#they are two silly sardines in a can five feet apart because they are NOT gay

[ispirrazione]

incredibly iconic that internally i have two names for their ship. one is fruit basket (elliott = pomegranates, sillyboy = peaches) i think its cute and it fits however the other is sardines because. damn i really. romanced him with raw fish

[hide-in-imagination]

“New Year’s Eve Is Okay (maybe even amazing)” - Simbar oneshot

The continuation of the Christmas oneshot you all asked for!!! ♡

Happy New Year, everyone ^^

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In her grandpa’s words, Christmas was for family. New Year’s Eve was for friends, your chosen family.  

Because family has always and will always be with you, he had told her once. New Years is to celebrate new things. The new people in your life.  

Yes, it sounded a little cheesy, and considering her history, Ámbar shouldn’t be very ecstatic about celebrating friendship, but she understood what he meant. She had always seen change as an opportunity for something new instead of something to be afraid of. And thank god for that mindset because she’d had to restart and do over a lot in her life. But now she was finally in a place where she felt accepted, and most importantly, fully comfortable with who she was, the friends she’d made along the way and the plans she had for the future.

And so, her tradition was to spend the New Years at some friend’s house or at a dance club, partying the night away and welcoming the new year dancing. It wasn’t that she was the kind of person who went ‘This is gonna be my year!’ or something and awaited midnight with vibrant excitement and twinkling eyes— She actually found it a little silly since every year always ended up being pretty much the same as the previous one and everyone she knew that made New Years resolutions never fulfilled any of them. But hey, it was a great excuse to get drunk, break free from all and any worries and dance and sing until her feet and throat were sore. As far as holidays went, that made New Years her unbeatable favorite. The only day better than that was her birthday.

This year, the pre-party was at her friend Emilia’s house, which consisted of about two hours of food and drinks before they all moved to a near club around eleven and waited for the stroke of midnight.

That was where Ámbar was right now, chatting with some friends in her dark blue shiny dress as she sipped from her drink. Normally, she would be checking the crowd, either here or at the club, looking for a handsome stranger to close the night with a flourish and then never see him again. But this year was different. This year, she wasn’t interested in any of that. Not because she’d gotten bored of the ‘good’ one-night stands which never quite managed to be ‘excellent.’ She could’ve carried on with that.

No, the reason was rather a person. A person that started with ‘S’ and ended with ‘imón, the unexpected friend of Luna who I can not stop thinking about.’

He hadn’t asked for her number that night at her grandpa’s Christmas dinner party, and she, stupidly, hadn’t done it either. Because, what if he got to know her better and decided she wasn’t his type? What if he turned out to be an awful guy and she ended up disappointed? She didn’t even know if he already had a girl he liked. Maybe she should just stay with the memory of one perfect night instead of risking it.  

Thoughts like that circled in her head on a loop until he left along with Luna and Matteo and she lost her chance. Later, surrounded by nothing but the solitude and quiet of her own apartment, she had regretted it immensely. She was Ámbar Smith; she was supposed to be braver than that.  

It’d been hard to sleep that night, between flashbacks that made her smile and the memory of their lingering stares when they said goodbye which wiped it right off.

Fortunately, her state of disappointment and self-loathing didn’t last too much, for the very next evening, she got a text saying:

‘You still haven’t managed to change my mind’  

Ámbar may had reacted a little too excitedly, doing what could only be described as a victory dance in her room. Which was ridiculous and so not warranted by a single text, but she really couldn’t help it. By the time she calmed down somewhat, she had two more texts.

‘Just a reminder in case you want to rectify that’

‘It’s Simón by the way’

Of course I know it’s you, her melted heart responded. Why did she find it so cute that he felt the need to clarify? She guessed it was just funny how he could act so confident and laid-back one minute and then shy and awkward in the next. Were they both part of him or did he hide one with the other? She didn’t really know him to know yet, but she found it endearing.

‘I’m guessing Luna gave you my number?’ She texted back, just to appear a little nonchalant. After all, contrary to what her attitude in the last five minutes may imply, she was not a twelve-year-old with a crush.

‘Maybe’ he replied.

He appeared as ‘writing’ for some time (during which her heart did not pound, thank you very much) as if he deleted and started again until he finally tapped sent.

‘She shouldn’t have?’

Now, Ámbar could’ve kept playing it cool and reply with something like “nah, it’s fine” or “I don’t mind either way”— that was probably the smartest move. But just as that night next to the snack table where her chest had ached at just the idea of him thinking that he was bothering her, she couldn’t bear to make him feel like that. So, she decided to be honest.

‘Actually… I think it’s the best thing she has done in a long time.’

 After that, they had talked every day. About many things, general topics like music, movies, TV shows, memes, funny videos… They’d talk about stuff that happened to them throughout the day, whether to vent (“The weather it’s way too hot, I’m melting here!”) or share something good (“A friend just got me the game I talked to you about!”)

