I wake in a tide of white.

I try to remember where I was, what had happened. All I could recall was my parents: my mother, strong as stone. My father, crying. Cancer water sinking through my sucky lungs; Dr. Maria, a face of defeat.

It was not a pleasant experience, yet I recall a burning hope. A small flicker of peace. I had squeezed their hands one last time, my own dark nails reminding me of stars, for some reason.

Yet the last thought on my mind was not of stars. It was not of my parents, or of Dr. Maria. It was not even the sheer panic that I was about to blow up, catastrophically taking out everyone I loved around me.

The last thought on my mind was Augustus Waters.

His cocky smile, his reasonable limp. I remembered everything I loved about him, every fault, every perfection. I truly believed - and still believe - that perfection is reached through flaws and scars. A porcelain glass, after all, cannot be porcelain without a scratch to claim it so. A worn book cannot be worn without dog ears and tears.

Augustus cannot be Augustus without having faults; I cannot be Hazel without dying.

I had taken a deep breath, waiting, waiting, waiting.

And then, finally. My heart decided to slow before my brain did. I couldn't breathe, yet I was floating. I was blind, but I could see everything perfectly. The machine had flat-lined, and there was a sob.

Then, nothing.

Nothing.

Then white. Bright, white light everywhere.

I look around. I'm sitting on a clean, perfectly pristine white bench, gazing around my surroundings. I was surprised by my clothes: a white dress, white shoes - converses. An impulse: I reach for Phillip, only to discover that I am alone. No tank, no cannula.

No cancer.

I breathe, for the first time in years. My lungs expand, a hearty privilege. I smell chocolate, and wildflowers, and the ocean. Scents that shouldn't smell good together but do. I smile slightly. It seems that I've made it.

I stand from my white bench. It feels so good to suck in air - if it even is air.

I spin, giggling. I twirl. I feel the breeze, I dance in the cloudy wind.

But then I stop. Because I am sill alone.

I take a deep breath again. It seems that my lungs have missed breathing. I search around me. Mist and clear fog, rolling in and surrounding me with a gentle, beautiful blanket. The fog is cool to the touch, yet I am warm. I wonder when I will see and angel. Or meet God.

"Hazel Grace."

I turn, surprised. Amazed that my name can sound so breathtaking in a single voice. Worried that I have missed my chance, missed any chance. Scared that I was mistaken, and I am not dead yet, and I still have a living hell to survive, with breathless lungs that collapse and sorrow in my parents' eyes.

But then I see him, and my amazement continues. My worries fade. And I know that I have let go. That I am dead. But it's okay, because he's here too. I smile, but then realize that there are tears in my eyes. I don't bother wiping them. I dare to hope, dare to believe.

That he's here, that he's real, as I have been hoping and believing for the past year, since the last day I saw him. Broken, sick.

But here he is, tall, lanky. Wearing a light button-down and white pants. White converse matching my own. A crooked smile, a straighter gait. No more limp, no more G-tube. No more cancer, no more.

No more.

My throat catches, and I reach out to him. We don't move.

"Augustus?" My voice is a whisper.

My legs unlock, and so do his, and all of a sudden we're in each other's arms, grasping, interlocking, once again one. My face is streaked with tears, soaking his chest, but I don't feel that bad as I feel my own sleeve. Pulling away enough to see into my eyes, Augustus laughs, his wet face an expression of relief and gratitude, as if a thousand of his wishes had just been granted at once.

"Hazel Grace!" He cries, laughing his Gus-laugh as he wipes away my tears. I do the same to his.

He kisses me, gently. With love. With content. With health.

"No tears are allowed in," he says, waving an arm to the white door. It has no nameplate, no identification. Yet I know exactly where it leads. "Where are we?" I ask him, looking one more time at my infinite surroundings. Gus smiles.

"We're in the Waiting Room." He tells me, squeezing me closer. "And now the waiting is done." He slides his hand along mine, clutching it tightly. He lifts it to his mouth, kisses it. Then he leads me to the door.

We're floating, treading lightly on thin, papery clouds and walking in the ocean of the sky. As we reach the threshold, I pause, daring to glance down. "I'm up here," I want to whisper to my parents, to Mr. and Mrs. Waters, to Isaac. "I've found Augustus, and we're going home."

Augustus looks at me, with concern or pity, I'm not sure. "Hazel Grace?"

I look at him, realize the infinity in his eyes, still clear-blue and mesmerizing.

"You okay?" It's a question, his hand still grasped in mine, but not tugging me along. He will guide me, but he will let me make my own choices. I know this. So I smile at him, and this beautiful boy I fell in love with and will always love. "I'm okay."

He smiles again, running his thumb over my knuckles. "Okay," he teases, and I grin back.

"Okay."

Together, we leave the Waiting Room.

This is an OLD story. I wrote it when I still had a Quotev account. But I recently read Fault in Our Stars by John Green and was listening to "The Waiting Room" by The Narrative, so here it is.