She never spoke of it, the one secret she kept from the world.

It happened one New Years Eve, inside her uncle's old pickup truck. The celebration was held at her practically-but-not-really aunt Miriam's home. It was large, classy, and the closest to a mansion the run-down town she called home would ever see. It was also the one place where wine and whiskey was as abundant as water.

A hit by nine, filled with tipsy adults by ten. Friends, relatives, even new faces that seemed familiar but barely registered in her memory, offered countless drinks while completely disregarded a crucially large detail that seemed minor to those surrounding her; she still hadn't hit nineteen. Not to mention she was a stickler for the rules, the girl who listened to those videos shown in class each year of the consequences of drugs and alcohol, the one who had a good head on her shoulders, never listened to peer pressure, and was turned-off simply from the smell of the aged beverage. The minute a speck of blond hair clad in casual clothes locked in her line of vision, she took the smooth glass in her hand and gulped whatever floated inside.

Whiskey reminded her of the cough syrup she downed the time she got a throat infection; it burned.

The empty cup brought the crowed around her to cheers, the people proud to see an underage girl drink for the first time. To her, they didn't matter, all that mattered was the pain in her chest and the question 'why do I feel the same?' She really believed it was simple to get drunk, after all, wasn't it supposed to be the first time?

"Are you drinking?"

The new glass -when had they taken the empty one away?- had no appeal compared to the boy facing her, with his messed up (on purpose) hair, wide-eyes, and round cheeks that seemed to beg for a good squeeze. He was the epitome of adorable and her insides churned as her brain flashed the signal that, yes, this was attractive when it shouldn't be.

"Warning, he's twelve, twelve!" Her mind screamed while it tried to delete the urge to hold his hand, to kiss those pink lips and treat him the way a man her age ought to be treated.

There are only six star visible in the patch of night sky of their small town. She knew because she had counted them innumerable times as a child, hoping to see a new white diamond appear amongst the haze. Facts did nothing to stop their imagination from seeing thousands.

The pair remained still for some time, only seeing stars and smelling dew. She didn't even feel the transition from leaving the house to just lying on the slightly flat surface of her uncle's old pickup truck, right to holding someone's -his- hand. The entire action felt rushed to the point it seemed (as cliché as it sounded) nothing more than a dream she could wake up from at any second; the thought alone was enough to send goosebumps crawling over her skin.

"Luka." One word from a voice that hadn't even reached its full potential should not make her throat go dry from thinking over how utterly wrong and perfect it, this moment, everything was -is-

"Yes, Len?"

She didn't even want to look at him, lest one glimpse of flawless peach skin be enough to ruin this piece of time. But he squeezed her hand, an action she knew meant that he wanted to be seen. The feel of warmth shifting back and forth was enough to make Luka wonder if maybe -just maybe- these emotions weren't as one-sided as she believed.

It didn't make it any less wrong.

"Are you drunk?"

She wasn't, as shocking as it seemed (which it undoubtedly wasn't). She was there, seeing, breathing, feeling her heart pulsate as Len's free hand caressed her cheek in a gesture that seemed affectionate in a way she hoped wasn't what she saw it to be. All of her being was present for the boy who just became a teen while she crossed the starting line of the route vers l'âge adulte.

"Mayyyyyybeeeeee~!" Who would have though one slurred word would be enough for his lips to curve down? She hadn't. Luka had become self-aware long ago of the impact Len's voice brought, yet she never imagined that hers could gain the same effect. "What would you do it I was?"

If anyone made lip biting attractive, it was him. No, not those hunky heartthrobs like Gakupo or VY2. It was Len, all Len. No one else could make her so breathless. She hung on each intake of oxygen, waiting to hear his answer.

"Len?"

It was too good to be true, the click-clack of small heels on concrete enforced that truth. Only Rin, Len's blood related cousin who could pass off as his twin, would own such a high-pitched, well suited for pop ballads voice that stuck to skulls like honey on hair. Of course she would search for him if he was out of sight for too long. Of course.

