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Ryland loved college so far. It was fun getting to do big scientific research, build his own theories and reports and try and find evidence to back his claims. Not to mention how competent his peers were. He hated high school primarily because of classes that forced group projects. His reputation as a brainiac always got him the short end of the stick, doing the projects by himself and presenting as a group.
It wasn't like that in college. People were paying to be there so people cared more. Of course, there were always a few people who didn't really care—claiming it wasn't needed for their degree or whatnot—but Ryland could put up with it.
The campus was nice, too. It was lovely not having to drive every time he wanted to get food. His dorm was literally maybe thirty yards from the dining hall. Everything was walkable. He'd walk to the lab, to the gym, to the little valley that a lot of people played football or kickball at. He liked to read there most days when the weather permitted.
The only downside to being at college and throwing yourself into work was the lack of interaction.
Lab time was optimal. Ryland spent hours researching, analyzing, recording data, putting that data on his computer and trying to tie it in to his thesis. He practically lived in the lab at this point, smack dab in the middle of the second semester of his freshman year. He was surprised he got to have so much lab time in his first year, but all that work for college credit he did in high school paid off.
If he wasn't in the lab, he was at the dining hall also with his laptop open, making sense of the data. If he wasn't in the dining hall, he was holed up in his dorm with the lights off and sitting hunched over his desk until odd hours. And if he wasn't doing that, he was sleeping, or maybe finally giving himself a break and going to the valley to read.
It barely gave him any time to interact with anyone aside from the nice woman who made his turkey and cheese sandwich at the dining hall every afternoon. She was nice. Always gave him extra turkey.
That's not to say Ryland didn't have "friends." More like acquaintances or classmates he liked to talk to. They just… didn't seem like the type to stick around. They were like him, and he knew himself enough to know that they'd all rather be knee-deep in their research than trying to make friends.
But he missed it. Talking to someone. Listening. Especially when eating.
Ryland missed home, where his brothers waited for him.
He wasn't too far away. He was a good hour drive away, but still, it felt like a chasm. Colt and Court tried to visit when they could but they could never stay. Court would say something about his room being a mess, ruffle his hair, and twirl his keys as he walked out the door. Colt would grin and tease him about leaving a stack of laundry on the floor before following the eldest.
He missed sitting at the dining room table listening to Court talk about the dumbasses at work, or Colt's stunt work. He missed the warmth that came with it, even if they sat in silence the whole time. He just missed them. Every day.
It was still cold outside even in March. Ryland was once again holed up in the lab, typing away, when his eyes finally found the clock on the bottom left corner of his screen. His eyes bulged.
"Six-thirty? Shit!"
He finished typing up his paragraph and closed his laptop, scrambling to stuff his belongings in his backpack. He meant to go to dinner at five-thirty, his usual time. He liked to beat the late crowd. Since the lab was closer to the dining hall across campus, Ryland headed there. He walked into the chilly air, the darkening sky still painted light shades of yellow and pink, and tugged his jacket closer to his body. He knew he should've grabbed a heavier coat.
He shook his head, making a mental promise to admonish himself later. He walked quickly, his nose tingling and running. He bypassed a few slow walkers, ignoring the side-eyes they gave him. Ryland booked it to the dining hall, using his ID to swipe in.
The dining hall was starting to fill up. He cursed under his breath and scanned the room. Most of the tables near the front and the big TV on the wall were taken by groups of people wearing the same shirt. Some sport team. He never bothered reading the shirts. He craned his neck to see the usual corner seat he occupied was taken, presumably by a man like himself. A bit of a loner.
Ryland huffed and stood in the middle of the dining hall, doing another scan. The back wall was mostly windows with cinder-block pillars dividing them. He spotted a table by one of the pillars, open and ripe for the taking. He quickly made his way over and placed his backpack down.
What was for dinner again? Is it Tuesday? Tacos?
He went back up to the buffet area. It was divided into a pizza area, sandwich area, Mongolian grill, and a fry station. He headed to the grill, ordering his usual chicken and rice with vegetables. As he waited by the pickup station, he took a moment to look around.
