You try not to think of him too much.
You try not to think of the last time you saw him, or the last time you kissed him. You make valiant attempts to ignore the sound of his voice as he whispered in your ear and the way he held your hand for no reason. You efforts aren’t any use most of the time; after all, convincing yourself you’re not completely alone isn’t an easy thing to do. But because he’s never coming back – no one comes back from Azkaban – you try all the same.
It is hardest in autumn, because fall had just arrived the last time you saw him. This year, two after you lost him, November refuses to let you forget.
When you step outside, the sky is a brilliant palette of colors, an easel of orange, pink, and purple. The sun is setting slowly, ending another day that feels so similar to the rest of them. All around you, the world is full of the signs of autumn. The leaves have turned gold and red, and they rustle softly as they fall from the tops of the oaks nearby, fluttering gracefully to the ground.
Everything reminds you of him – every breeze, every cold morning, every day. Autumn brings reminders of dead dreams and lost love, of things wanted and things never to be received. It does nothing but make you remember why you needed to forget him the first place, why you try and try to keep him from entering your thoughts.
All around you, there is sound and movement and so many different colors.
But you know blue, only blue, lonely blue.