✓ dark blue -h.s. au- short story

0- "Happy New Year"

It's New Year's Eve. It's December 31st, 11:39. Drink in one hand, date's hand in the other, Harry has somehow managed to feel very pumped for the new year.

His date is a very pretty blonde with light green eyes. Her name is Jasmine.

She's wearing a dress despite the very cold weather and very heavy snow. Her cheeks are rosy and pale, and noticing this, Harry tries to keep her warm by rubbing his hand over hers, but he soon forgets how to and just tips his bottle of beer to his lips, swallowing it heavily.

He throws his head back after the burn down his throat becomes bearable, eyes squinting over the mass of people who have accompanied him to this very loud roof party. The snow has already formed a sheet over the cement and he steps on it just to see the outline of the bottom of his shoe.

"Harry," the girl at his side coos, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. He's been dating Jasmine for quite some time now. He's noticed how she's been distant with him lately, and she hasn't been holding his hand nearly as much as she used to.

He knows she's fallen out of love with him, and tonight may probably be the night she breaks it off, but he doesn't like thinking about it. He thinks maybe if he's drunk enough, he can stall time and she won't want to tell him that she fancies his best friend, because he knows it's true. He's noticed their side glances and the admiration in her eyes that used to be for him, but it doesn't matter what used to be, because things aren't the same now, and he knows she's fallen out of love with him.

He doesn't think he's ever been in love, but this was close to it, he guessed. He wants to tell her it's okay to not feel anything with him anymore because he wasn't sure what it is he feels while they're together. He feels her perfume and her hair spray and her polished nails every time he tries to hold her hand. His head swims in thoughts of her reprimanding him because her nails are never fully dry, and he always wants to hold hands because it makes him feel wanted. He's learned to fold his hands in front of himself like a child, hold his own hand because his nails are never wet.

And really, he doesn't know how to handle being told he isn't wanted anymore. They never had each other, really, so he can't miss what he never had in the first place. Even Drunk Harry knows that.

Jasmine is a very nice girl, but she's never been one to hold on to things for a long time. She gets tired easily, and Harry sometimes gets tired of trying to entertain her.

He looks to his side and smiles a bit, corners of his lips twisting into a smirk. "Yes?"

Pushing her hair back, she rolls her eyes, hearing the slur of the word as it passes his lips. Her gaze makes him want to take another swig of his beer. "Do you need me to get you water? Maybe you should-"

"No, no I'm fine. Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?" He's doesn't know why he wants to keep her longer than he should. Maybe it's because he doesn't like being alone, or maybe he doesn't want her to be alone, and she looks like she's shaking, so he doesn't wait for a response to drunkenly strip his back of his jacket.

Glass bottle still in hand, Harry struggles to rid his heavy jacket before slipping on what is possibly black ice. He falls back and the wind pushes him further. He's too drunk to try to stop the fall, and instead, drops to the ground, head hitting the iced cement, glass beer bottle shattering along the side of his neck, piercing the thin skin.

He blacks out then, but feels the thick blood against the back of his head before he does. Everything just feels really cold from then on.

❆

Cecily is sitting on the edge of the dock, kicking her boot- clad feet in front of her. She should've brought a heavier coat if she knew Louis was going to keep her waiting.

"Ceci," she hears him call, and she doesn't turn to look at him. His voice has always been loud, she's surprised it hasn't cracked the ice that's coated on the body of water.

She wonders how thick it is, wonders how cold it must feel. That's when she turns to look at Louis whose lips are pulled into a frown, standing many meters away from her. He hasn't even reached the dock yet.

"Ceci, you can't sit there."

She rolls her eyes and moves closer to the edge, trying to tap the ice with the tip of her foot. "Don't be dramatic, Lou."

"Louis," he corrects, eyes squinting. Cecily rolls her eyes and kicks again. "Cecily, I mean it. That shit is-"

She doesn't hear the rest of his sentence. On her way in straightening her back to lean back on the dock again, her leg turns and her fingers slip from the wood. She gasps before falling straight through the ice, her feet feeling the pain first.

It feels like a bunch of knives cutting through her skin. She drags in a breath of oxygen that isn't there and immediately chokes on the water. That's when she feels her eyes closing up, her body growing weak.

Cecily tries to swim to the top, her hands trying to find the opening of where she had fallen through, but it's already been glossed over by another sheet of ice.

She gives up after that, body too cold and lungs too full of water.

❆

Harry is now in the Ambulance truck on New Year's Eve. It's 11:46 and he's managed to kind of fall back into consciousness.

He's strapped down in a gurney, he thinks, his chest awfully cold. He feels the blood on the back of his head and on the side of his neck. He looks to his side at what looks like another gurney.

There's no one on it until it's pulled out and rolls back minutes later. There's a doctor, doctor?, on his side. He thinks maybe he could be a firefighter, but he seems to be doing a great job at keeping him alive despite the crushing fall he'd taken. He's too drunk right now.

Harry turns when the the second gurney pulls right back beside him, only now it has a girl on it. He doesn't see much because his sight is obscured, but he sees a man pumping her chest. She looks wet, or maybe Harry is imagining it, but he doesn't think he can imagine the blue color of her skin as she finally begins to cough, water forcing its way out of her mouth.

"There we go," one of the firemen smiles, "there we go, Cecily. Look at that, there you go."

Harry notices the small mark on her neck. It looks like a miniature size of an 'O'. He's seen many birthmarks in his time, though he had never seen one like hers.

She still barely looks conscious, like she'd been in cold temperature for so long that she died, but she must not be dead because her eyes open for a split second and Harry's watch goes off.

Her eyes are still locked on his as he feels himself go out of consciousness all over again. He tells her, "Happy New Year."

It's 12:00 a.m. on a Thursday. The year is now 2017 when they both black out for yet another time, Harry's date still on the roof of the party now with another person, Cecily's friend, Louis, now in the ambulance truck behind them both, calling her parents before calling his own.

And the words Happy New Year echoes in both their heads.

This is how they meet, and they meet long after for a second time, though it feels like the very first time since they were barely conscious the real first time.