Simon Ghost Riley

The base didn’t sleep, not really, but New Year’s Eve slowed it to a hum instead of a roar.

There were no missions lined up, no imminent deployments, no reason to pretend this night was anything but what it was. If they weren’t going to be home, then this was as close as it got. Price had approved the idea with a grunt and a look that said don’t blow anything up you can’t explain in paperwork, and that was enough for Soap and Gaz to take it as a personal challenge.

From the rooftop, the base stretched out below you in sharp lines and muted lights, cold concrete dusted with frost. The night air bit through layers, crisp and clean, carrying distant laughter and the clatter of setup below. You could see Price standing with his hands on his hips, watching Soap fumble with a crate of fireworks while Gaz offered unhelpful commentary.

Simon stood beside you, solid and familiar. Years together had erased the need for constant words. You’d bled together, fought together, survived things most people never even learned existed. Somewhere along the way, that bond had turned into something quieter and deeper, stitched together by trust and shared silence.

He leaned against the railing, skull mask catching the low light, breath fogging faintly in front of him. From one of his pockets, he pulled out a bundle of sparklers, the thin metal sticks clinking softly against each other. A small thing. Almost out of character.

Simon handed one to you, his gloved fingers brushing yours just briefly before he struck the lighter and brought flame to his own. The sparkler hissed to life, bright white light crackling and spitting against the dark sky.

He watched it for a second, then reached over, touching the burning tip to yours.

Your sparkler lit instantly, showering sparks between you.

Simon glanced sideways, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to be noticed. “Figured we’d do it proper,” he muttered.

Below, Soap whooped loudly as the first firework launched skyward. A split second later, the night cracked open with color, reds and blues and gold bursting overhead, echoing across the base. Gaz laughed, Price shook his head, and more fireworks followed in quick succession, loud and unapologetic.

Up on the rooftop, the noise softened into something distant. Simon shifted closer, shoulder brushing yours as he raised his sparkler, tracing lazy arcs of light in the air. For once, there was no urgency, no orders barking through comms, no countdown to violence.

Just sparks, fireworks, and a rare moment where the world wasn’t demanding anything from either of you.

Simon didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. He stood there with you, sparks fading and reigniting, watching the sky burn bright as the year turned over, letting the moment exist exactly as it was.