"Fucking cold" says Alby, rubbing his hands in an attempt to warm them.

It's dark. Really, really dark. Clouds shield the earth from the stars and moon, thick snowflakes fall down instead.

Newt groans in annoyance. "Shut it" he hisses, anticipation clear in his raised voice, his cheeks red.

Alby rolls his eyes but scoots closer to the taller boy, his hands now in the pockets of his jacket.

"Whatever."

They're far outside town on the roof of an abandoned warehouse, staring at the illuminated skyline of the small city in front of them.

"Ten."

"That's fucking it, I'm not going to do a countdown" announces Alby, shaking his head. Newt grins.

Alby's irritated, Newt knows he doesn't like the sounds to come and probably also isn't too fond of standing twenty feet above the ground in the freezing cold. It had been Newt's idea.

"Nine" says Newt, teasingly. Alby just frowns.

"Eight" he continues, hearing Alby shift next to him.

He's done the bloody trick on Christmas for him, now Alby could repay him for decorating, wearing the stupid knitted sweater he got Newt from the thrift shop and Christmas carolling 24/7.

"Seven." Newt, on the other hand, enjoys New Year's Eve way more than Christmas.

His parents are out of town, mostly, anyway, so Holidays usually get lost all of it. But the end of a year, and the beginning of a new one, having survived whatever the previous one had thrown at him, that filled Newt with a kind of pride and excitement that no other festivity could provide.

"Six" says Newt and he hears Alby mutter along with him. He's finally hooked. No one can subside the excitement of new year beginning.

"Five" they say in unity and Alby takes Newt's hand and his hands are really, really cold.

"Four." A stray firework goes off somewhere on their right, the blue and red fading too quickly to really matter.

"Three." Newt is bouncing on the balls of his feet, he can feel a shiver down his spine.

He doesn't care the Alby doesn't feel the same, he's just glad the other boy is with him nonetheless. It was made a great deal for Newt that Alby was with him on his favourite day of the year. He really, really cared.

"Two." A sudden realization. Newt turns toward Alby. He squeezes his hand. More less well times fireworks shoot into the night.

"One." Boldly, Newt leans forward, Alby is on his tippy toes. Their lips meet for just a few seconds. Their own little firework.

"Happy New Year" says Newt, the golds and reds and greens and silvers of the firework reflecting in Alby's eyes. He's beaming up at the younger boy.

"Happy New Year" Alby answers and Newt thinks to himself, that maybe now Alby likes New Year a little more.