I do not own neither Glee nor CP Coulter's Dalton.
Feux D'artifice
(Fireworks)
The city was abuzz with the excitement of ushering in the new year. Sounds of hand clappers, noise makers, blowouts, and party horns drifted in from the city centre. Loud, thumping bass music from both adjacent neighbours reverberated through the thin walls of the apartment, coming in through the vents, drifting in from the open balcony doors. Outside, the Eiffel Tower was lighted in blues and golds. The dark room was illuminated from its lights. Small displays of amateur fireworks barely reaching the first tier were already being fired off, anticipating and leading up to the bigger and flashier ones that was to come in half an hour.
Half an hour till the new year's.
The figure next to him moaned and rolled over to his side of the bed. In the same instant, the warmth by his side was gone; he had stolen the sheets.
Unable to sleep, all Sebastian could do was stare upwards, watching the flickering lights outside throw shadows across the plaster ceiling. It did not help him sleep, much less with the vibrations from the bass amps from his left side neighbour's apartment. It just so happened that the decorator insisted on putting his bed against this side of the wall. No walls between their apartments could ever be thick enough to drown out all the noise. Sebastian hoped their electricity bill would drive the homeowner to suicide. Then he could be spared of the raucous parties the neighbour insisted on throwing whenever there was a new member in Parliament or something as equally as stupid.
Groaning, he pushed himself off the bed and pulled on his jeans, thankful that he had thrown it nearby. He padded barefooted to the balcony.
Ten minutes.
Sebastian sighed as he rested his elbows on the brass railing. This last day of the last year was all wrong. They weren't supposed to usher in the next year like this. Something, no, someone was missing. Missing out on the celebrations. Missing out on the festivities. Missing out on the jokes they'd tell everyone – ending and beginning the years with sex. Missing out on their New Year tradition.
Damn it all, Julian was supposed to be here, with him.
He was supposed to be the one sleeping in his bed.
He was supposed to be the one Sebastian was having sex with now until the fancy fireworks displays were let loose into the atmosphere – even way after the colours and lights have died down, leaving nothing but the smell of burnt gunpowder and sweat lingering in the air.
The guy on his bed now wasn't even Sebastian's type. Sure, he may have been a blue-eyed blond with an athlete's built, but he was not Julian Larson. Hopelessly drunk way before 10pm, the guy – Sebastian didn't even know his name – had sauntered up to him in the gay bar where he and Julian frequented, and had chatted Sebastian up. Thinking "what the hell, Jules isn't here, why not?" Sebastian brought the guy home to his apartment. Without any use of introductions or speech, the stranger had submitted himself to Sebastian and the two had one-sided drunken sex in the dark. Mid way second round, the stranger had fallen asleep atop him.
Sebastian was furious.
Right now, he was listening to the chants of the gathered crowd by the Eiffel Tower chant their countdown marking New Year's.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
His phone rang shrilly in his pocket.
Sebastian fished it out, expecting a drunken caller wishing him a happy new year's. Instead, the caller ID was blocked. Frowning, he slid his finger across the screen to answer the call.
"Hello?"
"Kitten."
He sucked in a breath. "Julian?" he breathed out.
"Hello, Bas," Julian said from the other end. "Happy New Year's."
Sebastian chuckled, resting his upper body on the railing, left arm dangling in the air. "Happy New Year's, Jules," he returned. He wanted to be mad at Julian, really, but the mere whisper from his lover dissipated all anger and annoyance from his being. "Why aren't you here?" Best not to beat around the bush; get straight to the point and all that. "Why are you not in Paris with me?"
Julian's crackled sigh sounded through the receiver. "You know I wish I was there, Bas," he said. His voice cracked at Sebastian's name. He sounded pained.
