17. on fire

SEVENTEEN

on fire

Friday, March 28th

Isaiah was convinced his English teacher was out to get her students.

The beginning of the year was okay, but once the second semester rolled around, she started handing out the hardest assignments. It was like she wanted them to fail. They were always solo projects, which usually, Isaiah was fine with. But not in her class. It was practically impossible to keep your sanity when working on her projects alone.

So when lunch came around, Isaiah wasted no time voicing his complaints to his friends. "I'm gonna die," he groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I haven't even started it and I'm already stressed."

Ashton clicked his tongue. "That's what you get when you take AP classes," he joked. "Should've been stupid like the rest of us."

"You mean stupid like you," Steve retorted. "I don't want to be associated with you. Besides, I'm in some AP classes. Excluding English, because I don't have a death wish."

"Hey!"

"Hi," Steve replied, and Ashton narrowed his eyes. Isaiah looked away and sighed.

"You have Adamson, too?" August asked, chin resting in the palm of his hand. He smiled lightly when Isaiah met his gaze, and the latter returned it weakly. He nodded, laying his head across his arms.

August chuckled at the dejected look on his face. "If it'll make you feel any better, we can work on it together." Isaiah's heartbeat sped up. "I don't mind. I'm doing pretty okay in her class."

Isaiah perked up. "Really? You wouldn't mind?"

"Nah. I'm free tomorrow, if you want to come over?" he suggested, and Isaiah nodded rapidly. "Cool."

Isaiah felt a bit more relaxed, but he couldn't help the nervous butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. He spared a glance at August, who was biting at the end of his pen, a crease between his eyebrows as he worked on a last minute assignment. Morgan was trying to help, but August still looked confused. He's so cute, stop.

He averted his gaze and found himself looking at the spot Marcus would've been sitting in. He was home sick, but his absence didn't make a huge difference at the table. Isaiah felt bad about it, he did, but at the same time he couldn't blame anyone for feeling that way. So he pushed it to the back of his mind. Besides it would take a while for things to go back to normal.

If they ever did.

___

Saturday, March 29th

It didn't hit him until he was on August's doorstep, but Isaiah had never met the rest of August's family before. He only ever heard about them through August himself, and from what the blond had said, they seemed pretty cool. He sincerely hoped that was the case.

He rang the doorbell, and a few moments after he did, he heard a voice (that did not sound like August) yell, "Dibs!" The door was jerked open, and Isaiah flinched back a step at the energetic child that stood in the doorway.

"Hello!" the little boy exclaimed. "I'm Cody." He reached out a hand for him to shake, and Isaiah reluctantly took it, cringing at the boy's sticky palms. He noticed dried chocolate around his mouth, so he could only assume it got onto his hands as well. Gross. Kids are so gross.

"Jesus Christ," grumbled August when he reached the door. He pushed Cody aside with a scowl, but gave Isaiah a small smile. "Come in. Ignore Cody, he won't be here for long."

"Um, okay."

August closed the door behind him, held up his index finger to Isaiah, then turned to Cody. He gently shoved at his back, and Cody pouted, reaching up at August. The blond simply grimaced in reply.

"Get your nasty hands away from me," he hissed. "You absolute gremlin."

Cody frowned. "Auntie!" he screamed, making Isaiah's eyes go wide. He sprinted into the kitchen, and August took the chance to grab Isaiah's elbow and pull him toward the stairs.

"Wait, do I have to take off my shoes?"

"It doesn't matter, come on."

Isaiah stayed put and bit his lip. "Just tell me what to do. I'm bad at making decisions."

"Oh my God," August whispered, facepalming. "Take 'em off. Come on."

"Okay, okay."

Isaiah kicked his shoes off and followed August upstairs, which took a bit longer than Isaiah assumed August would've liked. He still limped, and it seemed he wasn't completely used to his prosthesis yet. He wondered how long ago he'd started wearing it.

"August!"

The blond huffed and paused at the top of the stairs. Isaiah could only assume the one who called him was his mom. "Yes?"

