35. you make things less scary

THIRTY FIVE

you make things less scary

Wednesday, July 4th

"No, Isaiah, you're doing it wrong."

Isaiah frowned and backed up, batter on his hands as Morgan shuffled around the counter to take control. She was concentrated on making pancakes, of all things, at four in the afternoon—a strange request from their friend group. It'd mostly been Ashton begging for some, so everyone else had ended up reluctantly agreeing.

"How am I doing it wrong?" Isaiah complained, watching the girl whisk the batter. "I did exactly what the box said to do."

"The box is stupid," she replied, scraping the tool along the sides of the bowl to get rid of the extra powder. "Fluffy pancakes are the best pancakes. So you gotta add more of this—" She picked up the bag of pancake mix and poured a little bit into the bowl. "—and less water."

Isaiah frowned. "But they'll taste the same in the end."

Morgan looked up and pointed the whisk at him, some batter splattering against the countertop. "Watch your mouth," she said threateningly, then set the tool down and quickly cleaned up the small mess she had made. Isaiah cracked a grin.

"Can I make shapes?" Isaiah asked when she was about to pour the mix on a pan. She hesitated, but nodded, sliding the bowl over to him. "Yes. Thank you." He started off with a regular pancake to make her feel better, then immediately went on to attempt making a star.

Morgan giggled. "The arms are uneven," she teased.

"It's not as easy as Instagram makes it seem," he grumbled in response, brows furrowed as he concentrated. "The star is for Ashton. He won't care what it looks like as long as it's edible."

Morgan laughed and sat down at the table, popping in one earbud as she flipped her phone on its side and started watching something. The room was quiet, save for the laughter and talking in the living room from the other four. Isaiah had soon finished several other differently shaped pancakes, and he was quite proud of himself for not completely fucking up.

He was in the middle of creating a heart for August when two hands jabbed into his sides, and he jumped in shock, letting out a curse as the batter created a fat line through the heart. He set the bowl down and spun around, shoving at August's chest. The blond was laughing so hard he couldn't even catch Isaiah's fists.

"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, grinning, weakly blocking Isaiah from hitting him. "Izzy, you made the funniest fucking sound, oh my—ow! You have bony hands," August said with a groan, laughter dying down instantly. He grabbed Isaiah's wrists and held him in place. "Your knuckles dug into my arm, the soft part, and that hurt. Jesus Christ."

Isaiah scowled. "I was almost done, and it was looking good, and you ruined it. Asshole."

August pouted, but the smile he was holding back made it look weird. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, hesitantly letting go of his wrists and moving his grasp to his waist. "I'll help you make another. I swear."

Isaiah placed his hands over August's. "You can't do that when you're touching me," he muttered, trying his hardest not to forgive him and kiss the air out of his lungs like he wanted to everytime he saw him. "Do you really want to help or are you just trying to get something out of me?"

August blinked up at him, seafoam eyes gleaming with mischief. Isaiah sighed. "I knew it."

"Hey now, I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to, stupid. It's pretty obvious."

August chuckled, pressing him up against the edge of the island. Isaiah huffed and pressed his hand against his chest to keep him from getting any closer. "Not funny. Didn't laugh," he muttered. "Morgan, help."

Morgan rolled her eyes as she got up, snatching the bowl to herself. "Sorry, Isaiah. August, take him away. I need to finish these."

Isaiah's eyes widened, and he gaped at her, betrayal evident in his words. "Morgan," he groaned, "just tell him to go away and I can do it."

"You take too long," she told him, giving him an apologetic look. "While you're out there, tell Steve to come help me." Then she quickly added, "August, don't annoy him. And Isaiah, don't kill him. Thanks."

Isaiah sighed loudly, reluctantly letting August guide him out into the hallway. August had this stupid little triumphant smile on his face the whole time. He held up his index finger before glancing inside Isaiah's living room and saying, "Steve. Mo needs you to help her."

Steve mumbled something to Marcus and Ashton before leaving them and finding Morgan in the kitchen. August turned back to Isaiah and cupped his face in his hands, pushing his cheeks together to make his lips pucker. "Hi there," he mused.

"You make me want to smack you," Isaiah stated bluntly, his words coming out muffled because of August's actions. "You ruined my pancakes."

"Pancake," he corrected. "You were only making one when I scared you."

"Fuck you. I was making a heart for you to have."

August paused, dropping his hands from Isaiah's face down to his hips. "Wait, Izzy," he cooed, placing his lips against his jawline. "That's so cute, what the fuck. You're precious. Now I'm kind of sorry for doing that."

"Kind of?"

"Yes, now stop being angry and kiss me," he demanded. "You can make me another some other time. I promise. I'm sorry for messing it up."

Isaiah huffed. "Fine." August beamed and went in to kiss him, but Isaiah stopped him. "Only if you come outside with the rest of us when we do fireworks. I want you to see how fun it is."

August sighed. "Okay, okay. I will." And then he went back to kissing Isaiah, who smiled and didn't waste a second to kiss him back.

It was the fourth of July, and Isaiah was beyond excited for the fireworks and sparklers that he and his friends did every year. August didn't want to because he said he was afraid to catch himself or the house on fire, which was highly unlikely to happen. And when Isaiah told him this, August asked, "But isn't that shit illegal in Texas?"

To which Isaiah replied, "They can't catch all of us."

And then Marcus and his troublemaking self added, "You just can't sell or shoot any within a certain amount of feet from any flammable source. Also you're not allowed to shoot them within city limits. And I like to think we're not in them."

