bottled tears | TFiOS

iii.

her eyes scan over the last page again and she imagines herself in the call, in the alternate universe that herself and augustus had created when they spoke over the phone. oh, how she longs to call him and create the universe again. just to talk about an imperial affliction. she reminds herself of his smile and his voice and his endless metaphors. she reminds herself of his laugh and his tendency to make her smile. she wipes a tear from her eyes and shuts the book, slipping her blanket off of her. she adjusts the nubs in her nose and simply sits for a few more moments. 

every memory floods right back in. amsterdam, mainly. how they both became angry at peter van houten. how he was just a drunken mess. how amsterdam was simply beautiful. how he laughed and wondered, earlier than their trip to amsterdam, how the girl he had a crush on could have such cliche wishes of going to disney world with her parents. how they had a very lovely dinner that tasted as though it had been cooked by gods. and how they ate their very lovely dinner for free beside the canals of amsterdam at night. and how they had an incredulous amount of fun in the popular city in the netherlands.

and she remembers how they visited the anne frank house and how they had to climb a billion sets of stairs and how she continuously lost her breath. she remembers it all and more. their every memory. from their meeting in the literal heart of jesus to his death. his death. the one memory that hazel would be happy to forget but that simply won't escape her every thought. she rubs at her eye with a small frown dancing on her sore lips. she sniffles slightly and lets a quiet sob slip past her lips. she attempts a smile but instead she begins to cry.

tears stream down her face as she remembers everything. every little detail. everything about him, about his life, about his death. she is home alone, while her father works and her mother shops. she is home alone forced to reminisce in everything that she once loved. in everything that she still fails to stop loving. she remembers his last good day before his last good day. and then she remembers his last good day. and it makes her sad. well, sadder. and then, she hears a knock. she fears it is someone other than her mother so she pushes herself off of her bed, forcing herself to stand. she was previously told to never open the door when home alone but being as old she is, she feels as though she should. so, she slowly tip-toes to the bathroom and runs the water slowly.

it is cold but as soon as it hits her face she lets out a sigh of relief. that tapping at the door is continuous and irritating but hazel is savouring the cool water that rushes over her features, cooling her warm tears and lowering the inflammation of her eyes that had occurred during her short session of tears. she closes the tap firmly, her hand lingering by the handle for a few moments before she emerges from the bathroom. the knocking is still consistent but quieter. she calls out, "yes?" before opening the door. the person standing opposite her confuses and surprises her simultaneously. "hello?" she raises an eyebrow at the man. he lets a drunken smile slide onto his lips and she sighs. "why are you here, van houten?" there's a pause as he takes a sip from a flask in his hands and waves goodbye to the already departed taxi. 

"hi, hazel grace. how are you? may i enter?" he attempts to push his way past her but she blocks his entry way. he exhales slowly, the smell of alcohol filling hazel's nostrils and making her cringe. "why can't i enter?" she doesn't move a muscle; she simply stares at him with challenging eyes and a clenched jaw. "hazel," he coos, touching her arm with his long, bony finger. she flinches away from him. "let me in."

"my parents aren't home, van houten, leave."

"were you just about to eat lunch? i can smell something nice brewing." he inhales the smell of roasting chicken. hazel partially shrugs.

"i've been... reading. my mum must've placed chicken in the oven before she left."

"well," he pauses, awaiting a reaction from hazel, who, yet again, is unfazed. he rolls his orbs. "let's eat, then, hazel." he pushes past her in her moment of sheer confusion. she opens her mouth as if to call for him to leave the house at once but no words pass her cracked lips. she sighs slightly before hesitantly weaving her way through the couches with much ease to make her way to the dining area. she settles her oxygen cart beside her as she watches van houten carefully remove the chicken from the scalding hot oven. the thin cloth which he uses to prevent deep burns barely does a thing, making him wince. he doesn't yelp, though, in hopes that he will seem - to hazel - to be sober. though, of course, she can smell the reek of alcohol in his breath. 

"why are you here?" she croaks, picking at the chicken that sits in a plate in front of her. van houten brings his own plate over to join her. he pauses momentarily before smiling at her. 

"why did he die?" she exhales slightly in disbelief, making a face. she huffs and locks her jaw in place to the side of her features. "why do you love him? what makes you love him? what makes you continue being sad? what makes you continue loving him?" 

"maybe it's like when he told me that he loved me. it was so magical and beautiful and i felt it. i felt the love like never before. and i'm continuing to feel the love, van houten. and i don't want to let go of it because of it's power." she pauses and presses her eyes shut. "why did he die?" she hisses through gritted teeth, opening her eyes. "he died because something evil needed to take his angelic place. there you go. you may leave."

"i didn't mean it like that, hazel," he coos gently. she scoffs and stares at him with judging orbs. 

"then how did you mean it?" she snarls angrily. "did you mean 'let's just talk about the love of your life's death extremely casually because that's how you talk about death, is it not?' or, did you simply mean what you said? why the hell did he die?" the sound of rattling keys and her mother's voice interrupts her train of thought. 

"hello! how was your d - hazel?" she stares curiously at the two who sit picking at their chicken awkwardly. "peter van houten?" speculation creeps into her tone but the man doesn't notice it. much.

"you sound confused, mrs. lancaster," he chuckles shyly. she nods, her eyes narrowed. "well, i dropped by simply to wish your family the best in the future. the chicken was lovely." he pushes his chair out, the legs squeaking as they slide against the wooden floorboards. 

"thank you. hazel, will you please show him out?" she speaks slowly, only slightly more comfortable having him in the house. hazel nods and leads him to where he entered. he pecks her on the cheek and thanks her for letting him stay.

"don't keep popping in uninvited, please, van houten. it's not good for my mother." he smirks cockily before skipping out of the door. he waves slightly before hazel slams the door with a roll of her eyes.

"and why was he here?" her mother enters the corridor in front of the room with a grim expression that screams frustration yet, i'm-only-caring-about-my-daughter's-safety. 

"well... it's a long story."

 sorry, it's like really short! i'll make the next one longer, i promise.