Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Midnight

Jason's house was lit up like a signal fire — light and noise bleeding out into the street before you were anywhere near the door.

Cars packed the street and half the yard, headlights still cutting through people as they climbed out laughing, slamming doors, calling to each other. Music bled out from inside, bass heavy enough that Steve felt it in his teeth before he even hit the front walk.

Steve adjusted his grip on the six-pack and pushed the doorbell with his elbow. Sophia was a comforting warmth at his side. Steady.

The door swung open. Music spilled out first. Then heat. Then the smell of beer, sweat, and too much perfume.

There was Jason, already flushed and loud. Polo shirt. Hair perfect. A grin that suggested he might be a couple drinks in.

Steve shifted the six-pack in his hand and walked in with Sophia beside him, his arm anchored around her waist.

“Harrington!” Jason boomed, clapping him on the shoulder. Too hard. Familiar. The kind of touch that was meant to look like camaraderie.

Steve smiled without thinking.

Jason’s eyes flicked to Sophia and lingered half a beat too long — approving, assessing — before he swung back to Steve.

“Glad you made it, man,” he said, waving his hand around.

The house was full enough that the air felt thick. Streamers drooped from the ceiling fan. Someone had taped a banner that said HAPPY NEW YEAR in glitter letters to the wall and it was already shedding onto the carpet. The stereo was turned up just a touch too loud.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Steve responded. He handed off the beer to someone who reached for it without asking as he scanned the room.

Jason started talking before Steve could finish his sweep. Basketball. Recruiters. A story about a scrimmage that got louder.

Steve nodded, and laughed in the right places.

He recognized Jason’s volume.

He’d worn that same mask once — the easy grin, the shoulders squared like you owned the room, the way you filled silence before it could expose anything real.

He was wearing it now too. Just for a different reason.

They made their way to the living room where they spotted Chrissy.

She was on the couch near the far wall, half turned away from the center of the room. People kept brushing past her and she kept pulling in, tightening her shoulders, making herself smaller without meaning to. Jason made his way over and placed his arm around the back of the couch above her.

Steve and Sophia followed, greeting people along the way. Someone dragged her toward the center of the living room where the music was heavier. She went without resistance, let herself spin once, twice, then drifted back into Steve’s orbit as if it had been the plan all along.

He followed the movement without staring.

Steve let someone shout in his ear about New Year’s resolutions and pretended to care. He swayed with the music, a lazy step in place, letting the rhythm give him an excuse to move through the crowd without looking like he was moving.

Every few seconds, his eyes found the couch again.

Chrissy smiled when spoken to. Looked down when she wasn’t. Fingers tight around her cup.

Sophia shifted half a step to his left, giving herself a cleaner angle.

He felt it and adjusted.

Jason leaned too close.

Chrissy laughed too late.

Sophia clocked it too. He could tell by the way her gaze sharpened and softened in turns.

“Anything?” he whispered in her ear as they swayed to the beat of some upbeat song.

She didn’t look at him, as she responded, just as quietly. “I’m not sure yet.”

Steve caught a glimpse of Eddie near the hallway — leather jacket in a sea of polos — and started to track him out of reflex.

Someone bumped into Steve from behind and pulled him into a different conversation before he could finish the thought.

He lost Eddie in the crowd.

The lights dimmed a little more.

Someone shouted, “Five minutes!”

The house shifted. Bodies compressed toward the TV, everyone grabbing drinks and talking excitedly.

Steve grabbed two fresh beers off the counter without thinking and handed one to Sophia as they were pushed forward by the crowd. Their fingers knocked together. She steadied her cup with her other hand.

The bass thudded in his ribs.

He was halfway through a swallow when it hit him.

Midnight.

He hadn’t thought about midnight.

He’d thought about Jason’s hand placement. About how many drinks Chrissy had. About whether Sophia looked tired.

He hadn’t thought about the stupid, normal ritual.

People were pairing off.

Arms sliding around waists. Hands settling at hips.

Sophia saw the moment it landed. She stepped closer to him, head angled so she could talk softly in his ear as the countdown began.

“It’s fine,” she said quietly. Her hazel eyes steady against his.

Ten.

“It’s just a kiss.” She said, reassuringly, a smile on her face.

Nine.

Steve swallowed. His breath came fast. He tasted beer. He tasted adrenaline.

Eight.

He didn’t have time to rehearse cool. Didn’t have time to decide how casual to make it.

Seven.

Someone bumped into him from behind and he stepped closer to her automatically to steady them both.

Six.

Sophia didn’t move away. She stared up at him, eyes wide and trusting.

Five.

“It’s fine,” she repeated.

Four.

The room tightened. Bodies pressing in. Breath warm and loud.

Three.

She leaned up, face close to his, lips near his ear. His breath stilled.

"Unless you've forgotten how," she whispered.

He turned to look at her. The challenge in her eyes was real.

Two—

Jason turned abruptly and kissed Chrissy before the countdown finished. Loud. Public. Dramatic. A cheer went up. Eyes turned towards the couple.

The crowd roared, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Sophia smirked. Steve stopped hesitating, familiar motions taking over.

