11. dark

ELEVEN

dark

Saturday, March 15th

Isaiah didn't realize it right away, but he was starting to get out more. Excluding anything baseball related, which continued to surprise his family. When he told them he was going out in the evening with his friends, his father's jaw practically dropped to the floor.

"Again?" He asked, and Isaiah frowned. His dad turned to his mother and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Rose, is our son officially getting a life?"

Isaiah gaped at him. "Dad!"

"Am I wrong?" the man replied, and Isaiah narrowed his eyes. "I wasn't surprised with Ashton's birthday, obviously. If you didn't go, I must've gone wrong in raising you. And then the movie before that."

Wasn't a movie, Isaiah thought sheepishly. It was a party. But this time it's a movie, so.

"Leave me alone," Isaiah groaned. "I get it, I'm doing stuff. Big deal."

"It is a big deal," his father insisted. "Staying cooped up in the house all the time isn't good. I almost thought all your friends were figments of my imagination."

Rose sighed. "Everett, you're so dramatic."

"I'm not. I'm simply voicing my concerns."

Isaiah rolled his eyes when his parents weren't looking. If they saw, his mother would've popped him in the mouth. "Dad, don't you have to go to work or something?"

"Don't try to get rid of me, boy."

Isaiah pursed his lips in reply. His father chuckled and reached out to ruffle his hair affectionately, sliding his hand to the back of his neck to tug him into a short hug. "I'm kidding," he said, squeezing his shoulder. "But I do have to go."

"Okay," Isaiah said, pulling away. "Are you coming to my game this Wednesday?"

His father's kind smile turned apologetic. "I don't know," he admitted. "I hope I can."

Isaiah visibly deflated. He nodded in understanding and left the room, his good mood squashed underneath the heavy weight of that revelation. Why did I ask? He already knew he wouldn't be able to. Do I like to torture myself or something?

If he could hardly deal with his father rarely being able to come to regular games, he didn't know how he'd feel if he couldn't attend the playoffs. The thought made his stomach churn; it was his senior year. He needed his dad to be there. Just once.

It was unlikely, very unlikely. His dad worked as a paramedic at the hospital. He woke up around five on the weekdays to go in, and wouldn't come back until much, much later. On the weekends he could go in a bit later, but not much. It felt like he was never home, so when he had a chance to go to his game a couple weeks ago, Isaiah had never been happier. Today, when he woke up and saw his dad still hadn't left, he was beyond excited.

Isaiah could only hope for the best.

Upon entering his room, he checked the time. 10:52 AM. He had eight hours until the movie, and he didn't quite know what to do until then. He could go to the batting cages, but it was hot and humid outside. He could go on YouTube, but none of his favorite creators had uploaded anything. He picked at his comforter, bored out of his mind despite just waking up.

He was about to go downstairs to bother his mom, but his phone buzzed, stopping him. He glanced down, surprised when he read August's name glowing on his screen.

August: tomorrow I have a physical therapy appt and morgan can't take me like she usually does and my parents will be working. do you mind taking me lol it's @ 2 pm

Isaiah: yeah sure! I'm not busy

August: lmao good bc if you wouldn't be able to take me, my next option would be ashton and no thank you! love him n all but I don't wanna sit through his endless questions

Isaiah: Valid lol by the way, did you end up having to present or anything?

August: not in front of the class, no. he asked for me during seventh to present to him alone so i could get a grade pffft. i was so ready to take a zero

Isaiah: That's good! (-: good thing he was understanding

August: lmao i sure hope he would be understanding, he's a psychology teacher. mr. ambrose

Isaiah: you have him too?

Isaiah ended up texting August for a lot longer than he expected. It was easier to make conversation over text than in person, because texting gave you time to think of a response. He kind of prefered it over talking, as most teenagers would.

It was almost twelve when August stopped responding completely. His replies gradually became slower until they stopped altogether, and Isaiah didn't know what he should think. Was he busy? Did he find it boring, or even annoying, to talk to Isaiah? He wanted to slap himself for overthinking.

Maybe it was nothing. His phone could've died, or—

Isaiah stopped himself. Stop thinking about it, it doesn't matter. He got underneath his covers and pulled them up to his chin, putting in his headphones that he had to hold at an angle to be able to hear. It was annoying, but he was too lazy to buy a new pair.

For hours he scrolled through apps until he'd seen everything. It was five when August texted him back.