Ámbar found herself laughing at every little joke he made, and she felt so happy whenever she made him laugh. She was a little embarrassed at how attentive she was to her phone, practically jumping at the smallest sound or vibration to check if it was a message from him. She got so disappointed when it wasn’t, but oh so very excited when it was. It was dumb and exaggerated, she knew it, but texting with Simón made her heart sing.

(And his ‘Goodnight, bonita’ might as well had made it explode.)

The voice notes didn’t take long in making an appearance (she may or may have not bookmarked some of his), and then there was that day Simón called her because he said he had his hands busy doing the dishes and so he couldn’t write.

Ámbar had told him that if he was busy then they could talk later (a stupid move considering how happy it made her to hear his voice and oh god, what if he hangs up now?) but Simón had replied that he’d put on earphones precisely for this reason and begged her to please save him from boredom while he washed his mountain of dishes. (He was not exaggerating; he had a big family).  

They’d talked for hours that day, long after he’d finished his task. They’d told each other stories of their lives and their families, shared dreams and goals they had in mind. She had laughed a lot and learned a lot about him, more than enough to completely erase her made-up story of the dedicated social worker and shape it into the passionate musician slash part-time waiter that he was. And yet she wanted to know more. Way more.

They didn’t talk about the kiss under the mistletoe in any of their conversations or made any plans about going out somewhere together. Ámbar didn’t know if she should bring it up or if it was too soon; they’d only been talking for a couple days after all. She’d probably seem too intense.

(“You are,” Emilia had told her the day prior, backing it up with the fact that in these few days she’d already memorized all of his band’s songs. It wasn’t her fault the songs were good. Or that his singing sounded so beautiful.)

Besides, Simón was making the most of spending time with his family now that they’d finally managed to arrive from London, and she herself had been meeting with different friends and co-workers around the city to exchange gifts and catch up, so maybe it wasn’t the best time to start anything either.

It didn’t stop her from wishing she could see him though.

He did ask her if she had plans for New Year’s Eve— a not so subtle question that made her smile because it meant he felt the same.  

Sadly, she had already made plans weeks ago to attend Emilia’s party along with many mutual and not mutual friends and ex college classmates. He said he too had planned to attend a friend’s party, and since he had pretty much helped organize the whole thing, he couldn’t not show up.  

Which brought Ámbar here, to the party with her friends, many guys hitting on her and she rejecting them all. She felt a little foolish, to be honest. It’s not like she was dating Simón or he had made any comment about them being exclusive or something. (And could someone be ‘exclusively talking to someone else’? Because that’s all they did. They were nothing. Seriously, it was laughable.) For all she knew, he could be sucking face with another girl right now at his party and here she was, dodging advances from hot guys.

They were handsome and smooth and the look in their eyes promised very fun things… but they weren’t Simón.

Ámbar felt very, very stupid.

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 Thirty minutes before midnight, Ámbar was singing along to the tunes the DJ played as the countdown steadily proceeded on the club’s wide screen. Thankfully, the place wasn’t as packed as a can of sardines since most people were either outside waiting for the fireworks display or at their homes waiting to hug their families so they could run out and join some party. That didn’t mean it was empty though, not in the slightest, but she could move from the bar and back without needing to elbow her way through, which was enough for her.

Many from the pre-party had already disappeared in the crowd, Emilia, the traitor, being the first, because “You may have put yourself in an imaginary leash but I’m free to do whatever I want, and what I want is for someone to do me.”

Ámbar would’ve defended herself but she’d asked Ramiro to be her kiss at midnight and that basically proved she was right. Ramiro was the closest thing she had to a male best friend; they’d known each other for years so she trusted him enough for it. Also, she knew he was just getting out of a toxic relationship, so he would not think of it as anything more than what it was.

To be honest, she wouldn’t kiss anyone, but she feared if she was standing alone by the time the clock stroke midnight, some drunk guy would jump her, so she thought it was better to prevent something like that from happening.

Simón had sent her a few texts every once in a while and a quick video of how the party was going over there.  

Good, she thought. So at least he remembers me in between sticking his tongue down other girls’ throats.

Yeah, by that point in the night and after her third glass of rum & coke, Ámbar had gotten pretty paranoid.

She’d responded briefly with emojis and by posting many Instagram stories of her own party. (If she happened to be with Ramiro in most of them, it was purely coincidental.)

“Who’s the guy?” Asked the aforementioned, looking at her phone’s screen over her shoulder. She was looking at a group selfie Simón had shared in his Stories to see if she could identify which of all those bitches was throwing herself at him right now. Her bet was on the curly-haired brunette with the tacky golden dress.

“None of your business,” she replied, locking her phone and putting it inside her bag.

“I’d say it is my business if you’re using me to make him jealous.”

She looked at him.

“Oh yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said, smiling very smugly.

“Shut up,” she said, and went to the bar for another drink.

