From The Other Side

25. playoffs

TWENTY FIVE
playoffs

Thursday, April 10th

As the week passed, Isaiah had gotten a lot closer to August.

He'd seen him in a really upsetting state for a few days—refusing to leave his room unless he had to force himself to go to school. Isaiah couldn't help but feel like shit, wishing he was able to make all the bad feelings go away, but he knew it wasn't possible. Depression didn't just go away once you met someone who made you smile, even on the worst days.

August kept his hair up in a loose ponytail all week long, strands framing his face messily, but in a way that made it look good, oddly enough. Isaiah kind of missed him having his hair down and being able to tuck those curls behind his ears, or brush strands out of his face. Maybe he just wanted excuses to touch him.

             As gross as it sounded, August didn't shower, didn't brush his teeth twice a day, didn't run a comb through his hair. All for a whole seven days, until Isaiah went over there in the middle of the week and forced him into the bath. He managed to get him to brush his teeth at least once a day, ended up brushing his hair for him a lot of the time. He kind of felt like a caretaker.

             "I know it's hard," Isaiah remembered saying, sat down next to an August-shaped lump underneath his duvet. "But it'll make you feel better, I promise. I'll even sit in the bathroom with you."

             "I'm tired," August had replied, not budging at all. "I'll do it later."

              Isaiah frowned. "You said that yesterday."

               August was quiet. Isaiah sighed and stood up, ripping the covers off of August, revealing the boy who couldn't even find it in himself to glare or complain. Isaiah felt himself slump. Seeing him like this felt like a knife to the chest. He reached out and rubbed his thumb against his cheek, hand sliding to his shoulder.

                 "Come on," Isaiah ordered, moving to grab his arms and tugging. "Bath time. You stink." August reluctantly stood up with Isaiah, let him guide him to the bathroom, where he sat August down on the edge of the tub and started the bath for him. August watched silently, the sound of the rushing water drowning out Isaiah's rambling.

When he was sure the water was the right temperature, Isaiah shuffled over and helped August take off his prosthesis. He'd learned how to over the past couple days while August couldn't bring himself to do much, and it made August embarrassed, Isaiah could tell, but he let it happen.

Isaiah set it off to the side and stood, taking the hem of August's shirt in his hands. "Arms up," he said, and that's when August scowled, swatting at his wrists.

"I can do it," August muttered. "I'm not a baby."

Isaiah smiled in amusement, backing up and leaning against the counter. August awkwardly tugged off his shirt, holding it to his chest, acting as if Isaiah hadn't seen his bare torso before. He glared at Isaiah when he saw the teasing look on his face, waved his hand, gesturing for him to turn around.

He did just that, messing with the different items scattered across the counter. He could hear August's shuffling over the water, and heard a small splash, then August's voice saying, "You can turn around now."