24. raw

TWENTY FOUR

raw

Thursday, April 3rd

Isaiah was speechless.

He stared at August for a few moments after he finally finished speaking, and he watched him wipe away the stray tears that had escaped. He listened to him sniffle, laugh awkwardly, and say, "I'm sorry. If it's too much for you, then—"

Isaiah stopped him by grabbing his hand, holding it tightly. August immediately broke down, burying his face against Isaiah's chest, arms wrapping around his waist, clinging onto him as if he would sink into the earth if he let go. So Isaiah held him just as tight.

It was the first time he'd really seen August cry, Isaiah thought. He heard him weeks ago behind the door of a bathroom stall. Had seen his tear-streaked cheeks and glassy eyes, but had never really witnessed him cry like he was now. It was quiet, sure, with soft hiccups, shaky breaths, and muffled sobs against Isaiah's t-shirt. He was a quiet crier, and he wondered if he'd still been silent back then. It ripped him apart to think about.

"I'm so sorry," Isaiah whispered against the top of his head, fisting the back of his shirt in his hands. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. But I'm so glad you're here now, away from them."

August didn't say anything. He simply gripped Isaiah tighter, hands clutching at the back of his shirt, squeezing it in his fists. He seemed desperate, and Isaiah wasn't sure why, so he just pulled him closer and kept him there, watching the scenery behind him. Barely anyone was out, and Isaiah looked up, noticing the clouds that were turning gray. That was probably why.

He glanced back down at the boy who refused to pull away and frowned deeply. Isaiah knew people were cruel, especially around specific parts of Texas, but he didn't realize just how much. It sent fear through him, but it didn't scare him as much as the thought of August getting hurt again. As much as anyone getting hurt again. He'd do anything to get the people he cared about out of such terrible situations.

Isaiah brushed his fingers through August's hair, heel of his hand resting against his forehead and gently pushing his head back so he'd look at him. "Think you can make it through the rest of the day?" he asked, removing his hand and placing it on the side of his neck. No one's around.

August smiled weakly, nodding. "I'll be okay," he said, but Isaiah didn't know if he was being honest or not. "Just two hours left. Not much."

"You're sure?" Isaiah pushed, pressing his thumb against August's jawline, and August rolled his eyes, smile becoming a bit brighter. It made Isaiah feel better.

"I'm sure." August placed his hand over Isaiah's, closing his eyes, smile fading. "I just wanna sit here a little longer. Crying is exhausting."

Isaiah nodded, guiding his head to his shoulder, letting him lean there for the rest of lunch. Not many words were spoken, other than quiet questions and tiny giggles when one of them made a lame joke to try and brighten the mood. But Isaiah didn't mind if August was in a bad mood. Sometimes it felt refreshing to not be happy for once. Everyone needed a moment to be vulnerable, and Isaiah was more than happy to give that to August.

To be honest, he'd give him anything.

___

At the end of the day (or, kind of, since they had seventh period off), Isaiah waited for August outside his sixth. The boy took longer that normal, and when he peeked through the rectangular window, he caught a glimpse of him in the middle of a conversation with his teacher.

Just as he scooted away from it, the door swung open, barely missing his nose. His eyes widened, and his hand went to cover what was almost hit, gaze lifting to look at who had been so close to crushing him. He'd never seen the guy a day in his life, but he was glaring daggers, a bruise swelling on the side of his mouth. It made him look a lot more scary.

He watched him warily as he left, only averting his eyes when the door opened again, and out came August. He looked exhausted, eyes puffy, cheeks splotchy with pink. Isaiah smiled, touched his arm gently, and the blond just shuffled into his chest, hugging him loosely.

"Oh, well. Hi there," Isaiah mumbled, placing his hand on the back of August's head, locks of hair bunched up against his palm. "Tired?"

August nodded against the fabric of his shirt. "Yeah," he replied, voice muffled. "My eyes sting. And my head hurts."

"As expected, since you were crying and got your head slammed against a locker," Isaiah stated matter-of-factly. August pinched his hip in response, causing him to jerk with a quiet yelp of surprise. August was hiding a smile, which made the action tolerable.

Isaiah's hand slid down to his shoulder, patting it lightly. "Do you need anything?" he asked, his free hand reaching for his car keys in the pocket of his backpack. "I can take you home, if you want. I'm sure Morgan wouldn't mind not having to take you home for one day."

"Okay," August said, taking a step away. Isaiah's chest felt lonely, as stupid as it sounded. "Can you stay over for a little bit, then?"

"Yeah. Of course. Anything."

August nodded and started to walk away, Isaiah taking the spot at his side. The blond was quiet the whole way to his car, brows furrowed and eyes unfocused. He had to pull him to the side to avoid him getting hit by a pole or a kid on a bike. He would come back to reality for a few seconds, then would succumb to his thoughts just as fast.