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 It was one minute to the New Year and with her fourth glass left empty somewhere and the energy from dancing in her veins, she was actually pretty pumped.  

That was until Ramiro went up to her and told her loud enough to be heard over the music—

“I’m gonna split up!”

Ámbar looked at him, taken aback. “W-what? But we agreed—”

“You’ll be fine!” He assured her and left her there to mix with the crowd. In seconds she couldn’t even see him anymore.

Ámbar scoffed. Thank you so much, friend.

He was right though; she didn’t need him. She was an independent woman who could take care of herself. She’d had to handle boy advances all her life; she could do it tonight too.

The excitement started growing in the crowd as the countdown on the screen marked 30 seconds. Some people ran to the bowls of grapes, ready to stuck 12 in their mouths as fast as they could. Some others prepared their party crackers and party horns. Those were pretty drunk.

Ámbar swallowed the piece of nougat in her mouth and readied herself to chant the countdown with the crowd.  

Ten!

There was a tap on her shoulder.

She rolled her eyes internally. Seriously? Already?

Nine!

She turned around to dispatch whatever guy that had come to bother her.

Eight!

Her heart skipped a beat.

Seven!

Simón smiled. Beautiful, timid, excited.

“Hi.”

Six!

Ámbar couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t even respond, only look at him and look at him and look at him because he was there and her heart was going to come out. 

Five!

He couldn’t stop looking at her either.

Four!

She knew that look. She’d seen it that night, when his eyes had searched hers for an answer.

Three!

There was more longing now, more eagerness, the question written on fire instead of a hopeful breeze.

Two!

She felt the same fire and more.

One!  

There was no need to ask.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Simón held her face and kissed her.

Around them, the place roared with life, confetti fell like rain, but for Ámbar only his lips existed, only the softness of his hair as she drowned a hand in it, the leather of his jacket where she was holding onto him, the firmness of his body against hers, his hand sliding to her back to pull her closer.

The ceiling could’ve fallen down and she wouldn’t have let him go.

This time, she didn’t have to worry about stares or decorum. She didn’t have to pretend she didn’t want more, so she didn’t. She parted his lips and deepened the kiss, rejoicing in how he gripped her hips and kissed her harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and took turns between letting him take whatever he wanted and pouring everything she felt into his mouth until neither could anymore breathe.

She didn’t know how long they were like that, only that they were left panting. They opened their eyes and time started moving again. All around them there were people dancing and singing, the music so loud it invited you to follow it.

Ámbar followed Simón instead, as he guided her by the hand to a more secluded place, far from the blaring speakers.

“How are you here?” She said in awe once they stopped. She’d think it was a dream if her lips didn’t still feel him, if it weren’t impossible for her body to simulate these many sensations.  

“You shared the name of the place many times on Instagram.”

She had. She could finally admit that she had been secretly hoping he would pick up on that. She was so glad he did.

“For a moment I thought I wasn’t gonna find you on time though,” he continued. “I got here minutes ago but there were so many people. Thankfully, your friend, the curly one, he saw me and pointed me in the right direction.”

Oh my god, Ramiro, I love you, you’re the best.  

“What about your party?” She asked.

He shrugged. “It’s not that far from here, just half an hour plus some walking. I could stay here for a while and then go back… Or I could just stay here with you, if you want me to.”

Somewhere, Ámbar was aware that that was a question, that he was hoping she’d want him to stay, but she couldn’t focus on that when she was almost out of air.  

“…Did you ride a bus for thirty minutes just to come kiss me at midnight?”

Simón averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed.

“Well… Actually, I took the subway. But it was really—”

She didn’t let him finish.

For the first time since they met, Ámbar kissed Simón not because of some tradition, not because of any excuse— Only because she wanted to.

Simón was surprised for a second before he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her back. Ámbar set to kiss him until it didn’t surprise him anymore, until he had no doubt that she was crazy about him, until he didn’t hesitate in front of her because she was wonderstruck just by him existing.  

They only parted far enough to look at each other. If her kiss didn’t fully convey it, he must have seen it in her eyes, because his arms didn’t let her go and a warm, happy smile grew on his face.

“So,” he said, nuzzling his nose to hers. “Any New Years’ resolutions?”

Ámbar thought about it, and for once, just this once, she chose to take a leap of faith.

“Ending the year like this wouldn’t be bad.”

She was scared of having said that because they only knew each other since some days ago and all her logic told her that most likely they’d only see each other for a month and then something would happen and they would never talk again. Pretending otherwise, actually thinking otherwise, was foolish; nothing more than hopeful thinking. It would only embarrass her later to know she said this.

But then he smiled that beautiful smile of his and she decided it was worth it.

“I think the same thing.”

  Both danced and kissed until late into the night, and two days later, they had their first real date.

And at the end of the year, when holiday season came, Ámbar arrived with Simón at her granpa’s house, and their New Year’s resolution came true when they were, once again, each other’s kiss at midnight.  

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