"Down it, Lennon!" Paul called enthusiastically, taking a swig from his own bottle of beer as he watched John and his cousin engage in some sort of drinking game, both him and Connie racing to finish their pints first.

"Which Lennon?" George asked with a grin, especially as Connie finished hers first, slamming the glass down onto the table and cheering in triumph. As she jumped in the air and George hugged her in victory, Robin made sure to snap a few photographs.

That's all Robin had been doing the last few days since Albert had given her the camera. She'd already filled one roll of film with just mundane snaps of the streets or views from bus windows, and she was pretty sure she would need to go to the shops by the end of the week to get another roll considering how many pictures she'd taken at the party. It felt truly liberating to have a camera, something that could let her capture an instant forever. She had gotten herself in a habit throughout her life that if she saw something she liked she would try and commit it to memory to try and recreate it on paper as soon as she had access to her sketchbook and pencils. Now though she didn't have to worry about that. She didn't have to worry about trying to remember how a certain leaf looked as it dropped from a branch, or how the light shone off the wing mirror of a random car parked in front of the house, or how John looked when he was laughing. She could just take the picture, and that was it, that was the art.

It made her laugh knowing that when she had access to the college dark room to develop all her photographs she'd be greeted with a pile of photos of just strange and random things like walls and streets mixed in with drunken snaps of her friends. With only half an hour to go before midnight it was hard to look around the room and see anyone moderately sober, but that had been the same upon Robin and John's arrival to the New Years Eve party. John had braced her that a party at Connie Lennon's house could turn rather wild rather quickly, so the two of them had started pre-drinking on the bus, sneaking swigs out of Robin's hipflask, but even then they weren't nearly as tipsy as the other guests who were already there.

With no proper adult supervision, the pack of teens and young adults had let themselves go to properly celebrate. Connie had a motto of 'the more the merrier' when it came to parties, especially festive ones, so her house was heaving with people, most of whom Robin didn't really know. Of course there was the usual group, the band and their close friends, and John went round trying to introduce her to certain people, like Cilla White, a friendly teenager with bright red hair, and a group of lads who Robin had seen around the clubs with their band The Pacemakers. Everyone was friendly, it helped they were all merry from the alcohol, but for the most part Robin stuck with the people she was closest to. Maybe it was because it was the change of the year, but she always thought New Years was something to be celebrated with those you were close with, and she couldn't think of many people better to celebrate with in Liverpool than her friends.

Of course, in the back of her mind she kept thinking that she'd happily trade all the mad fun to just be sat in her flat with her Dad, listening to records, watching the countdown on telly and playing daft party games. Most of the time it was just the two of them for New Year, but sometimes one of the other families in Park Hill would throw a flat party and they'd go and celebrate with the neighbours. Sometimes they'd have people round themselves, but the night always ended with a conga around the corridors of the building, before the two of them fell asleep in the living room. The reminder of how different things were in that moment to how they were a year ago kept hitting Robin painfully, but she kept making sure she distracted herself, numbing the searing grief with more drinks.

"Robin," John called from where he was in the kitchen, and she suddenly realised she'd zoned out. "Oi, Bird!"

She'd been sat with Kay and her boyfriend the last she remembered, but the two of the had clearly snuck off somewhere. Part of Robin wondered if that was what John wanted too, if he wanted her to take him off somewhere private, and as much as the thought thrilled her she couldn't see it being true. Even if they'd slept together at least twice more since Boxing Day, both times in his house when Mimi was out and everyone else was busy, she couldn't imagine he was keen to try and start something at the party. It was too public, their affair was meant to be a secret, and even if he was drunk she knew John wouldn't want to expose the two of them.

"I told you I'd kill you if you made 'Bird' my nickname," she scowled in the hopes that her expression hid how much she actually loved the nickname, pulling herself up from the sofa and moving into the kitchen. "What d'you want, Johnny?"

"Charming," he pretended to be offended, and if the room wasn't full of their closest friends, if the other Quarrymen weren't there watching them, Robin was certain she would have grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. "When's the last time you had a drink?"

"Had a glass of wine about five minutes ago," she shrugged, though the details were blurred drunkenly and she wasn't sure where her glass went. "Could you get me a beer?"

"Of course, heaven forbid you sober up," he replied teasingly, ruffling her hair, and she fought off another urge to kiss him as she swatted his hand away.

"Oh, go find a room the pair of you," Stuart muttered in her ear, laughing as he watched the two of them.

Robin wasn't entirely sure where Stuart had appeared from, but clearly he was onto them, rolling his eyes as John handed her a bottle of beer, bowing sarcastically to her. Robin wasn't sure if she was just more drunk than she realised or if it was because Stuart was her best friend, but she found herself not actually caring if he had noticed something different between the two of them. Stuart had been caught in the middle of them arguing, surely he'd noticed a change in their behaviour towards each other. He'd have to be either blind or stupid to have not seen the subtle yet blindingly obvious way John was sweetly acting around Robin as if he was constantly trying to make her happy.

