Chapter Text
A text from an unknown number lit up Colt’s otherwise gloomy car.
[Unknown number]: New number. Don’t lose it this time, Muscle.
Pass it to Math too
Colt knew who it was the moment he read the practical yet slightly affectionate tone of the text. It was Court, and him changing numbers as often as someone changes clothes was too common of an occurrence to Colt’s liking. The brothers had discussed subtle code names for when Court texted them out of the blue with a new identity. The other two decided to not question it, along with the hundreds of other things they found worrisome. Maybe it was so that the twins could recognize his texts amongst other spams? Court never specified.
Colt’s name was ‘muscle’ and Ryland’s ‘math’- a silent jab that pleased Ryland and peeved Colt. The jab was, however, impalpable and easily forgettable to any digital peeping toms.
Colt stared at the name ‘Math’ for a moment longer before his fingers tapped across the screen in a quick blur.
[Colt]: This is the fourth number change this month.
[Unknown number]: And? Pass it to Math
“Do it yourself,” Colt muttered, typing the same thing and hitting send.
[Colt]: We aren’t talking.
[Unknown number]: What’d you do this time?
[Colt]: It wasn’t me.
This time, it took an extra moment for Court’s message to pass through. Or maybe he just hesitated.
[Unknown number]: Colt
Then, a second later,
what happened
What happened- Terrible question to ask when Colt was in an almost-good mood.
“What if it happens again?”
“It won’t happen again, Ry!” Colt’s frustrated voice cut through the silent hum of the fridge. His phone buzzed from where he had left it upon returning home not too long ago, but that was the least of his problems. Ryland’s eyes flickered between him and the phone with disbelief, his fingers curled into his palm unthreateningly as if he was already tired of arguing, “You don’t know that, Colt,” then with a soft breath, “what if something happens again and luck decides ‘I’ve helped this guy enough’?”
“This is what I worked my ass off for for years. Stunt work is my life.”
“It was your life!” Ryland pushed his hands off the kitchen counter, proceeding towards his brother with the footsteps of someone with a desire to punch him but no knowledge on how to, “You promised me you’d let this stuff go, Colt, it’s too dangerous. You just healed!”
Colt’ eyes narrowed before he could stop them, “I’ve been parking cars for a living, Ryland. You don’t know the loss I felt- I used to work for one of the biggest names in Hollywood!”
“Yeah, and it almost killed you.”
That did it. When Colt announced in the ‘Two and a Half Men’ group chat (the one with only him and Ryland because Court had no stable number) that he would be going back to working for Tom Ryder, he had expected his brother to express concern. But not to this extent. He hadn’t expected to be scolded in the kitchen of his brother’s apartment, wearing the same pants he had been rushed to the hospital in.
It took Colt a moment to respond to Ryland’s sharp words, but the fire of determination in his tone had not yet been extinguished, “Is that seriously how you feel? About me getting my life back?”
“What?” Ryland snapped, “this isn’t about.. that! Anything could happen- you never know!” Then stepping closer, his voice softened. “I’m worried, Colt.”
Which he was. Because he had watched his brother lose the spark he carried, a special kind of energy that simultaneously annoyed and excited the people near him, as the result of a single fall. It took a devastatingly long and painful year for Colt to reclaim that spark. Ryland wasn’t certain he could watch Colt lose it again.
Especially not for wealthy Hollywood scums who kicked him to the curb with a meaningless apology email, and money that covered none of his physical therapy bills.
Colt sighed, his hand subconsciously reaching up to grasp the back of his neck “I know that. But it’s not stopping me, Ry, this is my chance.”
Ryland couldn’t suppress a bitter scoff, his gentle tone forgotten, “Chance to what? End up paralyzed for real this time?”
“Chance to prove myself. To prove that I can get hit and still come back! To Jody, to Tom-“
“Is that what Ryder's manager told you?" interrupted Ryland, "You're no hero, Colt. You’re only there to make the people who actually matter look good!”
