Chapter Text
Courtland worries about both of his idiot little brothers in equal, accurate, extensive measures. With Colt, he worries about people taking advantage of his heart of gold and of his stunts going horribly wrong. With Ryland…
Okay, he worries about Ryland's everything, but in his defense it has nothing to do with any kind of favouritism and has absolutely everything to do with Ryland's complete inability to take care of himself.
Colt, when injured, can be trusted to follow the doctor's orders to recovery. When not injured, he can be found in bed by 10PM, drinking protein smoothies in the morning, taking daily walks in the park, and stretching regularly. He goes out with his friends at least once a week and he's got a skincare routine.
Ryland, on the other hand, has a self-destruction routine, where he routinely forgets that he has a body that requires things like sleep and sustenance, and proceeds to get extremely irritable and stubborn about everything until he crashes.
So, Court hadn't wanted him to move away for university, where he was certain that Ryland would forego every need like a tortured Sim. But it was his top university, with an offered full ride scholarship, so he swung instead for a co-habited dorm and told the scruffy kid Ryland got for a roommate to call him if he ever started acting like a dick.
But, just in case, he drops in sometimes, like now, and for an excuse he brings Colt who is always jumping for an opportunity to see / bother his twin anyways.
Colt bounces on his feet, careful of the bag of proper food that he'd brought for Ryland in his arms, while Court knocks. For a long moment, the only response is the cutesy nametags on the dorm door staring back at him:
Hello, my name is… Ryland Grace
My pronouns are… He/him
My major is… Molecular biology
My favourite past-time is… Watching Star Trek
Hello, my name is… Simon
My pronouns are… He/him
My major is… Biochemical Engineering
My favourite past-time is… Video games
The door opens, revealing Simon, who takes one look at the two in the door and, in lieu of any kind of proper greeting, says, "Ah. Fuck."
"Hello to you too?"
Simon's eyes flit nervously from side to side, face flushing as he leans back, inching the door shut again. "Sorry, it's just… now isn't really a good time? I, uh, thought you were my pizza."
Colt, "Don't worry, we're just gonna kidnap Ryland from his desk and we'll be out of your hair. Won't take long at all, we're masters."
Simon, if possible, only looks even more nervous, continuing to ease the door shut like they won't notice he's doing it if he does it slowly enough, "Ryland is, uh, not here. He's busy. I don't know where he is-"
Ryland, from within the dorm, "Simon?!"
Court thinks, he's holding my brother hostage, and wrenches the door open, muscling his way past him into the tiny place. From behind him, Colt asks in an almost excited voice, "Are you fucking my brother?!"
"Wha- no! No!"
The place is a rectangle, with a kitchenette at the front and a living room at the back. It doesn't take long at all for Court to find his baby brother; sprawled out on the couch and clutching the armrest for dear life, breathing shallow.
As Court rushes over to his side, Ryland stares up at him without comprehension, eyes wide and bloodshot. "You're not Simon."
"Astute." Court kneels down next to him, feeling his forehead gently with his palm. "How're you feeling, bud?"
Ryland hums, as though thinking it over. Then, earnestly, "I'm trying to find the real world."
He hasn't got a fever. "The real world?"
"Yeah."
"And this… isn't that?"
Ryland makes another humming noise, but instead of responding reaches up into his mouth and rubs his fingers aggressively along his teeth, stretching his lips at the corners with a wet squelch.
He gives a distressed "Hnngh" and Court realizes with a jolt of sickening dread that his baby brother is high out of his mind.
Colt, from close behind him, asks Simon in a clipped voice, "Do you know what he took?"
"Weed! Just, I had these brownies, from the store - someone said that they would help me sleep - and I left them in the fridge and went to my room and when I came out he'd ate the whole fucking batch! And now he's…"
Ryland pulls his hand from his teeth and tells Court miserably, "My teeth are wrong."
"… Yeah. That. I was just gonna sit with him 'til he sobered up when you guys came by and I, uh, panicked."
Court sighs, but out of all the possibilities this is probably the best one. It just also means that there's nobody for Court to kill (or scold intensely) when this is over. He used to use (normal) brownies to goad Ryland into taking a break when he lived at home because they were the one food he couldn't resist.
