A/N: this movie is the worst (((by that i mean it's obviously the best go watch it)))

It's really fucking cold. Moses has like, sixty layers of clothes on, and it's still too cold. No one likes the winter here, but no one ever leaves, and everyone just complains about it when it's here and dreads it when it's gone.

On New Years Eve, there's some tradition that requires everyone grumbling about the weather to still make the long journey out to the park to watch the fireworks. It's not snowing yet, but it's just cold enough that people are starting to think it might, and Pest is the only one willing to trudge out into the weather with Moses. Pest doesn't seem to ever have anything better to do than run around with him, anyways.

"What's the plan tonight, bruv?"

Moses can see his breath billowing out in front of him and he tightens the scarf around his neck. "Fireworks."

"That's it?" Pest's voice is taking on the retarded whining tone that he does when he's bored, and Moses honestly thinks he's fucking stupid. He wonders why he hangs out with him.

"Yeah, that's it, 'less you wanna go home to your nan."

Pest huffs, shaking his head. "Rubbish, jus' too fucking told out here, s'all." Moses snorts and Pest continues, "Got any skins?"

Moses shakes his head and Pest sighs exasperatedly, that kind of nasally, scratchy sigh that he does that Moses fucking hates. It sounds like it's coming from deep in his throat or like he's trying to make it sound deeper than it is. Pest is always trying to impress everyone, due to being the size of a miniature poodle and with a voice high-pitched enough to match.

Honestly, he's such an idiot, it's astounding, and Moses has half a mind to tell him to run back home to his nan and leave him alone. (He doesn't, but he entertains the thought.)

By the time they reach the park, the fireworks have been cracking for several minutes. Moses abandons his bike behind a bench and settles with his back against the trunk of an oak, its branches stripped bare and black, the soil around it cold and crunching like snow. Pest doesn't say a thing, but he sits next to him and stretches his legs; next to Moses, he's so small and fragile that it's almost pathetic.

"Where's Biggz?"

Moses snorts, doesn't focus on the warmth of Pest's body beside his. "Home with his mum, watching holiday movies on the sofa, trust."

Pest laughs loud and obnoxious. "'Course he is."

Moses steals a side glance at Pest. The fireworks have been exploding for almost an hour, and the air is kind of smoky and dark, red and blue light all over Pest's pale face. Moses doesn't hate hanging out with him. He doesn't really hate him, not at all.

"Don't you gay me, bruv," Pest says, so soft and low that Moses barely hears him past the exploding color and light above them.

And he remembers: room 191, no one around, just them, just Pest and Moses, like it's the easiest thing in the world. His real name is something dumb like Jonathan or Jacob but no one calls him that, he hates it. The room was dank and flooded with the smell of weed and booze and Pest kisses him slow, soft, teasing, his hands cold and the mattress creaking on rusty springs. No one talks about it, no one says a thing, like no one calls him Jonathan or Jacob and no one asks Moses why nobody's ever home at his place.

"Gay you?" He scoffs angrily and they still don't talk about it. They don't talk about the way the color reminds them of chapped red lips and bruises turning black and blue. It's dumb that no one can say what they mean. No one can talk about anything without being afraid, so afraid.

Pest looks at him, sideways, and the color is still there, and they don't move a muscle. Moses hates him a little, hates him a lot, actually, all the time. Pest has the worst laugh and the most retarded smile and he talks like he has a bunch of food in his mouth. Dumb. Fucking stupid.

But Moses still smiles and they still don't talk about anything that matters. Just the color and the light and god, it's so fucking cold.