August: big yikes. sorry - i should've told you i got busy before i just disappeared lmao. family things :/

Isaiah: It's okay! I hope things are fine D:

Isaiah hated how fast he replied; it made him wince. He'd never been so conscious of what he was saying and how fast he was saying it before, until now. He wondered if he was alone in that or not.

August: thanks

Oh God, he's annoyed, Isaiah found himself thinking. He's probably thinking it's weird how I responded so quickly. Shit.

August: the movie is at 7 right?

Isaiah: Yeah. I'm picking Ashton and Steve up

August: got room for two more? lol morgan got her car taken away because she's failing a class atm. and i don't have my license, i'll send you my address

Isaiah: sure! I don't mind (-:

August: cool

Isaiah sat there for a few moments, waiting for another response before he gave up and went back to what he'd been doing before. So August had been busy. Isaiah had worried over nothing. As he always seemed to do.

___

Isaiah left forty five minutes before seven so he could pick everyone up on time. He was like an Uber to every single person he knew; it was because everyone else was too lazy to get a license, or they just couldn't for some reason. It was fun at first, but now it was getting kind of annoying.

He'd never admit that though. He was too nice for his own good when it came to those he cared about.

He picked Steve up first, who climbed in without a word, save for a simple "hey, thanks." And then Ashton came second, and he was talking a mile a minute before he even touched the car door, as if he expected them to hear him. They didn't, but they pretended to understand what he was talking about anyway.

"Oh, by the way," Ashton said, changing the subject from his other conversation. "I looked up the reviews. It's like, fifty fifty. Some people loved it and said it was a wonderful romance, and then other people were like—" He changed his voice from high-pitched, to low and angry. "—it's abusive! He's gross! That girl is dumb! Why is this a thing? Gah!"

"Not surprised," Steve commented.

Ashton shrugged. "I mean, I don't care. I'm not interested in movies."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you coming?"

The other boy beamed. "Because I wanna hang out with you guys!"

"I—" Steve stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ashton, stop being so fucking adorable."

Isaiah snorted. "The bromance here is thriving."

Ashton grinned and sat back in his seat, gaze moving to the window to watch the scenery pass by in a blur of color. Steve fiddled with the radio and Isaiah focused on driving. He'd never been to August's house, and despite having his address in the GPS, he kept making wrong turns.

Finally, he'd made it after some trial and error. He sent a text to August saying he was outside and leaned back, blowing out a breath of air. Steve glanced over at him.

"Did you want to come?" he asked, misreading Isaiah's sigh as distaste. In reality, he was just tired. He didn't know why, he just was. He wanted to hang out with them and make fun of the shit movie, but he also kind of wanted to take a nap. Maybe he could, in the theater. It was rude to talk during a film anyway.

Isaiah chuckled. "Yes, I want to. I'm just tired," he said honestly.

Steve hummed. "Did you not get enough sleep or something?"

"No, I did. Eight hours. Lately though, no matter how much I sleep, I still get exhausted pretty easily."

"Maybe it's stress," Ashton piped up. "Playoffs and studying for exams. And the Marcus thing."

"And the Marcus thing," Isaiah echoed. Just thinking about him made his chest ache. He still wouldn't acknowledge him. Isaiah felt uncomfortable being left in the dark. It had always scared him when he was little. He supposed it continued to now.

Steve reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "Don't worry about it right now," he suggested. "Focus on your friends and tonight. It'll be fun, I promise."

Isaiah smiled and nodded. "Okay."

Moments later the car door opened, and Morgan slid in next to Ashton. August took a bit more time getting situated, wincing every now and then until he'd finished. He cleared his throat and tapped the back of Steve's seat.

"Can you scoot your seat up a bit?" he asked, and Steve nodded, quickly fixing his seat. August sighed in relief. "Thanks. My leg can't stay folded up for long."

Ashton furrowed his brows and leaned forward to look at August. He pointed at his leg. "That one was hurt too?"

"No shit," Steve mumbled.

August cracked a small, amused smile. "Yeah, it is. The only difference is that it wasn't chopped off."

"August," Morgan hissed. "You're so vulgar."

"Am I wrong?"

Morgan rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. Isaiah had a feeling August said stuff like that a lot in response to people's nagging questions. It made him hold back a grin.

Ashton continued to ask questions the whole way to the theater. Each time, August uttered a sarcastic response that sounded too serious. So, as expected, Ashton continued to take him seriously.

"A shark?" he cried in disbelief. "That's crazy!"

Steve facepalmed. "Ash, he's kidding."

Ashton visibly deflated and frowned. He looked at August. "Really?" He sounded disappointed.