"Want to tell me why Cody said you were pushing him around?" his mother asked, walking into the entryway to look up at the pair standing at the railing. Her eyes glanced over at Isaiah, then back at August. "And you didn't tell me you had a friend coming over."

August sighed. "First of all, I didn't push him. He was bothering Isaiah and he kept trying to touch me with his sticky ass hands," he complained, folding his arms on top of the bannister. He rested his chin against them. "And since when did I have to tell you a friend was coming over?"

"Since you started having friends that weren't Morgan. I know Morgan, I don't know this young man."

"Oh, uh, I'm Isaiah." He waved awkwardly to the woman, whose face was stern. She was kind of intimidating, and Isaiah could see where August got his resting bitch face from. The resemblance was uncanny.

A spark of recognition flashed in her eyes. "So you're Isaiah," she commented. "August has mentioned you a few times."

Isaiah glanced over at the other boy, who looked both peeved and embarrassed. "Oh, really? Good things, I hope."

The woman smiled. "Yes, yes. He said—"

"We're going to my room," August blurted out, interrupting his mom loudly. He smacked his hands against the railing. "Doing a project. Bye."

"Keep the door open!"

"Oh my God," August hissed, turning around and storming to his bedroom. Isaiah awkwardly followed, tugging at his sleeves. Being in the middle of a friend and one of their parents arguing was the most uncomfortable situation one could ever be in. He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy.

Isaiah cleared his throat. "Um, why keep the door open?"

August snorted in amusement. "She thinks we're gonna make out or something."

Isaiah almost choked on air. "Oh." He coughed. "They, uh, they know you're bi?"

"Yeah," August said, shutting the door behind Isaiah once he walked in. The lock turned, the click making Isaiah nervous for no fucking reason. "I'm locking it just to spite her. Watch her send Cody up here every five minutes. Anyway, yeah, my parents know. They kind of had to when kids at school decided to be absolute fucking neanderthals when they found out."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's whatever," August said dismissively. He dove onto his bed and opened up his laptop, the bright glow of the screen illuminating his smooth features. "I'm out of there now, so."

Isaiah stood idly by the door, looking around at the random objects on his desk and dresser. He felt like a fucking Sim waiting for directions. It was always weird going to a friend's house for the first time, and he had no idea why. He rubbed at his arm, toes pressing into the carpeted floor from inside the confines of his socks.

"What are you doing?" August teased. He patted his comforter with an amused smile. "Sit down, dumbass."

"Um..." He looked around, spotting a beanbag chair at the end of August's bed. "Can I just sit there?" He didn't know if he was mentally prepared to sit next to August on a bed. His heart wasn't ready for that.

"Do whatever you want."

Isaiah nodded, plopping down in the chair and awkwardly sinking into it. The back of his head bumped against the edge of the mattress, and he bit his lip, pulling his bag onto his lap. I'm being so fucking weird. Isaiah, stop it.

"Do you know what you're going to write about for the project?" August asked, and Isaiah tilted his head back to see the boy propped up against the wall, pillow situated between the wall and his shoulders. Isaiah shook his head in reply.

"Not really. The fact that we can choose whatever gives me anxiety," Isaiah admitted. "I'm so indecisive."

"Oh, trust me, I know," August joked. "You couldn't even decide on taking your shoes off or keeping them on. You're hopeless."

"Shut up."

"It's okay, I'm here," August said solemnly, pressing his hand over his heart. "I'll do whatever you can't."

Isaiah was relieved August couldn't tell he was blushing. "Thanks. Does that mean you can choose what I should write?"

"Here's an idea," August started. "Let's write about the same thing. Obviously not plagiarizing, though. So we can give each other ideas, sound good?"

Isaiah made an 'OK' sign with his fingers. August snorted and offered some ideas for their essays. It took longer than it should've, but they ended up finding one in the end. Isaiah was halfway through planning when the doorknob jiggled obnoxiously, then Cody's voice shouting, "Open the door! Auntie told me to tell you."

August sighed loudly. "For fuck's sake." He made to get up, but Isaiah did so before him.

