Chapter Text
“Micheal, you’re mic’d!” Colt yelled from the muddy puddle he had just launched himself into. “Everyone can hear you!”
“Wait, really?” It’s just like being with Ryder again. Colt pinched his nose huffily. I love being a stuntman, I love being a stuntman, I love being a stuntman. He repeated his mantra over and over, it was almost a prayer now. There were worse jobs to be in, he should kiss that muddy puddle instead of leeching himself out of it. He could be in prison, or dead, or working in that valet job again. Yeah, there were worse places to be in. He yanked the earpiece out to cut off the incessant rambling of the pseudo Tom Ryder, now only listening to the slushing of his clothes against his body as he walked to his trailer. Don’t think about the droplet of dirt that’s about to run down where the sun doesn’t shine. He thought to himself, clenching his eyes shut as he got closer and closer to his destination.
Colt finally entered his trailer, not bothering to touch his phone, not with the amount of dirt embedded on his hands. Just straight to the shower, one of man’s greatest creations. He pulled the costume off, thrown it into the designated place and twisted the shower faucet to release the fall of clean water. He stepped inside the shower, almost sighing in relief at the warm liquid gently pelting against his chest. He let the water splash against his face for a moment before wiping his eyes clean and looking down, shielding his eyes from any more water. Colt watched the mud swirl in the drain and he doesn’t know why he was taken back twenty-one years ago.
“Colt, you have to shower before dinner.” Court had his hands on his waist, almost motherly. Colt had rolled his eyes. At eight years old, he could do that without getting a slight headache.
“Why? I’m mostly clean!” He just didn’t feel like showering, already comfortable in his perfect mess.
“You’re covered in dust, you look like a tumbleweed.” Court shot back. Ryland snorted behind him, who was only clean because he was too scared to go dirt-biking with him. What did he have to be so snotty about? What was annoyance flared into anger.
“Shut up, you coward!” Colt shrieked, tilting his head past Court’s legs.
“You shut up, you stupid-“
“Hey!” Court’s voice boomed, even as a sixteen year old. “Don’t call each other stupid!”
At this, Henry’s timid little cry could be heard from down the hall. Court sighed, but only before cutting Ryland off before he could argue. “No, you don’t tell each other to shut up or call each other stupid. Got it?”
They grumbled their understanding but that wasn’t enough for Court. “Now, apologise to each other.”
For a moment, no one spoke but listened to Henry’s cries soften to baby-ish grumbles. Then, Colt and Ryland had made eye contact and it was like they had felt regret at the same time. Coincidentally, they apologised to each other, still at the other ends of the bathroom with Court standing in between them. Court nodded.
“Good. Now, Colt, you gotta shower before Dad comes home. You know how he gets.” Court probably didn’t think they noticed him rubbing the arm with the cigarette burn on. They did and they thought about it all the time. Dad’s bruises on their arms and faces would eventually fade. Even Henry’s bump on his head from being thrown across the room would heal. Court’s cigarette burn would always be there. Colt was filled with more remorse than his eight year old body should be able to hold.
“Okay.” Colt mumbled in shame, his hands wrangling together. Court noticed, as he always did, and gave him a soft smile.
“We can have popsicles after dinner, if you want?” Saying the right thing at the right time was never Colt’s speciality. It was an art that he thought only Court could have. The twins’ shouts of joy overlapped each other, the bathroom tiles thumping with their jumping feet. Court laughed through his nose, before turning to lead Ryland out of the bathroom, his hand gently ruffling his hair. Colt heard Henry’s cries die down, most likely from Court’s influence.
Three months later, Court shot their dad.
Ryland had done or said something out of turn, no one remembers, but it sent their father into a frenzy. If Colt was the person he was now, he would’ve beaten his dad before he had even laid a finger on Ryland. Unfortunately, he was just a scared little kid who couldn’t handle the sight of his brother getting beat so he had run upstairs before their father had even landed a punch. Colt was hiding in the corner on the very first step, hearing his twin’s apologies being shouted over by their father’s screeching yells. Colt heard Ryland’s voice get weaker and weaker until he couldn’t hear him anymore. He heard Court pleading with their father to stop, especially now that Ryland was unconscious.
