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Five years ago, on New Year’s Eve, Artemis Fowl descended into the bowels of the earth in order to celebrate the beginning of a new year with his friend. He donned a hood - although not a hoodie, you’d never catch the always well dressed Artemis Fowl in such an unrefined article of clothing - and slinked his way through the stress of Haven. He passed by street vendors and groups of friends stumbling out of pubs, past centaurs selling New Years glasses and stalls selling fireworks that didn’t look entirely safe. He passed luxurious manors (though nowhere as grandiose as his own, he noted), and slightly less luxurious suburbs. Eventually, he made it to a towering apartment building, and after an exhausting climb of three whole floors of stairs, made it to a destination. He steeled his nerves, and let the inhabitant of the apartment know he was here. His kurt knock at the door was met with what sounded like scuffling, an aggressively loud curse, and a crash before the door opened to reveal one Holly Short. He smiled warmly, and let himself in.
Four years ago, on New Year’s Eve, the exact same events transpired, except the glasses being sold had changed and no longer really functioned. Although, in the vendors’ defence, the year was a particularly inopportune one to easily turn into functional glasses. This time, he was slightly less exhausted by the time he reached her apartment; a byproduct of Butler’s “borderline torturous” exercise regime of going for a jog once a week. Holly’s reception was different, too, with noticeably less scuffling. The cursing and scuffling remained. His warm smile at seeing her face was unchanged from the year prior, too. He strolled into her apartment, tossed his coat and hood onto the back of a chair, and sank into her sofa with a relaxed sigh. She chuckled and sat at the opposite end. And then they talked. They talked about everything and everything, about the twins and his parents and if they minded him spending time with her instead of them (his response was that he lived with them, and could therefore spare him a day of separation), how her new role as commodore was treating her (great pay but far too much paperwork, if you must know), how their mutual friends were getting on, how Artemis’ environmental projects were progressing, et cetera et cetera. They talked for hours, recounting a whole year’s worth of events in only a handful of hours. Eventually, eleven o’clock rolled around, and they both gazed at the clock. Huffing, Holly stood up and wandered over to the fridge and flung it open. Then, returning to the sofa, she poured them both a glass of prosecco. Looking at her, slightly taken aback, he raised an eyebrow. All she did was smirk.
Three years ago, on New Year’s Eve, Artemis had just finished his first glass. He didn’t know what it was, but he liked it. He liked it so much, actually, that he was halfway finished with his second before Holly had even finished her first. With mock anger on her face, he scolded him for guzzling down this premium drink she’d bought for the both of them, but all he did was look away bashfully. And then he finished his second glass. With an outraged shriek, she snatched his glass away, much to Artemis’ dismay. She gave him yet another stern talking about how it was for the both of them, and how if he didn’t slow down, she’d both have no drink and be forced to explain to his parents why their son was clearly hungover. Artemis laughed at this - it turns out it only takes a few glasses of bubbly to get him to drop that pompous facade of his - and apologised profusely. Murmuring to herself, she gave back his glass, but only under the condition he paced himself. With mock seriousness, he bowed to her, and assured her he would do exactly that. WIth a giggle, she asked him to at least leave some for her.
Two years ago, on New Year’s Eve, Holly had just finished the last of the bottle. They’d actually properly shared it this time. Now, looking at the time, she started - it was almost time for the fireworks. SHooting up and dragging poor Artemis by the collar, she made it to the balcony just in time to see the first flashes of colour. Of course, she’d seen it all before, but it never made it any less special. She was entranced, each new explosion a new thing for her to focus on. Simply put, she was rapt. Artemis was much the same. The fireworks above ground were probably more numerous, probably brighter, probably better. But, up there, he didn’t have Holly next to him. Her hand had slowly drifted down from his collar, and was now gently sliding down his arm. Suddenly, he had an idea, and whether it was a product of liquid courage or simply a damn of adoration breaking within his mind he did not know. He did know that for whatever reason, he had a sudden, uncontrollable urge to take her hand in his. So he did. He feared she may yank away, or jump, or even flip him over the edge of the balcony. Instead, she just intertwined her fingers with his own, and gently leaned on him. He forgot to breathe for a moment, then cast his gaze upon her, love clear in his eyes. Smiling softly to himself, he cast his eyes back to the brilliant display in front of him.
Last year, on New Year’s Eve, they were back on the balcony again. They’d gotten out slightly earlier this time, and as such were leaning on the railing, waiting. They weren’t holding hands like the year prior, too - instead, his arm was around her shoulders, and she was snugly fit against his side. These acts of intimacy had become more commonplace over the past twelve months, Artemis had realised, but he still didn't really know what they meant. Despite all his genius, Holly was still a mystery to him. She would pull him close when they wandered the streets, her gaze would linger just that little bit longer sometimes, her hand would brush against his when handing him something… what did it all mean? He knew what he wanted it to mean, but he was no longer selfish enough to believe she wanted the same thing, or even anything similar. He didn’t mind. He was happy with what they had now, whatever it was.
Last year, on New Year’s Eve, Holly was unhappy. She’d been giving signs for months now, and the dumb mud man still hadn’t got what she was so obviously getting at. I mean, c’mon, letting him put his arm around her shoulders was practically the most obvious she could get without kissing him! Unlike Arty, who seemed content to just live in this romantic purgatory, she had had enough. Next year, she would tell him, so she told herself. But she had said that the year before. And the one before that. And the one before that one, and the one before that, and even the one before that one. She mentally shook herself of her doubts. No. This year was her year. Looking up at him, she saw Haven’s artificial stars glint in his deep blue eyes, the same colour of one of her own. He must’ve felt her gaze on him, because he tilted down his neck to look at her, a quizzical look on his face. Now, she knew it was both the liquid courage and the exhaustion of the past twelve months of her fruitless romantic efforts, but she would tell you what she did next was planned. For she grabbed him by his collar (as she had done so many times before), pulled him down to him, and practically smashed her lips against his own. Behind them, a bright burst of colour erupted in the sky. The fireworks had begun.
This year, on New Year’s Eve, Holly gazed at the stars. Not Haven’s artificial ones, but the real things. They glistened and gleamed, shone and sparkled, not so unlike the fireworks she so adored watching with Arty. She sunk in on herself somewhat at this revelation. There were no fireworks tonight. There was no Artemis tonight. He was somewhere up there, amongst the many glimmering orbs of light. She missed him. She thought coming to where they first met - under that ancient oak tree where her life was changed forever, for better and worse - would provide some sort of solace. In a weird way, it did. It allowed her to remember all they’d been through, how far he and she had come. It allowed her to think of how far they’d come, especially in the past few years. She turned her longing eyes to the stars, and wondered if Artemis was thinking of her. She hoped he was. Smiling warmly, she drifted off into sleep as fireworks just began to illuminate the sky behind her.