Oblivion.
To think that Augustus had feared that the most, was surprising.
What did it mean to be forgotten? Did it mean that one would cease to have existed? That one did not accomplish greatness? Maybe it meant to be insignificant.
What Augustus actually feared of oblivion still remained a mystery and always would, unless we actually did meet in that somewhere. Augustus Waters was, by no means of definition and perception, a normal teenage boy. If that made him special or weird was a whole different subject.
"You've always been different."
I thought of his cigarettes, his smile, his jokes, his face, him. But he was gone. His body withering away with time, his soul long gone to the capital S.
My heart squeezed.
Three weeks and two days had passed since the cancer that had been made of him, had killed him. Three weeks and two days filled with so much indescribable emotional, and at times, physical pain, I wanted to beg my cancer to work faster. I wanted to reunite with him and be selfish, but deep down, I knew that I couldn't let my parents suffer from my demise. I could imagine his frowning face, a look of disappointment perched in his eys, an unlit cigarette ever dangling from his lips.
The lips that had tasted like the stars; the lips that had given me a taste of what earthly heaven was; the lips that would be the only ones to touch mine.
Not long and we'll be reunited Augustus Waters. Okay?
Okay, his voice echoed through my head.