The Lights Above by Lauren Alexandra

"It’s actually the Milky Way,” said John.

I looked at him like he was crazy, sat there beside him on this desolate rooftop.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, studying the side of his face. I stared hard at the skin covering his skull, willing it to turn in my direction. It didn’t.

“The lights. Even when it’s dark outside, it’s never really dark. Is it?” “I guess not. Light pollution, you know?” “No, it’s actually the Milky Way.”

Looking at his eyes sparkle I suddenly understood. Understood what exactly, I’m not sure. But a sense of understanding crashed through my body like that first whoosh of icy winter air in November.

“Our very own Milky Way, one we created.” I said quietly. John turned to look at me, a small smile extending to me. He stood up then, reaching out for my hand as I stood up beside him.

I began to blindly follow him, anxious at the silence that seemed to surround us all the way up here. Getting together with a group of our friends, we’d all come to the mall to waste some time at the Arcade. It was past eleven now though, and only John and I remained. I’d never been alone with him before and I was desperate to know how this night would end. I had one scenario in mind I hoped for, but as we moved through the cool air the hope twisted and turned and twisted some more, waiting stubbornly at the bottom of the fire escape leading to a higher ledge. I looked back at where it waited, my understanding stood there too as we climbed up and up and up.

“Remember eleventh grade Geography last year?” John said, sitting down on the ledge and carelessly swinging his legs off the side. I couldn’t find the words to respond for a moment, stuttering as I looked at the drop below.

“Sure?”

“Mr P showed us all those pictures of light pollution, sadness in his voice. But all I saw was beauty, you know? Everyone’s just like, yeah city lights are cool and all, but they never get it.”

I felt myself frown, at his words or the heavy weight that plummeted down into my stomach at the height we sat at, I wasn’t sure.

“I get it, sort of? Maybe, I don’t know. Lights bring me a weird sense of comfort, I guess, like I’m not alone.”

“Exactly!” He said excitedly, running a hand through his wild brown hair. His dark eyes flashed something dangerous, urging me to overshare.

“A couple years ago before I moved here, I was with this guy. It was the never ending tale of one best friend who falls in love with the other. Something close to love, at least. Anyway. I left town for the summer and when I got back, it all felt different. We watched movies until it was dark and the only light in his room was from his ancient TV. We sat there, just talking, for so long that the screen turned blue. Our first kiss was surrounded, hidden, by that blue screen. For months after that I felt this weird impartial feeling to blue lights. An energy. I don’t know.”

I fell silent, playing with the rings that littered my fingers. I felt I’d rambled on for far too long and embarrassment covered my cheeks in a pink hue.

“Thank you.” “I’m sorry?” “Thank you, for telling me that. I’m really glad you did.” “I, uh. Okay. I don’t know, it seemed fitting.” I said, but John didn’t seem to hear me as he looked out across the city. You could see it all from here. The endless apartment blocks, cars, shops, and if you squinted just enough your eyes would trace the faint outline of the mountains.

“When I was a kid I loved car rides in the dark, especially in the winter. A cold night like tonight, you know? When it gets dark too soon and people turn lights on too soon and forget to close their curtains. I’d always look, no stare, into those windows. Warm glows contained by different rectangles and squares. Such a nostalgic feeling would consume me, as a kid! Crazy. Am I crazy?”

“I don’t think so,”

“I leave my curtains open all the time. All through the night. I love looking out at all those windows stretching so high they become one with the Milky Way, blurring into stars. I want to be one of those windows, filled with light and warmth.”

I frowned, confused. Opening my mouth to speak, I turned to look at John but no words came out. His palms rested flat on the roof beside him, and I felt terrified he would to slip right off the ledge.

“After death, we become stars. We become little windows of light in the universe.”

“Wh-“

His flat hands moved too fast for me to process, my heart lurching forward with his body.

I heard a soft sound so awful I couldn’t breathe, the night becoming filled with my own scream as my brain fought to process a scenario I never ever, across all of the Milky Way would I have ever have imagined.