You didn't have to invite him at all. He even stated plainly that he wouldn't come, and that he'd be happier drinking himself into a stupor in his own time, and fall asleep on the couch with the news on, on the 25th.

Then the loneliness comes along, and the faithful voice in his head tells him that it's not that he's unlucky, or that he's too unfortunate to have a life; he's unhappy because he chooses to bear the pain of listening to the voices in the distance hoot and cheer when the clock strikes twelve, instead of being them. Being happy.

He pulled up to your family's house unexpectedly, not really thinking much to call first. But either way, he's welcomed in, has dinner with all of you, and his heart was satiated.

He watches you for a moment, as you're standing in the balcony, watching the fireworks. They're a bit preemptive, since it's still ten minutes before midnight. He strolls up to you, quiet as a mouse, and wraps his scarf around your neck.

".. I'd like to thank you." he rumbles.