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Colt had a rough day.
High school was hard. Not just because of the stupid (arguably pointless) classes he had to take in order to graduate, but also because holding a social life was unreasonably difficult. He was "popular" in that people thought it was cool that a school of just 1,000 kids had a set of identical twins. Though, it didn't take much for someone to pick out one from the other. They were distinct in their individuality, but why did people want to make friends just because he and Ryland were a one in something biological function?
Twins were normal. Triplets, even. Nothing special about it, in Colt's opinion.
He had his best friend, Dan, and his little circle of genuine friends he loved. They hung out on the weekends all day, played video games together, did all the fun stuff. They even went to the mall about half an hour away just to fuck around.
Why was his day rough, you may be thinking?
In first period (math, ew), some dumbass behind Colt had gotten their gum stuck on his shoulder. How, he had no clue. The girl was apologetic, claiming she meant to throw it at her friend who happened to sit in front of him. Her nails dug into his shoulder as she tried her best to get it off his shirt. She mostly succeeded, except it left little gooey pieces of blue on his fabric that made him pissy.
In second period (history), he had forgotten to do the assignment that was due the night before. Luckily, Ms. Ron was an understandable lady and gave him some grace with a concerned smile. He promised he'd have it done by the end of the day, and she told him to take all the time he needed but to have it done by Friday.
In third period (English, and lunch period thankfully), he had read to the wrong pages in The Odyssey, which resulted in him being thirty pages behind everyone else in the class. Mr. Carter was at the board trying to get the class to discuss the significance of the cyclops or whatever while Colt sat in the back of the room, panicking, trying to read at the speed of light to catch up. Luckily, the teacher didn't seem to notice.
During lunch, Ryland rambled about an experiment he just finished up in chemistry. He liked chemistry simply for the idea of blowing shit up, and Colt couldn't agree more. The experiment was something about mixing lead and water or something and putting it on a hot plate. Called golden rain or something, Colt didn't know. But it was nice to talk to Ryland for the half hour lunch period, even if he looked at the gum on Colt's shirt with a raised brow.
In fourth period (oceanography. Completely useless to Colt but it was interesting, anyway, and thankfully the last class of the day), they were doing presentations. Ms. Shawn had assigned a project where you would draw a slip of paper out of a hat, and whatever level of the ocean you got, you'd have to make a presentation about it. Almost like a brochure in slideshow form. Colt had gotten the Bathypelagic Zone. Simple enough. He did his research and with Court's eye for design, he made a pretty damn good slideshow.
Except when he was presenting, the projector somehow fell from the ceiling. Just his luck, right?
He finished his presentation holding up his school-issued laptop and going through the slides that way. He knew enough to get by without the text on screen, but after the day he'd had, it was the breaking point.
He sent a text to Dan saying he wouldn't be hanging out after school. The group consisted of a mix of theater kids and band kids, so they usually hung out with them in either the band or theater room because they always had some sort of event going on after school. Typically, Colt would make his way over right after school (sometimes bringing Ryland, who was in desperate need of a social life), but he couldn't find it in himself to go.
Colt and Ryland got home, greeted Court who was sitting on the couch, and Colt headed straight for his and Ryland's shared room. He tossed his backpack on his desk and flopped face first into his bed with a deep sigh. There were a lot more problems in the world than a bad day at school, so why did it feel like the end of the world?
He groaned when he realized there was still blue gum stuck to his shirt. He sat up and took his shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the room and lying back down. He wished the mattress would swallow him whole for a little bit.
A knock on the door.
"Hey."
Court's muffled footsteps came further into the room. The mattress dipped by Colt's knee.
"Are you okay?"
"'M fine," Colt said, voice obscured by his pillow.
"You sure? You didn't grab a snack."
Colt hummed an affirmative, hating the embarrassment that crawled up his neck. He hated that such little things continued to pile up throughout the day, fucking with him, making him unreasonably angry. He hated that he was an angry crier because he didn't want Court to see him cry because Court always knew something was wrong. Call it older sibling intuition or whatever. Nothing snuck by under Courtland's nose.
He pressed his face further into his pillow as if it would stop his eyes from leaking.
First his shirt, then his assignment and the pitying look his teacher gave him, then the realization that he fucked up the assigned reading and—
Why was it so much all of a sudden? He juggled four classes just fine on any other day. Why today?
A hand nudged his leg.
"Colt? What's goin' on?" Courtland asked, his voice low and worried.
