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“So, who is this cousin of yours anyway?”
Marty leans against the car passenger window, watching Rust drive and listening to the soft hum of the engine. It’s a hazy summer’s day in 2014 and they’d, well Rust had, received a letter saying that a cousin had recently passed away and left all his belongings to him.
“He’s a cousin of mine. You just answered that one yourself.”
“Dumbass. You know what I mean.”
“I don’t really know. We were close when we were kids but lost touch when we went to college.” He gives a small shrug. “I barely knew the guy.”
Marty continues to watch Rust silently for a few minutes before muttering. “It’s just interesting to hear about your family.”
Rust doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes focused on the road. All he wants is to get this over and done with.
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A few hours later and they’re at the small, dingy apartment. Once they enter, Rust looks around as if he’s scanning every little thing, whilst Marty wanders into the kitchen to get some water.
“D’ya want a glass?”
Rust picks up a book and reads the blurb. Seemed to be about a post-apocalyptic zombie invasion. Something Marty would enjoy, Rust thinks to himself.
“Naw, I’m alright.”
He puts the book back down, noting mentally to take it home later. He looks up around the room again. Most things have already been boxed up by the neighbour already - not that there seems to be too many belongings.
“Want me to start anywhere? Look for stuff I think you’d want to keep?”
Rust lets his eyes fall onto Marty as he enters the room. Rust notes the few beads of sweat on his forehead and the newly rolled-up sleeves of his shirt.
“Sure. Pick a room and take a look. I can’t imagine there’d be anything of importance. I think the neighbour will be happy if I leave most of it to her, seemed like she was pretty close to him.”
Marty frowns and takes a few steps closer. “You alright?”
Rust nods once. “M’fine. It'll just be good to hurry this up.”
Marty rests a hand briefly on Rust’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing against the soft cotton, before he pulls himself away and heads over to the bedroom.
“I’ll look in here and shout if I see anything.”
Rust nods again and begins rummaging through a nearby box marked ‘paperwork’.
---------
Half an hour or so passes and Rust hasn’t found much apart from a few old certificates and accounts print outs. He raises his eyebrows as he hears a bark of a laugh from the other room.
“Rust ,you gotta get your ass in here, man!”
Rust saunters into the room and is met with a sight that will never leave his memory. Marty is doubled over, chuckling, grabbing onto a nearby shelf for support. He approaches him to see tears falling from Marty’s eyes, the sound of his laughter seemed to bounce around the room.
“What’s so hysterical?”
He looks over Marty’s shoulder to see a few photos of a younger version of himself . Must have been from sometime in the 80s when he did a bit of modelling to make some easy money. The top photo showed him staring into the camera with a firm pout, light stubble covering his chin. Another photo showed him mid-laugh, wearing white jeans and a black button-up shirt. He sure as hell doesn’t feel like that’s him.
“Nice pants!” Is all Marty can manage say through his laughs.
He blinks slowly, “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“Damn, Rust. You got a pout to rival that chick in those Pirates of the Caribbean films!”
“Hey, maybe I should put that quote on a business card.” He retorts, nonchalantly.
Once Marty had finally caught his breath and calmed down, he looks up at Rust. “I wish you still had that moustache, I would have love to have seen if that affected your pouting technique.”
Rust sticks up his middle finger which only induces another round of giggles from the other man.
“I don’t think I’ll ever, ever get tired of this. You’re like my very own fuckin’ Zoolander.”
Marty grins goofily over at him, as cute as a kid with a lifetime’s supply of candy. Rust gives him a long stare before shrugging.
“Well, Marty, there ain’t much more to life than being really, really ridiculously good-lookin’.”
Marty almost falls back, overcome with howls of laughter. Holding his sides, he exclaims he’s going to have “a heart attack from this shit”. Rust watches him and can’t help but smile.