Happy New Year

The snow fell endlessly from the sky, for two long days it had continued to litter across the ground, scattering all over the city of New York, blanketing it in white. Only one or two cars braved the hold nature had on the networking center and few bundled figures could be seen fighting the heavy snowfall, those that did, hugging their many layers as tightly as they could around themselves.

The wind was only light but came in icy gusts that nipped at skin. Ben Whishaw was one of the few walking along the eerily quiet streets; finally home after shooting a movie back in England. He'd had to walk several blocks after his cab driver refused to go any further into the city, scared of becoming jammed in the soft, thick layer of deposit, he shivered once more burying his head further under the scarf that snaked around his neck and mouth.

He bustled through Times Square, dodging the illuminated walkways and glancing at the remains of what had without a doubt been another famous New Years event on the equally famous intersection of Manhattan. His breath turned blue as it hit the air, billowing from his mouth as he shivered into the wool covering his face, it had to be less than 15 degrees outside, he decided.

His feet were wet, his socks damp from the snow melting inside his shoes; A pair of shoes he wished he could revise choosing now he'd walked as far as he had. Three more blocks, he reminded himself, turning another corner. Three more blocks and you'll get to see her.

'Roxy' he thought, a smile coming to his face thinking about her. She was 'the one' as it was often so carelessly put. She was the first thing on his mind when he woke, and the last thing on his mind before he slept, as overly cliche as it was. It would be 20 months since they first met soon, 18 since they started dating. He'd already bought a ring, it lay safely in his mother's hands in England, he would propose on their anniversary. Thinking about it now, he was definitely sure of his decision to leave the ring with his mother, he new when he saw her he'd be fighting the urge to pop the question otherwise.

His grin widened, despite the bone-chilling cold as the block of apartments he'd come to know so well entered his vision. A warm glow emitted from the window - candles light on the mantel, he soon discovered. The honey painted, book shelve coated walls were visible through the wooden Persian blinds that were drawn half-way up. He stopped at the door. Should he buzz as his custom was, or use the key she'd given to him several months ago and surprise her?

The key jammed slightly in the lock and the wooden door needed force to open, having been sealed shut by the ice that glittered around the door frame. The ground floor was splashed with dark patches - water stains from boots that had been through snow. Walking up the staircase his footsteps echoed, he bit down on his lip. Maybe he should turn back and buzz. He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away, chiding himself for 'behaving like a girl'.

He allowed himself three more seconds of doubt before he pushed the second key into the door lock, allowing it to turn slickly and open quietly. Soft music played - Nirvana, he recognised. The glow apparent from outside was overly home-y from inside, a big grin crossed his face, anticipation fizzing in his stomach. Where in the house would she be? He pondered, laying his keys next to the phone. He remembered the candles, Roxy was cautious around candles, she'd never leave them unattended. He crept up to the living room door, pushing it open swiftly.

She lay asleep across the sofa, nestled under several blankets; coffee mug and television remote left on the small wooden box-table, as the TV played on mute. The face of Milo Ventimiglia crossed the screen providing Ben with the information that, once more, his girlfriend had been watching Heroes. Soft snores could be heard above the quiet voice of Kurt Cobain, he crouched down beside her, flipping the hair falling over her face behind her shoulder.

"Roxy?" he whispered gently. He shook her shoulder lightly, "Babe, I'm home." She shifted lightly and he smiled amusedly, pecking her once on the cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and she grinned at him. It took only seconds for her arms to find their way around his neck and his around her waist. He sighed deeply into the crook of her neck, reveling in the warmth her touch provided.

"I missed you so much," she mumbled into his shoulder. He smiled affectionately.

"Trust me. I missed you too" came his reply, more so word spill than a conscience reply, it was a help for her to hear it all the same. Somehow, no matter how sure she would be of their relationship before he left, the what-ifs and endless possibilities would plague her thoughts throughout the span of his departure. There was an unsettling feeling about knowing her man would be on a movie set with handfuls of pretty woman. Handfuls of pretty woman that had beauty surpassing her average looks. It sounded like such an over dramatic paranoia-fueled worry even to her ears, but she swiftly reminded herself then that ironically, he was the most dramatic person she'd ever met.