During the ride to his house, Isaiah couldn't stop stealing glances at him. He had his head pressed against the window, not even caring when it tapped against it when Isaiah accidentally drove over a bump in the road. In his hands was a tiny, foam baseball that he kept squeezing, nails making half-crescents into the foam that faded after a couple moments. Isaiah had seen him out of it before, just not this much.

He wondered if this was what he was like when he didn't text or talk to Isaiah for a few days after they kissed. It was the anniversary of what happened then, and he just had to go through his memories again. It made him feel so fucking guilty. He shouldn't have asked what happened. He should've waited until August was comfortable. But it was too late for that.

Isaiah reached over the median, pulled the ball out of August's grasp and replaced it with his hand. August snapped out of his thoughts and looked over, one of those soft, faint smiles gracing his mouth. He squeezed his hand and rested their laced fingers on his lap, going back to staring out the window.

When they were parked outside August's house, Isaiah reluctantly let go of his hand and turned off the car, locking the doors when they both got out. August was already making his way to his front door, keys jingling as he tried to find the right one. He seemed eager to just lay down and relax, which Isaiah didn't blame him for.

Once they were finally in August's room, August wasted no time climbing onto his bed and laying flat on his back, hugging a pillow to his chest. Isaiah cracked a smile, sent a quick text to his parents that he was at a friend's, and kicked off his shoes. He slid onto the bed, mattress creaking at the added weight, and looked down at the other boy, who kept his eyes focused on the ceiling.

"You need anything?" Isaiah asked after a couple moments, reaching out to tuck a curl behind August's ear. "Water? Something to eat?"

August shook his head. Isaiah sighed, eyes running across August's form before finally landing on his prosthesis. He frowned and pointed at his leg. "Do you at least want to take that off?"

He looked down to where Isaiah was pointing, frowned, then looked away. "I guess." But he didn't move, so Isaiah slid down to where his legs were and glanced up at him. He was looking away, and Isaiah wondered if it was that unbearable to look at it sometimes.

"If you tell me how, I can take it off for you," Isaiah offered, trying to meet August's gaze. "Is that okay?"

August sighed and sat up, tugging at the end of his pants. He didn't wear jeans much, only really wore anything but denim. "There's a zipper here," he explained, then tugged at it, pulling it up all the way to where his knee should've been. From there he took off the prosthesis, going slow so Isaiah could see what to do. "There are a lot of options for pants," he mumbled, "but the zipper thing was easiest. And it's barely visible, so that's cool." He pulled it out of the socket and set it to the side, his frown deepening as he made to take the socket off as well, thick with padding.

Isaiah nodded at the socket. "What's with all the padding on it?" he asked. August snorted.

"Just to have it fit right," he said, sliding it off. "I have to clean it later."

Isaiah glanced at him. "I can do it," he offered.

August bit back an amused smile. "Don't worry about it," he chuckled, reaching out to pat Isaiah's cheek. "My stepdad doesn't mind doing it every now and then. Especially when I'm not feeling the best. He does what he can."

Isaiah watched him set his prosthetic, along with the socket, down and up against the wall. He shifted back against his pillows, pulling his blanket over the stump, blatantly uncomfortable with Isaiah seeing it, even though he'd seen it once before.

"It's okay," Isaiah whispered, laying down beside him. He looked up, lifting his hand to trace the line of his jaw. "I know you're still insecure about it, but I want you to know that I don't mind it, okay? So don't be scared around me."

August pursed his lips, a mischevious gleam in his eyes. "Remember when you bashed me for not being able to play baseball a while back?" he asked, and Isaiah felt himself freeze up. He gave Isaiah a teasing look, obviously trying to switch up the subject. "You sure I shouldn't be scared?"

Isaiah quickly sat up, eyes wide. "You said you forgave me!" he exclaimed, looking embarrassed. "I said I was sorry. I was stupid and in a bad mood, but I'm making excuses I'm so sorry. I—"

"Oh my God, Isaiah," August wheezed, taking his face in his hands. "I was just messing with you, calm down. You poor thing."

Isaiah pouted. "You're an asshole."

"You're so cute," was all August said in reply. He leaned in to kiss him, gripping the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. Isaiah smiled against his lips, loving how August laughed and grinned. How he made jokes—loving the way it seemed to make him glow. It made him so much more beautiful.

They kissed for a while, Isaiah in complete and utter bliss with August in his arms. With August on his lips and skin. He could kiss him forever, loving the way his tongue slid across his, the way his nose bumped against his own. He loved everything August did. The way he laughed, how he managed to push through the bad and the good. How he smiled so brightly that it made Isaiah's chest squeeze - had his heart pounding against his ribcage, begging to be let free and where it belonged.

He felt the curve of August's lips against his, and that fucking smile had him thinking I'm the one making him this happy.

___

A/N: I love them 🥺