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Colt had learned that the foster system was not his friend pretty early on, far earlier than Ryland— who although being his very clingy twin brother, was not guaranteed a placement with him—had. He had resented his brothers for a few years. His brothers who had spent their last moments together in a tightly woven hug as Colt watched from the couch, shaking and scared out of his mind.
He's not saying that things were better before his father had— a shot rings out, so much louder than like in the action movies he loved, he sees the body drop, sees Ryland flinch back and Court jump into action to help, Colt hears nothing but the gun. over and over and over— died, he's just saying Ryland ended up with the Graces and he ended up with a thick binder of things that made him a problem case. And then eventually emancipated, no nice rich family to help him figure out how to get through the day.
It's understandable why Colt had hated his brothers for a while there. He's not trying to defend it, but he did get the short end of the stick. Hell, prison seemed better than his teen years. Court was probably living lavish with his free board and avoidance of taxes.
Well, that is until Court isn't living anymore.
His brother dies, officially and on the shitty paper they send him in the mail, two weeks before his seventeenth birthday. He has a hard time feeling anything about it. He was going to be late to a shift at the diner that works him way too hard and pays him way too little. He reads the word deceased what must be a hundred times in an attempt to conjure any sort of emotion, but it was six in the morning his feet already hurt and all he could think was that he really wished anyone would take his shift so he could get longer than three hours of sleep.
He goes into work, it's just another day in a long line of days that float past him.
Things change when Ryland reaches out, they had been in contact the whole time. Granted there were stunted silences on Colt's end. They were in the middle of one of his silences when Ryland calls. It's strange at first, Ryland never calls without texting to make sure he's available. A lot of things have been strange since Court died. The world keeps spinning and Colt keeps going to his shitty job but it feels like something in his chest rotted into nothing and he has to learn how to live with the cavity left behind.
He misses his brother. He hadn't been to visit Courtland in years, and even then he really only saw him a few times when he was still fairly new in the system— if his fosters pitied his situation enough, there was always a chance they'd drive him to the prison to see him. It eats him alive, he should've visited every chance he had.
Colt tries not to linger on it, he tries to push away any negative feelings and go about his days as if nothings changed. It all comes to a head when he picks up his brother's call. "Hey," Ryland greets, strangely out of breath.
"What's up?" He's hoping this wont take too long, he's on his way to work right now and it's a pretty short walk. It's the only reason he had chosen his shitbox of an apartment. He'd probably live at the diner if he could, not because he liked it there but it felt like he spent nearly all the hours he was awake there anyway.
It's overcast, it seems like it could start pouring at any moment. He doesn't want to get caught in it, and he doesn't enjoy lingering to take this call. Colt likes to be in motion, constantly moving so that he doesn't have to deal with anything waiting for him. "I want you to come live with me," Ryland says in a strangely sharp way, as if he had to force the words out of his mouth.
"What?" Colt stops in his tracks, eyes darting around. He's not saying he's waiting for the camera man to jump out of a bush and yell that he had been Punk'd, but he is saying that it feels like such a joke that he actually does laugh a little. "What are you talking about?"
"I start school in the fall and my parents–" Ryland cuts himself off awkwardly and Colt can practically see him start fiddling with his hands. "The Graces, whatever. Look, they're getting me an apartment near campus and it's got two bedrooms, and I don't technically need a roommate but I thought maybe you– I don't know, would maybe want to live with me? You don't have to but all the bills will be covered, and we could go fifty-fifty on groceries, and it's in a good neighborhood, and–" Grace takes the first breath in an alarmingly long time. "And I miss you. I miss living with you."
"Okay," Colt says as if it's the easiest decision he's made in his life. He loves his brother. Buried beneath the resentment that had built up over the year, he really loves Ryland. "When's move in day?"
There's a moment of silence on the other side of the phone, followed by what sounds like a large crash. "Oh!" There's scuffling, which is probably Ryland standing back up if the crash was him falling. "I didn't think you'd say yes. Uh, you can come whenever you want, I'm going to move in in a few weeks because I want to get acclimated to the space, you know? But you can come in the fall if that works better for you?"
"A few weeks works for me." He was on a month by month basis with his apartment anyway– he hated being tied down with a contract— it would be easy to leave it all behind.
It's three weeks of packing up his frankly meager belongings, going to work, and losing his mind in the interim. He hasn't lived with Ryland in years, the last time he lived with his brother was a mere six days while they waited on a more permanent placement. Things are bound to have changed in all that time. Colt can't really put a finger on what he's worried about, it's Ryland, but the closer to move in day he gets, the tighter his chest feels.