He really picked a bad time to leave the lab. The dining hall was packed. Noisy. Especially the sports team by the TV. That was another reason why he avoided busy hours at the dining hall. He just wanted some peace while eating. It was different from eating at home where the chaos was welcome. Here, it just felt… anxiety-inducing, for some reason. He never liked being in a room with dozens of people. Too many variables.
Ryland got his food and went to the soda machine to grab a sweet, ice cold Dr. Pepper before sitting back down at his table. As he pushed around his rice and veggies, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket twice. It wasn't unusual for Court or Colt to check in on him around this time to make sure he was taking care of himself. He fished his phone from his pocket, seeing two new messages.
He opened the messenger app, clicking on Court's highlighted contact. His body froze, his jaw dropping.
Courtland had sent an image. An image of him, Ryland, sitting at his table hunched over his dinner. There was a message under it.
Court: haven't I told you to fix the shrimp posture ?
Ryland read the message twice before his head shot up, looking around the dining room. Other kids moving about, going back for seconds, but no sight of Court. Ryland turned back to assess the message again.
In the picture, he was wearing the same outfit. He had the same dinner, but he had it every night. There was the window wall, the pillar. It couldn't have been taken on a different day because if it was a different day, he would've been sitting in his usual spot in an otherwise calmer dining room.
Courtland was here.
The realization made his heart race. It wasn't like Court didn't visit, but it wasn't often. He was a busy guy trying to provide for his family. Ryland hadn't seen him in a few weeks, maybe since January. His entire body thrummed with anticipation as his phone vibrated again.
Court: need to get your eyes checked, too ?
Ryland rolled his eyes, itching to type back some snarky response. He couldn't, though, because his phone was snatched from his hands in the blink of an eye.
"Hey—" he spluttered, stopping when the sight of his older brother hit him.
Courtland was grinning, holding the device between two fingers. "No phones at the table."
"This isn't your table—"
"It doesn't have a place during dinner time."
"What are you, fifty?"
Courtland just smiled and brought him into a side hug which Ryland returned, squeezing his brother's waist hard. He smelled like a mix of smoke and that one cologne he always used. He smelled like home.
"Getting there," Court replied, moving to sit down.
Ryland had all but forgotten about his dinner, leaning forward eagerly. "What're you doing here?"
"Just checking in. I was in the area."
"You don't travel for your job."
Court shrugged. "I was in the area. You gonna eat that?"
"Yeah. How'd you even get in here? You need a university ID or you need to pay."
"It helps that we basically share a face." Courtland grinned again. Mischievous.
"Gaslighting the poor girl at the reception desk isn't a good look."
"Whatever. What's good here?"
"I dunno," Ryland shrugged.
"You live here. You're telling me you haven't eaten here enough to know what's good?"
Court said it with a slight tilt of his voice, like a warning. Ryland kept his eyes on his still steaming rice, gathering a spoonful and shoving it in his mouth.
"Where's Col'?" he asked, still chewing on the rice.
Court sent him a look that said we're talking about this later. "Doing a stunt gig back home. Pretty big one, too. He'll be flipping a car."
Worry instantly flooded Ryland's body, all sorts of scenarios popping into his head at once.
"Don't look at me like that. He'll be fine. He's loving it," Court said.
"I know." He swallowed the rice, gesturing towards the food stations. "You gonna get anything or are you just gonna sit there?"
"You never answered me. What's good?"
"The rice, I guess. Maybe a sandwich?"
Court stood with a huff, ruffling Ryland's hair. "You're useless."
Ryland glared, having to refrain from flinging a spoonful of rice at his brother as he walked away with another cheshire grin. Instead, he took his fork and stabbed a piece of grilled chicken a bit harder than necessary. "Useless. Says the dumbass."
Courtland came back a few minutes later with a sandwich. Hoagie roll with what looked like ham and cheddar cheese, toasted, with a side of green beans and mashed potatoes. He had a cup in his hand, too. Looked like water. Boring. He sat down with a sigh, reaching for the salt and pepper shakers on the table.
"So, what's new around here? You still live in a cave?"
"My room is very clean, thank you. And nothing much. Just research, write, go to class, repeat."
