Chapter Text
Colt had always been a little bit more muscular. More mouthy. Quicker to anger and to throw hands.
It was not surprising that most people assumed he was the protector. The one who stepped up when his twin brother was being bullied, when Ryland, sweet, soft-spoken, clumsy, bad-jokes machine Ryland, needed help.
If only they knew.
Oh sure, Colt would jump off trees and swim in strong currents and fight in the schoolyard while Ryland yelled at him to be careful, to mind himself, to be gentle. But that was easy. That was fun, even.
No. When things actually mattered, when someone needed to really step up, Ryland was always the first to put himself on the line.
When teachers got mad at Colt for being distracted in class, for falling asleep, for getting into fights, it was Ryland who would plead with them so the punishment wasn’t too harsh. A young boy arguing with grown adults in defence of his useless brother, with words and arguments too big for his small body.
And when they got home and Dad got angry at Colt for being so dumb and getting into so much trouble all the time, it was Ryland who stepped in front of the man, shoulders squared, arms raised, trying to calm him down before the fists had a chance to start swinging.
Court was usually the one who protected them. But Court eventually got a part time job on top of school, and he couldn’t be with them all the time.
Colt knew it was eating their older brother alive to come home to a mess and a bleeding, bruised Ryland. Because while Colt froze, unable to move as his father's shadow swallowed the room, Ryland would step forward. He would try to catch the hands before they could fall onto Colt. He would try to bite the flesh that hit him. He would stand back up even when he was thrown to the floor.
Colt had learned first aid from Court, who explained to him in a quiet voice at 3am in the bathroom how to stop the bleeding, how to disinfect a wound, how to splint a finger. And Colt, who was too stupid to ever learn anything at school, had learned and retained enough knowledge in a very short amount of time to be able to patch up his twin once their dad eventually calmed down and went to drink himself to sleep.
“It’s okay,” Ryland said one day while Colt couldn’t stop the sobs shaking him.
He was trying to put some butterfly strips on Ryland’s open eyebrow as it gushed with blood, but his hands were shaking too much.
“Shut up,” Colt hiccupped. “You don’t get to say what’s okay or not for me. I don’t think this is okay. You sh-you should l-let him h-hit me!”
Ryland’s eyes went wide as saucers. “No! He’s gonna kill you!”
“So you want him to kill you instead?!”
“He won’t kill me,” said Ryland with a shrug.
“You don’t know that!”
“Yes I do. He hates you. He just… kinda doesn't care about me. I'm like an annoying bug to him. It’s not the same.”
Colt wiped furiously at his tears. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Ryland shrugged again, and it only made Colt cry harder. “Why? You’re not hitting me.”
“If I wasn’t such a fuck-up you wouldn’t have to do that!” Colt whisper-shouted. He knew, had known for as long as he could remember, not to wake up his father when he was passed-out drunk. “I’m sorry I keep fucking up! I-I keep failing in school and I’m not doing it on purpose, it just- I can’t concentrate, and I’m tired all the time, and-and I get angry easily, and the other boys at school are so mean all the time and I hate it, and I keep getting into fights without meaning to, it just happens! I’m sorry! I’m sorry Ry, I’m really really sorry-”
Ryland hugged him. Tight. Colt’s hands twisted into his brother’s shirt as he cried, snot and tears dripping on Ryland’s shoulder.
That was how Court found them some time later. Colt had eventually calmed down, but they hadn’t stopped hugging. The moment they separated, reality came crashing back down, and Colt felt even worse as he remembered he was supposed to take care of Ryland and not the other way around.
Court did the caring in the end. Their older brother, a rock, always.
Once that was done, Court hugged both of them against him.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“Not your fault,” said Ryland.
“You’re busy,” said Colt.
“Did you get money today?” asked Ryland.
Court huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I got some money.”
“Is it going into the Leave This House Fund?”
“You know it is.” Court ruffled his and Colt’s hair. “Always.”
“How long until we can leave then?” Colt asked.
He immediately regretted it, as Court’s face fell.
“Not… not yet. I’m sorry. You know I can’t get a high paying job, right? I explained that before?”
“Yeah…”
“Okay. So it’s going to take some time. But I’ll get there, I promise. I promise you won’t have to be brave for much longer.”
“Okay,” Colt mumbled.
He wasn’t brave at all. But at least Ryland would be free of protecting him all the time.
“All right.” Court stood. “Go to bed now. It’s really late.”
Ryland didn’t need to be told twice. He scampered to their shared bedroom without another word.
“I’m-uh… gonna take a shower,” Colt lied.
Court looked at him for a few seconds, before letting out a little sigh. “You’re okay, Colt?”
“Yeah. Ryland’s the one who got beat up. Like always.”
“I told him to run away. I always tell him to run away. I don’t know why he doesn’t listen.”
“Because he’s stupid,” Colt mumbled.
Court didn’t reply. He just hugged Colt, and then said good night. He was clearly exhausted.
Colt stayed in the bathroom until dawn filtered through the window. Only then did he get into bed, careful not to wake either Ryland or Court.
That day at school, he got in trouble for falling asleep during math. Ryland once more stepped in, butterfly strips on his forehead.
Colt could only swallow his shame.