21 was a fun age to be. It was especially a fun age to be on New Year's Eve. Cove realized very quickly that he didn't much like drinking. It was just... kinda gross. If he had to pick anything, it was usually fruity drinks. Mark was, surprisingly, a bit more exploratory when it came to alcohol. Not that he'd ever gone crazy– he took school seriously, and that didn't stop once his moms weren't around to monitor him– but Cove could attest from a small handful of joyous phone calls this most recent semester that Mark enjoyed the rare chance to get tipsy. He was always just ever so slightly bolder. At one point, he'd even spontaneously chosen to Uber to Cove's apartment, about three hours away from his college, which was an entertaining experience. It was hard, not getting to see one another every day like they had for ten years of their lives.

However, now that Winter break had arrived, Mark was back in Sunset Bird, and Cove had elected to spend a few precious days at his father's house. The two jaunted easily across the familiar shoreline, barefoot and with hands intertwined. Occasionally, the smooth rhythm would be broken up by cold seafoam smattering their feet as the tide ebbed and flowed, or by Mark jumping ahead to dance a bit and express his enthusiasm for the new year. It made Cove laugh. New Year's Eve had never really been much of a big deal to the two of them before– aside from the one two years ago, the first they'd experienced as an actual couple– so this unbridled excitement was both bewildering and hilarious.

"Oh! The park!" Mark pointed eagerly at the tiny play equipment that had seemed so vast when they were eight-year-olds, and then broke off in a dash toward it. Cove grinned and chased after him. The monkey bars were only about six inches taller than Mark was, but he was insistent that he could still use them. He tried, dangling his feet up so that they weren't an issue, but as his motor responses were ever so slightly impaired, he had trouble accurately estimating how far apart each bar actually was. It made him giggle, which made him lose his grip and crash the very short distance to the ground. "Shit! Now I have sand in my shirt and on my face and stuff!" he laughed.

"Oh, like that's a problem for us," Cove teased. He swooped Mark into his arms and spun him, sand residue whirling around. The two kept their eyes shut tight for fear of sand getting in their eyes, but Mark whooped delightedly at the motion. He nuzzled his head into the crook of Cove's neck and peppered it with tiny kisses, making Cove giggle boyishly. No matter how many times he did that, it always tickled. "So, Mark, any resolutions?"

"Mmm... I wanna get straight A's this upcoming semester... even though that's my resolution every year. I wanna get a poetry collection published, maybe? Just maybe. Oooh, you know what could be fun?"

"What?"

"Getting into scrapbooking. I could ask Cliff to give me some of your baby pictures," he announced, mostly kidding. He then stuck his tongue out. "Blegh. I wanna call your dad by his first name but it's still really weird and new right now. Which is dumb. I've been calling your mom Kyra since we were thirteen."

Cove stared out into the starry sky with a contemplative look on his face. "It's weird for me, too. But we'll both get used to it. The first time you did it, Dad was so surprised!"

"Wow. I've called him a lot of things over the years, and I'm gonna call him even more things, and those ones will be even MORE surprising."

"What do you mean?" Cove asked, feeling simultaneously confusion and dread.

"When I call him Dad." The candor and unabashed seriousness playing along his blushing face made Cove shiver despite being warm, and the breath got caught in his throat.

He was forced to try and speak again. "R-Right. It's good to know we're still on the same page." Having already talked about the extremely high likelihood that they would one day wind up married, this wasn't exactly a jaw-dropping declaration. Even so, it felt funny in Cove's heart, in a way that made him feel that stupid familiar feeling. It was the feeling of wanting to sprint and yet being held back by a wall that happened during so many markers of their relationship over the years. He felt as though he wanted to get on one knee this very minute, but also as though he would never be capable of proposing. But of course he would be, in time. After Mark had graduated, like they agreed on.

"Hey, push me on the swings," Mark demanded.

"Mark, those things are so small," Cove reminded him.

"Well, so am I! And if Shiloh can show up in Sunset Bird after ten years and push Liz on the swings, you can push me after twelve," he insisted. Relenting, Cove set him down. Mark booped him on the nose cheerfully as a response and flittered over to the swing set like a pixie. Ever eager to please his boyfriend, Cove set off to send Mark flying. Noises of delight rang out from the both of them. They didn't know how much time was passing before their eyes, and when Cove would get tired, they'd splash each other with tiny spritzes of ocean, or build sand castles, or spontaneously dance, and then loop back to the swings.

All of this took place until around 11 pm, at which point Liz, with great dignity, strolled onto the beach, silky orange hair gliding behind her. "Okay, lover boys, wrap it up! It's just about time for us to go to the 'big' park for fireworks! You have ten minutes to get into clothes that you wouldn't be embarrassed to take pictures in."

