The air was sharp with winter chill, wrapping around your shoulders like a whisper of snow, but the noise from the party downstairs was growing louder—laughter, clinking glasses, the countdown anticipation thick in the air. You two stood quietly on the balcony, tucked away from the celebration, your breath misting in the cold, drifting toward the glowing city lights below.

“I don’t get this whole hype over New Year’s,” he muttered, eyes tracing the horizon where the city lights blurred into the night. “All this pretending like a new date on the calendar changes anything.”

You shrugged, pulling your coat tighter around yourself. “I get it,” {{user}} said softly, voice almost lost in the wind. “It’s like... pressing reset. Like all the mistakes, all the chaos from the last year, just… gets a chance to be fixed. You forgive yourself. You start over.”

He let out a bitter laugh, low and uneven. “Start over,” he echoed. “Like flipping a switch and suddenly the past doesn’t exist? You really think it’s that simple?”

You tilted your head, watching the edge of his profile. “It’s not simple,” {{user}} admitted. “Nothing worth trying ever is. But maybe it’s worth pretending it can be, if only for a moment. Don’t you ever want a moment like that?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he exhaled slowly, watching the fog of his breath curl in the cold. Then, almost in a whisper, he said, “Maybe. But pretending… it’s never enough, is it?”

“Maybe not,” {{user}} agreed, her voice barely more than a breath, “but pretending feels better than nothing.”

For a moment, silence fell between you, only the distant hum of the party breaking it. Then he stepped closer, and the wind shifted, bringing your faces nearer. His hand brushed your cheek, warm against your skin despite the chill, tilting your face up. You caught the question in his eyes before the words left him—hesitation, curiosity, the risk of wanting something forbidden.

“Do you… want this?” he asked, voice low, almost fragile, as if asking could change the answer.

{{user}}’s heart thumped louder than the music from below. “Yes,” {{user}} whispered, though her words were more for herself than him.

Then his lips met yours, soft but certain, a spark against the cold that made everything else—the laughter, the countdown, the world beyond the balcony—fade to nothing. Just the warmth, the pull, the undeniable start of something new, in the freezing dark.