All the time she was away she wanted to dream about him. If she could not see him everyday, if he wasn’t a phone call away, then at least she might have dreams of these things. Lying in the bath, holding her breath, eyes closed, she thought about him. Underneath the water, she felt the most safe. The water was warm and she felt it shielding her from the things just beyond the bathtub.

At night she did not dream about them going to the movies. She didn’t dream about him calling her and telling her that they should go away for a holiday. Instead she saw him lying in a river. At first she thought that he had drowned. His body was so still; no person could lie that still underwater for such a time, surely? So she knifed through the water after him. Pulling at the dead weight of his hand, desperately calling his name. But the water only seeped into her lungs and made her choke.

Always in this dream, when she was about to drown, his eyes would open. Although she had become accustomed to the dream, it always surprised her when he did this. The sudden twin fires shining in the depths of that river. He would blink twice and smile calmly. And that smile, that cool sliding of emotion; like oil on water, calmed her. And though his lips did not move, she knew what he said.

“I have to drown my fire.”

The dream stopped here. And she would wake up feeling agitated and worried. Wondering what it meant, to drown his fire.

She was thinking of the dream now as she stood next to him. The sky was the same colour of the water in her dream. A royal blue wig, faded with sweat and too many washings. Again she wondered what the dream meant as she heard the countdown. They were seconds away from a new year.

Maybe because she was distracted with her thoughts that she didn’t anticipate what happened next. It was midnight and he was bending down towards her (she wasn’t wearing heels for once) and saying,

“Happy new year.”

His lips touched hers and she had to stop smiling so hard so she could kiss him. And all around them people were chasing the old year out. She didn’t really notice how deafening it was. They were still kissing and nothing else really mattered. She wanted to hold onto him like that forever. It felt like being in a bath, safe, warm, detached from everything else.

And when they stopped and started walking, his arm slipped around her shoulders. She wondered how something so light as the weight of his hand could make her this thrilled. Her own hand went around his waist and she wondered if people thought they looked good together. She didn’t really care anymore. Hell is other people and hell had been giving them a hard time.

She noticed how he pulled her closer to him when the crowd was overpoweringly close. The way he made her stand in front of him so he could hold her and make sure she didn’t get lost. All of this; the after burn of fireworks behind her eyelids, his presence, was making her slightly dizzy. Intoxicated.

When they got into the rave, he was telling her how there wouldn’t be that many real ravers since it was free. At first all they were doing was listening to the bass and occasionally letting the deep thrumming move their heads and feet. Then they pushed forward to somewhere in the middle.

She had once asked if he danced at raves. He had replied that he stood. Here, away from anyone else they knew, he was different. He was actually dancing. Not the one, two, shuffle, step that boys were supposed to dance. He was a wild thing, twisting and snaking through the air. She danced next to him, electrified by his movements.

This was a him that she had never seen. Everything about him was loose and relaxed. His body was like dark liquid in the bright bright snaking coloured lights. His boots trampled the ground into submission as his torso went first here, there, then there again. He was singing along to the music. Loudly too. She could hear him distinctly,

“Sending out an SOS, Seeeending out an SOS.”

He grabbed her and danced with her. Letting her ride with him on this euphoric wave. She could hardly believe it was him guiding her arms up and down. And they went on like that; sweat gliding off their skins with some instinct making them move that way. Finally the music stopped and people seemed to snap back. The far away look went out of their faces, except for those who were drunk or high.

The both of them stood looking at each other. She looking up at him, his head tilted a little, arms around each other. Then they turned to walk out of it. At the exit there was a throng of people trying to push past the tiny barricade. A thick line had formed of people slowly shuffling forward to get out.

Three or four men were behind them and pushing forward. They had formed a bizarre congo line and were pushing to get out. Everyone was getting annoyed. And now they were next to the both of them, pushing into them. His elbow flew into the ribs of the man at the front of the moving annoyance.

“Fuck off you bastards.”

He had shouted, but the noise of the crowd dimmed it. It had taken her by surprise, his sudden lashing out. She felt a trembling against her skin and pulled herself deeper into his arms, her fingers gripping his hands tightly, shrinking from what she thought was a shuddering junkie. It took a moment to realise it was his arm pulsing with rage that she could feel shaking so badly.

She wanted to pull him away from there and quiet him before things turned ugly. But he seemed to be getting it under control, though his eyes were still flinty cold. And on the train back he told her how angry he had been. How he wouldn’t have reacted that way if they had at least said sorry or excuse me. She could see that some remnant of it was still sticking to him.

It was going away though. And she was forgetting how shocked she was at the magnitude of his anger over something seemingly insignificant. He took her home and she could see from the end of her cul-de-sac that her house was ablaze with lights. He wondered out loud of if her parents were still awake and that he would walk her to her gate anyway. She pulled him back before he could go any further.

She was grinning and she didn’t care if she looked eager. Standing on tiptoe she kissed him goodbye. And in between kisses they said happy New Year. It didn’t seem stupid to say that.

He waited at her gate until she was inside the house before waving and walking away. No one else was awake and she wondered if she should run after him and steal another kiss. She went into her room instead and lay awake unable to sleep. Thinking about the way he had looked at her as he kissed her and said happy New Year.

It was only when the sun floated into the room past her curtains that she slept. And even though she did not remember the dream of him lying corpse like in a river. When she woke later that day, she knew why he told her in the dream that he was trying to drown his fire. So his arm wouldn’t shake that way, so his eyes wouldn’t be that cold.