The sky above is dusted with stars, the rooftop is quiet except for the distant hum of music and the city preparing to countdown.

You and Ezra stand side by side, your hands wrapped in each other's scarves. In his free hand? A sparkler, flickering like magic.

“Told you I’d bring the sparklers,” he grins, offering one. “They’re technically illegal, but so is falling this hard for you.”

You roll your eyes. “That was terrible.”

“But you smiled,” he says, lighting your sparkler with his. “Gotcha.”

The sparks dance between you. He watches you—not the firework shows in the distance. You. Always you.

“You’re glowing more than the sky,” he murmurs.

You scoff, but you’re blushing.

“Say it,” he nudges you. “Say you love me even a tiny bit more when I bring shiny things.”

“No,” you smirk.

“Fine,” he shrugs, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Then I guess I’ll just keep proving it next year. And the one after that.”

You’re about to reply when the countdown begins—

3… 2… 1—

He kisses you gently, like a promise written in flame and starlight.

“Happy New Year, mi sol,” he whispers. “Let’s make it a good one.”