I closed my eyes. Placebo effect. If I told myself that I was dead, then I would die, right?
Life was a placebo effect. If you told yourself that it was a beautiful thing with rainbows and flowers, then it became a playground, a firework display, a Hectic Glow concert. But I was out of fairy dust to sprinkle over the world. In reality, it was a gray desert where everybody was obsessed with work and nobody gave a shit about your feelings.
And it felt like getting slapped in the face by the entire universe. It felt like all the stars in the sky stopped twinkling and came down on me as an attempt to wake me up. While the world was scarring me, I was sleeping with my eyes wide open.
That's when I realized that I was barely awake to face the many faults in my life.
Lying on the warm grass, I stared into the eyes of the white illuminations that contrasted from the colour of the night. I kept my arms crossed over my chest, holding Augustus' note after reading it again. Even though I didn't want them to, tears itched at my eyes and gradually flowed over my face. There were more and more with each thought.
A world without Augustus Waters was like a summer night without the stars; you'd rather not have it, but it was livable. Not likable, but livable. I would have to live with the occasional excruciating pain of my crappy lungs, and the absence of Augustus. Something, I never thought I would be able to do.
Every few minutes, something silly would remind me of him and an image of his lovely crooked smile would pop up in my head. Then all the thoughts would come back, leaving me worse than before.
After crying, I was exhausted, my lungs hurt, and I felt dry, like all of my water has been drained out of me, which is ironic considering the fact that my lungs frequently filled with fluid. I was almost out of breath, even though I had my nubs secured. I probably looked like a mess, with my hair all ruffled and my face flushed, dense and puffy. But I imagined Augustus telling me I was beautiful anyways, and me smacking him on the shoulder. Even with all the 844 220 people living in Indianapolis, I must've be the only one who cared that much. My thought changed a moment later.
"Hazel," my mother called. "A friend's here to see you."
I sat up, turned towards the backyard door, and saw Isaac stumbling in with his walking stick, Mom guiding him.
"Oh, um, walk straight... and... sit." I said, helping to guide Isaac.
He sat down next to me, pushing his cane together to make it smaller. Once settled, he jittered his leg a little bit, making him appear worried.
"Isaac..." I said before trailing off.
Before I could ask if everything was okay, he spoke.
"Hazel," he said a little anxiously while running a hand through his short black hair.
"Yes?"
"I-I can't do this." he stuttered as he shook his head. "I hate having no one to talk to for anything, I hate having no guy to play video games with, and I hate this cruel world without Gus."
"It's okay," I said not knowing what else to say. After receiving no response, I desperately tried again. "It'll get better, I promise."
"I'm blind, not deaf." he snapped suddenly, much louder than he'd been talking to me before. "Don't you dare promise anything, Hazel."
"Look, you have me. I know I'm not as great as Gus, but I'm all you get for now." I said.
Isaac remained silent for a while before absent-mindedly saying, "Thanks."
Honestly, I felt bad for him. First, he had Monica leave him, then, he turned blind for God sakes, and finally, his best friend died. What a life.
When I looked over at Isaac, he was oddly solemn and probably lost in thought. I knew he could get pretty emotional, considering the fact that he'd almost destroyed Gus's basement the night he threw a tantrum over Monica. Behind his solid black glasses, I could never know what he was thinking.
"Hey," I said. He turned his head to face me and I hugged him, offering him some sort of comfort. Little did he know, he was giving me comfort too. Over his shoulder, I could hear him sniffling quietly. Out of nowhere, I felt the urge to cry once more, not being able to hold it in, and buried my face into Isaac's shoulder.
"Hey, Hazel?" he asked gently pushing off of me. "Do you think we can go see Gus' grave?"
"Sure. I'll drive."
The cemetery was eerie and quiet at night, so we felt that we needed to whisper, as if to not disturb the dead.
"Which one is his? I can't read in this lighting." Isaac asked sarcastically.
I noticed the bunch of flowers that were sprawled across his tombstone, and walked towards it, dragging my oxygen tank behind me.
I didn't really know what to do at someone's grave. Well, it was Isaac's idea to come.
"How are you holding up?" I asked.
His lips curled up into a smirk and he said, "Better than when Monica left me."
"Oh, that was terrible. Were you aware that you were acting completely idiotic?"
"I think so. I don't know. It was all a blur." he replied. "Oh, and could you give me a ride to support group tomorrow? My mom's busy."
"Yeah, sure."
"Thanks."
Silence.
"I think I should drop you home now. It's getting late." I said.
"Alright." he said. "Thanks again for everything, Hazel-Grace."
I giggle a little before rolling my eyes and saying, "Just Hazel."
In my car, I tried to engage Isaac in some conversation to get his mind off of things.
"Wait, so, he was in your car?" he asked with amusement.
"Yes! Peter Van Houten just popped out of nowhere and started talking to me." I scoffed and continued. "Like I would let him talk to me after what happened in Amsterdam. God, he was such a jerk."
Isaac laughed and I joined in. His laugh was contagious, and my anger towards Peter Van Houten disappeared.
"And then," I said while laughing. "He takes another swig of his drink, after announcing that he'd changed."
"Wow."
"Speaking of Peter Van Houten, you definitely have to read his book called An Imperial Affliction, which is my favourite book."
Isaac turned to face me for a long time with a blank facial expression until I realized that he was blind, and he couldn't read.
"Oh my god. I-I'm sorry. I totally forgot,"
"No, it's okay. I understand that people just can't help making fun of blind people. It just comes naturally. I get it." he said. I realized that Isaac was pretty sensitive. He turned away from me and lowered his head.
"I wasn't trying to make fun of you. I honestly forgot."
"Could you just... focus on finding my house, please?" He seemed a little heartbroken, but I didn't know what to do. I was never good at making people feel better. It was usually other people who would try to make me feel better. So the rest of the way to Isaac's house, we drove in deafening silence.