This is a piece I wrote for the Winter 2016/17 FrUK Exchange on tumblr. I have to admit that I'm not too proud of it in any meaning of the word, but I do hope that someone will get some form of enjoyment out of it. Anyway, thanks for reading.

There were worse ways to spend New Year's Eve. Granted, there weren't many worse ways. But spending the evening as the resident wallflower at a dime-a-dozen campus party certainly beat Arthur's experiences of previous years, many of which included a bottle and a half of peppermint Schnapps and a hangover that never completely went away until well into January.

Just one night of making awkward small-talk, dealing with drunken university students, and hovering by the refreshment table stacked high with alcohol, and his social-interaction quota would be filled enough to where he'd be free to guiltlessly enjoy the rest of his winter break in solitude.

That is, if he could stick it out that long.

There was something somber about watching everyone around him having a good time with their friends and getting progressively more drunk as the night went on while Arthur simply stood in one corner of the kitchen with a glass of champagne. He had half a mind to call it quits earlier than he'd anticipated even though the countdown to the new year would be starting in less than half an hour. All he really wanted at the moment was a blanket and a mug of tea and-

"Well, this is quite the surprise."

Arthur jumped at the voice. He hadn't noticed anyone approach him, even though people had been filtering by for beer or wine all night.

The man beside him smiled. Arthur had only seen him in passing since high school, just on the way to class or at the dining hall on rare occasions, and it seemed almost surreal to be speaking to him one-on-one again. "It's been a while, Arthur. How have you been?"

"Oh, Francis," he said, still a bit startled by his sudden appearance - not to mention his sudden interest in speaking to him once again. "Goodness, yes, it certainly has been a while. It must have been-"

"Three years," Francis finished for him.

"Something like that."

The silence that fell between them was beyond uncomfortable as they simply stood by the table, Francis sipping on a glass of red wine and Arthur working on his second beer.

"So, what have you been up to?" Arthur asked at the exact time as Francis said, "How are your studies going?"

Arthur mentally kicked himself. Part of him had been looking forward to an opportunity to speak with Francis again after so many years, but he couldn't put up with small-talk and talking over each other for long. "Er… you first."

"No, no, I insist."

"It's just small-talk, Francis. You don't have to be cordial about it."

Francis just laughed a little in response. "I was going to ask how your courses went this semester."

"Fine," Arthur said almost a little too quickly. "I mean, they were boring as hell, and I still have to go to law school after I finish all of these dull-as-rocks classes." He stopped, but continued once more when Francis made no attempt to speak. "Well, what's new with you, then?"

Francis leaned against the wall and drained the last of his wine. "Not a lot has changed. I'm almost finished with my art degree here, and I'm doing an internship at the gallery in the city."

They fell into silence once more. Damn, Arthur wished that wouldn't happen so often. This wasn't how he'd thought his first meeting with Francis would go at all.

Francis reached behind him for the bottle of red wine but found it empty. "Shame," he muttered, holding it up to the light before setting it back on the table for some other hopeful sap to pick up.

"Would you like some Schnapps?" Arthur asked, pulling the nearly-full bottle from his bag. "I brought it from home, but I can't finish it myself." A lie. He'd done that and more on multiple occasions.

Francis's pleasant smile became a grin. "That sounds just fine to me."

Francis left to find a pair of shot glasses and Arthur remained at the table, fighting the cap of the bottle and protecting his quiet corner from anyone who might try to take it when he wasn't looking. Part of him wondered if this was a good idea, but he knew it was always a better to add alcohol to the mix if he was going to say what needed to be said.

Francis returned a few minutes later with two shot glasses. He placed one that read "I Love London" in red and blue block letters in front of Arthur and set the other before himself.

"Very funny," Arthur muttered as he looked warily at the souvenir.

"Purely coincidence," Francis assured him. "I wanted this one for myself." He held up his own bright purple glass that read "Blondes Have More Fun."

Arthur shrugged. "Fair enough, I suppose." He filled both glasses and picked his up. "Well then. Cheers."

His memory of the events after that were hazy at best.

Roughly an hour later, the two were lying on the couch with the empty bottle between them. Arthur felt himself slipping in and out of sleep, and the loud music seemed somewhat muffled.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Are you awake?" came Francis's voice through the noise.

Arthur opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his vision. "Yeah. I'm awake."

"There's one minute left."

He looked over at the other side of the living room where, sure enough, people were starting to gather around the television for the countdown. "Huh," he mumbled. He was certainly far less intoxicated than he'd expected to become tonight, but it was still difficult to carry a straight line of thought. The countdown seemed of little importance at the moment.

Francis shook his shoulder slightly. "Mind sitting up for a minute?"

Arthur complied, even though he ended up leaning heavily on Francis's shoulder for support. Shouts came from the other side of the room - they were approaching thirty seconds.

"Do you remember the New Year's Eve party at Gilbert's place during our list year of high school?"

"Not really," Arthur responded truthfully. "I drank too much and fell asleep in the garage two hours before the countdown."

Francis chuckled. "Yes, I remember. But "before" you fell asleep."

