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The fireworks were loud. Too loud for Guest 1337's liking. They boomed from outside, rattling the windows with the deafening sound every time one was released into the air, showering the night sky with a palette of colorful sparks that nobody could deny pretty. Guest had tried every year to adapt to the fireworks on this day, but still he could not. His hardships savored really kick him in the ass when it comes to loud noises and his sensitivity.
The silence of nothing going off feels eerie, like it's not supposed to be happening. When Guest is just about to be comfortable, another rattling boom shakes him out of his zenith, wiping away all things calm that he once had. He shudders, cowarding into the couch he's reclined on, wanting to escape from the noise, but he knows that he'll just hear the fireworks from every point in the house. Even if the windows are sealed shut and the doors are locked tight, it's inescapable. Inevitable.
So, he sits there, listening to the thundering of noise outside as fireworks explode in colorful flowerings of reds, blues, and other such. The hues that light up the sky are gorgeous, he can't lie, it's just the clamor that bothers him to his very core.
It's so loud that the explosions outside don't present the new person who enters the room, his black shoes gently hitting the wooden floor with each step. He's wearing a suit—he always does—a sparkly fedora, expensive sunglasses and headphones, and a facade of glee that hides something of what seems to be irritation.
When Chance sets a hand on Guest's shoulder, the veteran tenses up and almost yelps. But when he turns to see that it's just his boyfriend, his attitude comes to a calmer tide.
"Don't scare me like that," Guest complains, body relaxing as he takes his own hand to stroke Chance's knuckles in welcoming.
"Sorry," Chance apologizes. "Just wanted to check up on you. You're pretty lonely out here, and there's a better view of the fireworks from my balcony—just saying."
Guest blinks. "I'm... fine. I can see them perfectly from this view." He gestures to the big windows of the cabin's living room, displaying the bright flashes of booming colors that light up the night sky outside. He flinches every time a noise rattles the cabin, and Chance takes notice.
"Hey," The gambler leans close, next to Guest's head. "Is the noise too much? You're shaking."
"Well, Sherlock finally solved this mystery." Guest says jokingly, his thick fingers drumming frantically against Chance's hand, a glint of worry in the veteran's eyes reflecting off of the other's shades. He flinches hard when a loud firework went off—so did Chance, who probably heard it through their headphones.
Headphones.
"Hold on." Chance pulls away, takes off his fedora, and then his headphones, which he hands to Guest gingerly like he's giving away a precious treasure. Guest stares at the pair of headphones dangling from Chance's hand. Why? He doesn't necessarily need it. Though Chance's generosity really made his heart ache.
"You don't have to," Guest says softly, tracing his eyes across the sleek, black pair of Clockwork headphones, padded cushion inside akin to a fluffy cloud. On each side of the headphones were the letters L and R—left and right, though Chance was holding them so the R was on the left and the L was on the right.
"Of course I don't have to give you these, I am because I want you to enjoy this night without having to deal with the noise." Chance urges the veteran to take their headphones, and Guest reluctantly agrees after a few moments of guilt.
When Guest places them on, suddenly all the booming is drowned out. He can't hear anything except for Chance's voice and the television playing in the cabin that Guest had turned on to try and attempt to cancel out the firework sounds.
"Woah." Is what Guest says in reaction, surprised on how well these work. Chance smirks, taking a seat on the couch next to the veteran and curling up next to him to enjoy the show outside.
"You like them?" Chance asks rhethorically, leaning against the other and wrapping their toned arms around Guest, pressing their head against his shoulder. "They're very useful during rounds. I can adjust them to hear if a killer is nearby or if I simply feel like playing some jazz."
"Availing, indeed."
"You wanna go outside with those on? Shed's grilling some chicken and hot dogs for dinner." Chance offers.
"I think I'll stay here—not too hungry." Guest replies, shifting closer into Chance's embrace.
"I'll stay with you."
And the sentinels both sit there, admiring the night sky that bursts with colors of red, blues and more, knowing that the fireworks aren't as loud as they think.
Not as loud as their love for each other, for that matter.
♡