August had just frowned. "That's not very reassuring."

It wasn't, really, but Isaiah and his friends had been doing it for years. And they hadn't gotten in trouble for it yet, so they liked to think they were in the clear. And now that August was agreeing to participate, Isaiah was even more excited.

This was one of the best summers he'd ever experienced so far.

___

"It's hot," August was complaining around eight o'clock at night, their whole group outside along with several of the neighbors. He was pressing a water bottle against the back of his neck. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes!" Ashton exclaimed in response, already pulling out the sparklers. "Take one. These are small, and no harm can come from these little shits."

August hesitantly took one and held it far out in front of him, watching warily as Ashton went around handing one to everyone else. He glanced over at Isaiah, who was ecstatic to get his lit up. "You'll love these, Auggie, I swear," Isaiah promised, smiling at him, and the sight pulled some of the tension out of his shoulders.

Once Ashton had reached him, barbeque lighter in hand, August's anxiety came running back. "Dude, how do you know it's not gonna fucking set me on fire?" he hissed, flinching everytime the lighter made that crackling sound.

"Ash, just do mine first," Isaiah suggested, and the boy shrugged, walking over and carefully placing the flame against the tip of the stick. He backed up immediately, and Isaiah was beaming as he carefully waved it around, golden sparks flying. "See? Nothing bad is happening. It's fine, I promise you."

August swallowed and nodded, fighting the urge to drop the sparkler once Ashton had set it aflame. He held it out as far as he could, facing Isaiah, who was watching him, laughter pouring out from him. It made August smile a little.

It took a few more tries, but August became a lot more comfortable with it. He soon quit, though, and instead watched Isaiah and Ashton fuck around, chasing Steve around the cul-de-sac with their sparklers. Marcus was going through the fireworks he had bought with Ashton, and Morgan was sitting beside August on the curb, the two sharing a bag of chips.

"How are you, September?" Morgan asked, and August rolled his eyes at the nickname she still used. He thought she'd forgotten about it, but it seems like she hadn't.

"I'm good," he replied honestly. "I kinda wanna sleep, though."

"Valid," she chirped. "But I'm so down for fireworks. You're gonna be out here still, right? You gotta."

August sighed. "But they're loud," he complained. "So loud."

"You can borrow my headphones," she offered, pulling them out of her pocket and dangling them in the air. "Listen to music, maybe. It could help."

He shook his head. "Nah, I'll be fine, I think." He was staring at Isaiah, watching him laugh, that pretty, all teeth smile that came out every now and then on his face. The sparkler in his hand illuminated his features, striking soft shadows that made his brown eyes look almost golden. August wanted to kiss him so badly, even though he already did like five minutes ago.

"You two are so cute," Morgan mumbled suddenly, catching the lovesick stare her best friend was sending his boyfriend. "When you told me that you two kissed a while back, I was freaking the fuck out for you. It was so obvious you two were into one another. Like, it was actually painful to look at."

August grinned, glancing down at her. "Is it still painful?"

She giggled, shaking her head. "If anything, it can be kinda gross sometimes," she teased. "Like in the kitchen earlier today. Disgusting."

August laughed, playfully shoving her shoulder. "Shut up, dumbass. And to be honest, I'm the gross one. He has a filter, I don't."

"Shit, you're right."

Morgan leaned her head on August's shoulder, and he rested his on top of hers. The two were quiet for a little while, save for the muffled snickers when they showed each other funny posts they'd found on their phones. Despite his hate for fireworks, August was feeling an astounding amount of peace this fourth of July.

It was about an hour later when Isaiah came running up to him, eyes bright and smile big. August lifted his head and raised an eyebrow as Isaiah took hold of his arms and tugged. "Morgan, I'm borrowing him," he stated, and the girl grinned. "Showing him the beauty of fireworks."

August groaned, sadly letting Isaiah pull him up. "I feel like you're trying to kill me," he muttered. Isaiah snorted, sliding his hand into August's.

"I'll keep you safe," Isaiah joked, and August rolled his eyes. Isaiah kissed the corner of his mouth, and it had him forgiving him almost immediately. It was hard not to; Isaiah was adorable when he was excited.

"If I die, I'm coming back to haunt you."

"You're not gonna die," Isaiah sighed, tugging him close. "Fireworks are pretty. Loud, but pretty."

August hummed and kept close to Isaiah as Steve and Marcus got the fireworks ready. He curled his fingers into his shirt when Steve lit one and backed up, looking accomplished when it made a high-pitched sound and then soared into the sky, the booming sound unintentionally causing August to flinch.

But as they did more, August gradually grew more relaxed and slid his arm around Isaiah's waist. Isaiah glanced down at the feeling, smiled, then pressed his lips against his flushed cheek, eyes fluttering shut. Butterflies were swarming his stomach, as they always did when he was with August.

"If it makes you feel any better," Isaiah murmured, "I don't like the sound either. It's loud, and it scares me sometimes, too."

August turned his head, pressed his forehead against Isaiah's. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "But you make things less scary."

August cracked a smile, for once not having the urge to make some joke just to tease him. He brushed his thumb against his cheekbone and kissed his lips lightly, Isaiah letting out this content sigh that had August's heart beating a little faster.

"You make things less scary, too."

Isaiah knew those words held a certain weight to it, something that meant more than anything else he could've said.

And so he kissed him again, to show him he understood.