She was, at least, glad Stuart was the only one sober enough to pay any attention. A quick look around the room told Robin that everyone else was too drunk to care about whatever Robin and John were up to. Pete had left to go into the living room to try and flirt with some girl, Paul was rummaging in the fridge, still overflowing with festive leftovers, and Connie and George were playing the After Eight game, the two of them racing each other to see who could slide the sweet down from their forehead to their mouth the fastest; George won and cheered victoriously while Connie merely threw her chocolate at him in annoyance. No one rarely cared what Robin and John were up to, and the realisation was almost liberating.

"Shut up," she replied quietly, unable to hide her smile, especially as John joined them.

"What're you two talking about?" John asked, clinking his beer bottle against Robin's as if in a silent toast.

"Nothing," both of them replied, far too quickly, making Stuart laugh, looking between his two best friends, knowing there was definitely more going on than he'd been told.

"It's nearly midnight," Robin stated as she looked at her watch, desperate to change the conversation. "It's just gone five to,"

The thought of midnight definitely did distract them all, though it just provided her with another painful thought of her father. It was usually him who kept watch of the time, except for the one time he looked at the clock wrong and started counting down an hour early. She usually smiled at the memory, but instead she cringed, feeling a twisting pain in her stomach. She hated it, the occasional reminders of him not being around anymore that left her feeling as if she wanted to hide in a dark room, especially when they came when she was meant to be happy and social. That night was meant to be one of celebration and fun, but any happiness she was experiencing just felt bittersweet. Moving to Liverpool had truly been a blessing in disguise, she felt as though she'd become a completely different person since meeting her friends, but how could she celebrate and feel happy when it felt as though she'd traded her Dad and her hometown for a whole new life?

She hoped no one noticed the way she flinched at that thought, and thankfully her mention of midnight had meant everyone had moved into the living room to start the countdown. Robin stayed where she was, because even if she really wanted to be with everyone else for the countdown that was only a minute away, she felt as though she needed to be alone to breathe. John had stayed too, though she didn't notice until he took her hand. Alone for the first time since their arrival, John didn't wait long before pulling her into a hug and, overcome with everything, she pushed her face into the crook of his neck, savouring the way his arms felt around her and the way she felt all-consumed by him, feeling safe.

"I know what you're thinking," he mumbled quietly, pushing a kiss to the top of her head. "If it makes you feel better, I'm thinking about my Mum too. She loved a good party,"

"So did my Dad," she replied, feeling like she wanted to cry, though she forced the tears away, not wanting to ruin her makeup. "I think he'd like you,"

"I do aim to please," he replied sarcastically, hugging her tighter. "My Mum would like you too. She'd say you were spirited... Robin, I-"

"Hey, come on, you two!" Paul's voice called as he popped his head around the doorway. "It's nearly midnight!"

For once, the two of them didn't spring apart, the way they usually did when they wanted to avoid questions. Instead John kept his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, and even though the two of them were a little disapointed their alone time was interupted, they both me their way into the living room, finding their place in the circle that had formed, everyone crossing their arms across their chest holding hands with the people next to them; Robin ended up holding John and Paul's hands. Robin felt like her heart was beating out of her chest, feeling her throat tighten as she tried to join in with the group as they counted down the seconds, and out of nerves, she squeezed John's hand tightly. He squeezed back three times, and she glanced to him, finding it impossible not to smile as their eyes met. She wanted to kiss him, but as she felt herself leaning in, everyone started cheering, and they were no longer in 1958.

It was a New Year, a completely fresh slate. New year, new prospects, new everything. For the first time in a long time, Robin felt a weird sense of relief wash over her. She was no longer in 1958. Everything had happened then was gone, in the past, and it was up to her now to make 1959 whatever she wanted to be.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne?" the group sang drunkenly, swaying to the song, and Robin felt John nudge her, winking at her. "For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take the cup o' kindness dear, for the sake auld lang syne,"

Robin felt her chest tighten slightly. Her Dad loved singing this, he loved the tradition of the song, and she wished she was back in the flat. She squeezed John's hand tightly again, and as he squeezed hers back, she remembered reality. She wasn't in Sheffield anymore, she wasn't in her old flat and never would be again. She'd never spend another New Years with her dad in the flat again, and she could either let that horrible truth suffocate her, or she could try and remember those times as happy memories and turn over a new page and make different, new memories. She could at least try. It was a new year, after all.

"For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne," they all continued to sing, and Robin cracked a smile, feeling like a weight was off her chest. "We'll take the cup o' kindness, dear, for the sake of auld lang syne,"

Everyone cheered and began embracing, wishing each other a Happy New Year, and Robin felt John pull her into a hug, kissing her cheek.

"Happy New Year, Robin Bird," he whispered with a grin, and she couldn't help but grin back.

"Happy New Year, Johnny," she whispered to him, pulling out of his embrace and instead taking hold of his hand. "Come on,"

With that, she began to lead him, the two of them weaving through the crowd, somehow going unnoticed by the others. John seemed a little confused, especially as they got to the front door and Robin opened it, leading the two of them out onto the street. The cold December street seemed to echo with fireworks and cheers from differing celebrations, but the fresh air made her feel more alive, and considering they were alone, still in hearing distance of their friends' laughter, Robin felt completely free. It was raining a little, but that didn't matter. Maybe she was more drunk than she realised, but she felt clear headed, knowing exactly what she wanted.

