I got up at 5 A.M. It happened again. I had a dream about him; about Gus. It was so

vivid. We were in his bedroom, rereading passages from An Imperial Affliction. Every time

I read something, I would rant about how ridiculously addicting the book was. He would

smile his crooked smile, and look at me. He wouldn't say a word. He just stared in awe as

I went on and on. I would stop, and realize my rant was pointless. I looked back at him in

embarrassment. He would smile again, and lean in to kiss me. Then, the dream ended.

Every night, I had a dream about a memory of him. One night, I dreamt of the first time I

met Augustus. We were in the Literal Heart of Jesus, and Patrick was going on about his

tragic story. Then, the dream would skip to Augustus mysteriously saying, "I fear

oblivion." Then, the dream ended.

These dreams were a blessing and a curse. Through them, I could relive our hopelessly

romantic love story. But when I'd wake up, I'd have to face reality. He is gone.

It had only been two months since Gus had died. I never came out of the house. I didn't

bother to keep up with school. I purposely missed the ongoing marathons of ANTM. I

spent hours rereading the last letters Gus had written to Peter Van Houten. Gus loved me

so much, and now he's gone. What else am I supposed to do? I shut myself out from the

treacherous world I live in, and my parents try their best to cope with my new behavior.

They are always worried about me. I wasn't eating enough, and I always felt like crap. I

kept telling myself, "You're okay," but it only made it worse. Augustus wasn't there to tell

me, "okay."

On Saturday morning, I woke up to the pouring rain pounding on my window. That night I

had dreamt of the plane ride with Gus to Amsterdam. I was reciting a poem he had asked

me to say. I finished quietly, whispering only to him. He looked at me with his crooked

smile, and said, "I'm in love with you." I made myself wake up. I regretted my actions

that followed his that day. I didn't want to relive that moment.

I shuffled into the kitchen wearing the same outfit I was wearing two days ago. I put a

waffle into the toaster and waited. I told myself I needed to eat something. Then, I heard

a knock at the door. I stood up to answer it, despite my haggard appearance. There was

no one I needed to impress anymore. I opened the door to a crooked smile.

It was Augustus Waters.