One hand landed at Sophia’s waist, firmer than planned, pulling her even closer. His other hand gently grabbed the side of her jaw angling his face toward his. There was a flash of surprise in her eyes — quick recalibration — but no tension.

Steve kissed her.

Confident. Clean. Urgent.

Like this was easy. Like none of it required thought.

Her breath caught.

It sharpened something in him.

He didn’t name it.

Noise exploded around them. Noisemakers. Shouting. Someone knocking over a cup.

He was about to pull back—

Then Sophia’s hands slid up around his neck, toying with the hair at the base of his neck.

She kissed him back.

Deeper.

His grip tightened at her waist. His other hand moved upward without thinking, fingers threading briefly into her hair, angling her closer.

The kiss slowed.

He didn’t mean for it to.

Their mouths separated.
His jaw stayed tight.

He opened his eyes first.

Sophia opened them a beat later.

Their faces were still millimeters apart, her arms still around him. There was a suspended second between them — something unguarded, something neither of them had meant to offer.

A balloon popped overhead.

They separated a fraction too late.

Sophia unwound her arms from his neck and moved to straighten her dress.

Steve released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and forced his face into something normal. His hands dropped to his sides. He flexed his fingers once.

The room rushed back in all at once.

Steve cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair. “Oh.”

That was it. That was all he had.

Sophia blinked once, composure snapping back into place.

“Yeah,” she said lightly. “Easy.”

A sharp gasp broke through the noise.

Someone had knocked into Chrissy. Red liquid streaked down the front of her dress.

Chrissy’s face went pale. Her eyes flicked around, frantic, like she was looking for an exit that wasn’t going to make a scene.

Sophia’s voice dropped. “I should…”

She didn’t finish. She was already moving.

Steve stayed where he was as they disappeared around the corner. Someone shoved a beer into his hand.

“Harrington! Happy New Year!” Jason’s hand clamped onto his shoulder.

“That’s how you do it,” he laughed. The boys surrounded him. Guys he used to be friends with. They laughed too loud and asked too many questions.

Steve nodded. Smiled. Said something that sounded right. Didn’t hear himself.

His eyes kept searching the room without him meaning to.

The hallway.

The kitchen.

Tracked the back door.

He forced himself to keep talking for another minute. Thirty seconds. Long enough that leaving wouldn’t look like leaving.

Suddenly, Jason’s voice cut through the music.

“Chrissy?” he yelled.

Steve turned, looking for a glimpse of Sophia’s dark hair.

Didn’t see her.

He excused himself from the circle and decided to check the backyard.

The back door opened as he reached it and Chrissy stepped inside from the cold, hair damp near her collar, dress darker where it had been cleaned.

She nearly collided with him.

Paused.

She looked at him like she was filing something away. But she offered him a small smile then she moved past him toward Jason.

Steve didn’t follow. He stepped outside.

Cold hit him immediately. Not bitter, but sharp enough to clear his head. The backyard was half-lit by strings of colored lights wrapped around the porch railing. Smoke hung in the air from someone’s cigarette. Breath puffed white.

The noise from inside was muffled. Distant.

Steve’s eyes adjusted.

Sophia was near the side of the porch, just outside the direct line of sight from the door. Her shoulders were slightly hunched. Not from cold. From weight.

She didn’t notice him at first.

For a second, Steve just watched.

She looked tired. Not tired like she wanted to go to bed. Tired like she’d been carrying something all night.

Steve stepped closer.

Sophia turned and her face changed, quick. The competence snapped into place automatically. Then something in her eyes flickered and dropped.

“You okay?” he asked, already moving toward her.

Her composure slipped.

Sophia stepped forward and pressed her forehead against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist.

Steve froze for half a second, then instinct took over and his hand came up and settled on the back of her head, fingers in her hair, steadying without gripping.

He didn’t say anything yet. He listened.

He could feel her breathing through his shirt. Slow. Controlled. Like she was counting.

Her hands fisted in the back of his jacket. He could feel the cold in her hair, the warmth through her sweater, the uneven rhythm of her breathing.

“Do you want to head home?” he asked gently.

He meant it.

Sophia didn’t respond immediately.

Steve felt her hesitate against him. A small shift. Like she’d almost moved away and then didn’t. Like she was considering the exit he’d offered.

For a moment, Steve thought she might say yes.

Then she shook her head against him. Sophia lifted her head just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were tired. Clear. Frustrated in a way she didn’t show often.

“No,” she said, finally. “We should stay.”

Steve’s jaw tightened.
He didn’t argue.

“I just need a minute,” she said softly.

He nodded once. “Okay.”

They stood there while the music thudded behind them and laughter spilled through the door.

Steve let his chin rest briefly against the top of her head.

When she straightened, the mask was back in place — not perfect, but enough.

“We should get back inside,” she said stepping back, glancing back at the house.

Steve nodded. He turned toward the door and held his hand out behind him. “Ready?”

She took it immediately.

Their fingers laced.

Sophia’s mouth twisted into a smile, a bit more genuine this time. “Yeah.”

They stepped back into the heat together, moving through the crowd like nothing had shifted at all.

Steve kept his eyes on the room.

He didn’t let go of her hand right away.

He wasn’t sure when he meant to.