It's Not You, It's Me (Book Two) #Wattys2018

Goodbye

At his funeral, we didn't really say much at all.

There wasn't much to say, I think.

I stood in between Theo and Horacio the whole time. Ziggy and Avi were there. Everyone was there. This is Augustus, of course, everyone came.

Was. This was Augustus. Whatever, the point is, even his funeral had to be a party.

Someone sang a pretty song and someone else gave a pretty speech. Everyone cried. Horacio didn't say anything, and neither did I.

We chose a picture that Gus loved of himself to hang above his cold, dead body in that coffin. And we updated his Facebook status saying "Whoa hell is so hot guys srsly gonna get a killer tan. #pununintended" We didn't know for sure if he was able to look down on us, but we knew that if he was, he'd be laughing his ass off in heaven.

Horacio and I sneaked upstairs in his house with a bottle of vodka, a lot like that Christmas Eve that year that the whole Grace story started. And we laughed together, remembering things that Augustus had done that were wild and gracious at the same time.

"I bet he's karaoke-ing with Amy Winehouse and Kurt Cobain right this second," Ace said, drinking a shot.

"Well, I think he's stalking young Marlon Brando down the street," I tell him, and he laughs and agrees.

"He's for sure stalking young Marlon Brando down the street!" He agrees with me, and I laugh with him.

Suddenly, Horacio's laugh turns into a tormented cry. I hold him in my arms as his expression turned torturous.

He just cried, for about ten minutes, and I just hugged him, and made sure he knew he was loved.

After that, we just sat on the floor, side by side, holding the empty vodka bottle, staring at nothing.

"They all say they're sorry for my loss." He says, staring at the room's door. "They all miss him, and it's like I'm responsible for his death. It's like I always was responsible for him, and I failed. We are— were twins, I know, but I was always his older brother and him my youngest. Everybody knows that. I took care of him. I wonder if everyone secretly blames me."

"Nobody blames you, Horacio. Don't be stupid."

He sighed, and I sighed too.

"You should go to England." He tells me suddenly.

I look at him unbelieving. "How could I? He died because he needed me here. I can't leave now."

Horacio looked away from the door and into my eyes melancholically. With no expression shown on his face, he slowly let words dipped in darkness and bitterness leave his mouth, "Don't you dare think that my brother's dying wish was to keep you trapped in this city forever. He would never want that. He was upset because you treated us like some collateral effect of your relationship with Theo. We were your brothers long before any Avi, any Theo, and you simply decided we weren't that important anymore because you fell in love. He wanted you to talk to us, not let us know, and tell your father, who was always there for you, that you were leaving because that's the least he deserves." I look away in embarrassment, with tears trapped in my eyes. "You should go to England, and live."

"I can't!" I yell, and a tear rolls down my cheek. "I can't just live without Augustus!"

He looks at me wanting to join me in my heartbroken moment. "If you can't, then I can't." He tells me slowly. "If not for you, do it for me."

We stare at each other somberly for a minute.

Over the years, there were many circumstances that brought Ace and I closer together, but I think grief, by far, has brought us the closest.