Chapter Text
Eventually, they end up like this: Ryland sprawled out on the couch, Court sitting on one end with Ryland's head in his lap, Simon on the floor leaning against the couch getting regularly accosted by Ryland's trembling hands, and Colt on the opposite end heroically letting Ryland rest his feet in his lap while he occasionally shovels pizza and water into Ryland's mouth. Saying it's not a very big couch would be a generous descriptor of its size. Calling it moderately comfortable would also be generous, but, being a stuntman, Colt's had worse.
Plus, they've got Snapcube playing on the television. Everybody loves Snapcube. Especially greened out Ryland, who thinks its the funniest thing ever when his attention lands on it.
Right now, his attention is on the whole nothing-is-real thing, crying while Court pets his hair and ineffectually shushes him; "'N I don't want you to not be real. I want you to be real. Because I love you guys. You're my favourites in the whole world, and I love you, and I don't wanna be alone, and-"
"You're not gonna be alone, Ryland" Court soothes, voice steady in a way that calms Colt down and he's not even freaking out (that much - he worries about his twin, sue him), "We're right here."
Ryland sobs, "But are you the real one?"
Colt, unable to bear this any longer, picks up a slice of pizza (barbecued chicken, Ryland's favourite, shout out to Simon for being in love enough to know that) and holds it up invitingly in Ryland's line of sight.
Ryland pauses his sobbing, staring at it with baffled eyes. Colt is pretty sure that he's completely unable to think more than one thought at once, so this offer enraptures him totally.
"Oh" He says eventually, "Is that for me?"
"Sure is."
"Oh" He takes it, a smile breaking apart his tear-stained face, "Thank you."
He proceeds to eat it like it's sacred, reality worries forgotten entirely.
Staring at the ceiling and making vague circling motions with his hands in the air, Ryland laughs, "My vision is like… AI generated."
Court's eyebrow raises, but luckily Colt has the Super Awesome Totally Real Twin Telepathy Powers (patent pending) and guesses, "Like, all swirly and nonsensical?"
"Yeah" Ryland nods, and laughs again. Then seemingly notices his hands for the first time, and after a moment of intense scrutiny declares in an awed voice, "My hands look so 3D"
Court pets his head, "That's 'cause they're real, bud."
"Really?" Ryland asks, amazed.
"Yup."
"Wow."
Outside the window, night falls, and with it goes the temperature. Simon grabs the quilt from Ryland's room and offers it to him, but Ryland shakes his head and makes an attempt to stand.
Instinctually, Colt reaches out to steady him. This is also the same instinct that Simon and Court apparently experience, leading to three pairs of hands against his skin. Ryland bats them all off with flailing limbs and some nonsense babble that boils down to get off.
They remove their hands but hover anyways while he stands up.
Court asks, "What's going on? Are you dizzy?"
Simon asks, "Do you feel sick again? Do you want me to get you a pillow?"
Colt asks, "Are you thirsty? Do you want some more pizza?"
Ryland groans, "Shut up, all of you."
He sways on his feet. Court grabs him by the shoulder. Ryland shrugs him off and starts towards the kitchen, "I'm just-I'm just really hot. I just need to cool off. And I need you all to stop touching me - you're too hot. I need to cool down."
Court frowns, "Your temperature's fine, Ryland."
Colt notes, "It's like thirty-five degrees out right now, man, how are you hot?"
Ryland ignores both of these comments, staggering over to the sink and turning on the water to its coldest setting. He shoves both of his hands under the spray, baring the veins of his wrists to the icy water. Then, when that seemingly does nothing, he pools the water in his hands and splashes it onto his face, dragging it across his forehead and down along his throat.
Court settles himself by the fridge, amusement fighting to win over the concern on his face. Ryland grabs at the hem of his shirt and stumbles about like he's drunk while struggling to pull it off over his head.
Court grabs him, "Easy, easy, I've got it. Let me help."
Despite his previous protests, Ryland goes pliantly with Court's assistance, though he does whine, "It's too hot."
"It's not hot, Ryland, you're too high."
"It's hot. I need a cold shower."
And then he's off towards the bathroom. Court gives a long-suffering sigh and follows him just to be stopped at the door by a bewildered and borderline offended little brother, "You can't shower with me, Court."
"I'm not going to shower with you. I'm just gonna watch over you."
"That is not better! You - shower time is private time, Court."
"Ryland-"
"No! No, you're not… watching me shower."
Court sighs loudly, "Ry, you are very high and-"
"I don't care! You can't - no! Just no!"
A brilliant idea dawns upon Colt like a vision from a loving and merciful god, "What if Simon does it?"
Everyone turns to look at him with expressions that vary from borderline horrified to more unimpressed than anyone has ever been before. Except for Ryland, who looks at him with complete and utter confusion (and, if Colt knows him well, which he does, some protectiveness), "What if Simon does what?"
"Joins you in the bathroom instead of Court or me. You know, so someone's there to make sure you don't crack your skull open on the tile and you can have your cold shower comfortably."
Simon's eyes bug out of his beet-red face, looking at Colt like he's lost his mind. Colt winks at him. Court pops a new piece of watermelon gum into his mouth like its got nicotine in it (which they don't. Colt checked).
"That's…" Ryland begins, "I… I… I guess. Okay. If Simon wants to."
They all turn to Simon, who looks like he'd give the world to become one of with the floor. He nods anyways, "Uh, yeah, I'll watch over you."
Ryland, of all things, smiles, and as soon as the two of them have disappeared into the bathroom, Colt lifts his hand for a high-five.
Court's arms remain firmly at his sides.
"Court."
The showerhead hisses as it turns on.
"Colt."
Colt waves his hand. Court gives him the look that he and Ryland have dubbed the I Should've Left You On The Street Corner Where You Were Standing.
Colt uses his free hand to grab Court's wrist and forces him to return the high-five. Court, though the ISLYOTSCWYWS remains, lets it happen without fuss, and though Court will deny it probably 'til his dying day Colt swears that a little smile peeks at the corners of his lips.