*would give more thought to where the night will lead (where do we want this to lead? where should we let it lead?), except he can't quite get past the simple reality of you in his arms, laughing and beautiful and, even if only for these precious few hours, his own* *faintly wonders whether you were always this light (this slender?), or if they've both achieved real weightlessness in the rush*
*is puzzled by the sudden halt, until he sees the word on your lips (midnight) and glances around, seeing a bunch of kids with sparklers way down the block (oh)*
*on impulse, leans into your touch and further still, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth* *brushes the words over your cheek in breathless silence* Happy New Year, Beautiful.