Nectar

I hate New Years Eve. I hate the crowds and the noise and the pretending everything will be different next year just because one number has changed in the date my laptop displays at me every day. It’s a lie. Nothing is going to miraculously transform me between now and midnight that will suddenly make next year worth living.

And here I am, in the worst place I can imagine on the busiest day of the year: London. People are yelling and jostling as I try to push through the throngs. Such proximity and effort is stifling and I can feel the sweat on my skin but somehow, at the same time, the chilling night air makes my teeth chatter. I shudder as yet another man barges past me, the plastic cup in his hand sloshes beer in every direction leaving my hair sticky. A woman rushes past struggling to keep sight of her family. I am almost trying to lose mine.

I don’t even turn to check if they’re still there. I know I should try to be more cooperative but I’ve been telling myself that for years. Still irrational irritation rises within me just looking at them.

This should be a celebration but the bleak streets and grey faces are just the same as every other day just temporarily disguised by uninspiring light and layers of makeup.  

I glanced around, searching for anything to distract me from the morbid parade of forced joy when something made me slow to look closer. I checked that my family were still far behind before pushing my way to the edge of the crowd and into the relative shelter of the alley.

It was even darker trapped between the towering buildings but once my eyes adjusted I could make out dozens of shades of brown and murky moss green forming a patchwork together to make up the bare brick walls of the alleyway. Lining the edges were old objects, discarded and forgotten, scattered along the ground. Most were claimed by cobwebs but others had clearly been left more recently. I reach out tentatively to touch one of the items which looked like an ancient bike wheel when a series of disgruntled cries turned my head. The unsettlement paved a path through the crowd heading straight towards me. I pressed myself against the shadowed wall as a line of teenagers raced through the narrow alley straight past me. They disappeared into the darkness, bursting through a door I hadn’t even noticed before.

Without a thought, I followed.

The group had amassed, breathless from running and laughing, some collapsed in a heap from the exhaustion of their frantic sprint but still, not one face was absent of a grin.

But I was distracted by the shift in surroundings. It was impossible – we couldn’t be in London anymore. The sky seemed clearer than it had ever been in England, soft but illuminating. Trees of all sizes stretched up towards the promising glow of daylight. I couldn’t comprehend the sudden change and I was about to turn to check if the alleyway I had just come from was still there when one of the boys straightened, stiffening as he caught sight of me.

He pointed accusingly, ‘What’s that?’

The group grew serious, one by one losing their smiles as they noticed me and I felt a writhing deep in my stomach, a warning that I had done something terrible.

 ‘How did it get here?’ A girl asked angrily. I swallowed but my throat stayed dry. I looked down, away, anywhere to avoid looking at them.

‘It must have followed us through, the little sneak.’

I couldn’t speak, my throat tightened. I stumbled back, trying to find the rough wood of the door frame - maybe I could escape.

‘How should we get rid of it?’ the girl wondered.

‘Can we just let it go?’ Another suggested. They spoke amongst themselves as if I was invisible. But a hush fell as one stepped towards me. He had no more years than any of the others but they seemed to watch him for direction.

His steps were slow and purposeful. His eyes were fixated on me, wide, wondering. Staring with such curious intensity that I couldn’t avoid meeting the gaze. I was met by a sea of blue so dark it was almost purple, encased in a face that was almost unnervingly perfect, symmetrical. His skin seemed to have absorbed the sunlight to make him glow impossibly. Inhumanly. He looked up at me through dark hair.  

‘You might as well come with us now,’ he said, softly, as if he was offering a gift. Giving me a choice. Amongst those close enough to hear there were some grumbles of dissent but nobody questioned him. With nothing more than a few shrugs, the group were moving again. Much calmer now but still at a fast pace. I was frozen in place.

‘You’re coming?’ he prompted in a tone which made me uncertain whether it was a question. Finally, with an uncertain nod, I stepped away from the door. The smile that broke across his face was worth it. He refused to move until I passed him; until he was sure I wasn’t going to turn back.

‘My name’s Kynaston, by the way,’ he told me as I followed the others into the trees. It was all I could do to nod and smile back as I struggled to take everything in.

The trees twisted in towards each other into large knots which had been hollowed out into huts and tree houses that I would have begged for as a child. People lazed, basking under the sun in hammocks formed from enormous leaves. Others leant back against the thick tree trunks or sat, dotted around the floor, almost hidden by the gloriously neon green grass.

