Curling up under the sheets, Arthur Kirkland realized that he was spending New Years all alone… again. This was probably the fifth or twenty-fifth time that he had been left alone to celebrate the beginning of the years, but he wasn't keeping count. Or at least, he didn't think he was.
Twenty seven years.
He growled, hitting the pillow on his bed in anger and rasterizing himself for actually remembering how many years it was. "Dammit," he hissed, looking at the bottle of wine he had left on his nightstand, half-empty (or was it half-full?) and the other half in his system and bloodstream.
He rolled over onto his side, hugging his other pillow to his chest and wishing it were someone else. But he quickly shook that thought out of his head, glaring up at the ceiling and wanting it to burn. Just burn and crumble and…
Arthur sighed. Not now, Arthur, he thought to himself. Just watch the telly and think about how you could actually have a chance this year. Maybe he will just appear in your room and kiss you when it strikes zero… Yeah…
But he himself knew that wouldn't happen.
"Ten…! nine…!"
He sat up in bed, looking outside and spotting all of the people crowded outside and in the streets. He frowned a the clock, spotting the people in America on the television, and remembering that he had gone over to America yet again for the New Years in hope of seeing Alfred.
"Five…! Four…!"
The Brit shifted in bed, closing his eyes and listening to the people say the last final numbers.
"Two…! O—"
But he blanked out when the last number came to be cried out, a soft pair of… lips against his. His eyes snapped open, and he saw blonde hair and sapphire eyes looking down at him. He bit his lip, pulling Alfred back in for a kiss when he tried to pull away, tangling his fingers in his sand-coloured hair.
"Happy New Years," Alfred murmured, kissing him once more.
Alfie: Sitting in a room, bored on New Years. There are people downstairs and I just really enjoy writing USUK fluff okay.