Cove glared at her, causing her to give him a wry smirk. "I'm never embarrassed about what I'm wearing," Cove stated, partly a boast and partly a retort. The wet spots and thickly coated sand, however, didn't give his argument much credibility.

"Maybe that says something different about you than you think it does." She quirked up a mocking eyebrow. He bristled at the blatant disrespect. Even after all this time, they were still like oil and water. But, Cove reminded himself, oil and water can mix if an emulsifier is in there, too, a fact that Mark had told him proudly once. He clearly fancied himself that emulsifier, the thing helping his sister and his boyfriend be allies as opposed to enemies.

Mark chipperly noted to himself that the two of them had always acted just as much like siblings as Mark and Liz did (though granted, ones with a much bigger sibling rivalry). This observation, or more like epiphany, led to him pinching Cove's cheek and then springing to his feet in compliance. "Away we go!" He rushed back to his home, grabbing Liz and yanking him along with her, and flew to his closet. Firstly, he shook himself out, letting any leftover sand tumble to the floor; he'd sweep up later. He pulled out one of his favorite blouses, the light grey one with a bit of beading and a chest window, as well as his flowy navy skirt. Now properly dressed, he brushed through his hair and fixed his high ponytail. Liz was in an absolutely adorable coral romper, and the siblings aggressively vollied compliments back and forth to one another before Mom pointedly emphasized the time. The happy family clambered into the car, with the Holdens right behind them. And off they cruised to the "big" park.

The Big Park, while not quite as accessible as the tiny playground on the beach, was still a foundational location in Cove, Mark, and Liz's childhoods. It had been where the three and their parents had been to that barbecue on that first summer, eating kebabs, playing chase with other kids, and then sharing ice cream before a fireworks display much like this one. It was also where Miranda always threw her birthday parties, one of which allowed her and the boys to become much closer friends. Liz, in turn, had occasionally gone there to celebrate winning games at the country club. So it sent pleasurable feelings through all of them when they clambered out of their respective cars and found a spot to sit at and watch the incoming fireworks. There was even a projector set up with the exact time, down to milliseconds.

Turkey melts— or Tofurkey, in Liz's case— chock full of veggies were distributed, courtesy of Cliff. They were far better than they had any right to be, though perhaps that shouldn't have surprised them. Cliff's food was always delicious. After eating, Cliff revealed the playing cards, and though it was a challenge to see very well in the dimly-light park, everyone was more than pleased to join in. Cliff was a ruthlessly skilled player at pretty much any card game one could think of. Mark had always wanted to get to the point where the two of them could be an equal match, but he'd always kept this feeling relatively tucked away. Now, though? He expressed it with a competitive fire they rarely ever saw out of him, to everyone's amusement. It still required everyone teaming up on Cliff like it had since the day he stopped going easy on them, but their ratio of wins was higher than usual.

Soon, Mom and Ma were popping open a bottle of champagne and pouring them into plastic wine glasses for everyone. Cove only had them pour him enough for a proper toast, and Mark, sensing his limit, followed Cove's lead. The two snuggled against one another as the final five minutes ticked down. Cove's sweater, the fanciest he was willing to get, was soft and warm. "Wanna play hangman? I have the stuff for it," he murmured affectionately.

"Always." Mark began to anticipate the phrase Cove was planning. As thirteen-year-olds, still experimenting with even the slightest bit of overt flirtation, he'd used hangman to call Mark cute. As eighteen-year-olds, he'd used it to reassure Mark that everything was okay when he'd panicked on that boat trip. He stared down at the spaces in front of him. 1-4-3. As soon as he deciphered "I" and "L," it was immediately apparent to him what the words were. It happened to be his favorite set of words. "Awww!" he swooned.

"Hey, you have to actually answer it first," Cove snickered. Swiftly, the words, "I LOVE YOU," were scrawled out onto the little notebook.

"Awww!" Mom and Ma crooned. Cove, despite being an adult now, was still easily embarrassed, and his face burned at the sudden attention. He instinctively covered the words with his chest. They giggled at this reaction and gave him kind smiles before staring at the clock. Only about 30 seconds now.

"I love you too, Cove." A beat of silence passed as he ran his hand along Cove's arm, leaning on his shoulder. "I'll draw you another picture once I have paper. And also, when I am sober. That would probably be good."

Cove laughed once again, playing with a strand of Mark's hair. Then they started the countdown.

"10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Mom and Ma kissed, Liz and Cliff cheered, and fireworks began to bloom into the sky in an exquisite patchwork of radiant hues. It lit up everyone's faces and their eyes all glimmered with hope and peace.

The happy couple gave each other a slow, longing kiss of celebration before clinking their plastic glasses together. They downed their respective sips and then kissed again. In a few more days, they'd be hours away from one another yet again. But though they used to worry about whether they'd be able to make it work, they knew firmly now. Their bond was for always.

Time for Year 13.