Ben had many attributes she loved, but most of all, it was the raw passion he showed for the things and people he loved. He loved his job and his family. And above all, she knew he loved her. Nostalgia kicked in and she was transported to the night she had crashed at his house, weary and tired after dealing with a heartbroken best friend whose fiance had left her. She could remember how they sat in front of the television on his cushioned sofa, watching something that really didn't matter to either of them. She lay across his lap, her feet dangling over the end of the two-seated couch.

"Ben," she acknowledged, her voice bright with a naive curiosity. She leaned her head forward causing the hand he had been stroking her hair absentmindedly with, to fall. He raised an eyebrow lazily. "How do you know when you're in love?"

His eyebrows shot together, an amused expression then fell across his face. "There are no rules when it comes to love, its different for everyone" he told her, his expressions reflecting his deep thought. A small pause, “You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

"Dr. Seuss, eh?" She asked her face light up by her smile. She had a contagious smile, it was one of his favourite things about her. His smile mimicked hers, and the silence resumed as she shuffled back into position, her head now resting on his shoulder. Once again her head leaned back this time their lips dangerously close. He could feel the heat radiating off of her petite form. "I love you"

Her tone was relaxed, it was typically how such a 'momentous event'' for them would pass - the way they both liked it. His hand once again was at her silky dark hair. "I love you too."

Pulling herself from her recollections, she stood. He watched her, intrigued. No matter how long he spent with her, she always managed to keep him on his toes. She confirmed his thought with her next words; "Let's go out!"

He chuckled deeply, "Out?" He stood up, grabbing the coat he had discarded on the arm of the sofa, slipping his feet into the wet, unpractical shoes. "Where?" His tone was excited, reminding Roxy of a child at Christmas.

"Who knows, who cares" She stated, rather than questioned, her voice traveling from the coat stand they stood near the door to the apartment. He followed her out, once again a familiar trace of humor on his face as he watched her struggle, juggling her coat, scarf and gloves. He plucked the coat and gloves from her grasp allowing her to open the door and walk out, slipping the fluffy material around her neck.

The red coat and gloves followed as they walked down the steps leading to the door, or rather in the childlike woman's case, bounced. Her eyes sparkled and glinted as he opened the door, allowing her to step through following her out. It was when he was smashing the door against the frame, trying to fight it closed, that he felt a cold, hard impact on the back of his head. His lips upturned mischievously as he smashed the door one last time against the frame, smashing the ice that blocked the lock.

Sly was the word to describe the way he snatched the ball of snow from window ledge, of one of the ground floor apartments. She didn't even realise he held it until he was less than two metres in front of her, holding the ball beside his head. She squealed immaturely and fled the street, running through the mountainous snow, trying to close the distance between herself and the man chasing her with handfuls of snow. She kept running, not stopping until she reached Times Square. She didn't dare look behind her, instead grabbing some of the white from her feet. She hid inside a doorway, patting and crushing the snow into a rotund ball.

The sound of snow crunching beneath feet reached her ears and she felt the adrenalin rush. His voice echoed around the land marked intersection, calling her name out. He stressed the 'o' teasingly. She could hear him coming closer, she held her breath, her hands clenching around the melting snow. 'Just a few seconds' she thought, 'three, two, one - smash!' she wanted to cheer but then as her head glimpsed around the corner of the entrance she realised it hadn't hit him at all, in fact, it was falling from the glass window. She followed the footprints, quickly realising it was too late. He was behind her. Next thing she knew, his hand was in front of her face, the snow he was once holding falling comically onto her shoes. She giggled, swiping at her nose.

"That wasn't very nice" Her voice had a very matter-of-factly ring to it.

"Really?" His English accent shone through, something he knew she loved.

She took a step closer to him, her head angled towards his, "Mhmm"

Her hands were around his neck, forcing his lips down onto hers. "Happy new year, Ben" she whispered teasingly into his ear.

"Yeah," his smile was wide, "Happy new year"