"Will you do me a favour?" she asked him, taking hold of both of his hands, smiling as she saw just how confused he looked. "Can you do the conga with me, just us two, up and down the street?"

He seemed amused at her request at first, but that was probably just because he was drunk as he soon obliged, gesturing for her to put her hands oh his hips and the two of them soon began dancing up and down the street, singing out their own tune to dance to. It wasn't long before the two of them were hysterically laughing, and just as they got back to their starting position, Robin felt John spin her around, pulling her close as he pushed his lips to hers. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back just as passionately.

"I bloody love you, Robin," he whispered with a laugh, his lips barely moving from hers.

"Don't say that, silly, you're drunk," she laughed, holding him tighter as he laughed with her. "I'm probably drunk too, we're a pair of lightweights,"

So the two of them stayed there like that longer than they realised, caught in their happy little bubble, unaware of the rain growing heavier as they kissed and embraced, unknowing that their friends were actually watching them from the safety of the house. All they cared about was each other, and the prospects of the New Year that lay before them.

***

"My head," Robin practically whimpered the moment she felt herself waking up, a searing pain coursing through her as she felt her stomach twist.

She barely had chance to fully wake up before she bolted across her room to where her wastepaper bin was, and the next thing she knew she was throwing up. She'd been drunk before, but never to the extend that she'd been sick, and she immediately settled her mind on the thought of never drinking again, or at least, never mixing her drinks again.

She felt someone scoop her hair up out of the way, jumping in surprise as she had assumed she was alone, though when she managed to turn her head she saw John was actually knelt by her side. That was a surprise. Then she remembered she couldn't recall getting home. The last thing she remembered was singing Auld Lang Sine and congaing with John alone on the street. She remembered feeling his lips against hers, she remembered them being in the rain, but from then on the details were fuzzy.

"You alright?" John asked cautiously, rubbing her back gently.

"Never better," she replied dryly, sitting up a little and leaning over to her desk where she thankfully left a glass of water the night before, taking a sip and rinsing her mouth out. "How'd you end up here?"

"Dunno really," he shrugged before cracking a slightly confused smile. "Think we were both pissed, I remember Kay and Frank giving us a lift home, and I think I remember you trying to flirt with me and me flirting back,"

"So that explains this then," she gestured her hand between them both, realising they were both completely naked, a pile of their clothes on the floor by her bed. "Did we-"

"I can't remember," he answered honestly and a second of silence passed between the two of them before they both burst into laughter. "God, Robin, I'm sorry, I should have gone home last night,"

"It's fine, I clearly wanted you here," she laughed, getting up off the floor and getting back into bed, taking the glass of water with her. "Plus I always feel lonely with a hangover,"

John took that as a subtle invitation and didn't wait long before joining her, pulling the covers back over the two of them. She rolled over closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around her as she buried her head into his chest. His presence seemed to distract her from the pounding in her head as she instead focused on his breathing, feeling his chest rise and fall, listening to the echoing drum of his heart. It was quite relaxing honestly, and as John ran his fingers through her hair she had to fight to stay awake, her eyelids becoming heavy once more.

"John," she mumbled quietly, glancing up to see he was staring at her face, wearing an expression of quiet content. "I'm pretty sure everyone saw us kissing last night,"

"Oh well," he shrugged, sounding as if he really didn't care. "Stu's been egging me on for ages, asking if I like you,"

"Arse," she muttered irritatedly, of course not meaning it. "I had a really good time last night though,"

"Good, I did as well," he nodded, leaning down and kissing her temple. "What're you doing today then?"

"This," she mumbled tiredly, moving one of her hands up to stroke his face, and she saw him have to fight of a smirk. "I don't think I want to do anything else but lie here with you. Obviously you're welcome to oppose that,"

"No opposition here," John replied gladly, shifting his position so that instead of her practically lying on top of him, the two were laid on their sides facing each other.

They were completely under the covers at this stage, both of them hidden from the world. In that moment, it really felt like it was a world of just the two of them, especially as they held each other close, kissing each other in a way that satisfied any left over desires from the night before. Robin assumed they must have done something the night before, because she found herself so quickly falling into a rhythm with him, and in only a few minutes they went from content cuddling to Robin sat on top of his hips, leaning down on top of him with her hands knotted into his hair, his lips kissing her neck, his name falling out of her lips in a passionate whisper.

"Robin," John mumbled, pulling his lips away from her next for a second. "Robin, I really-"

He didn't get to finish whatever he was saying, a loud knock banging at her bedroom door. Robin had a weird flashback to the night before, of him making a similar declaration that was interrupted, though her mind quickly darted away from the thought of whatever he was going to say as the two of them separated in a panic, Robin feeling her chest tighten at the thought of being caught in such a compromising position.

"Robin!" her Uncle's cheery voice called, and even though she sighed with relief that it wasn't her mother, the fear resumed as for once, Albert didn't wait to be invited in. "Happy New- Oh! Oh... Hello, John,"

***

Word Count: 3497

***