Colt swallowed, thankful his brother couldn't see his face. "Nothing."
"Nothing's got you huffin' and puffin' around the house?"
"Nope."
Courtland's hand patted his calf. "C'mon, Colt. You're a horrible liar."
Colt made sure no moisture rested on his cheeks before he finally sat back up. There was no use in trying to hide from Courtland, as he'd get the truth out one way or another. He cared too much to let something go. Colt was usually thankful for it, but right now he just wanted to wallow in his own self-pity and mentally curse the day for being so shitty for no reason. It's not like he didn't put in any effort into his schooling. He made an absolute banger of a presentation! He wanted to flaunt it! Everything else… well, he may be a bit forgetful sometimes, but still.
Court's eyes shared the same worry as his voice. Colt took a deep breath.
No tears. You can do it.
He wasn't eight years old anymore, running to Courtland as he bawled about their father nearly killing Ryland. He could talk about a bad day.
"Just had a bad day," he settled on saying meekly.
Court's hand was still on his shin. A comforting weight. "How bad?" he asked.
"Pretty bad."
"Wanna talk about it?"
Colt sighed. "It was something in every class, man. First period it was the gum this girl stuck to my shirt—" he gestured to the other side of the room where his shirt was resting on the floor "—and then I had an assignment I forgot was due last night, but my teacher gave me an extention, and then it was this stupid book we're reading. I read the book but not to the right page so I was behind, and then the stupid projector fell off the ceiling in the middle of my oceanography presentation. I was proud of that slideshow, Court."
"I know. You worked hard on it," Court agreed with a frown. His eyes strayed to the shirt on the floor then back to Colt.
"And with all that shit that happened, I ditched hanging out with Dan. I'm a bad friend."
"Hey, you're not a bad friend for ditching one hangout. You guys are together, like, every weekend. He'll be fine without you for a day. I bet he'd understand if you told him."
"Yeah, but still. I just… I don't know why today of all days had to suck. I didn't do anything."
"Sometimes, life is like that," Courtland said with a small nod. "It sucks."
"Yeah," Colt said, swallowing back the frustrated tears. No more tears. He couldn't cry in front of Court. He wasn't eight years old anymore. He was nearly eighteen. But his heart was still heavy in his chest, too tired of being in the present and feeling everything that came with existing in today's age.
"Come on, maybe some food will make you feel better."
Food did sound good. Colt let Court pull him to his feet and trudge into the kitchen, where Ryland was sitting at the dinner table with an apple in one hand and his pencil in another. His posture was the equivalent to a shrimp as he hovered over his science homework. He took a bite of the apple and held it in his mouth to use his calculator.
Courtland smacked Ryland's back. "Posture, dude."
Ryland spluttered, taking the apple from his mouth. "I'm sitting up!"
"No, you're not."
Ryland rolled his eyes and went back to his work, his shoulders somewhat straighter.
Courtland tossed Colt an orange. He loved peeling them. Eating them, too, but the peeling was satisfying. As Colt started peeling the fruit, Courtland disappeared back towards their bedrooms. Colt frowned, wondering what his brother was up to when Ryland spoke.
"Is nudity a new thing in the house?"
Colt smacked the back of his head. "Shut up, I'm not naked."
"Where'd your shirt go?"
"On the floor. Where'd your common sense go? Or did you use it all up for that experiment today?"
Ryland huffed, jabbing Colt's side with his pencil, laughing at his yelp. "At least I have common sense."
Colt rolled his eyes and ate a slice of orange, his gaze resting on a picture on the fridge. It was of the three brothers, taken in the backyard by a neighbor. One year for the Fourth of July, Court decided he'd invite the neighbors over for some barbeque. It wasn't his first time using the grill out back, but it was his first time trying to cook for more than three people. He did fine at the start, but after turning one of the burger patties into a hockey puck, one of the dads stepped in to help and give Court a few pointers. One of the families had brought sparklers for the kids to light off, so he and Ryland naturally had a lightsaber battle with them. Yeah, they burned the shit out of their hands but it was fun.
The picture had the twins on either side of Courtland with bright smiles on all of their faces. It was the closest to normalcy they'd gotten after everything that happened with their father. He'd always be grateful to whoever took the picture. Court always took pictures of them and their achievements, never including himself; the very reason the twins had the opportunity to achieve great things.
"Had a bad day, huh?" Ryland said absentmindedly. "Saw the gum on your shirt."
"Yeah. Pretty shit."
Ryland tapped the pencil's eraser on the table. "Maybe we could watch a movie later?"