Which is why he's barely breathing as he stands in front of the apartment complex, his apartment complex now he guesses. Ryland moved in a few days ago, they decided it was better to spread it out a bit so there wasn't any stepping on toes or mixing up boxes. Not that Colt had very many boxes to get mixed up, years of having to move at the drop of a dime with only a trash bag to transport all his belongings had trained him to pack light.
Ryland must have been camped out at the door because the second Colt knocks the door slams open. They don't bother with a verbal greeting, Colt barely manages to drop the box in his hands before he's pulled into a bone crushing hug. "Do you need help with your boxes?" Ryland asks when they separate.
Colt shakes his head. "I don't have much." The backseat of his car is full but he can handle it on his own, he can only imagine how much work Ryland had done the past few days moving his own things. Colt didn't want to push it.
"Right." Ryland nods once awkwardly before stepping into the apartment and motioning for Colt to follow. Grabbing his stuff, he follows his twin. "It's a bit small, but I figured it's fine, right? We've dealt with worse and it's kind of cozy."
"It's great." The living room and kitchen together were probably about the size of Colt's last apartment in total and it was fully furnished.
Ryland trips over absolutely nothing and catches himself on the kitchen counter. "I still have to unpack my room but I finished up everywhere else so I wouldn't be too much in the way and I can help you unpack if you need."
"I'm fine, Ry. You go work on your room." He needs a moment, several moments really. The weeks of mental preparation were not enough and he feels like he's going to start floundering at any second.
Ryland nods but he looks slightly disappointed. "Okay." He hovers awkwardly. "Do you want to– We could order in and do dinner together tonight, maybe?" He's so easy to read that Colt wants to gather him up in his arms and shake him as hard as possible. It's comforting to know that they're both anxious about this.
Colt smiles, wide and genuine before saying, "of course." They get pizza and stay up far too late watching movies in the living room. For a moment everything feels perfect, like things have fallen into place after being in disarray for years.
Colt doesn’t decorate his room, he never does anymore. When he was younger Court helped him and Ryland decorate the room that they shared. He had this poster from some movie he didn’t think he ever watched, but at the age of five the explosions on it were the coolest thing. He didn’t see the poster again after the night his dad died and he never stayed anywhere else long enough to decorate.
It’s strange to see Ryland decorate the space in his own way. He leaves little tchotchkes that he’s collected over the years all around the place. Colt hasn’t been in his room— he’s frankly scared of the mess he might find— but he can only imagine that his brother had made it his own too.
The apartment is so Ryland that sometimes when he’s the only one home, he’ll sit on the couch in the living room and relish in it. He knows, without a doubt, that this was the best decision to make. That this is truly home to him.
“So,” Ryland says, dragging out the o. He's leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and Colt imagines his brother thinks he looks cool right now, but he’s wearing a graphic t-shirt that has a corny joke about the periodic table on it and his glasses are crooked on his face. He looks so much like a stereotypical nerd that Colt has to bite his tongue to hold back the childish teasing.
It’s so different to live with Ryland, as opposed to just hanging out with him every once in a while. They’ve fallen into something familiar without the obstacle of the awkward thaw of conversation they used to have to get through before they could truly spend time with each other in the way. "We've got to get you something for your walls dude, it looks like a serial killer lives here."
Colt looks around, the walls are the stark white only a true landlord special could get you. "Just because I don't like living in a pigsty like you, doesn't mean my room is bad." It's awful in his room. Sometimes he wakes up feeling like he's suffocating and he has to move to the living room— where it's warm and soft and safe— because it feels like the walls of his room are closing in on him.
Ryland laughs. "It's actually really bad. We could get you a plant, or two maybe. You might need like thirty to liven the place up." It feels like too much. He understand that his brother is just trying to make things more comfortable for him, but something about being allowed— encouraged, really— to move into a space entirely makes him want to bolt.
He thinks Ryland can see this, and even though he spent less time in the system he can recognize the urgency behind Colt's eyes when he says, "I don't need anything, Ry."
"Sure," Ryland agrees easily. It seems like the end of the conversation but later that night, Ryland hauls five large plants that Colt doesn't even begin to know how to take care of into his room and tucks them under his window.
"We can get them a shelf. They can't stay on the ground forever." Ryland says before leaving the room. Colt spends the rest of the night researching how to take care of the plants, He falls asleep staring at them. They do bring life to the room, it's nice. The next time he wakes up in a panic his eyes find them and he doesn't feel the need to escape his own space.
