25. playoffs

TWENTY FIVE

playoffs

Thursday, April 10th

As the week passed, Isaiah had gotten a lot closer to August.

He'd seen him in a really upsetting state for a few days—refusing to leave his room unless he had to force himself to go to school. Isaiah couldn't help but feel like shit, wishing he was able to make all the bad feelings go away, but he knew it wasn't possible. Depression didn't just go away once you met someone who made you smile, even on the worst days.

August kept his hair up in a loose ponytail all week long, strands framing his face messily, but in a way that made it look good, oddly enough. Isaiah kind of missed him having his hair down and being able to tuck those curls behind his ears, or brush strands out of his face. Maybe he just wanted excuses to touch him.

As gross as it sounded, August didn't shower, didn't brush his teeth twice a day, didn't run a comb through his hair. All for a whole seven days, until Isaiah went over there in the middle of the week and forced him into the bath. He managed to get him to brush his teeth at least once a day, ended up brushing his hair for him a lot of the time. He kind of felt like a caretaker.

"I know it's hard," Isaiah remembered saying, sat down next to an August-shaped lump underneath his duvet. "But it'll make you feel better, I promise. I'll even sit in the bathroom with you."

"I'm tired," August had replied, not budging at all. "I'll do it later."

Isaiah frowned. "You said that yesterday."

August was quiet. Isaiah sighed and stood up, ripping the covers off of August, revealing the boy who couldn't even find it in himself to glare or complain. Isaiah felt himself slump. Seeing him like this felt like a knife to the chest. He reached out and rubbed his thumb against his cheek, hand sliding to his shoulder.

"Come on," Isaiah ordered, moving to grab his arms and tugging. "Bath time. You stink." August reluctantly stood up with Isaiah, let him guide him to the bathroom, where he sat August down on the edge of the tub and started the bath for him. August watched silently, the sound of the rushing water drowning out Isaiah's rambling.

When he was sure the water was the right temperature, Isaiah shuffled over and helped August take off his prosthesis. He'd learned how to over the past couple days while August couldn't bring himself to do much, and it made August embarrassed, Isaiah could tell, but he let it happen.

Isaiah set it off to the side and stood, taking the hem of August's shirt in his hands. "Arms up," he said, and that's when August scowled, swatting at his wrists.

"I can do it," August muttered. "I'm not a baby."

Isaiah smiled in amusement, backing up and leaning against the counter. August awkwardly tugged off his shirt, holding it to his chest, acting as if Isaiah hadn't seen his bare torso before. He glared at Isaiah when he saw the teasing look on his face, waved his hand, gesturing for him to turn around.

He did just that, messing with the different items scattered across the counter. He could hear August's shuffling over the water, and heard a small splash, then August's voice saying, "You can turn around now."

Isaiah walked over to the tub and sat down on the floor, arm resting on the edge. "See?" he asked softly, "not so bad, right?"

All he got in response was a flick of water to the face.

Isaiah grinned, skimming his fingers along the surface of the water. He spotted a bottle of bubbles in the corner and reached for it, shaking it in front of August. "You want some bubbles, baby?"

August sunk down, only his chin above the water. "That would be cute," he began, eyes narrowed, "if I didn't know you were mocking me."

Isaiah chuckled and rested his cheek against his arm, playfully flicking water onto the other boy's nose. "First playoff game is tomorrow," he stated after a few moments of silence. "You gonna watch? It's fine if you don't feel like it. I mean, I'd understand, considering how you've been feeling the past week or so, you know?"

"Isaiah," August said, cracking a smile. "I'm going. So, shut up."

"Okay." He paused before standing up, rubbing at his elbow. "Do you need anything? I don't wanna sit in here while you—" He waved his hand at August. "—wash up 'n shit."

August snorted. "Don't be shy all of a sudden," he teased, and despite Isaiah's embarrassment, he was glad he could make him joke around again. "We both have di—"

"And that's my cue to leave," Isaiah interrupted, wiping his damp hand against his sweatpants. He jerked his thumb at the bathroom door. "I'm gonna sit in there. Call me if you need me, okay?"

August nodded. Isaiah smiled at him before leaving, climbing onto August's bed and pulling out his phone, answering texts he'd missed while trying to get August up. Only one Isaiah found important, and it was from Morgan.

Morgan: hey, tell august i'm sorry i haven't been able to be with him at all this week. i know he's down in the dumps, and i feel bad. i got a job and it's keeping me from him. like whenever i get off work, august is already passed tf out. and that's at like, 8 pm. wack.

Isaiah: will do lol. I managed to get him to bathe, so. and he's going to the playoffs game tomorrow. He'll be there for you to get all motherly over.

Morgan: you're an angel 🥺 thank u. i know august can be difficult when he's feeling like this, so i'm really happy you're sticking by his side despite that.

Isaiah: of course. I don't know where else I'd rather be.

___

Friday, April 11th

"I'm freaking the fuck out, guys."

Ashton was pacing back and forth next to Isaiah's car, cleats trudging across the gravel. Steve and Isaiah shared a look, before the former sighed and set his bag down, walking over to Ashton so he could wrap an arm around his shoulders, the other hand lifting up to ruffle his hair.

"Steve, you know I hate that," Ashton complained, pushing at his arm. "Marcus, help."

