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Arthur woke to the sound of chaos.
For the first few moments he experienced only confusion laced with fear, his head absolutely pounding. John was yelling at him, saying things, urging him to get up. But Arthur couldn’t quite hear him over his own thudding heart, and the feeling of sweat breaking out over his body.
Then he realized that the thudding wasn’t from within his own head, but rather outside it. Like a thousand booms assaulting him one after another, making him dizzy, more disoriented than he already was.
He staggered out of bed, his body moving on instinct. His foot caught on something and he nearly tripped, and not for the first time he lamented his lack of sight.
Arthur-
John’s voice tuned back in, and Arthur could have wept with the relief of it.
“John, what's happening?” He asked, high pitched and scared.
I don’t know- Arthur keep moving, straight ahead- to the window. It sounds like explosions, like there’s bombs falling all around us. But they haven't hit us, and I can’t see unless you fucking move.
Arthur hastened to get where John directed him.
Stop- you’re there. Lean forwards.
Arthur did, hands catching on the windowsill to keep himself balanced as he leaned towards the window, giving John as much of a view as he could. The noise of explosions, just as John had explained, continued mercilessly. Every boom sending uneasy shivers through him.
He thought they’d been safe- or as safe as they could be, all things considered. His mind was reaching desperately for explanations- the war was over, of course. Had been for years. So it couldn’t be an attack, could it? Entirely human? It didn’t make sense -
Arthur… John’s voice was awed, in complete opposition to his earlier frustrated worry.
“What is it?” Arthur snapped, impatient and still uneasy despite John’s sudden calm.
It’s… it’s colors, Arthur. Exploding in the sky. It’s- I don’t know how to describe it. But it’s beautiful.
“Oh.” The relief flooded over him so suddenly that he couldn’t help but to laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ. I thought- oh fuck.”
What is it?
“It’s fireworks, John.” Arthur put a hand to his mouth in a helpless gesture to try and stop the startled laughter from leaving him, but the giggles continued. “You scared me.”
John sounded very defensive when he replied. I didn’t know! It’s very loud, Arthur. I thought we were being attacked.
“Yes, well. So did I. Dear God.” He leaned heavily against the windowsill, angling his body so that John could continue to stare out into the painted night sky. He knew John well enough by now that he figured he’d complain if he tried to look away.
Are you alright? Asked John, after a beat.
“Hm? Of course, I was just startled. I really wanted a full night’s sleep, for once.”
I’m sorry.
“Don’t be. It wasn’t you who woke me up, not entirely anyways.” Arthur cleared his throat. “Is it nice?”
Yes, like I said, it’s beautiful; captivating. But I don’t understand- why are they doing this? And why now?
“I-” Arthur hesitated, struggling to find a good explanation “I guess we haven’t been keeping up with the dates recently. It must be new years.”
When was the last time they’d even read a newspaper? Looked at a calendar? It had all been so much chaos; one problem after another. Another fight, another wound, another scar. They rarely had time to just… sit down and relax, take stock of where they were or when they were.
New years? John’s voice rumbled in that way it did when he was thoughtful and confused. Arthur nodded, feeling rather fond of his friend as he often did during these quiet times. When they could talk about things that were not life or death or entirely out of either of their grasp.
“Yes. Celebrating the turn from one year to another. There’s great festivities, though some traditions depend from family to family.”
And the fireworks? Why are you using those?
“I don’t know?” Arthur sighed, ignoring the peeved noise that John made. “I can’t know everything , John. it’s just something we do. We get drunk, we count down from ten, and at midnight we shoot the fireworks.”
How are anyone meant to sleep through the night?
“The fireworks won’t last the entire night- and you’re not meant to sleep until after midnight. I wouldn’t have had us lay down if I knew.”
Quiet, the conversation fading into nothing. Arthur sat still, allowing John more time to look. The booms of fireworks continued, no longer offensive to his ears, and Arthur felt suddenly very sad.
“I didn’t think about…” He trailed off, the words failing him.
What?
“No, it’s nothing.”
Arthur. John growled. Tell me.
“I just never thought about- well, I can’t see , can I. And you know I’ve been… angry about that, before.”
Oh.
“And I’m not now!” Arthur was quick to shoot in, wincing at the small sound of John’s voice. “Not angry at all. Just a little melancholy, is all. I don’t even think about it much, anymore, not really. But I liked watching the fireworks. Me and Parker used to go out together, watch it all, and… and I just hadn’t realised it would be the last time, I suppose.”
Another silence, guilty. Arthur sighed again. He hadn’t meant to make John feel bad, he truly hadn’t. Wordlessly Arthur placed his palm over John’s hand. He felt it tense under him, then relax just as quickly.
Let me describe it to you.
“Alright.” Arthur agreed, who knew that John needed this, and would love to hear it anyways. He would have closed his eyes if he could just to listen, but it hardly made any difference for him with the ever present darkness. And John needed his eyes besides.
It's a cloudless sky, and the moon is almost full. You can't see the stars because of the fireworks, and of them there are many. The moment one fades, another takes its place, explosions of colors that spread out before it disappears. The colors vary, as do the patterns of the fireworks themselves. Some smaller and dense, some much larger. Some have many colors at once, a rainbow of sparkles. Others remain a solid choice of blue or purple or any other color you might imagine.
“What's your favorite?”
…It’s yellow.
Arthur smiled.
Arthur
“I haven't said a thing! Please, John, continue.”
It's yellow , and I've only seen a few of them. They reach far up, taller than most of the others. Like it wants to join the stars themselves, to be one with them, even as the sparks start to fall and fade. And….
Arthur let John's words flow over him, a pleasant constant of description as he moved from one type of firework to the next. His voice was a rich baritone as always, filled with that wonder of humanity that had been the true start of their friendship.
His body started to relax, and his smile never did go away as he prompted John to continue until the last of the fireworks were sent up.