“I know that, asshat,” The words shoved through the barrier of Colt’s teeth. “That’s the job!”
“The job that cost you your life.”
“The job that GAVE me my life!”
A huff of an irritated exhale rushed through Ryland’s nose, “It’s gonna be the job that takes your life too.”
“Yeah? Sometimes, I wish it did.”
“Sometimes, I do too!” The words outpaced Ryland’s filter.
Colt froze.
So did Ryland.
He didn’t mean to say that- nowise in such a grating tone. He immediately regretted every syllable he had uttered since the beginning of his sentence. Regretted that it was him who Colt stared at with disbelief in his eyes, as if he couldn’t recognize him. What he said was true to some length- Colt was very unappreciative of how lucky he was and maybe experiencing some permanent bodily damage could have changed his perspective- but the more Ryland’s mind raced the more he apprehended the sting of his words.
He had weaponized a truth he hadn’t meant to voice.
The subtle hitch of Colt’s breath, his eyes searching for Ryland’s, the stiff step aback when Colt couldn’t find what he was searching for in them- only fueled the penitence growing in Ryland’s chest.
Taking those words meant requiring a shield. And Colt wasn’t guarded- not around him.
The phone abandoned on the coffee table rang again, abruptly tearing the invisible string of tension buzzing between the twins. A bright name flashed on the screen, ‘Gail’. That’s Ryder’s manager, right? Within seconds, Ryland knew what she was calling Colt for. But those seconds cost him the scope of stopping Colt from reaching for the phone. On the contrary, Colt was grateful to the phone for interrupting their staring contest- one he was sure he would lose if he were to remain in it a second longer.
“Colt, don’t even-”
Colt held the phone up to his ear with his left hand, using the shaky other to grab his jacket- or the one he thought was his- off the couch. “I’ll be right there, Gail,” his voice came out just a note higher than normal, hurt echoing against the hollow sound of his tone.
Then he moved, deaf to Ryland’s verbal protests. If his feet didn’t feel glued to the ground, Ryland would have grabbed Colt’s shoulder. Colt left the apartment in a haze- that is, at least, how it seemed to Ryland. The sound of the front door slamming shut was so loud and awakening it made Ryland flinch.
So deafening that it was louder than his distant memories of their stepdad screaming at Court. Louder than the police sirens that surrounded his home the first time he heard a gunshot. Louder than any other sound he could register at the moment.
And then- nothing.
It was now the silence that was deafening. It rang in his ears, unwelcomed, as he stared at the closed door.
He messed up this time. He messed up bad.
********
Jody noticed Colt put unnerving focus into every one of his stunts ever since he reached the set, even though his mind was vividly somewhere else.
Ryland’s words rang in his ears with every leap, jump, and fall. Every crash reminded him of the blindsided sensation Ryland’s words injected him with.
“You’re no hero, Colt.”
“It’s gonna be the job that takes your life too.”
“Sometimes I wish it did too!”
Sometimes I wish it did too.
Sometimes I wish it did too.
Jody's voice freed him from the prison that was the repetitive echoes of Ryland’s voice, “You doing okay?”
Colt glanced up from where he was propped up against a wall- or the giant rock he had been slammed into for the scene. His throat ached from how dry it was, his ribs burnt with every breath, and he had to stop breathing to prevent coughing out the dust in his lungs. Colt raised a sore hand and gave her a thumbs up. He wasn’t exactly feeling very ‘thumbs up’, but the world didn’t need to know that.
She gave him a look, an undeniable glare, which meant that she knew he was bullshitting her. He ignored the look- though it did frighten him a fraction. Before she could interrogate an answer out of him, someone’s voice cut through tension, “Alright, everyone, let’s reset the rig!”
Saved by the bell, Seavers.
[Unknown number]: Colt
what happened
Right. Colt still had to tell Court everything.
[Colt]: It's a long story.