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Gree laughs, smiling as he nudges Neyo, “Better luck next time, Neyo.”
Neyo nods, smiles, is still.
Neyo is usually still nowadays, none of the fidgeting that Colt thinks he half remembers from the haze of their childhood.
This stillness though, is something rigid, something wrong. In spite of the way he lounges on the chair, forced relaxation and sharp smile, there is something cold in Neyo’s eyes, blank.
Colt might’ve called it furious, if he was confident in his ability to read him.
But Colt can’t read Neyo well anymore, can’t actually read him very well at all anymore. Not in the way that Fox is able to, with bits and pieces scraped together and the special brand of cursed frustration that only Fox has ever managed to be.
And even then, even though it’s Fox, even he isn’t able to read much from Neyo now.
(Fox doesn’t say that, won’t say it. Has steadily refused to put it into words or speak it into existence. Colt hears it anyways. Can see it in the familiar lines of how Fox holds himself, how he pokes and prods and weedles and holds himself with frustration and anger both. The tightness of his jaw and shoulders as he keeps himself from lashing out for something that is no vod’s fault.
Colt spent his years growing with Fox, watched the way he shaped himself into something sharp with anger, something with teeth, built himself into something solid that could hide his eyes and blank his expression and show only what people wanted to see.
He never had that time with Neyo, never got the chance to watch him grow, to see the way he’s shaped himself, what he made himself or what he was made into. And he doesn’t have a good enough reference of how everything was before to be able to be sure.
Colt can’t read him.
It’s a failing, although Colt still isn’t sure just whose failing it is. He wants to throw the blame and the anger for all of it at Priest’s feet, or the longnecks. Feels the weight of it press down against him regardless.)
He can’t read Neyo. He can’t tell what it was that caused this rigid sharpness. Why Neyo went from something halfway comfortable with them to this sudden relaxed stillness that spoke of danger.
The lines of his body read ‘threat’ and Colt can’t figure out why.
Gree hasn’t caught the change yet, Colt can tell, though Fox has. Fox shifts, smiles, sharp and all teeth and too similar to Neyo still in some ways despite it all.
“He only needs luck if he didn’t catch you cheating.” Fox says and rolls his eyes as he collects the cards. He ignores the sound of offense Gree makes, keeps poking and teasing him until Neyo relaxes just the slightest. Until his carefully affected look of lounging looks more real.
He is still too still, still reads as ‘threat’, still looks half blank and maybe half furious. And Colt is at a loss.
There is one thing that Colt has never admitted to anyone. And he won’t tell Fox or Gree, will never tell Neyo.
Everything he remembers of Neyo and who he used to be—before they were all given the chance to fall together again, ragged and changed, years and miles and a war between who they used to be and who they are now, all of them unsure of their footing around each other—is made up of bits and pieces. Tiny facts that are stitched into his patchwork memory of that time like monochrome.
The things that stayed with him no matter what; the fact that Neyo had always been most at ease when lying on top of one of them or when he was being a nuisance with Fox. That he and Fox had always looked eerily similar, and with that came the distant memory of the two of them curled up asleep and then trying to convince 6 to let them share bunks when they had been caught. And that he had always, always, listened to Gree when he was excited and talking about something he found interesting, that he’d never minded when the structured facts devolved into rambles.
The rest of his memory isn’t as clear, faded and built up out of things that Colt can’t quite remember. Things that Colt thinks he tried holding onto too tightly in the moment and lost eventually, as he went over them again and again in his memory and the memories became duller and the images became less fact and more his wishes of what they were like. Until the only things he knew to be true were the little facts, and the details were just things that were half wish and half imagination.
(The thing he is not ready to tell anyone yet is that his memory of what Neyo’s smile used to look like, in that time before they lost him, is one of those things he held onto too tightly until he lost it completely.
Or, not completely. He thinks that, maybe, there is some grain of truth to his memory of what it was like. But it has been too long, and his mind has substituted it with his own imaginings of the shape of it and how it looked. And recently, his memories of how it looks now overlaid on top of the already warped image have been the only picture of it he can summon when he tries to.
