned to me by a reader and I see no way to make it clearer while maintaining the flow of the story, I will clarify the bit about the silverware. This reader thought it seemed out of place to be making social commentary about homophobia. I'm not trying to do anything of the sort. The friends stopped coming by because Evan and the narrator were one of those sickeningly sweet couples who are infuriating to be around. Other readers thought my intention was apparent, but I thought I would mention it anyway. If anyone is still reading at this point.