From The Other Side

8. week

EIGHT
week

Tuesday, March 4th

It was weird. August and Morgan still sat with Isaiah and his group during lunch every now and then, but August would only talk to Isaiah when necessary. He really was leaving Isaiah alone, and Isaiah didn't exactly know how to feel about it.

             On one hand, it lessened his nerves. On the other hand, it totally fucking spiked his nerves. Isaiah didn't know what he should've done; ignore his conflicting feelings or pay attention to them. Just not too much, because that's what got him into this situation in the first place.

Ashton had taken a liking to the two and added them to their group. Marcus still refused to sit with them, and it'd been a week since then. Isaiah hated stupid high school drama. It was always petty and unnecessary.

Which was why he approached Marcus during lunch to try and resolve it. The few Marcus was talking to quieted and gave Isaiah expecting looks, and the amount of eyes just scrutinizing him submerged him into a pool of anxiety.

Isaiah cleared his throat. "Marcus, can I talk to you about something?"

Marcus shrugged. "Sure," he said, but didn't move. Isaiah sighed.

"Alone?"

                    Snickers erupted from those sitting at the table, and Isaiah felt the tips of his ears begin to burn. Why were they laughing? Isaiah shifted from foot to foot, hands in his pockets and playing with the wires of his headphones. They were all glancing at him now except for a select few, who didn't give a shit. Isaiah wished that was everyone.

When Marcus didn't respond, Isaiah stayed put and tried to keep his stoic face. Embrace your inner Steve, he thought to himself. "Fine," Isaiah mumbled. "Why aren't you sitting with us anymore?"

Marcus was about to say something, but some random guy next to him spoke up instead. He was a ginger with a face full of freckles and round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. "Why do you care?" he asked, leaning forward. He jerked his chin at Isaiah's table. "You've already replaced him."

Isaiah blinked once, twice. "What?" He turned to look at Marcus. "You don't actually think that, do you?"

Marcus glanced down at his tray and picked at the corner of it, tearing off pieces of styrofoam. He didn't reply. Isaiah scowled. "There's always a place for you," he stated. "So when you want to get away from a bunch of assholes, we're here."

Isaiah watched Marcus stay silent, which had his frown deepening. He always had an opinion on something, so why wasn't he talking? The ginger nudged Marcus, whispered something to him, and Marcus just shook his head.

"Fine, I'll tell him then," the ginger said.

Marcus brought his hand down against the guy's arm with a deep frown. "Don't," he hissed. "It's not even—"

Ginger ignored him. "He doesn't want to be around a queer," he told Isaiah, grinning.

Isaiah furrowed his brows, recalling Marcus' insistence that August was gay. "August isn't—"

"Not him," Ginger interrupted, letting out a laugh. "You."

Isaiah froze. He immediately looked to Marcus, who refused to meet Isaiah's eyes. He could feel his heart ramming against his ribcage, and his first thought was, how did he know? And then, I'm not, so why am I so terrified? His fingers curled into fists inside his pocket, and he glared at Marcus heatedly, trying to disguise his fear with annoyance. He didn't know if it was working.