He doesn’t remember it correctly, and he has long accepted the loss for all that it is sometimes felt in sharp relief when he least expects it. He thinks he will always mourn it, somewhere in the back of his mind.
It is not fair, not to himself, or to Neyo, or to any of Edee or who they used to be.
But Colt has spent most of his life learning the ways in which the universe is sometimes kind and sometimes cruel and rarely ever fair.)
Because of this, these tiny facts and maybe-remembered, half-fabricated details. He can not say, with absolute certainty, what exactly Neyo was truly like when they were all small and less tired and worn and battle-hardened. But he does know this.
They all used to play, when they could sneak it and no one would call them out for it. And they all loved it, those little games that made them all laugh, left them all happy even as they swore mocked vengeance against the winner.
Then, Neyo never turned this dangerous sort of quiet when he lost. In Colt’s patched together memories, Neyo was never really a sore loser, one of the few remaining clear memories he has is the sound of Neyo’s delighted laugh after losing to one of them in a game Colt has long forgotten.
So this, this change, is new.
Or, maybe it’s not really new. Just something Colt has never seen before, never noticed, didn’t realize had changed.
He should’ve expected it though. He clenches his fist in his lap and forces his breaths steady as he listens to Gree and Fox bicker. Feels the weight of Neyo’s carefully unaffected air and the interjections that are still just a little too sharp.
If he’d thought about it for a second, then he would’ve expected this. Would know what to say, would’ve planned for the just in case.
After all, there are rumours of Priest’s training and how he treats the cadets he steals away from their squads. Not a single one of those rumours lend well to the idea of one of the cadets under him losing something, being less than perfect.
He wants, suddenly, overwhelmingly, to go back to Kamino and find Priest and do something so very stupid.
He won’t, he knows that it would do more harm than good if he did.
Colt has spent years holding back the urge to fight Priest, and he has never yet failed to restrain it. He has always failed in letting the anger that accompanies that urge go.
He doesn’t know how Shaak does it, and can continue to do it, even as the war goes on. Wishes for a moment that he could ask her, try and bounce ideas off of her to figure out how to fix this. How to speak in a way that Neyo will understand. Can’t, when she is still on Kamino right now and he is not.
He unclenches his hand and breathes, tries to find a way to stitch his words together and can’t quite manage it.
There is a misstep somewhere in the conversation the Colt doesn’t catch in time, too caught up in his own head. And Neyo is suddenly all teeth, smile vicious and venomous.
Gree catches the change and stills, watches Neyo as if he’s only just realized something.
Fox is steady, doesn’t move or shift for a second as he raises an eyebrow at Neyo. He turns, flicks at Gree and then scoffs, “The only reason why you fucking won this time is because you play with your fucking kid all the time.”
Gree smiles, perfectly innocent, as he watches Neyo from the corner of his eye, “Barriss likes to expand her knowledge and her pool of abilities, I just give her the necessary tools.”
Fox snorts and Colt grins as Neyo slowly unwinds from threat to something else, not quite the halfway comfortable he was before, but closer.
“You mean you're teaching her how to fleece your staff.” Colt prods, and Gree’s smile widens.
“Of course not, she does that all on her own.” Fox laughs and Neyo grins, eyes still a little too blank but his smile no longer all teeth.
Colt snorts, leans forward and makes a show of rolling his eyes, “Let’s go again, now that we all know how to play.”
It is not the best idea. With how Neyo reacted it is maybe not the thing they need to do at all.
But it is something to do to keep them occupied and busy while Colt tries to piece it all together.
He has the outline of the problem, he thinks, and he doesn’t like it, but he also doesn’t know how to fix it.
Gree shuffles the cards first, passes them to his right for Neyo to split the deck. Fox collects them and shuffles them one last time before passing them over to Colt to deal. He deals the cards and he watches his brothers and he thinks.
The play is quicker this time, as they place cards down.
After his next turn Fox kicks out at Colt, raises an eyebrow. Colt smiles, lets the card fall back into his hand from his sleeve.
Gree snickers, whips a hand out to tap at Neyo’s arm as his hand magically loses two cards. Neyo meets Gree’s eyes and smiles just a shade too wide and unsettling. Gree rolls his eyes, sneaks one of his cards into Colt’s discard.