Courtland sprinkled some salt on his mashed potatoes. "Nothing else? No drama, no new friends?"
Ryland adverted his gaze back to his half-eaten plate. He pushed around a grain of rice. Now Courtland's sudden appearance made sense. Of course, he was checking in like he usually did but in person, but he was also trying to see if Ryland had someone else to talk to. He didn't, and he didn't have an answer that would satisfy his brother, who was just as much of a loner as Ryland except he could make friends at the drop of a hat. He didn't really understand the whole research is the reason why I'm here, not to make friends.
"I have… some classmates I talk to," he settled on saying because it wasn't entirely untrue.
Courtland frowned. "Anyone interesting?"
"Not particularly."
"At least tell me you've gone to a party or something, gotten the freshman experience."
"I did go to a New Year's party. But I got bored after a while, and the cops busted it." Ryland chewed his chicken thoughtfully. Even if Courtland was digging into him a bit, he couldn't deny that it was nice to have someone familiar there. Someone to talk and listen to. "What about at home? What's going on?"
Court was quiet for a second before responding. "Eh, the usual. Your brother won't do his laundry until he's out of underwear, the neighbor's cat got out again and into our trash bin. Oh, and the poor mailman got soaked under Ms. Katrina's sprinkler system."
Ryland chuckled. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, man, that shit's programmed to go off at a specific time and he didn't know. Poor guy probably spent the rest of his route with wet socks."
"What about you? How're you feeling?"
Courtland took a bite of his sandwich, giving it a slight nod of approval. He shook his head a few times as he ate, like he was about to talk with his mouth full.
"Pretty tired," he admitted after a moment. "But when am I not these days, you know? Can't really help it with work and all that."
"I feel you. Fitz give you more hours than you can handle?"
"Nah, nah, you know him. He'll give me whatever hours I want but the bills don't pay themselves, and Colt's been taking some long ass showers. Don't really blame him, though. He's been working hard, too, coming home stinky. You still shower, right? The aroma that's coming off of you is just lab fluids and not—"
Ryland's cheeks flushed. He kicked Court's shin under the table, earning a chuckle from the eldest. "Fuck no, I shower! Who do you think I am?"
"Someone who struggles to do basic hygiene in favor of looking at cells and shit."
"Ugh, I have lavender scented shampoo and conditioner! Can't you smell it?" Ryland questioned, tilting his head towards his brother's face, getting in his personal bubble. He felt Courtland push his shoulder and he fell back in his seat. "I smell like a damn flower field."
"More like piss. What the hell are you working with in that lab?"
"Nothing that smells like piss!"
"Alright, alright. But you're not in the lab all the time like you were last semester, right? Or am I gonna have to stay here and supervise?" Courtland said with that same warning tone he used earlier. Like it was going to affect Ryland now that he was just shy of twenty years old. He wasn't five anymore. Sometimes he felt like Court forgot that.
"I've got research to do," Ryland shrugged. "Before you say anything, it's important and yes, I'm still taking care of myself. I shower, brush my teeth, wash my sheets and laundry weekly. I don't always stay in the lab."
"But you're in the dining hall past six. You said you hated being in here past that time."
"I had a late lab day, had to compensate the time."
Courtland just sighed and shook his head, eating a spoonful of potatoes. He pointed the spoon at Ryland. "You're crazy in the brain."
"That…" Ryland started, unable to fight the smile tugging his lips up, "is an understatement and hypocrisy coming from you."
"Just eat the rest of your dinner. And maybe grab seconds. You still look like a toothpick."
"Hey, I've been in the gym all year!"
"Can't tell. You sure you've been lifting right?"
Ryland kicked his brother again before shoveling the rest of his food down. Courtland stared worriedly for a moment before he continued working through his sandwich. Ryland glanced around the dining hall again, finding that the noise wasn't as bad as it seemed. Not with Court around. It felt quieter. He was that good of a distraction that he drew Ryland out of his permanent anxious state in the dining hall.
It was good to hear about home, though. And Colt. That helped a lot. There was a lot of ugly crying and clinging to each other when they moved Ryland into the dorms. Lots of promises being thrown around, a few threats if he didn't take care of himself, all of the usual Gentry sibling shenanigans. It hurt a lot when they left that first night. He didn't sleep very well, wondering if his brothers made it home safe and if they were thinking about him like he was thinking about them. Of course they were. How could they not?