The fall semester comes quicker than they both expect and their summer of solitude ends. It's the Sunday night before Ryland's first day and Colt's in the kitchen making breakfast for dinner— something Court would've done for them, if things were how they used to be all those years ago— as his brother looks through his supplies in the living room to make sure he has everything. It makes his heart ache, he couldn't imagine not being here for this. He doesn't know how he spent years without his brother by his side.
He's not sure why he says it, maybe it because he sees a distant version of himself in Ryland. Maybe he regrets how little he's done with his life. Whatever it is, he says, "I didn't even graduate," while glancing over at Ryland's brand new textbooks. They had to have been so expensive, just the thought of the price makes his stomach curl. He looks away.
Ryland freezes like a deer in headlights, looking up from the textbooks. "Did you want to?"
Colt sighs, turning back to the strawberries he's slicing. "I was too busy trying to get emancipated to think about it. A GED's not so bad." It feels like he's trying to convince himself. Colt knows that all the decisions he's made for his life had been the right ones at the time, but looking at Ryland be beyond excited for college makes him feel empty.
"You could go to college if you wanted to." His knife meets the cutting board a little harder than it needs to. Ryland doesn't mean anything by it, Colt knows for a fact he doesn't, but for a second it feels like he's fifteen again getting scolded by a guidance counselor for lacking direction.
He wants this conversation to be over. He wants to finish cutting up fruit for the pancakes so that they have a nice dinner and maybe talk about the good parts of their childhood— the parts with Court in them. He wants to tell Ryland to sleep well so that he can do well in his first day. He wants to completely separate himself from this progression of things and just have everything remain as it had for the last two months. "I couldn't get into your school if I wanted to, and we just moved in together. Seems pretty pointless to have to move away for school so soon."
"You could do online classes," Ryland pushes.
Colt doesn't know how to explain that it doesn't work like that for him, that he can't just have better because he wants it. So he just smiles and nods. "Maybe I'll think it over." And that's the end of that conversation.
Colt has been sleeping easier since the move. Maybe it’s because the mattress in his room is the closest he’s ever been to heaven and he’s never slept on anything quite as comfortable. Maybe it’s because being so close to Ryland eases something in his brain. It’s probably the bed thing. Along with the fact that he hasn’t had to pick up as many shifts as he used to, he feels more rested than he’s been in years.
It makes him antsy, he can practically hear his blood pumping and he's more aware of the texture of his clothes than he's ever been. Being so comfortable makes his skin crawl, the last time things were good like this was those last couple weeks he had with both of his brothers. Colt’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Things fall apart on an easy day. It's one of the days where Colt doesn't have work and Ryland hasn't locked himself in his room to study for an exam. By all means it should be a nice day.
He doesn't even remember how the argument started. He was making breakfast— maybe he had complained about always having to cook or how Ryland always left a mess in the living room. Whatever it was exploded the peace they were keeping and the dam holding back all of Colt's harsh thoughts broke.
"You think you're so much better than me. What? Because you've got parents and an education. Ry, we come from the same shit, and I get that you've smacked a band-aid over it and called it a day but I can't just do that!"
"I'm trying my hardest to help you. I gave you a place to live, completely rent free by the way. I know things were messed up but I am trying to make it right." Ryland all but throws his hands up in exasperation.
"Oh, and you think you can do that by just treating me like a stray dog? Like you can just pick me up off the street and fix everything? Get real, Ryland."
"I am being real! I'm probably the only one here who is. I'm actually trying to better myself, trying to move on. Do you think you can just work a dead end job for the rest of your life? It's killing you, Colt! I'm trying my hardest to live, and I'm so sorry that you want me to rot with you but I don't want that for myself, and maybe that does make me better than you."
Colt feels like he's been punched in the gut. "Fuck you, Ryland Grace," He spits the last name like poison and his brothers face crumples.
"No," Ryland starts, reaching out for him. Colt takes a step back towards the door. "Wait, Colt, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I'm sorry." Colt scoffs, turning his back on his brother's weak apologies and leaving.
He doesn't quite know where to go. Despite living in the apartment for two months, he hadn't spent much time around the neighborhood. He ends up walking around until he gets hopelessly lost, it doesn't seem like much time has passed but the sun has climbed it's way to the center of the sky and his feet ache like no other.
He finds a bench, eventually. He doesn't have his phone with him and he's going to have a hell of a time trying to find his way back home.