Arthur thought hard about that night, trying to dig up whatever it was that Francis was referring to. Then, in a flash, it came to him. "God," he muttered. "You promised to be my New Year's kiss."

His eyes were closed once more, but he could still hear the smile in Francis's voice. "See, I knew it was still in there somewhere." He let out a laugh before continuing. "Such a pity you fell asleep, though."

Arthur sat up straight and glared at him as best as he could in his current state. "Don't you dare tell me that you kissed me anyway while I was asleep," he warned. "That's fucking creepy."

"God, no," Francis replied, the tone of his voice betraying a sense of hurt. "I wouldn't do that. No, I was just going to ask if you wanted to make good on that promise tonight."

For a second he almost forgot to breathe. He'd always been a bit sweet on Francis, ever since high school at least, but he'd never known how Francis himself felt. He'd been kicking himself every New Year's Eve since then in regret of that wasted opportunity. But now the opportunity was presenting itself once more? It was almost too good to be true.

"You have about five seconds."

Arthur heard the countdown of the partygoers ringing in his ears and, before he could think twice, leaned forward as the shout of "ONE!" rang through the air...

He awoke the next morning in his bed. He was thankful, of course - he'd woken up in far worse places after nights of drinking - but he couldn't for the life of him remember how he'd gotten there.

An insistent knock sounded from the door. Ah, so that's why his hungover ass had woken up at 9 in the morning after what he assumed had been a night of overindulgence.

He stood up and immediately wished he hadn't. His head pounded like a bass drum and a thick wave of nausea came over him. All he wanted at that moment was to eat some bread, make a cup of tea, curl up in his bed, and not get up for three days at least. But first, to stop that incessant knocking...

He opened the door with the intent of telling whoever it was to get the hell out, but he found Francis stood out on the icy front porch.

"Good morning, Schnapps!" Francis greeted, holding a plastic bag out to him. "Happy New Year!"

"Heavens, how are you even alive right now," Arthur grumbled, but he took the bag from him and stepped back. "You can come in, but for the love of all things holy, keep your voice down."

Francis followed him inside and looked around. "This is a rather nice place. Good find."

"Hm." Arthur had been so used to seeing Francis outside of class during high school that he'd forgotten that he'd never seen his new place.

Francis let out a sudden laugh. "And you've still got your shoes on," he pointed out. "That's one way to tell that someone had a rough night."

Arthur sank into a chair at the kitchen counter. "What are you doing here?" he asked, pressing his palms to his temples. "How do you even know where I live?"

His laughter subsided into a simple smile. "I walked you home after the party. No one trusted you to find your way by yourself." He took a seat beside Arthur. "As for your first question, I'm here with a peace offering. Breakfast, if you'd like."

Arthur turned his attention to the plastic bag. "A peace offering? Did you think I'd be upset with you?"

"Honestly, I didn't know what to think." He got up and busied himself with the electric kettle. "I'm here to apologize if that's not what you really wanted to happen."

He looked up at him in suspicion. He remembered everything except for the end of the night... "You didn't come into my apartment last night, did you?"

"No, of course I didn't. Kiku was with us if that makes you feel any better. No, I was referring to midnight."

Arthur let out a little chuckle that made him feel even more sick than before. "I wasn't meaning to accuse you of anything. And don't worry, I'm not mad at all about that. Quite the opposite. But I'm going to accept you peace offering anyway, because if I don't eat anything then I'll be sick."

"Go right ahead."

As Arthur helped himself to a fresh roll from the bag, Francis prepared a mug of peppermint tea and put it before him. "So... the opposite of upset is what in this context, exactly?" Francis asked as Arthur ate.

"Well, there was a reason I asked you to be my New Year's kiss in high school," Arthur responded, not bothering to look up at him. "I still can't believe it happened."

They were silent for a while as Arthur drank his tea, but it was a more comfortable silence than that of the night before. Then, "Arthur, would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?"

Arthur looked up at him at long last. "A date?"

Francis chuckled. "Yes, I mean as a date."

He smiled back at him with all of the strength he could muster. "I'd love to. But, not today. Anything more than bread is probably a recipe for disaster right now."

"Understood." Francis got to his feet. "Well, in that case, rest up, and I'll message you tomorrow."

"Do you have my number?"

He smiled. "You gave it to me yesterday."

"Is that so..."

Francis was already at the door by the time Arthur stopped him. "Hey," Arthur muttered, already regretting the sudden movement. "Stay warm out there, yeah? They say there's a storm coming through today." He stood on his toes to give Francis a quick kiss goodbye, hoping that it didn't seem as if he were moving too fast.

But he could feel Francis half-smiling against him. "Thank you," Francis responded once they'd broken apart once more. "It's good to know that someone's watching out. We'll be in touch." And with that, he disappeared through the doorway with a nod.

Arthur watched through the window until Francis was no longer visible. His stomach still churned, but whether from the hangover or the newfound excitement, he was unsure.

He still didn't know quite how everything had worked out so well for him. But he wished more than anything that his high school self could see him now and know that, although it would be years, everything would turn out okay.