He hadn't been separated from his brothers for this long before and it hurt. It was a brutal taste of the reality he was doomed to live where his brothers have their own respective jobs and lives, and all of a sudden family dinners are once a month instead of every night. When Colt and Court are an hour away and Ryland can't just open a door and hug one of the two people he loved most when he needed them.
But just for that night, just for that dinner, Court was there. He was making use of his free time and trying to cheer Ryland up from a long week of studying. He was trying to make himself feel better, too, Ryland knew. Court did a decent job covering up how devastated he was to leave Ryland at the dorms, to drive home with an empty backseat, but Ryland knew as soon as he was back in the car he broke down. Always trying to be the strong one.
The rest of the meal was pretty quiet. The Dr. Pepper was cold and sweet, and the dining hall slowly started to clear out of the first wave of late-night consumers. Courtland sat back in his chair with a sigh, a hand on his stomach. He always got full pretty easily.
"C'mon, I'll drive you back to the dorm," he said.
"It's like a five minute walk—"
"Uh uh, drive."
Ryland just closed his mouth and sighed, gathering his backpack and dirty dishes. He grabbed Court's dishes, too, and returned them to the conveyer belt. He led Courtland out of the dining hall, where he earned a weird glance from the poor woman running the front counter. Like she was seeing double.
Once outside, Courtland's piercing gaze was back on him.
"Dude, you call this a jacket? You need something heavier."
"I know, I just… forgot."
Courtland took the lead, twirling his keys on his pointer finger. "As long as you have one. If not, I know I've got one in the back somewhere."
Ryland spotted the old, beat up Honda. Another wave of warmth spread through his chest at the familiar sight. Climbing in, he missed the soft seats, the dice dangling from the rearview mirror. Court turned the ignition, the cabin filling with a puff of warm air. Courtland didn't bother telling him to buckle up before he was pulling out of the parking lot.
As he cruised through campus, the streetlamps flickered to life, bathing the sidewalks in LED white light. Ryland hated it, personally. He preferred the older, orange tint to streetlamps. He spotted a few people walking along the sidewalk near the basketball stadium. A few people exiting the bookstore. He wondered what their majors were, if they were getting out of practice or work.
Courtland pulled up to the little curve in the road just before the doors of Ryland's dorm building. He slowed to a stop and parked the car. An awkward silence filled the car, both brothers wanting to say something but finding themselves unable to think of the right words.
Ryland bit his tongue before finally saying, "thanks."
Courtland's eyes snapped to his, his fingers silently tapping an unknown rhythm onto the steering wheel. "For what?"
"Visiting. Having dinner."
"I love visiting, you know that."
"Yeah… just…"
Ryland swallowed thickly, trying to blink back the sudden onslaught of tears that flooded his eyes. It was never easy for him to think of his brothers at home, an hour away from him. How much he wished he could be there with them.
"Miss you guys," he managed weakly.
Courtland's expression fell into something softer, knowing. He placed his hand on Ryland's shoulder, rubbing his arm up and down. "I know. We do, too. The house is too quiet without you."
"Colt still lives there. He's loud enough for the both of us."
"Eh, still."
Ryland snickered, Courtland mirroring his expression.
"Look, you only have to be up here for another two months, right? Then you can move out? Only if you want to. This is your time to shine, your degree. You do whatever you want, yeah?"
"I want to come home."
Court nodded. "Then you'll come home. We'll be up here to help you move back. You've just gotta stick it out until May, yeah?"
He turned away to sniffle, quickly wiping at his misty eyes. "Yeah."
"You've got this, Ry. You can always call, too. I don't care what time. If you need us, we'll be there, fuck traffic laws." Courtland's arm snaked around his shoulders, bringing him into another hug. His one hand rested firmly on Ryland's right shoulder and the other was planted on the back of Ryland's head, gently combing his unruly hair. "Just don't hesitate. Call me."
"Okay."
"We love you, Ry."
