Zylan Cheatham left Wells Fargo Arena last Saturday, trying to digest the Sun Devils’ 67-66 loss to Princeton earlier that night. He went to dinner with one of his mentors and then pulled into his apartment parking lot.

Before he walked in the door, a call came in from his dad. Cheatham’s little brother, Wanyaa Stewart, had been shot. Cheatham raced to the hospital, confined to a waiting room for hours as his brother fought for his life.

Late into the night, Cheatham and his family were informed that Stewart did not make it.

“It was tough,” Cheatham said. “Things like this happen. I’ve experienced it before but it just hits home except when it’s your little brother. Probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced in my life.”

On Wednesday, as he told the story to a few reporters, Cheatham’s tone shifted towards a bit of gratitude, somewhat surprising given the circumstances. But he knows things could have been worse, there was a chance that he didn’t get to go out on good terms with his brother.

“On a positive note, the last thing I did say to him was ‘I love you.’ I went out on good terms with him. I’m just excited that I got to express that as my last words. It could have been different. I could have gone to my grandmother’s house instead of my dad’s house and I wouldn’t have got to see him that night.”

That night, the pair of brothers who shared the same exuberant personality, got to act like kids again. Instead of playing Pokemon or Beyblades, though, the brothers, separated by just 10 months, took pictures and were able to show off their loud presence and humor that many didn’t understand.

“You ugly,” Cheatham said, describing one of their interactions. “No, you ugly.”

But over the past few years, Cheatham and Stewart talked less and less. Not because they wanted to but because it was best for their safety. As Cheatham transferred to Westwind Prep his junior year of high school, living on their campus instead of at home in south Phoenix, Stewart got involved with some of the wrong people.

He joined a gang and started living a dangerous life.

“Because of the life he was living and the people he was involved with, he respected me enough to kind of keep our distance just because it was not safe to be around each other as much,” Cheatham said. “He always watched our games, kept tabs on me. We would talk via Instagram. I would post something and he would swipe up (into a chat) like, ‘Man, bro I’m proud of you.’”

Stewart texted Cheatham after the ASU forward recorded a triple-double earlier this year and after ASU’s win over then-No. 1 Kansas. The pair had begun making plans so that the younger brother could watch the older brother play during the homestretch of his final collegiate season.

And that gets back to another point of gratitude Cheatham address on Wednesday. He was only a five-minute drive from the hospital.

Had he stayed at San Diego State, where he redshirted and played at for two seasons, or transferred elsewhere, it would have taken a long drive or an inconvenient flight. Instead, he was able to race to the hospital on the drop of a dime and console and grieve with his family.

There, too, was Bobby Hurley. The Arizona State head coach and his staff showed up at the hospital with open arms to support one of their players in one of his worst moments. Hurley told his starting forward to forget about basketball for a while and focus on getting his mind right.

“He definitely didn’t expect me to show up the next day for practice and that’s what I did,” Cheatham said.

To him, basketball is therapeutic. The moments out on the court with his teammates, trying to improve are moments when he can escape the tragedy and focus his thoughts on something positive.

He compared it to someone reading a book at the beach. There’s no worry, just serenity. Cheatham’s happy place is on a basketball court.

“That two hours or whatever when we’re out on the floor, it offers me a time to just take my mind off of everything and just focus on the game I love,” Cheatham said.

The Phoenix native said the funeral for Stewart is next Saturday, adding that he will likely miss the Sun Devils’ game at Stanford that day to attend. It’ll be a tough day. He’s had to bury loved ones before, but never a brother.

He hopes to honor them all on the court -- at ASU and hopefully beyond. For now, though, they’ll stay with him on the court, names inscribed on his shoes or headbands. For all to see and remember.

“I’ve always wrote my cousin and one of my good friends that I lost earlier this year,” Cheatham said. “I always write their names on my shoes so I’m going to add his name to either my shoe or my headband and just keep him in my heart, mind, and soul.”