"I got it," he told him. August's hand instinctively went to his prosthesis, and he looked ashamed, but nodded anyway. Isaiah felt bad, but he brushed it off and unlocked the door, opening it up to reveal Cody's smug face. Isaiah barely even knew him, and he was immediately annoyed. Little siblings sucked, though he didn't think Cody was his brother with the way he kept calling August's mom his aunt.

"Door's open, dude." He nudged it open wider, resulting in Cody's happy nod. Once he heard his tiny footsteps retreating down the stairs, he went to move away, but August spoke up before he could.

"Close it."

"But—"

"I don't like when my door is open," August complained, flopping his hand up and down. "Close it."

Isaiah huffed and hesitantly shut the door, sliding back over to his spot. He tilted his head back, edge of the mattress pressing comfortably against the back of his neck. "Is Cody not your brother?" he asked suddenly, curious.

"Oh, no. I have no siblings," August explained. "Cody is my cousin. We have to watch him every now and then because his mom goes on work trips a lot. She's a single mom, so."

"Ah. That sucks."

"For him or for me?"

"Both."

"Yeah," August said honestly. "It does."

They made conversation for the next hour as they worked on the project, and Isaiah was relaxing bit by bit. Cody had to interrupt every once in a while, and it was becoming increasingly more annoying.

"Next time, we're working at your house." August said.

"Deal," Isaiah replied, irritated as he kept having to get up and close the door over and over again.

Isaiah was shit at writing, he soon realized. He knew it already, but the shittiness was beginning to grow. He wondered if his thesis even made an ounce of sense. He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands against his tightly closed eyes. "I'm going to fucking scream."

"Mood. What's up?" August inquired, not even sounding like he was also going to scream. Isaiah had a theory that August was some prodigy or something of the sort. He had too much patience for shit like this.

Isaiah let out a frustrated whine. "This makes no sense. I can't write for shit!"

"I'm sure that's not true," August said, and Isaiah heard him shifting. "Lemme see."

August shuffled over to the end of the bed and flopped down on his stomach, and Isaiah became very aware of his face near his own. He reached over, arm brushing against Isaiah's chest as he used the mouse pad to scroll up to Isaiah's thesis. He inched closer, mouth near his cheek, hair tickling his neck and making it harder to breathe. He was so close, and Isaiah was sure that if he didn't move away in the next few seconds, he was going to explode.

August hummed, the soft sound thrumming through Isaiah's nerves and setting them aflame. "It seems okay to me," he said, voice a gentle rumble in his ear, adrenaline coursing through him, making August's words much louder than they really were. August chuckled, patted his hand reassuringly against Isaiah's chest. "You're fine."

Isaiah hesitantly turned his head just as August did, and his breath hitched in his throat. He was so much prettier up close. Isaiah could see the flecks of yellow in his irises, mixed in with seafoam and bits of hazel. His eyelashes were long too, and faint freckles dotted his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose like carefully placed stardust. His lips looked glossy from sipping his water every now and then, and he had a soft pink hue to the lower part of his cheeks that made him seem that much more angelic. He was so pretty, and his bottom lip looked full and inviting, and Isaiah's breathing was uneven, and he wondered momentarily if August could hear the rapid beating of his heart. The thump thump thump that was all thanks to him.

The corners of August's lips pulled up into a soft, barely-there smile, revealing faint dimples in his cheeks. Isaiah only realized they'd gotten closer when August's nose brushed his, and Isaiah knew he didn't imagine the way those green eyes flicked down to his lips. There was no way, and Isaiah so badly wanted to kiss him. He could kiss him, because it looked like August wanted to kiss him too, and Isaiah felt like he was floating on clouds. August, please kiss me first, I don't have the guts—

"Doors open!" shouted an irritatingly familiar voice. August's smile dropped. It was suddenly as if Isaiah could see and hear clearly again, and he didn't like it.

August launched a pillow in the direction of the smug toddler, effectively shutting the door with a loud slam.

___

Q: do you read on your phone, or do you use physical books?