Ryland rested his head against his brother's chest, feeling Court rest his chin on the crown of his head. "Love you, too."
The embrace ended a moment later after Court squeezed him tight. He pulled away, but not before Court planted a kiss on his forehead.
"I'll try and get Colt to come with me next time, but we'll be back soon."
Ryland opened the door and stepped back into the cold, wishing more than anything that he could flop back into the car and ride back home. He closed the door, seeing the window roll down.
"And I'll bring more Skittles," Court promised.
Ryland managed a puff of laughter, his breath visible in the air. "Okay."
Courtland nodded, a sharp motion, though Ryland could see the dozens of things he wanted to say. The dozens of excuses to perhaps stay the night, to make sure that everything in Ryland's dorm was actually in order like he promised, to just spend more time with him. It squeezed Ryland's heart painfully to start walking away, back towards his dorm he didn't even bother decorating knowing he was only going to be living in it for a year.
Except for a single framed photo of his brothers on his desk.
Other than that, it was barren. Only the necessities: toiletries, laundry basket he didn't use until laundry day, blankets, pillows, paper, microwave. He tried not to pay attention to it too much because it just made him long for his and Colt's shared bedroom even more; where there were posters and bookshelves and trophies displayed on the walls. A place that had been lived in for years.
Ryland sniffled again not due to tears but due to the snot dripping from his nostrils. He really did need to start looking at the forecast before leaving the dorm. He grabbed his ID and swiped the lock, hearing it slide open. He pulled the door open, feeling the heat from the lobby rush outside. Ryland paused, feeling his brother's eyes on him. He hadn't pulled away.
Ryland looked back. Courtland was still parked, still watching. Always making sure the twins were safe.
Courtland sent a small smile and wave. An invisible promise that he'd be back. The words he said earlier repeated in Ryland's head. Promises and pleads to call home whenever he felt like it.
Ryland waved back, heart aching to get back in the car. Instead, he sent a small, unsure smile back and stepped into the building, hearing the door slam shut behind him. He did not cry in the shower that night, nor in bed when the homesickness hit him a little too hard. He sat up in his creaky bed, Colt's navy blue blanket pooling around his waist. He grabbed his glasses and looked over at his desk.
The framed photo was during Christmas. Courtland had invited their neighbor, Ms. Katrina, to dinner that year since her husband died earlier that year. She was delighted by the invite and brought over a surplus of food that would last them a week at most. She had made a comment earlier in the evening about the house's decor, about how there weren't many photos of them hung up. Colt and Ryland had shared an apprehensive look while Courtland explained that they didn't really have a lot of pictures from their childhood to hang up.
Ms. Katrina let the conversation deter into a different topic, but she had kept the thought in the forefront of her mind. Unbeknownst to the Gentry siblings, she snapped many photos of them that night. Laughing, smiling, kicking each other. The twins curled up on the couch watching TV, having fallen asleep after they woke up early to help out their other neighbor (a sweet elderly man) hang his Christmas decorations.
The picture he kept on his desk was one of Colt and Court standing in the kitchen. Courtland didn't keep much liquor in the house. He liked the taste, the way it made his problems go away, but he didn't want to have it there as a crutch. He did have a twelve pack of cheap beer, though. He let the twins drink on special occasions (only after they turned eighteen). In the picture, Court was handing Colt a beer. Colt's eyes were sparkling, happy. Ryland remembered what he said. Something about how Court always has the cheap stuff and "when are you gonna get the good ones?"
And Court had scoffed, though his eyes flashed with amusement.
Ryland stared at the photo.
He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, turning on his bedside lamp as the tone dialed.
"Ry? You okay?"
His shoulders relaxed at the sound of his twin's voice. The anxiety eased away, slipping under the bed to reattach to his ankles the next day. But for now, it retreated, and it was enough.
"I'm good. How'd your stunt go?" Ryland asked.
"Dude, you'll never believe who I saw—"
The homesickness didn't go away. It only grew stronger. But Colt's ramblings built an image in Ryland's mind. Colt would be gesturing with his hands; sometimes vaguely and other times just to move. He could never really sit still.
Ryland listened. He couldn't wait to go home.