Lost Astronaut

 How did this happen?

 Well, Atticus knows how it happened. The engines failed first, then the superthrusters overheated, then the shields fell down and incoming asteroids ripped the Grand Celestia in half. Still, even knowing HOW it happened, Atticus wishes he knew why. Why him? Why now? Why this?

He’s never even gotten to kiss someone yet, or hold their hand, or tell them that he loves them. Atticus hasn’t LIVED yet, and already he’s going to die, unwanted, unloved, floating out in the great expanse of space with a busted oxygen tank slowly depleting his supply. He’ll suffocate before anyone finds him. He’s only 25.

 Atticus wishes he wasn’t scared. He wishes he was content with death, that he could accept it easily like his former crew mates told him he deserved, but his heart is racing and he’s terrified. “P-Please,” He whimpers pathetically to nobody in particular, a choked sob escaping his lips as he tries to take in a breath. These are the times when he wished he believed in God, maybe it’s him who’s punishing Atticus for his lack of faith. There’s a warmth nearby, and a light that seems to be growing brighter and brighter.

 A star is dying. It’s just far enough that he can see it pulsing, but he knows that if it explodes, he won’t be safe from the blast. Not that it would’ve happened anytime soon. He’s hopeless, but maybe that’s the best way to go. Vaporised in an instant, no pain, no discomfort, no fear. Atticus shuts his eyes, praying to whatever life form out there that he dies a quick death. He’s starting to get dizzy now.

50% Oxygen left. 40%. 30%.
The star glows brighter, brighter, to the point that Atticus can almost feel its burning heat from where he’s floating.

It’s gorgeous.. His brown contacts shifting in his eyes as tears welled in them, covering the clear of his spacesuit mask.

”I don’t wanna die..!”