The buzzer sounds. The crowd erupts, tears of joy mixed with those of anguish.

Laughter echoes through the bleachers, fury shakes the grounds.

Yet, all that matters is him.

His breaths, labored as they are, are a marvel to me. His golden hair brushes his forehead with each exhale, his eyes shining with a look to them that one wouldn't be able to place had they not known him. Unfortunately for me, over the years I had come to know him. 

There was a look to him, that of which could only be described in the vaguest sense: he was gold. Had it been liquified and slathered in a chalice, placed on a throne of diamonds, on the lord’s brows themselves.

He was an angel incarnate, being in his presence was like being bathed in sunlight. Being torn away from him was acute to the feeling of having glass shards dragged across your temples. 

He glides across the field, raindrops gathering in his eyelashes, resembling slight, trembling rose pedals. 

My lips twitch up due to the exposure to his ever-contagious smile.

He waltzes toward me and…

I gasp and lurch up, cold sweat dripping down my neck.

Suddenly I remember that he is no longer here, and I am no longer in that place.

He is the soul I wish most to embrace, yet I am unable to, all due to one drink he took when he believed he was a hopeless case.

Fly high in the stars tonight, angel.