I marvelled at the people threading flowers through each other’s hair. Kynaston smiled at my amazement and reached into the grass to pluck one of the luminous flowers seeded throughout. After a hesitant moment he reached out to hand it to me. Before I could thank him, he pointed back to where the stem was, strands already knitting themselves back into place, regrowing into a new flower of equal radiance within moments.

‘This is unusual to you?’ he asked, his gaze never straying from me. My expression answered for me.

‘Kyn!’ someone called from beyond a curtain of unfurling ivy. His smile returned as he indulged in my childlike amazement.

‘There’s more,’ he laughed and he had to take my hand to pull me away.

Behind the leafy divide, a small bar was etched into wood at the edge of the enormous circular base of a felled tree which served as a dance floor. The roots climbed down the side of a cliff and overhung a dazzling azure lake which sparkled, a pool of jewels stretching out to a shore of green on all sides.

I was startled from my daze by the voice of the bartender asking ‘What’s this?’ with a gesture towards me. ‘It with you?’

We were interrupted as a smartly dressed man nearby was handed a tankard and proceeded to drain the contents in one long gulp. He slid the container back across the counter and leapt up from the bench. In a parade of laughter and hugs, he melted into the hive of people.

‘One for your friend?’ The barman asked. Kyn took the mug without looking to pass on to me but I shook my head, remembering myself.

‘I don’t actually drink alcohol, I-‘

‘It’s not alcohol!’ the barman laughed knowingly. ‘What we have is much better than that!’

Kyn took a sip as if to prove it’s harmlessness before handing it to me. With a shrug, I drank, the liquid, nectar, sweet and thick, bliss over my taste buds. Feeling no different, I looked back up at Kyn. Then my lips twitched and I couldn’t hold back my laughter. He too failed to keep a straight face and his soft laugh was delicate and precious. I would sooner have trapped that in a bottle than any liquid.

Once again he was leading me through the trees. There were no pathways to follow but people hovered everywhere, greeting me with a fond pleasantness despite having never met me before. I mirrored their careless grins and bright eyes and they seemed to stop noticing that I wasn’t one of them. I almost stopped noticing.

‘Is it always like this here?’ He didn’t have to ask what I meant.

‘Well, New Years is a big celebration for us. The rest of the time it might be a little quieter. But other than that, yes. It’s always like this.’

The scents of tropical fruits cut mouth-wateringly through the light aroma of fresh grass which tickles my ankles. It is warm but not hot. Colourful but not too bright. Buzzing with life without being loud.

After what feels like hours but can’t have been nearly as long, I am back somewhere I recognise. Back in the first clearing I stepped into. And there, across the glade, is the battered door, paint peeling, dripping gloom.

I turn to Kyn questioningly.

‘It’s nearly midnight. The door only opens for a day once a year. You have to go.’ His stunted explanation hit me with cruel suddenness.

‘But... I... Can I come back?’ I stammered.

‘It never opens in the same place twice. There’s no way of knowing where it will be, if it will be the same country. The same planet even. We got to see you world today and you got to see ours. Now you have to go.’ He looked away for the first time since he had first seen me and somehow the sudden absence of his gaze sent an icy chill washing over me.

My hesitance seemed to give him hope and his eyes fluttered back to meet mine again.

‘Unless...’ His gaze flitted uncertainly. I nodded for him to continue. ‘Unless you stay. But you’ll probably never get to go home again. You have to decide by midnight otherwise you miss your chance,’ his words tripped and jumbled in a sudden panic.

I glanced at my watch, the seconds beating in time with my heart. Urging me to hurry. To choose.

‘You could see so many worlds! But you’ll likely never see your own again.’

Could I really stay and never see my family, my home, again? Could I stay based on the few short hours I spent? Real life here could be nothing like what I had seen. How could I compare a boy I’d known mere minutes to the family I lived with my entire life?

 ‘What will you do?’

Kyn’s voice tears at my heart, bringing tears to my eyes. Struggling to sound indifferent but seeming to implore me to stay with the waver in pitch. With a stare so intense I couldn’t drag my eyes away.

The countdown began. My fingers gripped the golden handle with unnecessary firmness.

‘Will you stay?’

I desperately wanted to reply but I couldn’t speak.

‘Five... Four... Three... Two... One...’