Colt kicks him, none too gently, and smiles beatifically in the face of the hissed threats.
It’s nice, if Colt hadn’t been watching Neyo he’d think everything was fine again.
Neyo is focused and serious and this is not a game to him.
Colt doesn’t think Neyo knows how to work with friendly competition anymore. Can’t play a game and have it be fun, doesn’t know how to let it be fun anymore.
He doesn’t know how to fix that, doesn’t know how to help Neyo.
He places a card down, lets another slip out of his hand and into his lap. He shifts a little and lets it fall in between his thighs to hide it. Fox glares at him, all suspicion, and Colt meets his gaze evenly, takes a sip from his drink. Gree nudges Neyo with his elbow, smiling as he taps a beat against the table, hums softly. Neyo rolls his eyes, but his shoulders shift down just the slightest.
Message received, this is a relaxed game, losing will not mean something awful. A string of teasing at the most.
Colt hopes he remembers that, knows they will probably have to remind him in similar small ways.
Pointing it out blatantly won’t help, will make Neyo defensive. They aren’t well enough adjusted to each other yet, still just a beat out of sync.
Fox moves to set his card down, reaches out and flicks at Neyo as he does.
Neyo smiles innocently and fakes ignorance.
Neyo’s innocent smiles still look like he’s plotting something.
Colt snorts, draws two cards and slips three into the discard pile. Gree sends him a look from the side of his eye, Colt blinks and Gree huffs, kicks him until Colt rolls his eyes, draws two more cards.
As Gree places his card down Neyo shifts and Colt narrows his eyes.
He sticks a foot out, nudges at Neyo’s leg. Neyo looks up, blinks, raises an eyebrow.
Colt nudges him again, a bit harder this time, matches him with his own raised eyebrow.
They stay like that, until Neyo rolls his eyes, draws a card and keeps it. Fox snorts.
Neyo shoots him a look and Fox grins, holds his hand up to show them all with faux innocence, as if he hasn’t been cheating the entire game.
Neyo grins, wry and real and it makes Colt smile too, as he tucks the memory of it away in his head, swears not to lose it this time.
(Reaffirms his promise to himself not to lose Neyo again as well. War is not kind and Colt doesn’t know if he will get to keep it. But for now he can, and so he will and he’ll enjoy every irritating moment his brothers are together.)
Gree giggles and places down his last card. He grins at all of them, bantha-fodder look lighting his face up as Fox cusses him out and Colt rolls his eyes.
Neyo is tense again, uncomfortable and looking at his hand with something Colt can’t read in his eyes. His body is not shaded towards threat, though and it takes less time for them to get him to let it go and relax.
It’s progress. Not something they will be able to do for him, but maybe something they can show Neyo is allowed, so that he can unlearn the way of thinking Priest forced him into.
It’s something, and after everything the galaxy has taken from them and forced them to bear, Colt will take what he can get and do his best to make sure they all live to see it.
(Maybe one day Neyo will be able to laugh over losing to them, until then Colt will be patient and will wait for him.
Neyo can be an annoying karking menace, but he’s also Edee’s karking menace, and more importantly, he is Colt’s. And Colt won’t lose him again, not over something he can’t help, not when Colt can help him with it. Even if only in small ways.
Especially then.)
Gree laughs, “Again?”
The three of them throw the remainder of their hands at him and his laughter grows louder as they groan.
Colt smiles, nudges Neyo with his foot and shoves at Fox.
Neyo gives them a small smile.
Colt watches and doesn’t let himself react, just thinks, half dazed and quietly shaken. “Oh, that’s what it looked like.”
He doesn’t tear up, doesn’t shake, blinks instead. Tucks the recovered memory, that maybe still isn’t perfect but is now the closest thing he has to what it looked like before, next to the memory of the grin and forces himself not to hold on too tight again.
He has a lot to talk to Shaak about later, when he gets back to Kamino. Things to sort out about his own head, before he can figure out how best to approach everything, how to help.
Until then, he’ll keep doing his best.
It’s all he can do for now. It’ll have to be enough.