Len looked torn as the sound got closer, as though it just occurred to him the promising position they were in, with their legs tangled together as their fingers clung to the space where another can hold. With the way they laid across one another, their heads only a foot apart. If Rin were to catch them like this, the pair knew she'd jump to conclusions.

Did Luka want that?

His lips pushed against hers. It wasn't much of a kiss (too forced and frantic to be considered one) but it counted as her first. There was no way she'd forget it, not even as he left her the instant he pulled back. Cold, alone, with nothing but tingling lips and swirling thoughts.

Self-loathing was at an all-time high, accompanied by the Kagamine Love bug.

Bless her past self for packing some tick-tacks in her purse in case the dreaded illness labeled 'bad breath' hit her mouth. With the smell of alcohol gone partygoers tried to give her drinks, as though she were some goddess that enjoyed wine offerings. She didn't accept a single cup, not even when a pair of eyes lingered longer than average, making her question if another sip of booze could replay that kiss.

She had to go. There was nothing in that room for her, even if it made her insides squirm as she ignored her mother's presence and rush past her father's twitchy hand that wanted to pull her into the center of his group just to show her off. No, not tonight. This time she'd abandon the world to the back of her uncle's old pick-up truck, replaying short kisses as fire flowers bloomed across the half-an-hour away from midnight sky.

Soon the countdown would start for a new year that would undoubtedly be far too long yet way too short. Soon she'd return to this house and hear parachutes shoot the clouds. There would be no change, not with herself nor her feelings. Only her education, which would be centered in a University hundreds of miles away, would bring a pinch of difference to an otherwise monotonous life.

"It's better this way," she thinks while absorbing whites and golds "I might get over him."

Firecrackers buzzed louder than crickets, popping the illusion of stars she'd clung to. Luka laughed at the fire, realizing she was burning calories over unchangeable facts. So what if she liked a minor? She'd get over it, find a good guy while he dated a cute girl from his school. Luka would move on as life intended. That would have be her New Years resolution were it not for the spikes of blond that slowly rose from the side of the truck.

He just loved to make her suffer.

"What are you doing out here?" Len flinched at the icy tone she produced as naturally as carbon dioxide. He wasn't use to being spoken to in such a way, especially not from her.

"I..."

There would be no change. She'd linger on the past if she didn't push forward. It was a scary thought, to leave her comfort zone and work for a future she didn't have the slightest idea as to what it looked like, but she had to do it. She had to be the adult.

"I like you, Len. I like you more than you could possibly imagine." Whiskey didn't do this, it was all her; just knowing that brought the worst sort of fear with a dash of budding self-pride. She wouldn't blame the drink that left her system hours ago, no matter how easy it would be if she did.

Len's eyes went soft as his lips parted. Luka imagined he might retaliate with mutual interest, the one concept that never crossed her mind each time she envisioned this confession. He would have, had she not shattered the possibility with her words.

"But you're too young." The truth didn't hurt nearly as much as the cracks on the window of his soul. Oh lord, did he reflect the look of a broken heart boy. Not even the ecstatic cheers of reverse numbers could alleviate the sting.

Thirty to twenty he took her hand.

Nineteen to fourteen he scooted closer, telling her he didn't care.

Thirteen to nine he said he always liked her and couldn't deal with single digits separating them.

Eight to seven she bit her lip.

Six to three they held hands while wondering if this was moment was really happening.

In the distance, Luka could have sworn she heard Rin's voice calling his name.

Two to Happy New Year she tossed all worries to the curb in favor of a dream come true; she kissed him.

"And that, kids, is why mommy loves New Years."

A/n:

This idea popped up on New Years Eve thanks to the people in my life along with a story or two that gave me a smidge of inspiration. Gosh, I hope this story is as good as Ryu expected.

FOR YOU, RYUCHU~! The CUTIEPIE who makes me giggle/ smile like a dork and recommends otome games (yes I play those...) and fangirls Len x Luka with me and a bunch of other stuff I think I won't mention so this author's note won't be too long.

I hope you readers enjoy this gift fic collection :)