Like Gus Did

Chapter 1: The Beginning Of The End

ISAAC
as Isaac gazed into hazel's intense green eyes, he suddenly realised what had happened. what he had done. What they both had done. Hazel's eyes then changed. They were full of a sudden realisation. It had hit her too.

---
it had been about a year since Augustus Waters had passed and neither Hazel nor Isaac had gotten over the pain of losing him. They both still attended the Support Group, Patrick still whined about his lack of balls, more kids came and went. It was all still so familiar. Yet, it couldn't have been more different. There was no Augustus Waters.
---

HAZEL
It was in the early summer months of Hazel's 19th year that she was diagnosed with depression. And this time she didn't argue. She herself agreed. She was depressed. She submit herself into her depression and accepted it for what it was. The doctors didn't seem too concerned about it. They said it happened to a lot of cancer patience and that it was not unheard of. But both her parents denied it and refused to believe that she was.
Pretty ironic considering...

But she had perfectly good enough reasons to be depressed, she though. For starters, Kaitlyn had moved to Portland. She was offered a job at a magazine company and jumped at the opportunity. In Hazel's opinion, she jumped so violently that she forgot to even say goodbye to her. Some friendship that was...

Along with Kaitlyn's abrupt departure, they didn't play reruns of Americas Next Top Model anymore and that in it's self is very depressing Hazel thought.

And then there was Gus...

It was another Wednesday. Hazel had started to even look forward to Wednesdays now, sad as that is. It was the one day she left the house. She never left the comfort of her home for anything other than Support Group nowadays. Because, what was the point? It was so hot outside, that after a few minutes she'd be drenched in her own sweat anyway and that was just gross in itself. So no, outside wasn't worth it.

On that particular afternoon in the piping hot June weather, Hazel drove herself, for the first time, to support group. She had started driving lessons a month or two back and passed her test. Second time round. It wasn't her fault her teacher was shitty and blind and should have been glad that she didn't hit that child on the bike. She drove slowly and steadily, and not rashly like Gus did.

Gus...

"MOM!" she called out into the hall, grabbing her keys from the little bowl on the three-legged table that stood in the hall.

"Yes!! I'm here what wrong? Are you ok?" Hazel's mom came running down the stairs, and stood on the landing to look at Hazel, out of breath. She always expected the worse, which really, she shouldn't.

Hazel had been completely fine for over 6 months now. Well, completely fine except for the cancer.

"I'm leaving now, Support Group awaits my presence" she said, sardonically, as she grasped the door and placing the back of her hand to her forehead for emphasis.

"I'll be back before ten" she said, righting herself and closing the door behind her before her mom got a chance to say anything.

She struggled into her dads, soon to be her, pick up truck, stuck one of Gus' old Hectic Glow CD's in the stereo and started the peaceful, weekly drive to Support Group, lost in her thoughts.

Recently she'd been thinking. About Gus, their relationship, and what they had.

It had been real. More real than anything she had ever experienced ever. And she missed that realness.
She missed Gus. But she knew he'd have wanted her to move on and to be happy again. To live her life to its fullest.

So that was what she decided to do. Right then, in that old truck, with the old, rattly air conditioning turned up so high she could almost just about hear the faint sound of Hectic Glow's solemn drum beat.

She rounded the corner into the parking lot of the church and swiftly parked in one of the many empty spaces in front of the church. She took the keys out of the ignition and stuffed then into her back pocket.

"well Gus, this is me," she muttered to herself as she, pulling her cannula along behind her, descending, not so gracefully from the car,

"moving on,"