August couldn't hold back the laugh that left him. Isaiah found himself grinning to himself at the sound; it was contagious. "Ashton, I've been kidding the whole time," he wheezed out. "I'm so sorry, oh my God."

Ashton didn't reply and slumped back, deciding to ignore August's apologies. He was quiet the rest of the ride there, which was a new record. Isaiah knew he wouldn't stay mad for long - he had all kinds of things bustling around in his mind, all wanting to leave through his mouth at once. He theorized that he'd give up as soon as they started walking to the entrance.

He was right. Once they'd gotten to the door, Ashton said, "I want to see a scary movie next time. Steve, you're coming with me. Because I know Isaiah's a pussy, and August and Morgan I still don't know that well."

August shrugged. "Valid."

Isaiah scowled. "I'm not a—" He pursed his lips. The word sounded weird on his tongue. He refused to say it.

"What? Pussy?" August nudged his shoulder against Isaiah's playfully. He hated that it sent a shock up his arm. He thought this was over and done with, but he guessed not. His luck was spectacular.

Ashton urged Steve to give him quarters for the claw machine a few feet ahead of them. Morgan was trailing beside Isaiah and August, listening to their conversation with upturned lips. She was silent but evil, Isaiah thought.

"Leave me alone," Isaiah grumbled. "I just don't like horror movies."

"Boring," August drawled. "Horror movies are the best. Especially the shitty ones. Are you scared of the bad ones too?"

Isaiah's silence gave August a clear answer. The blond burst into laughter, causing Isaiah's ears to burn in embarrassment. August's laugh had people glancing their way. Isaiah wanted to hide. Morgan rammed her elbow into August's side.

"Ignore him," Morgan said with a sigh. "His hobby is being an asshole. He thinks that because he has one leg, he gets free passes to be a dick."

"Hey!" August exclaimed, scowling. "Fuck you."

Morgan gave Isaiah a look. "See?"

August glared at her before looking ahead with a grumpy look on his face. Morgan chuckled quietly to herself. Isaiah admired their friendship because they were close, and they could say anything around each other. August didn't seem to mind the jokes made about his leg. If anything, he enjoyed them.

The group piled into the movie theatre, taking their seats all the way in the back for a full view. Isaiah ended up next to August, whose seat was at the very end of the row so he could stretch out. Their shoulders brushed when they sat down, then their elbows when they both went to claim the armrest. Isaiah jerked away, refraining from looking over to see if August had noticed his dumb reaction.

It was thirty minutes into the movie when August leaned over to whisper to Isaiah. His breath on his ear made him flustered, and he hoped the dim lighting hid his expression of utter terror. Not because of August, really. But because of how Isaiah couldn't fucking control his reactions and his feelings. He wanted them to go away. You'd think knowing August wasn't interested in him that way would get rid of his situation, but if anything, it made it worse.

"I need to use the bathroom," August whispered, and Isaiah snorted inwardly. "I don't wanna go there alone. Can you come with?"

Isaiah blinked, nodding quickly. "Yeah, yeah. Sure." He turned to Steve next to him and said, "We'll be right back." The boy nodded absently, oddly absorbed into the shit movie. Isaiah glanced at the screen. He supposed it was so bad that it was interesting.

He followed August down the steps and out of the room, squinting his eyes to adjust to the lighting difference. August walked straight past the bathrooms, causing Isaiah to falter. "August—"

"I don't actually have to piss," August stated, turning his head to grin at him. "Follow me."

Isaiah frowned, hesitating momentarily. "Where are you going?"

"Scary movie," he said simply. "A really good one is out right now. We can catch the rest of it. Come on."

"I don't like horror movies."

"I know. Which is why we're gonna sneak into one. Come on," August said, holding his arm out and waving his hand, gesturing for him to come with. Isaiah stared at his hand, looked at his face, and then reluctantly followed him to a room a few doors down from theirs.

They slid into the seats at the very bottom where no one else was. Isaiah didn't blame them; who would want to watch a horror movie up close? August would. The blond looked excited to see the movie, a complete difference from where they were at before. His eyes were gleaming, the blue light reflecting in his seafoam irises. His mouth was pulled up at the corner into a small smile, a lock of hair dangling in front of it. The rest was tucked behind his ears, and his eyebrows were lifted slightly, Adam's apple bobbing every now and then. Isaiah's first thought was: he looked cute like this.

And his second was: fuck. I really do like him.

___

what's your favorite type of cliché or trope? or do you dislike them all?