A few seconds later, Court rounded the stairs, grabbing Colt’s hand with a determined vigour. He had led him to Henry’s crib, instructing him to pick their brother up and take him to his own room. Colt didn’t understand why Court had told him to try to cover Henry’s ears, but he would do it anyway. He didn’t know what Court would do until he saw the gleam of Dad’s gun in his hand. Colt had gone into Court’s room, the furtherest from the stairs, and curled into the floor with Henry in his lap, who still seemed blissfully unaware. That is until Colt tried to cover his ears, his face squirming in confusion. Henry growing up to be such a sensitive soul wouldn’t surprise Colt later on in life because instead of crying and trying to push his hands away, Henry’s little hands would curl around Colt’s face, like he was trying to cover his ears too.
Three minutes of thunderous yelling and a single shot was fired. Colt didn’t need to check, didn’t need confirmation, to know that his dad was dead. Colt didn’t want to check, instead he just tucked Henry into his chest more and rocked them until he heard sirens outside. It was the voices downstairs, what sounded like police, that gave Colt enough courage to pick himself back up and return Henry back to his crib.
He had descended the stairs hesitantly, reaching the part of the banister where he could overlook the living room. The police had already covered his dad but Colt could guess what he looked like, with the pool of blood that stretched around his unmoving body. Colt didn’t realise it until later but that sweeping feeling in his chest was relief. Relief that he would never see his dad again, relief that his father wouldn’t hurt the four of them anymore. He couldn’t hit them, scream at them or do anything to them ever again. The more he stared at the plastic sheet that barely hid his father, the more relief he felt and with that, the more shame. Shame that he even feels this much relief at the sight of his father’s corpse.
He wouldn’t feel that for much longer anyway, because his eyes traveled to the paramedics that surrounded his twin’s body. Ryland. Who was not moving. Whose eyes were not blinking. Who had just the same amount of blood leaking out of his body as their father’s across the living room. Colt’s heart started racing like a jackhammer, his eyes stretching open like never before.
“Ryland!” Colt shrieked, thundering down the last couple of stairs to run to Ryland’s body. However, he couldn’t even get close before Court scooped him up from ground, his legs still in running motion. He waved his fists theatrically as he flung in the air, and when Court turned Colt to face him, he started to thump his fists against his chest.
“Let me go! Ryland!” Colt continued hitting Court’s chest.
“Colt - stop, listen -“ Court took the hits, he made no effort to stop them.
“He’s my brother! He’s my twin!” Court screamed even louder, now that he realised they were in the kitchen, further from Ryland. The strikes weren’t strong enough to hurt Court, eventually they tired out, even though Colt was still trying to wriggle out of Court’s hold. Court was stronger though and just held Colt closer.
“Listen to me, Colt. Ryland’s okay, everything’s okay.” Court picked up the hand that was on his back to run it through Colt’s hair, his forehead smudged gently against Colt’s. Colt was a stubborn person at eight, he didn’t want to accept Court’s warmness. Well, his mind didn’t want to but his body liked to betray him. He let Court brush his hair in a moment of silence aside from Colt’s whimpering pants.
“Colt.” Court started. “Everything’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. The doctors have Ryland, they’ll take care of him, I promise.”
“A-are you sure?” Colt murmured into Court’s chest, smelling something he can’t quite place. (Colt would come to realise years later that it was burned smokeless powder that he smelled. The only reason he knew that was from one of the movies he stunted in).
“Yes, I’m sure. He’s going to get better in no time, you’ll see.” Court murmured and for a moment, they couldn’t hear the police outside the door, couldn’t hear the paramedics shuffle medical equipment around their brother. It was like they were in the kitchen just to eat the popsicles hidden in the freezer, the ones Dad doesn’t know about. It was just another day.
“Colt, I need you to listen to me.” Court broke the silence and all the noise came back. “Uncle Holland’s coming over, you like him, don’t you?”