"Where are you?" Sebastian asked, watching a crosette firework burst into various colours behind the Tower. Little sparks burst out from the main sparks, sending trails of lights cascading down the height of the Tower. It was beautiful… if Julian was there with him. Right now, Sebastian just could not enjoy the spectacle in front of him. Somewhere further down the Seine Barge, a ship honked. A few drunken revellers stumbled around on the cobblestone streets below him, singing Auld Lang Syne way off key and in a too-horrible English accent for Sebastian's liking. Through the phone, Sebastian could hear the same song being sang as well, wherever Julian was.
"I'm around," came the chuckled reply. "Yeah, I'm… around," he repeated with another sigh. If Sebastian knew any better, Julian would be rubbing the nape of his neck. He always did that whenever he was frustrated with something. "Paris must look amazing right now."
There was a long silence between them.
Finally, after some time, Sebastian exhaled through his nose. "I really wished you were here. New year resolution," he added hastily, as if as an afterthought.
"You don't believe in resolutions," Julian mocked. Sebastian could hear a smile in his voice.
"No."
"But yet, you're making one."
"Yeah, I guess I am. That's only because I didn't have to the previous years, Jules," Sebastian informed his caller, albeit with a sneer. "There wasn't a point making any because you're already next to me then."
"I'm sor –"
"Me, too," Sebastian cut off Julian with a heavy sigh. He rocked back and forth on his heels, holding onto the railing for support. "Hey, where are you?"
"Look down, kitten."
Sebastian did so, a surge in his chest, followed by a rapidly beating heart. He didn't want to admit it – for fear he might jinx it – but there was a bit of hope inside him that Julian would unexpectedly turn up in Paris. No wonder the Auld Lang Syne singing sounded familiar over the phone: they were the same singers as the ones on the streets downstairs. And there he was, in the flesh, Julian Larson, standing across the street from the apartment.
"Jules!" Sebastian couldn't keep the surprise from his voice. Without thinking, he raced across his dark bedroom, through the hallway, yanking the front door open and tore down the stairs barefooted. He didn't notice how fast he was running until he had tackled Julian down, mid-hug. "You're here!"
The brunette actor laughed. "You're acting like a child. Grow up," he told Sebastian. He returned the hug nonetheless.
"You owe me an explanation as to why you were not here ushering in the new year with me, Larson."
Julian's gaze trailed away just then. "I was… tying up loose ends," he simply offered.
"Not enough."
Julian was silent. His left hand was idly plucking at tufts of grass by his side.
"Well, I hope you hadn't rented out your loft, because you're sure as hell not spending your night with me," Sebastian told him coldly as he braced his palms on the ground, ready to push himself off of Julian.
"No, wait, Bas!" He clung on to Sebastian's naked forearms, holding him in his place. His eyes were wide: pleading and scared. Sebastian wanted to look away, but something about those sad, brown eyes made him wait for his lover's explanation. Sincerity. "I – I broke it off with Logan. He didn't want me to leave for Paris."
Sebastian drew back. "You did?" he gasped. "You didn't tell him about – about –" He couldn't finish the sentence because Julian cut him off with a sharp bark of humourless laughter.
"Do you take me for one of those models with an IQ less than 40?" he laughed. His chuckles died down when Sebastian looked down into his eyes, so deep and so full of hope. He couldn't help but hope himself that that one emotion was reserved just for him. "Bas," he breathed out, barely a whisper.
"Shut up, you sorry bastard," Sebastian smiles and descended down, melding his lips with Julian's own.
Behind them, the fireworks shot up the sky anew, drowning the both of them with splashes of colour.
They lay on the grass, kissing, until the sounds of the new year died down from the city.
They were separated from each other for a very long time, after all.
Happy New Year, guys! May 2013 bring you joy, prosperity, happiness, and above all, love.
This piece was inspired by (of course) Larythe, Paris, and fireworks. Forget Jogan on New Year's, this is Larythe! I just love Julian, okay?
Again, I hope you have a blessed new year ahead of you. Make proper resolutions you can keep, may you always be healthy, and keep shipping Larythe!
Xx, Kay.