It's strange how easily he'd taken to calling the place home. In his mind, he thought the only home he'd ever have was one littered with empty beer bottles and hushed laughter and cleaning up wounds on quite nights. It's hard to shift his mental schema of the home he shared with his father and brothers to the apartment. There's so much warmth in his and Ryland's apartment, it's nothing like the house they grew up in— where all the warmth was carefully and quietly manufactured in a way that would fly under the radar. Colt's unabashedly happy here, it's a painful realization. He might have just thrown it all away.
The walk back home is slow, not only because he's lost but because he's drawing out the inevitable.
Colt is quiet when he enters the apartment. Ryland is sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest as he stares at the door. He startles, jumping to his feet the second Colt steps in. "Where did you go?"
"I don't know, just for a walk I guess." Ryland nods, taking a deep breath. Relief is etched in his face. Colt feels terrible, he's felt terrible for the past however many hours he'd been gone. But now, looking at Ryland who looks stressed out his mind, it sinks in how awful he feels.
He wants to go back to this morning, wants to do this day all over again entirely different. "I'm really sorry," Ryland says, standing from the couch and approaching Colt cautiously as if he's an untamed animal. It makes something in his chest hurt.
He can't remember the last time he had a fight with Ryland, it had to have been when they were younger. It was probably over something stupid, he'd take a childish fight over this any day. "I know." Tears burn behind his eyes.
"No, really. I'm sorry, Colt. I don't pity you, I think you're the strongest person I know. I couldn't have done what you did. I can't cook for myself and I'm not even paying my own bills, you were making it work. Sure, you didn't have it all figured out, but you had parts of it and I know you would've figured it all out in time. I'm not looking down on you."
Colt stares down at his scuffed up vans, shame sits heavy in his gut. "I know." He feels bad for implying Ryland thought less of him, his brother had been nothing but kind from the second he was born.
"I didn't want to lose you too," Ryland admits and Colt nearly gets whiplash from how quickly his head snaps up. "When I found out about Court–" his voice shakes and Colt is three seconds away from scooping him up in a hug. "I just can't do that again, Colt. I can't lose another brother. And I just thought that if you were here then nothing could happen. I'm sorry, I didn't consider how you'd feel about it all."
He doesn't know what to do other than wrap his arms around Ryland. His brother tucks his head in the crease of his neck and it's not long before he can feel the collar of his shirt growing wet.
It's hard to describe how things change after their fight. It's like the world blurs and gets clearer at the same time. Colt finds himself filled with a sense of hope that he would've thought was foolish just weeks ago.
Ryland is a Grace now, he had changed his last name years ago when he was adopted. He was no longer a Gentry— no longer ready for the world to eat him alive, to be torn apart piece by piece by sharp teeth. Colt's not upset about this anymore, he doesn't feel the need to hold on to some misguided idea of who he and his brother are. They didn't need to be the Gentry twins when they could just be Colt and Ryland.
Colt didn’t think he could ever stop being a Gentry, not just because it felt like washing his hands of Court, but because he thought he was ready to face cruelty at every turn. He was ready for the world to be harsh to him so that he could be just as harsh back. He couldn't imagine softening in the way Ryland had and letting the world in with open arms. His twin was doing so well with university, he had a difficult time allowing himself to believe— truly and fully—that he could have something just as nice to throw himself into.
The light from his computer makes his eyes sting as he looks at stunt programs, he doesn’t think he’s wanted anything so much before. He hasn't wanted anything for himself in years, he had been too busy trying to survive. He sighs, looking over to Ryland, who’s spread out on the living room floor, completely surrounded by notes.
It’s far too late for any of this, the sun had gone down hours ago.
“We could get your name changed,” Ryland says, turning away from his work to face his brother. Colt tenses up, those feel like fighting words no matter how softly Ryland says them. “Maybe not even officially, but a cool stage name for when you’re the number one stunt guy in the world would probably be nice.”
Colt wants to scratch, to bite, to be angry over it. Colton Gentry is cool enough to be a stage name, he wants to say. But he can't, the words die on his tongue because it feels like a lie. He doesn’t know when this happened, but Gentry feels a name too heavy for him to hold onto.
He nods silently, agreeing without commitment, and Ryland smiles widely at him. "I'm not going to be a Grace," he clarifies, just in case his brother had gotten the wrong idea.
Ryland is quick to shake his head. "No, I know. It's not like there's going to be anything graceful about you crashing cars anyhow." He waves the idea away easily and Colt feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. Ryland didn't want him to change to fit into the life he had built, he wanted Colt to change enough to build a life for himself.
"I'll have you know that my stunts will be graceful and gnarly all in one." It's a good night, it feels like the start of a good life.