Colt paused before answering. “Y-yeah, why is he coming?”
“He’s going to take care of you and Henry, alright? He’ll take you to Ryland when the doctors are done taking-“
“Wait. Wait, where are you going?” Colt’s heart started speeding up again, his hands already starting to curl up in Court’s shirt. Court just sighed for a moment, Colt could almost hear him thinking.
“Colt, I did something bad. Very bad, alright? And when someone does something that bad, they have to go with the police-“
“You’re going to jail?!” Colt’s fists started flinging uncontrollably again. “You can’t go! Don’t go, please! We need you, tell them we need you!” He roared, his voice echoing off the walls.
“Colt, please, I need you to calm down-“
After this, Colt can’t remember too much. He probably went ballistic, unable to focus on anything but the fact that Court was going to leave. Colt has only glimpses of the aftermath. Uncle Holland detaching him off Court, Ryland being strapped into the ambulance bed, a police officer leading Court into a police car. Colt doesn’t fully remember how he acted for the rest of the night but he most likely didn’t help the situation. Henry had cried himself to sleep, nestled in Uncle Holland’s arms. The days after were a blur of mostly sitting in the hospital, next to Ryland, who was in a medically induced coma for about two of those days. Their cousin Holly was put in charge of Henry, who had no clue what was going on but seemed to have sensed everyone’s sour mood, and kept quiet the entire time. Almost like he didn’t want to make it harder for everyone else.
Ryland woke up from the induced coma, groggy and asking for Court. He’d also refused his new glasses at first, unable to remember that their father had broken them when he had assaulted him. To this day, Ryland can’t remember what happened, only being told that Court was jail and probably would be for a long time. The trail lasted for months and under Minnesota law, Court was sentenced to ten years in prison. When he was receiving his sentence, he hadn’t looked at the judge or the jury but at his three siblings behind him. This was the only time Colt had seen Court looked so defeated, so apologetic, maybe even scared.
Court had - wait a minute. Colt has been in the shower way too long, his fingers were as wrinkled as raisins now. “Fuck.” He grumbled, shutting off the water.
Colt, for the life of him, couldn’t remember the last time he had done that. He didn’t know why watching the mud wash away remind him of his brothers. Guilt suddenly tingled in his nerves, he hadn’t talked to any of them for a while now. Henry was in New York City, Ryland was in San Francisco, Court was God knows where, and he was in Miami but that shouldn’t stop them from talking. No, he’ll call one of them when he gets back to the hotel, maybe Ryland. It was February, obviously he wouldn’t have a school break for a while, maybe Colt could fly to him? The thoughts ran through his head, why did it take a muddy puddle for Colt to realise that he missed his brothers?
He leaves the shower, regrettably now that a cold breeze brush against his skin, raising goosebumps. Throwing on a shirt and a pair of jeans, he kept the towel in his hair. ‘A sick stuntman was about useful to anybody as a two-legged mule’, one of his teachers told him that. Outside his trailer were the sounds of the film crew walking past, discussing the next scenes to shoot and what were they going to do for Valentine’s day. Colt was going to take Jody to a nice restaurant that he can barely afford, after gifting her a bouquet of red roses. God, he was basic. Maybe it wasn’t too late to find something more romantic.
Colt picked up his phone from the couch and - oh. Ryland had left him a voicemail? Maybe it was their twin telepathy, maybe they missed each other at the same time. Colt chuckled at the thought before opening the voicemail.
“Colt!” Ryland’s voice was panicked, practically screeching in fear. It sounded like he was running. Colt shot up from the couch, almost wanting to run himself but where?
"Colt! I need you! Don't let - no, no, don't let them take me!"
Colt has been thrown off buildings, has been set on fire, even had to pretend to be bitten by a dog. Colt hasn't been this afraid since his dad was alive. Despite his hand shaking, threatening to drop his phone, Colt kept a firm grip to listen to the rest of the voicemail.
"Colt! No!” Suddenly, Colt heard grunts and it sounded like the phone had fallen.
“Don't do it, don't, don't - Colt!”
Just like that, the voicemail was over.