Big Book Of Smornby One Shots

Welcoming In The New Year (S)

TW: None

On December 31st, Ross sat alone, drinking at a rowdy bar filled with his co-workers. Sat on the stool beside him, Lewis. Previously, the two were engaged in a conversation that died out shortly after it began, feeling far too forced to legitimately enjoy. Instead, he turned his attention to his drink, being sure to keep it filled to the brim and praying to be too hammered to remember hearing the clock striking to signal midnight and being alone for yet another year.

Heading thirty, Ross felt it shameful that he hadn't been in a serious relationship in almost four years. And even then, it only lasted what, five months? It wasn't even him that broke it off. How pathetic. He drowned his sorrows with another gulp of his revolting alcohol. Normally, he wasn't such a big drinker. But tonight, as on every December 31st, his best friends were several bottles of gin. Speaking of his best friends, Trott and Smith had ditched him a long time ago. Now, Trott stood (barely remaining on his feet, swaying with every step he attempted to take) with Katie and Hannah, laughing at something apparently very funny one of them had said. And Smith, well, Ross had no idea where Smith was. He thought he saw him twenty minutes ago heading into the bathroom but he couldn't have been sure. Lots of people looked like Smith, especially with the vibrant orange lighting and Ross' drink-infected, blurry vision. He sighed and sipped his beverage again, gaze falling back down to his feet set on the cold bar stool.

He felt stupid, dressing up for the occasion. The occasion of course being the Yogscast's yearly reservation at a bar Ross didn't know had existed until just a few years ago called "The Canton Silk". Of course, he felt obligated to tidy himself up for the event, brushing his hair back neatly and wearing one of his dearest Superdry shirts, tucked into a pair of black pants. However, his once perfect hair now hung all over his face listlessly, falling every time he looked down. Oh, and his whole outfit had been ruined by Sjin almost immediately after his arrival, spilling a bright red and pungent drink all down the front. Being the person he was, he played it off cool and assure Sjin it was fine, while internally screaming and throwing a fit, calling the bearded man names he would be ashamed to say out loud. After scrubbing his front for a good ten minutes, he eventually gave up entirely. He gave up trying to impress anyone. He gave up trying to pretend that this upcoming year 'might be different'. He gave up trying to act as though he didn't think that he would've rather been anywhere else, preferably tucked up in bed before it hit twelve o'clock. He gave up.

Ross was always a person who always tried to find the silver linings in things and it led him here, sitting alone like a rejected misfit in High School at lunch. Even Lewis, who Ross knew for a fact hated the New Year, had turned him down, thinking it much more entertaining to stir his drink and watch the exact same pattern swirl and twist in the honey coloured liquid. If there was one person Ross thought he could rely on, it was Smith. And look where that got him. Ross had tried to stick with Smith earlier in the night, following him like a dog on a leash or a lost child, feeling confused every time his auburn friend left his sight. It got to a point where Ross thought he had annoyed Smith enough and (not wanting to ruin his night and drag him down with Ross) sat at the bar and ordered way too many drinks for a healthy intake. The litany of New Years spent alone had began to take their toll on him, slowly turning him into an alcoholic; for one night a year, at least. Checking his watch, Ross saw there were about fifteen minutes left before the current year passed on and he had to pretend to be happy welcoming in another egregious one; even the thought of it made him tired.

He shifted in his chair and considered his options: one, he could excuse himself and leave, getting himself home just in time to avoid the ringing bells and fireworks around his apartment; two, he could stay and be miserable with everyone around him making out with people they wouldn't sober, regretting it all the next morning when undoubtedly at least two of them would wake up naked and covered in hickeys; or three, he could find somewhere quiet to stand, out of view from the others while he desperately tried to drink himself unconscious. Nodding his head to himself at three, he swept up his glass in one smooth movement and didn't bother to say anything to Lewis as he strode off, searching for an unoccupied corner. Scanning across the large, thudding room, he saw exactly what he was looking for. Pushing past several furiously grinding couples, he sat down at the side on the perfectly placed bench in a cubbyhole.