A Disenchanting New Year: Viktor (Patreon)

Disenchanting New Year; Viktor

“This is already stressing me out,” Viktor sighs, his eyes darting around at all the traffic as you lounge in the passenger seat, “Why did mom think this was a good idea?”

“Because it’ll hopefully be fun once we get there,” You point out, “And they got us a really nice hotel, so the party will probably be cool.”

“I don’t know why they did that,” He mutters, “I don’t even want to imagine how much a hotel with a view of the Square cost on New Year’s Eve.”

“I think they’re still celebrating,” You say, leaning over to nudge his shoulder, “Remember when we finally told them we were dating and your mom made us a cake, like, not even an hour later?”

“And my dad brought out one of the vintage bottles,” Viktor says, mystified as if he still couldn’t quite believe it had happened, “I almost thought the world was ending.”

“Just enjoy it,” You advise, “They’re happy for you. Us.”

He reaches out, taking your hand and placing it on his thigh. You squeeze the muscle there, making him smile over at you, the early morning sun lighting up his face.

The traffic is thick as you both make the trek from Catskill to New York City. It’s a two-ish hour drive that isn’t honestly that bad with good company and some music. New Year’s is one of the busiest nights around here, which is apparent as cars swarm the streets and people pack the sidewalks.

Your hotel has complimentary parking, and it’s a lucky thing. You don’t think at this point you’d be able to find much available without having pre-reserved it. Viktor grabs both your overnight bags and heads for the front desk to check in. You take the time to wander around the lobby, looking at all the fancy contemporary decor and the fine champagne.

“Come on,” Viktor’s fingers graze over your arm as he returns to your side, his eyes soft, “Elevator is this way.”

You hear Viktor gasp a little when he finally walks into the room, dumping your bags on the king bed. One wall is all window, giving you quite a lovely view. You can see most of Times Square from how high up your room is, the people milling about below practically specks.

A note from the hotel sits on the dresser with a complimentary bottle of wine and a few chocolates. You pop one in your mouth, tossing your bags onto one of the chairs to clear the bed.

“We have hours before the partying starts,” Viktor says, “You can get a nap in if you want.”

You smirk, extending a hand as you scoot back onto the bed, “I need my pillow.”

He smiles indulgently, sliding his shoes off before taking your hand. You move closer as he wraps an arm around your waist, tucking you into his chest. It’s easy to fall asleep, and you don’t even realize you have until he’s shaking you awake. It’s dark outside now, you realize. It would be, at least, if not for all the lights and commotion in the streets below.

“The music started a little bit ago,” Viktor says quietly, “I was going to wake you up sooner but you looked so comfortable.”

You groan, stretching slightly as you sit up. You glance over, taking in the view of Viktor’s profile shining with the revelry below.

“Were you wanting to go up to the bar for the party?” He asks, leaning back against the headboard.

“Why not?” You ask, sliding your shoes back on, “We paid for the experience. Well, your parents did, I guess.”

It’s crowded when you reach the roof. This close to midnight has people already drunk and stumbling, so you two find a nice spot along the railing. The couches are comfortable as you sit and stare out at the skyline. The ball is a lot smaller than it looks on TV, you realize.

“Guess it’s all about perspective,” Viktor mutters, “It looks tiny but I read it’s actually twelve feet tall and weighs almost twelve thousand pounds.”

Time passes quickly on the roof; it’s chilly this high up, so you’re practically laying in Viktor’s arms once again. He goes and gets drinks at one point, and the glasses are so dainty and delicate you can tell he worries about shattering them.

As the ten minute to midnight mark is reached, people are humming with excitement as more and more gather around the railing. You scoot closer into Viktor’s side, letting an older woman sit down on the other end of the couch.

Eventually the countdown starts, and you chant the numbers down in unison with everyone else.

“Happy New Year’s,” Viktor whispers just for you as everyone else shouts it out.

He leans in at the same time as you, his hand cradling your cheek as your lips meet. You sway in closer, like he has some kind of magnetic field pulling you in. He tastes like expensive champagne and smoke and fire, his sharp teeth kept carefully away from snagging your lips. You hear people cooing and awwing around you, but you feel no embarrassment. He pulls back to breathe, his face still inches away from your own. His eyes, mostly blue in the low light, look only at you.

“To many more?” You say, lacing your fingers through with his.

“So many.” He agrees, his lips curling up as he pecks you on the cheek.

It doesn’t take long before you both tire of the noise and the packed crowd, so you head back down to your room not long after midnight. You’re too tired for anything else, but the slow kiss you share in bed leaves you burning for more. You have a whole year, though, to worry about that, and many more to come.