"Can't. Gotta get caught up with schoolwork. Can't fall behind even more than I already have."
"I'll do the work."
"Ry—"
"You'll just have to read The Odyssey. I'll take care of the rest."
"You have your own work—"
"That I'm almost done with. Look." Ryland held up his almost completed science packet. "Probably won't take me that long to do it, anyway. Where'd you put your backpack?"
He tried to catch his twin as he rushed to their bedroom, but he failed. He stood in the kitchen, listening to Ryland's footsteps flutter about their room. He ate another orange slice, finding that yes, it was making him feel better. He wondered what Court was doing.
Ryland came back to the kitchen with Colt's backpack over his shoulder. He dug through Colt's backpack, finding his history folder and the assignment he forgot to do. Ryland read the instructions as Colt awkwardly continued to eat.
"Oh. This is easy. I had to do this last semester," Ryland said. He set the paper off to the side and focused on his science work again. "I'll get to it."
Colt was about to respond when his vision was suddenly obscured by white. A t-shirt had been thrown into his face. He caught it before it could fall to the floor, finding Courtland back in the kitchen and digging through the cabinets.
"What do we want for dinner?" he asked as Colt slid into the shirt.
"Don't care," Ryland said.
Courtland's gaze fixed on Colt. He shrugged.
"Hibatchi takeout it is, then," Court announced as he reached for his phone.
"Court—" Colt tried exasperatedly.
"Don't feel like cooking."
Colt ate the last of his orange and tossed the skin of it away. He barely had time to blink before Courtland was tossing his arm around his shoulder and steering them into the living room. Colt didn't complain. He went willingly, flopping onto the couch as his brother reached for the remote. He put on some random channel playing reruns of Bar Rescue. Colt usually didn't pay too much attention to cable TV, but Jon Taffer yelling at dumbasses is kind of like second-hand therapy.
They lounged about, half watching the TV and half waiting for the delivery of food. The sunshine outside had turned into a glowing orange seeping in through the windows.
Once the food arrived, Ryland got the door and brought the bags into the kitchen. He shoved away all of the school stuff, claiming it was done when Colt gave him a look. Court grabbed forks and spoons and took his takeout container into the living room. The twins followed close behind after grabbing glasses of water. They sprawled on the couch, feet on the coffee table as they argued about what to watch.
Eventually, since the food was getting cold, they settled on watching Ratatouille. Colt had seen it before a long time ago, so he was actually invested. Court seemed he could care less as he stabbed his chicken with his fork.
The food was warm and delicious. Colt needed it. He had felt like he was going to explode earlier, but with the power of hibatchi chicken and fried rice, he felt calm and content. Thoughts of the day he had were far away, replaced by appreciation for such good food and company.
Maybe halfway through the movie (Colt was horrible at telling time), Court got up to toss their empty containers in the trash and put their dishes in the sink. Colt didn't think about his brother moving around as Remy was reuniting with his family. Eventually, Court emerged with a basket of laundry in his arms and a cheshire grin on his face.
Colt watched him warily. For good reason, too, as Courtland approached him and dumped the basket's contents on him.
Immediately, he was enveoped in warmth.
Suddenly, he wasn't seventeen with the weight of uncertain future and grades on his shoulders. He was ten years old, giggling and laughing with Ryland on Court's mattress as the eldest sibling poured their fresh laundry on them. Warm, inviting. Nostalgic. He remembered Court's smile. It was tired, but bright and happy as the twins giggled and shrieked, trying to poke and shock each other with the static electricity.
Court's smile in the present wasn't tired. It was truly happy. Playful. He wasn't a seventeen year old boy working multiple jobs to keep his siblings together. He was a functional adult who still took care of the twins whenever they couldn't do it themselves. He loved them more than he ever loved himself.
Court started picking up shirts and shorts to fold while Colt reveled in the warmth as long as he could.
"No fair," Ryland complained. He hopped up from his spot on the far end of the couch to jump atop Colt. "I want laundry on me."
"Get your own basket!" Colt said with an uncontrollable smile as he tried to push his brother off of him.
"We share everything!"
"So?"
Ryland grabbed a shirt and put it over his arms like a blanket, sighing contently.
Court just laughed and shook his head, continuing to fold laundry as the movie played, forgotten in the back.
Colt resigned himself to Ryland using him as a pillow, sharing an eye roll with the eldest brother.
By the power of magic, his brothers knew how to make him feel better on any rainy day.