The Same Procedure As Last Year, Mister Richard?

by tintenfischmann

Summary:

Five years when a New Year's kiss meant nothing (and one year when a New Year's kiss meant something.)

Notes:

I meant to publish this as one part, but life happened and I couldn't edit the other half in time for New Year's Eve. The second part should be out in a couple days, but I wanted to get something out today so I could wish y'all a Happy New Year. Thank you for your time, and happy reading <3

Chapter 1

Three…

Two…

One…

When Igor imagined kissing Richard, he imagined privacy. Tension. Passion. He didn’t imagine a passing joke activating Richard’s desire to perform whatever would entertain an audience of drunk friends at a New Year’s party. He didn’t imagine ringing in 1983 with the laughter and cheering erupting from this audience when their lips met.

“Damn, you guys are crazy,” one friend said as they pulled away and the cheers died down.

Igor looked at Richard and the wide, bashful grin he always gave after a successful performance. The grin that made Igor want to kiss him again.

Crazy.

---

Igor’s mind lingered on last year’s kiss. If he focused, he could still feel how stiff and restrained it was. He supposed it was only natural for a humorous kiss to be so chaste, yet the memory kept him smoldering. Aching.

As midnight approached, the story of the kiss spread. Newer friends expressed disbelief, and some old ones encouraged Richard and Igor to kiss again, to varying degrees of sincerity.

Richard draped his arm around Igor’s shoulders. “I’m sure we can outdo ourselves this year.” He looked at Igor. “If that’s okay with you.”

Igor swallowed. “Yeah.” 

Minutes passed, and Richard still hadn’t moved his arm. Igor watched the clock in anticipation. Soon, the partygoers began to count down.

Three…

Two…

One…

Richard pulled Igor in, catching him by surprise. Despite the initial force, this kiss seemed slower, more inviting. Igor could almost ignore the cheering voices and prying eyes. Richard dragged his tongue along Igor’s bottom lip, and a low moan escaped Igor’s throat. Richard snorted and laughed as he pulled away. 

“Sorry,” Igor said, in lieu of finding a rock to crawl and die under.

“What? No, it was funny. It's my fault for breaking character.”

Character. Right.

---

1984 was the year Igor resolved to confess. Not about his feelings for Richard, but about something else that scared him all the same.

“Basically, I’m gay,” he announced over burgers and milkshakes one summer afternoon.

“That’s cool.” Richard pointed at Igor’s fries. “You gonna finish those?”

1984 was also the year that Richard and Igor formed a band with a new bassist, marking a shift in their social lives. Parties became less about hanging with familiar faces at home and more about meeting new ones in clubs and bars. That meant this New Year’s party had no audience to embolden Richard to kiss Igor again. Igor didn’t want to think about how that made him feel.

Igor took a drag from his cigarette as he sat on a barstool facing the dance floor. Richard stood beside him, nodding his head to the music. It had been several hours, and neither had found an interesting stranger or a nice piece of ass to chat up. So instead, they settled into comfortable conversation with each other.

After a while, the music came to a halt, and the DJ led the crowd in the countdown to midnight.

Three…

Two…

One…

Richard leaned in and pecked Igor on the cheek, and Igor nearly spat out his cigarette.

“Sorry, was that wrong?” Richard asked.

“No, it was just…why? There’s nobody watching us.” Even if people were, men kissing was not much of a spectacle in a punk club.

Richard shrugged. “I just thought it was something like a tradition now.”

“Is it not weird now since, you know…”

“Pfft, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you like me. I know we’re just messing around.” 

Igor nodded quietly. Only Richard could make a kiss on the cheek feel like a knife in the chest.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Uh, so it's been a whole year...

In short, depression and anxiety kicked my ass. I didn't really feel like writing much, and I felt awful about the writing I could get done. I don't know if this is the ending I wanted as a writer or you guys wanted as readers, but it's the ending I could finish. Now I can move on to other things, and that's what matters.

P.S. It's not made very clear, but Zacharias is meant to be the little blonde dude Richard works with in the movie. They are my favorite crackship. That is all.

Although the band couldn’t snatch a record deal this year, it turned out police chases were a boon for publicity. It wasn’t enough to quit their day jobs, but it was enough to be invited to a New Year’s party at a high-rise apartment with several notable musicians. For Igor, the chance to rub shoulders with West Berlin’s greatest heartthrobs wouldn’t go unappreciated.

An hour into the party, Igor leaned against the arm of the recliner Richard was slouched in. “Be honest with me. Do you think Blixa’s out of my league? He seems to think so.”

Richard seemed to have been in a trance. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, you’re hideous.”

Igor shoved Richard lightly. A smile flashed on Richard’s face momentarily, then faded.

“You okay?” Igor asked. “You haven’t moved all night.”

Richard hesitated. “You’ll think I’m stupid for saying this, but I miss Anja.”

Oh. Her. After all these months.

“It’s not stupid. If anything, she’s the stupid one.” Igor wasn’t sure who these words were meant to comfort. “If I had a guy like you, I’d never let go of him.”

Igor regretted that sentence, but Richard seemed unphased. “Thanks, but I’m still the one that fucked things up.”

Igor didn’t know how to respond. To his understanding, it was true. Instead, he distracted Richard by talking about zombie movies. After a while, Igor noticed the clock opposite them was nearing midnight. He gestured towards it. “Are we gonna?”

Richard’s eyes widened. “Oh, right. Yeah.” He patted his lap. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Don’t feel like moving.”

Igor paused to consider before shifting from the arm of the chair to Richard’s lap. Richard grabbed Igor’s waist, and a tingle of electricity shot up his spine. He tried ignoring it until the countdown.

