augustus & isaac

2

Unthinkingly, Augustus slipped his hand into his pocket, running his thumb over the smooth surface of his phone.

Patrick had insisted that what he wanted to talk about had nothing to do with Isaac, but Augustus couldn’t shake the feeling that it must have been. After all, hadn’t they been perfectly content before he’d received that text?

His heart felt heavy. He had liked talking to Isaac, but everywhere he stepped he seemed to be running into negative feelings about their renewed attempt at friendship. Augustus even suspected his parents would be disapproving. They had not been at all happy with how they felt their son had been treated. It was something they had made known on numerous occasions.

Should he be feeling this way too? Disapproving? Rejecting? He had at first, but…. Was he forgiving too easily? Was an apology enough? It wasn’t as if he was entrusting Isaac with his life. They were just talking and it felt good to talk to him. Or at least…it had. 

Augustus flumped onto a nearby bench. The sense that he was treading across thin ice came back in full force. Even his relationship with Patrick, which he had always considered to be a reliable source of happiness, was apparently also treading on thin ice.

“It’s nothing bad, really.”

Nothing bad, huh? Well, it didn’t sound like anything good either.

Augustus Waters was a self-aggrandizing bastard. But we forgive him. We forgive him not because he had a heart as figuratively good as his literal one sucked, or because he knew more about how to hold a cigarette than any nonsmoker in history, or because he got eighteen years when he should’ve gotten more.’
‘Seventeen,’ Gus corrected.
'I’m assuming you’ve got some time, you interupting bastard.
'I’m telling you,’ Isaac continued, 'Augustus Waters talked so much that he’d interupt you at his own funeral. And he was pretentious: Sweet Jesus Christ, that kid never took a piss without pondering the abundant metaphorical resonances of human waste production. And he was vain: I do not believe I have ever met a more physically attractive person who was more acutely aware of his own physical attractiveness.
'But I will say this: When the scientists of the future show up at my house with robot eyes and they tell me to try them on, I will tell the scientists to screw off, because I do not want to see a world without him.’
I was kind of crying by then.” 
― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
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“I’m telling you,” Isaac continued, “Augustus Waters talked so much that he’d interrupt you at his own funeral. And he was pretentious: Sweet Jesus Christ, that kid never took a piss without pondering the abundant metaphorical resonances of human waste production. And he was vain: I do not believe I have ever met a more physically attractive person who was more acutely aware of his own physical attractiveness.”

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Augustus and Gemma IV (Pt. 1; Excerpt) 

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