From The Other Side

24. raw

TWENTY FOUR
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Thursday, April 3rd

Isaiah was speechless.

He stared at August for a few moments after he finally finished speaking, and he watched him wipe away the stray tears that had escaped. He listened to him sniffle, laugh awkwardly, and say, "I'm sorry. If it's too much for you, then—"

Isaiah stopped him by grabbing his hand, holding it tightly. August immediately broke down, burying his face against Isaiah's chest, arms wrapping around his waist, clinging onto him as if he would sink into the earth if he let go. So Isaiah held him just as tight.

It was the first time he'd really seen August cry, Isaiah thought. He heard him weeks ago behind the door of a bathroom stall. Had seen his tear-streaked cheeks and glassy eyes, but had never really witnessed him cry like he was now. It was quiet, sure, with soft hiccups, shaky breaths, and muffled sobs against Isaiah's t-shirt. He was a quiet crier, and he wondered if he'd still been silent back then. It ripped him apart to think about.

"I'm so sorry," Isaiah whispered against the top of his head, fisting the back of his shirt in his hands. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. But I'm so glad you're here now, away from them."

August didn't say anything. He simply gripped Isaiah tighter, hands clutching at the back of his shirt, squeezing it in his fists. He seemed desperate, and Isaiah wasn't sure why, so he just pulled him closer and kept him there, watching the scenery behind him. Barely anyone was out, and Isaiah looked up, noticing the clouds that were turning gray. That was probably why.

He glanced back down at the boy who refused to pull away and frowned deeply. Isaiah knew people were cruel, especially around specific parts of Texas, but he didn't realize just how much. It sent fear through him, but it didn't scare him as much as the thought of August getting hurt again. As much as anyone getting hurt again. He'd do anything to get the people he cared about out of such terrible situations.

Isaiah brushed his fingers through August's hair, heel of his hand resting against his forehead and gently pushing his head back so he'd look at him. "Think you can make it through the rest of the day?" he asked, removing his hand and placing it on the side of his neck. No one's around.

August smiled weakly, nodding. "I'll be okay," he said, but Isaiah didn't know if he was being honest or not. "Just two hours left. Not much."

"You're sure?" Isaiah pushed, pressing his thumb against August's jawline, and August rolled his eyes, smile becoming a bit brighter. It made Isaiah feel better.

"I'm sure." August placed his hand over Isaiah's, closing his eyes, smile fading. "I just wanna sit here a little longer. Crying is exhausting."

                  Isaiah nodded, guiding his head to his shoulder, letting him lean there for the rest of lunch. Not many words were spoken, other than quiet questions and tiny giggles when one of them made a lame joke to try and brighten the mood. But Isaiah didn't mind if August was in a bad mood. Sometimes it felt refreshing to not be happy for once. Everyone needed a moment to be vulnerable, and Isaiah was more than happy to give that to August.

                 To be honest, he'd give him anything.

___

At the end of the day (or, kind of, since they had seventh period off), Isaiah waited for August outside his sixth. The boy took longer that normal, and when he peeked through the rectangular window, he caught a glimpse of him in the middle of a conversation with his teacher.