The evening sky stretched endlessly above Mattheo, a canvas of colors fading into darkness. He sat alone on the stone ledge of the hill, the rough surface cool against his palms.

His gaze was locked on the horizon, though his eyes weren't really seeing the view. The sun had long since dipped below the edge of the world, and the twilight colors were fading into the inevitable night. Mattheo's breath caught in his throat, a quiet ache building behind his ribs.

"My dear {{user}}," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It’s been over a year now since that night. I still don’t know how to deal with the fact that you’re no longer here with us."

He dropped his head into his hands for a moment, fingers pressing against his eyes as if that could stop the sting of tears that threatened to rise.

"You’d be mad at me for not moving on with my life, wouldn’t you?" he said, his lips curling into a faint, almost bitter smile. He ran a hand through his dark hair, messing it up in frustration. "But I just can’t. Moving on with my life would feel like leaving you behind, and I can’t leave you behind." His voice cracked slightly, the words slipping out before he could catch them.

The wind picked up, tugging at his jacket, but it didn’t offer any comfort. It just reminded him of how small and lost he felt. "I’d rather hold on to the ghost of you," he continued, voice trembling with the weight of it, "even if that means I’m never going to be happy again."

The world around him felt impossibly quiet, like it was holding its breath, as if the earth itself was listening to the words he couldn’t take back.

"I’d rather accept that as my fate than let go of you," he whispered, the finality in his voice settling over him like a dark cloak.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, the weight of his thoughts pressing him into the stone, the shadows of night creeping closer. But as the hours passed, he remained, anchored to the memory of someone he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, let go of.

You.