TFiOS Epilogue

So, I wrote an epilogue to John Green's The Fault in Our Stars and I decided to post it up here as a short little thingiemabobber.

All characters and quotes and stuff belong to the brilliant John Green.

Epilogue

Two years ago, Augustus Waters, the star-crossed love of my life, died because his body was made of cancer.

Last night, when I woke up at 1:24 am feeling like I was drowning, I knew that it was My Time. Philanxifor had lost its magic about two weeks ago. Since then, it had been a waiting game.

Now I was in a hospital with my parents beside me, and I was about to die.

My under-oxygenated brain was pounding in my head. Every breath hurt. My lungs felt like they were burning. I couldn't get nearly enough air; my breath came in short, painful bursts. And don't even get me started on trying to talk.

The heart monitor beeped: loud, high, and fast. Machines pumped medicine and drugs into my body, but I knew they weren't going to do anything. My Time was now; machines wouldn't be of much use. My infinity had come to an end.

I could hear my parents beside me: my father crying with his head in his hands, my mother talking to the nurse. I was suddenly overcome with the need to say goodbye to them. I needed to tell them I loved them and that they should move on after I died and not be part of the fifty percent of couples that split up.

"Mom." My voice was a whisper. She stopped talking to the nurse and focused on me. She squeezed my hand tighter. My dad's sobs died down (no pun intended), and he looked up at me.

"Yes, baby?" said my mom. Her voice was hollow. I understood that she was trying to contain her grief for me. I was glad for it. One crying parent was enough; I wouldn't be able to handle two.

"I . . . I love you guys," I said, which was really hard. I broke into a fit of coughing. I couldn't breathe; it felt like I was drowning.

"Hush, Hazel," whispered my dad, stroking my hair. "Honey, don't talk. It's okay."

Okay.

That word. It didn't mean the same thing anymore. It didn't simply mean that everything was alright. Okay was a promise. A vow.

"Okay," I whispered to my parents.

Darkness began to swirl in, and I felt myself drifting away. I was going. Desperately, I tried to say something else to my parents, but I was already gone.

~*~

I couldn't help but be a grenade. I'd known I was going to die, and I'd known I was going to hurt people. There was nothing I could do about it, and I'd accepted that two years ago.

But everyone would be alright.

My parents would move on. My mom would become a Patrick, and my dad would be there next to her, supporting her through anything and everything, because they loved each other and nothing could change that. They were part of the other fifty percent: The fifty percent whose love was so strong that nothing could sever it.

Isaac and Kaitlin would help each other through my death. Isaac had once told me that he believed in true love. He'd thought he'd had it with Monica, but she left him after he lost his eyes.

I'd never seen him happier than when he was with Kaitlin. What those two had: that was true love.

And when he got his robot eyes, the world would be Augustus-less and Hazel-less, but he would be able to see Kaitlin, and maybe through her shirt, which I knew he was excited about.

It couldn't have ended better. I may not have saved the world, or made a huge impact. My mark might have been a scar, but thanks to Augustus, I was okay that. I couldn't help whom I hurt in the world, but I chose who hurt me, and through the last minute, I liked my choices. I always had.

Two years ago, I learned that some infinities are bigger than other infinities. I may have only had eighteen years, but to me, it was an infinity enough.

It was then that I began to see the proverbial bright, white light shining at the end of the tunnel of darkness. In front of that light stood a tall, lean form. An unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth, a metaphor in and of itself. His lips were quirked in that grin of his. He was waiting for me.

I'm coming, Augustus.

I'm coming.