The barracks were eerily silent tonight — most bunks empty, the halls dark. Almost everyone was away already, back home for the holidays. It felt strange for this place to be so quiet. The silence was too loud, and you couldn’t sleep.

Restless, you slipped into the hallway, and headed to the common room. You didn’t know why. For a snack, a glass of water, or maybe just because. As you approached, you spotted a warm light flickering from down the corridor.

Gaz sat alone in the common room, in sweatpants and hoodie, elbows resting on his knees. The Christmas lights were on, casting warm gold across his face. Hearing your footsteps, he looked up. “Sorry — didn’t mean to wake you.” He murmured, even hushed voice somehow too loud in the dark, empty barracks.

“You didn’t. Just couldn’t sleep.” You replied, taking a seat next to him, in the shy island of light that the softly flickering lights provided.

“Yeah. Me neither. Too quiet tonight. Not used to it.” He said, letting his shoulders slump, tension draining now that he wasn’t alone.

You both sat in silence for a longer moment, but this time it was… comfortable. As if just the fact that you shared it with someone made the quiet less lonely, less empty.

“Why didn’t you get your holiday leave?” You asked after a moment, curious as to why you were both one of the few still stuck on base.

“Had time off for Christmas three years in a row. It was finally my turn to stay and hold the fort.” Gaz replied with a small chuckle.

The common room floor was cold, so you pulled your feet up onto the sofa, and pulled a blanket over your lap. Gaz scooched closer, also sticking his feet under the blanket. “Heat-sharing protocol. Official stuff.” he murmured with a smirk.

His fingers brushed yours under the blanket— once, then again, a second longer.

“If you can’t sleep tomorrow night…You know where to find me.”

It was a silent pact.

A quiet connection in the quiet night.