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Thursday night was a special night for the Gentry brothers.
It was a movie night. Why not a Friday movie night? Then it wouldn’t be special, it would be basic. It was Colt’s logic and it was final.
It was the only night when, no matter what was happening, whether Ryland and Colt had an important test tomorrow, or Courtland was flooded with work, all three of them would spend this evening together in front of the TV, eating take-out.
As soon as the twins came back from school, they rummaged the drawers of the kitchen for a quick snack (which turned out to be an unfinished pack of damp chips) and jumped at doing their homework for tomorrow. This was probably the only case when Court would believe they hadn’t put off their studies until later.
After all, Ryland and Colt were too excited and still had much to do before their brother came back from work. Which is why their individual exercises from different teachers were often solved through teamwork—the twins would just swap the papers, having the same handwriting, and work through the tasks they knew best.
When everything on the list of homework was ticked off, a new one was created. Chores. Vacuuming, mopping and dusting were always the things Court was doing at least twice a week. It was his way of clearing his head, forgetting about work for a while and just enjoying the small, mundane things of life. Almost like stress-cleaning, he used to chuckle to himself.
But on Thursdays it was different—the twins wanted to save up as much time as possible and be able to start the movie as soon as Court came back.
“I’ll vacuum the kitchen while you take care of the dust. Once I’m done, you can start mopping in here and I’ll be vacuuming the other rooms, so you can follow me,” Ryland planned out with way too much eagerness for something like chores.
“Roger that,” Colt confirmed.
The two of them always seemed to move in sync: thinking the same thing, doing the same motion, working as a pair effortlessly. Maybe it was one of the perks of being twins—a natural connection, of sorts.
And it showed. The whole apartment was shining in less than 40 minutes. They wiped the sweat from their foreheads with the same swipe of their sleeves.
Colt glanced at the stove clock.
5:56
He and Ryland locked eyes.
“We’re a bit early, aren’t we?” Colt asked, barely holding back a smile.
“Probably…” Ryland chuckled, scratching the back of his head.
In the meantime, Courtland was working his ass off trying to finish all the papers that had been shoved at him that morning. Even skipped his lunch for this.
Fitz would find some actual fieldwork for Court from time to time, making sure it wasn’t way too dangerous. This way he avoided the chance of the twins being left without their brother right after things started to come back to normal. However, when Fitz was working with his other official agents (which was most of the time), Court was on the fill-this-this-this-and-that-document duty, even if it wasn’t his responsibility. Joke’s on him for being too good at this and handling the paperwork better (and faster) than all of his desk-bound coworkers.
Court checked the time at the corner of his laptop. It said 6:57.
Fuck. He was usually half-way home by now.
A hostile look at the pile of papers on his left did nothing for them to disappear faster. The stack was significantly smaller than the one with the completed papers on the right. Court had done a remarkable job with all this paperwork since morning, but what was left would still take him another half an hour. Then half an hour to get home—oh, plus about 20 minutes to get take-out on the way…
He didn't even want to guess when he'd be back. The more he thought about it, the more he began imagining the upset expressions of the twins, because Court had never yet missed their movie night. But seems like there’s a first time for everything.
As he was drilling a hole in the laptop screen with his stare, a cough brought him back to life. Court’s head snapped up. Fitz stood beside the agent’s table, hip against the edge, peering at the paperwork over his shoulder.
“Are you sure Margaret wanted them all finished today?” The man smiled softly. He knew Court was capable of it.
“I—yeah,” Courtland sighed and fixed the pile of completed documents. “I did the ones related to your missions first. All that’s left is minor documentation on her new project.”
Fitz glanced around the office. Apart from Court, there were only a few more employees left at their places. Most of the rooms and hallways were already dark.
He looked back down at Court.
“Hey—” Fitz gave a jerk of his head in the direction of the doors. “Quickly.”
Courtland blinked at him, surprised. Fitzroy always seemed to have a soft spot for the guy at the most random moments. He wasn’t going easy on Court with field missions or important paperwork, but occasionally he would cut him some slack.
“Before Margaret sees you.” He nudged Gentry, making it clear he was allowed to escape. Not that Margaret would do anything to him for it anyway—Fitz was the boss around here as much as she was.
Court didn’t need to be asked twice. He practically jumped up from his seat, grabbed his bag and jacket, and swung them both over his shoulder. He and Fitzroy exchanged a nod, and it was enough (Court’s eyes were practically beaming with excitement anyway to explain anything further to his boss).
Once he slipped through the office doors and out, Fitz shook his head with a chuckle and pushed off the table, heading back to his office.
Courtland made a run to the house. At the moment, he was grateful that his work as an agent prepared him for physical exertion. He completed half of his way back in about eight minutes, constantly glancing at his watch.
