There were times people had to face the pile of shit their life had inevitably shat.

In many instances in Isaias’ life he’s made some serious fuck-ups. Times where he bounced back in the good graces of the universe, and others undeniably not so much.

This was one of those times.

Asto’s once bouncy bright joy had come to an abrupt floundering stop. Replaced with rigid bafflement, twisting his sharp features as the crease between his brows deepened. 

“What the fu-”

“You’re home early!” Jon jumped to greet Asto, in a happy engulfing hug, abruptly muffling the rest of his sentence.

The recipient grunted at the sudden force. Five seconds passed before arms begrudging went around the man, giving him a gentle-firm pat, huffing the man let go.

And man, did he look pissed. Isaias tried not to wince as nerves unbearably churned his stomach.

His mother stepped forward to the pair, curiously tilting her head, “You’re home early. What happened with practice?” 

The furrow between his brows furrowed, a tear of water sliding down his forehead. Still wearing part of his crumpled uniform, his shirt damp as it clung messily over his taller frame. A navy blazer wedged under his arm, a familiar school insignia peaking out.

Isaias tried not to cringe.

“Cancelled.” Asto said, hair flattened down as droplets clung to his dark strands, he irritably wiped them away. 

Isaias could tell that this wasn’t the afternoon his cousin particularly signed up for or expected.

“Really?” Blinked Jon, turning to Maywa who shrugged, “Must’ve been the heat then,”

“Angelito!” The clicks of heels strode forward to the unexpected boy, Carmen greeted him with two swift kisses on his cheeks, “It’s good to see you. ¿Cómo has estado?”

“Cam,” Asto greeted, not that his frown moved even the slightest, he went in for a hug only to be kept firmly at arm’s length.

“Oh, Angel, no,” Carmen levelled him a look, “I just got my hair done and water does not agree with it now,”

“Right,” He surrendered, taking a step back.

There was a tense silence, lasting a second but that second was enough to melt away the safe screen his tíos forged with small talk and idle conversation as the actuality of this strained situation began to materialise in front of him.

Asto’s sharp eyes clashed with his own.

The lies. The secret. The picture.

It all left a tacky bitter taste in his mouth, as his tongue lay heavy. Rushed thoughts blared in his mind, Isaias wondered which one Asto had heard about first, or seen. 

Every dreaded fear came back to the surface, its rush crushing against his throat, stuttering his moment of inhaling a much-needed breath. 

The very picture that had ‘determined’ his sexuality to the world.

One that sprung in social media. Its launching attention caught fire like dried brittle branches at the start of a blazing forest fire. It was so fast that Isaias was stumbling in the density of the fumes, completely in the dark, at a loss with what occurred. 

Trickling sweat sat unbearably on his back, ears fizzing. 

Everyone knew. The thought alone kept ringing in his head. Everyone in this room knew.

Tension had spiked uncomfortably in that third second. The spotlight burned against his skin. His throat bobbed, words lodged. 

Opening his mouth, Jon attempted to say anything to fill the silence ringing around them, Maywa stepped forward to seemingly do the same, concerned buzzed between them. 

Ignoring the way his palms prickled under his shaky fingers, Isaias stepped forward. 

“Hey, man, it’s been long,” Giving Asto a swift side hug, muscles tensed underneath his loose hold. 

Asto rather awkwardly returned the action, Isaias winced, dude c’mon at least try to act like you tolerate me. Quickly letting go, he took a measured step back, a tense smile on Isaias’ lips that threatened to fall. 

It was one of those hugs that was more out of necessity than affection. Something they developed over the years when clashing with each other in family functions, and needed to appear civil with each other.

Asto nodded, stance stiff, “Real long, didn’t know you’d be coming today,”

Isaias shrugged, muscles tense underneath his loose-fitting clothes, “Yeah, sort of happened, a last-minute sort of thing,”

Eyes taking in the small changes, baby fat melted away, face taking a sharper, more defined turn. As thick brows sat down low on dark coffee brown eyes, honey-tanned skin spotted with dark fading acne scars here and there. And thick inky hair trimmed short, the side of his head neatened into a fade, a sharp-edged jaw and a round narrowed bridged nose.