Marcus glanced at the two, then at Isaiah, then down at his bag. "Uh," he began, scratching at the back of his neck, "he's just trying to help."

"By ruining my hair?" Ashton groaned, pushing at Steve's chest, eventually getting him to back off.

Steve scowled. "Don't know why you're whining about your hair," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's gonna be under a hat and helmet soon enough."

Isaiah snorted and grabbed his bag, heading to the field, leaving the two bickering back and forth. He thought he was walking alone until Marcus jogged up beside him, and the atmosphere was still tense, but not as much as before. Marcus cleared his throat and hesitantly nudged his shoulder with his.

"Is August okay?" he asked slowly, frowning. "He's been kinda depressed all week."

Isaiah bit his lip. "He'll be okay." He glanced up at Marcus, squinting due to the sun. "Thanks for helping him, by the way. He told me about that."

"Yeah, no problem," Marcus replied, shrugging the strap of his bag further up his shoulder. He paused, then added hesitantly, "You two seem really close."

Isaiah kept from tensing up. Yeah, if you count making out and cuddling close. "I guess," is what he said instead. Marcus hummed in thought, and the sound of gravel crunching under their feet, shouting from the field and dugouts, drowned out the silence that settled between them.

It was when they were putting their things down in the dugout that Marcus spoke up again. "I'm sorry," he stated suddenly, and when Isaiah looked up, Marcus appeared troubled. "For what I did to you."

Isaiah laughed lightly. "I thought we already talked about that," he replied. "Like I said, it's fine now. Don't worry about it."

"But it's not," Marcus whispered, hand curled into a fist against his glove. "It's not fine." He rubbed at his face, dropping down onto the bench, eyes trained on the other players on the field. "You're too... forgiving when it comes to people you're close to," he continued. "I made up some lie because I was insecure. And it could've ruined your life, because the world fucking sucks, and I don't think I can ever not be sorry. No matter what you say."

Isaiah faltered. Marcus had always refused to show his feelings, so this felt like a slap to the face. "I know you're sorry," he told him, crossing his arms against his chest. "And actions speak louder than words. I know you're trying."

Marcus inhaled deeply, shoulders shaking momentarily. "I feel like you don't trust me anymore," he said quietly. Isaiah opened his mouth to respond, but Marcus cut him off with, "And I get it. I do. I don't blame you. I just wish I could go back in time and change everything. It sucks, because I want to be your friend again."

Isaiah paused. He found himself thinking don't you fucking dare, but then his lips were saying, "August and I are close." Marcus looked up, confused at the change in subject. Isaiah then added slowly, "Closer than we should be." And then he grabbed his glove and hurried out to the field, not wanting to see the look on Marcus' face when he realized what he'd meant. If he realized at all.

The jitters in his limbs were still present even when Steve finally reached the field, ball fit snugly inside his glove. "Warm up time," he said, smirking. "Don't lose all your skill like last time."

"It'd be nice if you could fuck off."

Steve snorted, then threw the ball, the two passing it back and forth. They ended up having to throw it to others around the field, then back to each other. The movement was slowly beating down the lightness in his legs and arms, and he felt himself going back to normal, feeling much more different than he did the last time he played.

The game started off slow, then picked up around the third inning with three runs from their team, and two from the other. The score stayed close the whole game, and Isaiah was convinced it would somehow end in a tie until Ashton hit a homerun with two other players on second and third base. Three runs, and with one from the other team the next, it let Isaiah and his team with a 6-3 win.

Isaiah felt like his legs were going to break apart when he reached the dugout after the mandatory hand shake at the end of the game. He downed his water while the coach spoke to them, giving tips and criticizing when he had to. Once it was over, Ashton let out a loud, unnecessary groan.

"That was too close for the first game," Ashton whined, pressing his water bottle against the back of his neck to cool off. "I hope the next team is shit. I need an easy one."

"All cocky because you hit one homerun," Steve teased, but he sounded very serious, so much so that it made Ashton frown. Steve noticed and quickly added, "I was kidding. You did good."

The group left the dugout, and as soon as they did, Isaiah was met with the sight of August and Morgan. The former was still not looking the best, but he had a soft smile that made Isaiah's heart pound a little faster. Morgan reached out and shoved at Isaiah's shoulder with an excited grin.

"There was this scout," she exclaimed. "He was watching you the whole time and kept asking questions."

Isaiah's eyes grew wide. "Really?" he asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "I wasn't nearly as impressive as Ashton was. Are you serious?"

She nodded, then moved on to the other three, congratulating them with a smile, less bouncy when she was around Steve. Isaiah turned to August and playfully squeezed at the messy ponytail at the back of his head. "You hungry?" he asked, removing his hand reluctantly.

"Yeah, kind of," August admitted, and it sent a spark of hope to the center of Isaiah's chest. Lack of appetite is usually a sign of depression, Isaiah remembered reading. But August was hungry. He looked him over once more and grinned. He's starting to feel better, I think.

Isaiah wrapped an arm around his shoulders and jostled him happily, walking alongside the rest of his friends. He glanced over, just in time to catch Marcus' curious gaze flit between Isaiah and August. Isaiah faltered, but didn't detect any sign of disgust in his gaze.

But he could definitely tell Marcus had realized the truth.

___

Q: have you played a sport before? or are you currently? if not, what are some of your hobbies?