Author's Note:

Hey guys! I'm gonna start this off with a HUGE apology. I am SO, SO, SO, SO sorry! I know I said I would upload... a LONG time ago, but I had examinations, and I decided that it wouldn't be fair to post a chapter and then make you guys wait for a really long time for the rest. So now, I'm posting my second story! This was actually an assignment for school: We were supposed to write a scene in John Green's style. (Important: Anything in bold has been taken DIRECTLY from the book. Those parts, I don't own!) So I wrote a scene from Gus' point of view. Also, we had a 1000 words limit, so this is my edited version. I'll post the unedited, slightly longer version tomorrow. Please, please review, follow, favourite! I love when you guys do that! I hope you like it!

Warning: It's sad.

Isaac: Hello?

Me: Isaac, it's me. Augustus. The Great Leader Of The War Against Cancer.

Isaac: I know, you self-aggrandizing bastard. Got your results yet?

Me: I'm on my way.

Isaac: Call me when you know?

Me: Oh, I'm fine. I'm on a roller coaster that only goes up, my friend.

As we walked to the hospital, I noticed it was a beautiful day – but mom was busy clutching her necklace and dad was busy mumbling prayers under his breath. They didn't care.

I hate hospitals. The smell of sterilization – of disinfectant and defeat, of hope being drained away by an IV... The sounds of doctors and nurses chasing away the silence with medical malarkey... It actually makes me miss The Heart Of Jesus. Screwed up, huh?

"Honey, hurry up!" Mom was holding the elevator open, but... Taking the elevator was a Last Days kind of activity. Hazel taught me that. And today wasn't my last day.

"I'll join you up there."

Stairs were hard, but they were hurdles I could make it through. Cancer was a hurdle too, but not one I could survive. The drugs were giving me a minute, and then an hour, but they wouldn't give me forever.

Today, though, I was victorious. I conquered the stairs – albeit slowly – and reached the nurse's desk, breathing heavily. "Hi. Augustus Waters - I'm here for my results?"

The nurse gestured towards the cold, white waiting room, and my heart sank. I'd been there too many times, and from my experience, they fostered negativity like love fosters hope.

False hope.

I sank into one of the uncomfortable chairs and tried to relax, leaning back and stretching. Mom and Dad sat upright and on the edge. They got more anxious every minute. Mom was biting her lip, and Dad was fiddling with his watch. I felt like I was watching a rerun I'd seen countless times before.

I flipped open The Price of Dawn, but even Sergeant Mayhem's terrifying adventures couldn't distract me from the antiseptics in the air; the hushed anticipation and mumbled realities filling the room. And in that moment, I developed a preference for Mayhem's infinite reality – some infinities are bigger than others; his was bigger than mine. I could throw him over hundreds of grenades – all I had to do was restart the game, and he would be good as new.

If only...

But the world is not a wish granting factory.

"Augustus Waters?"

The nurse's cloying voice broke into my thoughts. Finally. Away from that cold, unfeeling room. For some reason, though, Dr. Smith's office felt even colder. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, while I took out a cigarette and put it between my lips, waiting for him to speak up. Then he did, and I wished he hadn't.

He gave me a month, his sympathies, and a bowl of candy to ease the pain. Clearly he didn't know how to deliver bad news. Candy was for children. Then again, at that point, I didn't feel like Augustus.

I felt like Gus.

Mom was wiping away the tears on her face but they were replaced by more...

One tumor replaced by another, a third replaced by a fourth.

Dad was telling her "The Lord Will Protect", and "Everything Will Be Okay", but I was dying. Everything that I did and built and wrote and thought and discovered would disappear into oblivion.

"I'm going to die."

My shoulders started to shake and I abandoned Augustus. This was painful, and this pain? It was demanding to be felt. I cried. Mom and Dad came over and cried with me. Dad doesn't cry much, but he did then. I looped my long arms around them and heaved silently, letting the sounds of their sorrow drown mine.

We left with red eyes, leaving only Kleenex and candy wrappers. This time I took the elevator. Turns out, today was my last day. The ride down was silent, but the silence was weighted down with things we didn't want to say. Mom was gripping my hand tight enough to stop circulation, as if she could hold me here if she tried hard enough.

When we got to the car, I cringed and turned away. There were Encouragements everywhere. 'The Lord Blesses Us' on the bumper, 'It's Always Darkest Before Dawn' on the windshield, and 'Love Conquers All' on my window. Hah. I snorted and ripped that off.

Turns out, cancer is stronger than love.

I remembered how people in cancer books said that saying it makes it more real. I repeated, "I am dying," again and again and again in the car... Like a prayer.

The books made that up. Saying it out loud didn't make it any real-er, it just made it harder. Mom had her hands over her ears. She was shaking her head frantically, as if not hearing me would make it go away. Dad slammed on the brakes. "We'll get through this. Together, son. Don't give up!" I heard him, but it's so easy to give up when you know something is inevitable... So very easy. All I could think about was Hazel, and how she was wrong about being a grenade. I'm the grenade. I wanted to leave a mark – but like the majority, I'm a dog, squirting on a fire hydrant, poisoning the earth with my toxic piss.

I called Isaac. I didn't know how to tell him, so I said, "Isaac? This is Gus. I have good news and bad news. You are going to live a good and long life filled with great and terrible moments you cannot even imagine yet. I'm not. I lit up like a Christmas tree. I'm dying."

I waited for him to respond, to say something. Oblivion is inevitable, but I needed to know I wouldn't be another unremembered casualty in the ancient and glorious war against disease. I waited, but he didn't respond.

The line was dead.

I took out a cigarette, put it between my lips, and lit it.

Hello Oblivion.

©2014