One-shot idea, nothing more. Sorry if the characters are too OC, this is my first TFIOS fic. Possibly some feels :D
Her lungs were failing. She knew that. They all knew that. The medication, the oxygen, the emptying of liquid- it was just wasn't enough anymore. Every breath was like a white-hot blade through her chest, scorching her throat and bringing fiery tears to her eyes; each stab of pain a reminder of what was to come next.
Oxygen was a precious thing, the ability to breathe even more so. She envied those who took this for granted. They didn't know how lucky they were.
Now, bed-bound and wheezing inconsistently, she could comprehend a fuzzy outline of him, of Augustus. Her one-legged wonder. He had been at her side every waking and sleeping moment, refusing to leave for just a moment, to just care for himself.
He held her hand; he talked to her, spewing his endearing metaphors and compliments. She looked and felt like hell- she wasn't beautiful, as he kept saying, not graceful or intriguing or a privilege. He was lying to her, but the words were music to her ears, a sweet river of honey that never ended.
Through blurry eyes, she saw him place a trademark cigarette between his lips, a flash of white as he smiled.
"Sleeping Beauty awakens." He appraised, his warm fingers lacing with her ice cold digits.
"Gus…" She wheezed, agony splicing through her chest, bitterly sharpening her senses. He understood her, as he always had. Like a mind-reader.
"Still here." He confirmed. "You're stuck with me, Hazel Grace. Okay?" She gave a feeble smile.
"Okay."
Her voice, barely a whisper, danced in his mind. It had once been so full of laughter and life, albeit the occasions she had to draw breath. Her laugh he had loved the most, but she hadn't laughed for a while now. It hurt too much for such a simple pleasure. As much as he wanted to hear her melodic laughter again, he would forever regret the pain it would cause her. Pain, after all, demanded to be felt. It was a bitch; a persistent bitch that buddied with time quite often.
The faint grip she possessed on his hand tightened a fraction, drawing his attention to those watery green eyes he adored as much as her laugh. Her short dark hair was limp, some sticking to her forehead with sweat. She was trying to sit up, her lips moving soundlessly as she asked something of him.
As though called by an omnipotent force, her parents sidled into the room, the door closing with a soft click.
Hazel reclined against the pillows, spent and red in the face with the effort of movement. Her breathing was far more laboured now, the machines working unavailingly.
Her parents knelt next to her, her mother sweeping the hair from her forehead with a trembling, gentle brush while her father took her other hand. Both of them were watery-eyed, smiling through the pain as their daughter so often had lately.
Hazel watched all three of them, her agonizing breaths rattling in her deteriorating chest. Her mind whirred with numerous moments she had spent with them all; her parents' unwavering care for her, the time in Amsterdam, the metaphors… all of it, spinning through her mind, bursts of colours and sounds, echoing from the memory.
She loved them so much. To never see them again, to enter the oblivion before her, was too daunting to fully comprehend. She would leave them… would she forget them? Would they forget her?
It struck her then, like a crisp lightning bolt of impending doom.
Dying didn't appeal to her, she didn't want to die. The oblivion… it scared her…
Closing her eyes, she silently begged, God, please, if you're there; if you can hear me, please… just another infinity, a chance, please… please…
Nothing mystical or godly happened, her heart hammering in her chest, as though it was fighting to beat for as long as it could, to defy what the doctors had told her, told them.
They watched as her eyes fluttered tiresomely, a quivering sentence carrying on a ragged breath: I'm sorry, I love you.
A final statement, a final breath. Her lungs heaved one last time and then stilled. Her grip slackened on their hands, her parents dissolving into incomprehensible sobbing.
It is alright, Augustus found himself thinking, closing his eyes at the onslaught of raw emotion, it was a privilege, Hazel Grace, a true privilege in our small infinity.
Just me thinking what would have happened if Hazel had died and not Augustus.