And one particular change was the other’s height, his frame had shot up a couple hefty inches, stretching taller and leaner. Not enough to reach Isaias’ eye level, who to be fair stood taller than the majority of his own age group, but enough to be fairly noticeable. The thought was a flash of petty delight before it was swiftly stomped down.

Hesitantly, Asto nodded, jaw working as if trying to find the words, "So, uh, how are you doing?"

Stomach churned horribly, smiling, "Alright," Shrugging dismissively, "Haven't been here a while, so got to get used to it since, uh-" Isaias slipped, fumbling for words.

"-I'll have to be staying for a while," Finished painfully, throat bobbing down. 

Asto’s eyes steeled, discerning what Isaias meant, “Right,” The word lashed out, striking sharper than Isaias expected.

Isaias clenched his teeth, fighting a wince, his fingers twitched to curl into his palm.

“Yeah,” He struggled out. It was hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice, and the threat of his eyes twitching into a narrow. 

Jon swiftly slid in between the boys, “Dinner is about ready, how about you go upstairs and change,” Turning to his son, cutting through the tense awkward air.

“And I’ll have dinner ready for you when you come down, rice on the side like always,” Jon added, with an affectionate ruffle of his hair.

Nodding Asto frustratingly slicked back his wet hair with his fingers, turning on his heel and strode right back through the kitchen door.

Startled, he felt hands on his back, “Venga,” Maywa steered Isaias away, leading him further into the kitchen. 

On their way, lips thinning, she gave her stunned partner a pat on the shoulder who poked back with the same sentiment. Roughly translated to ‘Close call’.

Leaning to his side, Maywa smiled, “Help me bring some fresh tomatoes from the garden, and hopefully Suyana too,” Isaias obediently followed his aunt. A continuous tick of frustration ravenously pecked at him, the unbearable discomfort of uneased jabbing.

Passing a tight-lipped Carmen who promptly took a gulp of wine. Which wasn’t much appreciated by Maywa, giving her a dry look, as she scooped up a coven toquilla straw basket beside the fridge.

“Coya, te veo,” Maywa warned, giving her daughter a pointed look who draped leisurely over a chair, distracted with her phone, “Hurry up with the plates, you missed last week and you’re definitely making it up for today,” Flicking her daughter’s forehead in a berating strike.

Coya howled a dramatic startled cry, doubling over, “Mum!” Slapping a hand over the slight sting.

“Go on,” Maywa slid open the glass garden door, the delicate touch of the breeze entering, the hem of her dress fluttering in soft waves.

“Why does it have to be me? I’m the pillar that holds this family together, doesn’t that count for something?” She groaned, slumping into the back of her chair, nearly tipping over. 

Cracking a slight smile at Coya’s dismaying sulk, he playfully tugged her ponytail. Jumping forward through the garden door, successfully dodging her angry hands, hearing her hisses behind him as he followed his aunt.

The heat had been unbearable a couple of hours ago, the sizzling air had settled down a few degrees, to nicer and bearable sunny weather. A gentle gust of wind rustled through the thick leaves to the grass, green overtook his senses. Isaias had stepped out onto the wooden deck and landed in a corner of a wild meadow.

“Jon’s grown so much in the garden, I just know you’ll love it,”

He blew a shaky breath out, barely able to nod in response, as they crossed the deck, eyes unable to break free from the hold he was in.

A decently small apple tree stood tall and on guard over the garden, wide barked as its shadow set a cool cast over the long grass. His fingers twitched to his side. Green blossomed and flowers grew in eager spots where the sun hit and the rain grazed, sprouts of dandelion heads bobbed against the delicate touch of the breeze, as larger leaves reached for the sun arching to a drop.

Isaias was abruptly hit with the suppressed lash of memories, knocking the air out of his lungs, eyes fogged in its rush. Tiny hands grappling at the thick branches, happy shrieks of laughter, bursts of wild sprinting, fingers grazing the tips of the tall grass as a playful tackle came from the back resulting in an explosion of giggles.

His throat went dry, forcefully blinking away the rush of uninvited memories. 

Maywa had already made her way to the vegetable patch they had, squatting in front of the tomatoes, glancing back questionably when Isaias wasn’t behind her.

They had shaken his firm composure, stumbling and disoriented. Leaving him raw with ache.