Three…

Two…

One…

Richard pulled Igor into an embrace. This kiss was fervent. It was real. But from how Richard desperately moved against him, Igor knew he was thinking about someone else. He tried to convince himself he didn’t care. This was the one moment Igor could indulge in a sliver of what he couldn’t have. He couldn’t let Richard spoil it by doing the same.

After what felt like hours, Igor broke away to catch his breath. He locked eyes with Richard, begging for him to acknowledge what happened.

“Happy New Year, Igor.”

“You too,” Igor said before walking away in search of something to drink.

---

Kissing in public held a bit more consequence now. They were no longer some nobodies in a bar; they were Richy and Igor, rising punk rockers. While there was a general agreement among the witnesses to mind their business, it was only a matter of time before the story hit tabloids and teen magazines. When questioned by reporters and fans, Richard quickly shut them down. "We were just kidding around." That would have been correct the past 3 years, but Igor knew that Richard knew there was something else. Something that neither seemed keen on being the first to bring up. 

As controversial as their display was, particularly with parents, it wasn’t enough to stop a record label from reaching out to them in February. Igor wondered if the subversiveness helped seal the deal.

In terms of social life, Richard spent last two months of the year raving to Igor about a friend he made at the cement warehouse: a coworker named Zacharias. Why Richard was singing the praises of someone he had known for over a year was beyond Igor. Why Richard was insistent on introducing the two was further beyond him, but Richard decided it would happen at the next New Year's party, with Zacharias as his plus-one.

Igor arrived first, alone, and Richard came a half-hour later with a smaller blonde man in tow. Igor noticed they were holding hands.

Oh. He was a boyfriend.

"Surprise, I found out I'm also gay! Well, technically bisexual, so sorta gay. Still, isn't it cool?"

It was cool, and they looked cute together.

Igor wanted to throw up.

He knew he should've been happy, but he wasn't. He knew he shouldn't have overthought it, but he did. Was Richard just into baby-faced blondes that didn't seem to have a lot going on upstairs? Igor couldn't blame him; those were the boys he'd let ruin his life. But what was so wrong with him?

Igor tried to stay away when he could until midnight approached. That was when Richard found him and led him by the wrist into a small closet, closing the door behind them. The limited space forced them close until their noses were practically touching.

"What are you doing?" Igor asked.

"Getting ready to kiss you."

"Huh? Richard, you have a boyfriend now. He'll be pissed about this."

"That's why we're in here. I don't think he's ready to learn how we are with each other. But it's okay, we can still do what we've always done." The partygoers had started counting down, their chants muffled through the walls of the closet. Richard cupped his hands around the sides of Igor's face. "No one needs to know." 

Three...

Two...

One...

This kiss was a brief, but tender pressing of the lips, followed by Richard's forehead making contact with Igor's. Richard sighed in satisfaction, and the gentle, goofy smile he gave as he pulled back made Igor want to cry.

"Are you okay?" Richard asked.

"Go fuck yourself, Richard."

---

Igor didn't want to fight. He really didn't. Not in public. He just left the party before he'd be forced to explain why he was so upset. The next day, they both pretended it never happened.

They had a fun year, distracting themselves by embracing all that newfound stardom had to offer. Hans left in March, claiming Richard "put Igor before the band." Zacharias also left in May, though he had never learned of the kiss, claiming Richard was "putting the band before him."  But while seeing Richard beam during every concert, Igor remembered why he stayed. Slowly, the issue had died under the rug it was brushed under. 

Still, Igor avoided New Year's festivities and resolved to spend the last hours of 1987 alone at home, and that his lips would only touch the mouth of a glass containing Jack and Coke.

The plan was interrupted by a knock on the door. Igor opened it to see Richard holding a large paper bag and a cardboard cup carrier with two sodas. "I just want to talk."

They ate their burgers while sitting on opposite sides of the couch. Having exhausted the usual small talk, it was clear something bigger was on Richard's mind. "I think you have feelings for me. Is that right?"

Igor nodded, surprised by the shift in tone.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was scared it would ruin our friendship. As far as I knew, you were straight for the first 6 years of it."

Richard's jaw dropped slightly. "Wow, I must've made a real ass of myself these past few years then. Must've been hard dealing with me all this time."

"No, you're sweet, sincere, passionate. Even when you're a dumbass, you do it with your whole heart. Trust me, you're not hard to love, Richard."

Richard half-smiled at the compliment. "Still, I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you." He scooted closer to Igor until their knees touched.

"You don't have to pretend to like me back now," Igor said.

"You're right, I don't." Those four words, though spoken softly, felt like pinpricks. "But the wives' tale says whoever you kiss on New Year's determines how the rest of the year will go, and the last 5 years have been pretty good. I've only recently realized they were so good because of you. Not just because I kissed you."

"I don't get what you mean."

"I just... I really like you, Igor. I don't really understand what love is supposed to feel like, but if it feels like this, then I want to feel it forever. Sometimes it seems I have a way of fucking up everything I touch." A warmth enveloped Igor's hand as Richard tentatively took it into his own. "But I don't want to fuck this up. I want to do right by you. Either as a friend, a boyfriend, or whatever you want me to be. Please, give me the chance to."

Six years of weight fell from Igor's shoulders. He gave Richard's hand a soft squeeze. "Nothing would make me happier."

They discussed their feelings further—the years of silent agony on Igor's part, the emotional confusion on Richard's, and their mutual, undying affection—until Igor took a look at the clock on the wall. The minute and hour hands were nearing twelve. “So,” Igor said as he placed his arms around Richard’s shoulders, “the same procedure as last year, Mister Richard?”

Richard smiled and placed his hands on Igor's waist. He spoke through a sparkling laugh. “The same procedure as every year, Igor.”

Three...

Two...

One...