This is simply the extended version of Look Up. A few more memories, a few more thoughts, a bit more darkness.

Word count: 972

~~

There is something about light that is so bright, it's blinding.

There is something about darkness that lets you see everything light hides.

Things like fear, pain, loss.

Loneliness.

But it's not all bad. For there is a magic to it, too.

The night lets you see all the lights the sun hides as well.

Lights like the stars, the moon, the reflections.

Memories.

They walk with you, dance with you. They drown you in nostalgia and comfort you in your desolation.

They understand you because they are you.

And it hurts so bad. But they are there. They sit with you in your pain, forever the shoulder to lean on, forgotten once unneeded.

The wind whips along the coast as I close my eyes where I sit beneath the tree. The ocean is a silent mess tonight, a dark comfort, churning and restless. I let out the shallowest of breaths, lost to the wind, and let the darkness take me to my dreams.

Just tonight. Just for one night. Just so I can remember him one last time, before I let him go.

Just tonight.

Just tonight, I'll let my memories be magic and walk with me through my sorrow.

And they do.

~~

"Sera! Look up!"

I did, but he wasn't looking at me. He had a finger pointed to the sky, watching the stars as they watched him, awestruck wonder on his face.

We were three.

"Sera, look up!"

I did, and saw him running at me, a stack of play building blocks in his arms. They fell every which way through the cracks in his grip, but he paid them no mind. The smile on his face said that whatever happened, nothing would take his happiness.

Nothing.

We were five.

"Sera, look up!"

I did, glancing up from my schoolwork to see him balancing on the back of the chair, a book on his head and an apple on the book. He threw his head back, laughing at the look on my face. The book fell from his head and he fell from the chair. That was the first time he went to the hospital.

We were six.

"Sera. Look up!"

I did, and found him hanging from the tree upside down, knees hooked about the branch. He swung about, laughing maniacally and for all my silence, I couldn't help but join in.

We were seven.

"Sera! Look up!"

I did, raising an eyebrow at the mud on his face, the grass stains on his knees, and the smile on his lips. There was something dangerous about it, something crazy and free. It was a permanent sort of smile, and it was contagious.

We were nine.

"Sera! Look up."

I did, pulling my eyes from my book to find him grinning, a carnation in his hand for me. There was an awful mischief about him. It set my taunts burning and set his smiles lilting. But I took it nonetheless.

We were eleven.

"Sera. Look up."

I did, and smiled at the C- scrawled on his test, so different than the A plastered on my own. But he didn't mind. He had a love for imperfection.

We were thirteen.

"Sera. Look up."

I did, wondering at his whisper, only to find his face but an inch from mine. I stared at him with wide eyes. He stared right back. Then with that haywire grin and deplorable laugh, he flopped to his back and watched the sky. But there was sadness in his smile, and I had to wonder why it was there.

We were fourteen.

"Sera, look up."

I did, and he held out for me the results of his exam. The medical exam. Advanced heart failure. He'd been feeling dreadful for quite some time, but I never thought so dreadful as this. He held out his hand to me, his smile unsteady but true. He kept it there for me.

We were fifteen.

"Sera. Look up."

I did. He smiled at me, his voice was no more than a breath, that breath his last.

I was sixteen.

~~

The image fades, my dreams tumbling into reality, and I remember his smile is gone.

But it hovers, still, that decrepit echo, edging into the crevices of my mind.

I open my eyes from my memories to find that the light from the setting sun has faded. The night sky watches over me now.

There is something about darkness that lets you see everything light hides.

And it seems it hid my happiness, folding it into the pockets of shadows unseen in sunlight.

For a year.

But now, I finally see. It's been one year. Exactly one. No more, no less. And it is time to say goodbye.

There is something magical about the darkness, and the stars in the sky. Something that's a touch more than reality, that lets you hide away from the presence of the world.

One year, and tonight, for the first time, a smile of the smallest sort makes its way to my face.

There is magic in the air, and it tells me, You're not alone.

You've never been alone.

People leave, but memories stay.

He may be gone, but he left for me those very memories, those little moments wedged into life. Each and every one with a magic of its own kind.

One year, and tonight — just tonight — I know he's still with me, hanging in the sky with the stars that blanket the night.

I don't take my gaze from the ocean. But the leaves rustle in the wind, and I know he's with me.

I hear his voice, just a whisper on the breeze, and I must have imagined it, but tonight — just tonight — I pretend that I didn't.

"Sera, look up."

So I do.

~~