"Okay. Well, Colt and I'll take it over from here, okay?"
Ryland whines. Instinctually, Court reaches over and runs a hand through his hair, shushing him like he did when he was a baby. He was fussy back then, too.
"… Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'll just, uh, be in my room. Goodnight, Ry."
"Goodnight" Ryland echoes in a distant voice, dragging his nails slowly along his jawline as though fascinated by it and staring at the ceiling.
Simon hesitates a moment before turning and heading towards the door to his bedroom.
Court requests, "Colt, why don't you go get your brother some water?"
A very, very telling silence.
"Colton. You can laugh at your brother later. Right now he needs water."
Colt, maturely, inhales deeply, holds it for a few seconds, and then exhales slowly. Ryland, meanwhile, startles at the sound of Simon's door closing quietly as though it were a gunshot.
Saying that Ryland whips around to look at the source of the noise would be generous, considering that he seems to have forgotten how to move more than one part of his body at once. He reminds Court a bit of that Octodad game Colt used to play with his flailing, wobbly renditions of simple movements.
Eventually, though, he's turned towards the door, staring at it with distressed confusion, "Simon?"
Court massages his scalp lightly, "Simon went to bed, Ryland."
Ryland takes in this information with quite possibly the slowest blink that Court has ever seen.
"Did he go through the door?" Ryland asks, gesturing towards Simon's bedroom door, sounding bewildered.
"Sure did, bud."
This, apparently, is the wrong thing to say, as Ryland immediately scrambles to get up, calling out his roommate's name.
Fortunately, in this state, Ryland is easy to knock back down to the couch. Unfortunately, this pliability does not extend to his will, which is as stubborn as ever, and he immediately tries to get back up again, hollering, "Simon!"
Simon's door opens, "Ryland?"
Ryland goes limp in Court's arms at the sight of him, blinking away tears that Court hadn't realized in the struggle were forming.
"Simon" Ryland exhales, relieved, and gestures for Simon to come closer.
Simon takes a step forwards, freezes, and glances at Court for permission, and the nervous look in his eyes brings forth the second realization of the night: Simon has a crush on Ryland.
And Court, for all intents and purposes, is Ryland's dad.
Ryland gives up on gesturing, and instead whines, "You left."
"Yeah, I, uh, went to bed."
Ryland, somehow, gets even more petulant, eyes big and wet once more, "I thought you were sleeping with me tonight."
Simon's face grows immediately red. From the kitchen, Colt breaks and howls with laughter.
Ryland frowns, "Colt? What're you doing here?"
Then, before anyone can reply, he turns to Court and asks, "Is he real?"
"Is who real, love?"
"Colt. The guy in the kitchen."
"Yes, he's real."
"Wow" Ryland gasps, utterly amazed. "Colt! Real Colt, c'mere!"
Colt hurries over, glass of water in hand. Ryland ignores the water and instead proceeds to grab at Colt's arms, start petting him, and then burst into laughter.
Colt sets the glass down on the coffee table, grinning from ear to ear, "Man, you are baked right now."
Ryland only giggles in response. And then gags.
Both brothers begin the leap into action, but Simon is there with the trashcan in a second, holding it up to his mouth while Colt holds back his hair and Court rubs soothing circles onto his back.
When Ryland finishes, he groans and reaches for his mouth again, grimacing.
Court grabs his hand before he can start rubbing at his vomit-covered teeth. "You're alright, Ryland."
"My teeth aren't real."
"Yes, they are."
Ryland moans, leaning away from the bin as much as he can. The three of them dutifully help him return to laying on his side on the couch, with the trashcan close by on the ground.
He whines, reaches out to hold Colt's hand, then Simon's, and then realizes he doesn't have any hands left to hold Court's and proceeds to nudge at Court's hand with his head until Court starts running his fingers through his hair.
"Stay" He demands.
"I'm not going anywhere, bud" Court replies automatically, and after a brief but studious glance at the two beside him, adds, "We're all gonna stay right here beside you."
Ryland smiles, and finally relaxes.