From The Other Side

26. date

TWENTY SIX
date

Saturday, April 12th

"Dude, stop stealing my shit!"

Isaiah closed his eyes at the sound of his siblings. He paused the show he was watching on the TV when he heard them since they were so loud he wouldn't have even be able to hear. And subtitles wouldn't register in his head when all he could make out was his brother and sister's arguing.

"It wasn't me this time!" Dylan shouted back at Jordan, voice sounding closer. "Why do you always assume it was me? Maybe it was Isaiah, huh? Isaiah!"

Isaiah scowled. "Don't drag me into your bullshit," he grumbled, frustratedly crunching on his chips. "I don't know what's been stolen, but all I know is that I am not a thief."

Jordan stormed into the living room after Dylan, shoving her brother roughly to the side. He yelped and stumbled, gaping. He looked between her and Isaiah, absolutely dumbfounded. "Did you see that?" he shrieked, voice cracking. Jordan immediately burst into laughter, and Isaiah couldn't help but laugh, too.

"Stop laughing!" he complained, a deep frown settling on his lips. "It's not funny! It's not!"

                  "It's pretty fucking funny," Jordan responded, dropping down into an armchair, lanky legs dangling over the edge. She was still laughing. "You sounded like a squeaky toy."

Dylan looked peeved. "Y'all are so annoying."

"Hey!" Isaiah exclaimed defensively, holding back the grin that was prodding at his lips. "I didn't do anything."

                   "And?" Dylan snapped. "Your existence bothers me."

                    Isaiah sent a look to his sister, mouth agape. He pointed at Dylan without looking and whispered, "Was this him telling me that he wishes I was never born?"

Jordan nodded solemnly. "I think so."

Dylan huffed, and he went to leave, but Isaiah stopped him. "Hey, I was kidding." Dylan turned back around and glared, arms crossed against his chest. Isaiah held out his arms, wiggling his fingers. "Hug me, brother."

"You really just referenced Drake and Josh," Dylan muttered, but plopped down beside him on the couch anyway. "It wasn't even that good."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," Isaiah stated.

Dylan shrugged and reached over to snatch the remote from the coffee table. He kicked back and switched the channel Isaiah had been watching, settling on some cooking competition with a really dramatic host. A few minutes in Dylan glanced over at Isaiah and frowned.

"Why are you dressed up?" he asked, gesturing at his clothes. Isaiah looked down at himself; he was just wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt. His denim jacket—one that Jordan had insisted on buying for his birthday the year before—was thrown over the back of the sofa. He refused to admit he liked it, but he supposed he couldn't hide it anymore.

Isaiah pursed his lips. "Because I can," he replied, which was true, but it definitely wasn't the reason. When he had dropped August off at home the night before, the latter had asked him out on a date. A new movie had come out that they both wanted to see, and Isaiah found it incredibly ironic how they were going on a date to the same place Isaiah had realized he had a serious crush on the blond. It was almost funny.