A bright banner caught Court’s attention, and he halted so fast he almost tripped. Catching his breath, he looked toward the shop.
“Perfect,” he breathed out with a smile, and headed towards his new destination.
Ryland and Colt were sprawled on the opposite sides of the couch. Ryland was throwing a small, crocheted ball that had a pattern of the Earth into the air and catching it. Colt was playing a game on his phone with an equally bored expression.
“What time is it?” Ryland murmured.
“7:54.”
He huffed and threw the ball up again.
Before it could land back into his palm, the twins heard the keys turning in the keyhole and both darted from their places, running towards the door. The Earth fell on the cushions, squishing a little.
The first thing Court saw after opening the door was Ryland and Colt bouncing on their toes.
“What took you so long?!” Colt whined.
“Yeah! You were supposed to be back half an hour ago!” Ryland added.
“I know, I know,” Court chuckled, locking the door and kicking off his boots. “And I’m sorry. I really tried to make it on time.”
Before the twins could scold him any further, he held out three paper bags in their direction. They took the offering and peeked inside.
Ryland and Colt both gasped in unison. “Wok noodles with extra cheese sticks!”
Court looked very proud of himself. “Should still be warm, but we can heat it up. Go put on the movie. I’ll wash my hands real quick.”
In a few minutes Courtland padded into the living room to the twins already sitting on the couch with their portions in hand. His paper cup with noodles stood on the coffee table, steam curling up from it.
“Whose turn is it this time?” Court plopped into his seat between the two brothers, blowing on his meal.
“Mine!” Colt raised the remote high in his hand.
Court and Ryland exchanged a knowing glance. It was obvious what they were going to watch tonight.
Colt loved action movies—or, rather, he liked to watch the stunts being performed there and explain every bit he knew about them to his brothers: the behind-the-scenes process and harnesses, the tricks with setting stuntmen on fire, correct bracing techniques that help to come out mostly unharmed. When he didn’t know how a stunt was carried out? Court and Ryland were supposed to wait until Colt googled it, and only after that could they continue to watch.
But it was the beauty of such nights, really. Even if the movie itself had the most absurd and obvious plot, they liked to see Colt being so enthusiastic.
The movie started to roll, the light from the TV illuminating the dark room.
Ryland stretched his legs over Court’s lap, while Colt was leaning his back against Court’s shoulder.
Colt slurped his noodles loudly.
“Colt—disgusting.” Ryland wrinkled his nose.
The stunts were on a high level, so it wasn’t surprising Colt chose this movie. The plot, though, was… predictable. So, the storyline wouldn’t be lost if some scenes were skipped in favor of restocking snacks and drinks.
“I’m gonna grab more cheese sticks,” Colt said, hopping off the couch.
“And I need a drink. Way too much sauce in my noodles,” Court said, following him up and turning to Ryland. “You need anything?”
“I’m good,” Ryland said, chewing on his last cheese stick, eyes glued to the TV.
Bad timing is an interesting concept. It knows the exact moment to show up and mess up something you thought you were handling just fine. Or catch you off guard, framing you for something you didn’t do. Like with those movies, which are completely normal while you watch them on your own, but once someone comes into the room, they suddenly turn into Fifty Shades of Grey parody.
And bad timing had some old scores to settle with Ryland; God knows the reason why. Ever since he was little, he always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
A stray cat knocked over a garden vase. Ryland was cleaning up the shards when his father walked out—one glance and the culprit was obvious: Ryland. His classmates wanted to steal test answers off the teacher’s desk. Ryland had only gone to grab the pen he’d dropped nearby. The teacher walked in. Unlike his classmates, Ryland didn’t have time to flee, and once again—guilty was Ryland Grace.
No matter how much his brothers tried to shield him from such situations, the bad timing would still come back to haunt him from time to time.
Like tonight.
A scene that wasn’t even that well edited (it wasn’t a horror movie, after all). Just something to stir up the bland plot—the villain was drowning the only witness in the bathtub.
The victim was bent over one edge of the bathtub, face submerged in the water. A villain’s hand was firmly pressing on the back of the other’s head, keeping it in place. The witness was helplessly twitching and squirming, hands trying to pry away the killer’s grip. His scream dissolved in the water, turning into bubbles.
Ryland wasn’t blinking.
Even when the scene switched to a new one, he was sitting with the same quiet, small breaths. It wasn’t instant panic or anything like this. It was more like… an unsettling feeling Ryland couldn’t figure out.
“Anything we missed?” Colt asked excitedly when he and Courtland came back.
This tore Ryland out of his trance.
“Um… No. No. I mean, the suspect drowned the witness,” he replied, suddenly feeling much lighter. His brothers did have this effect on him. And it was mutual for all of them.
“Told ya this would happen,” Colt said proudly, while Court chuckled.
“We all said it at some point.” Court landed back on the middle cushion, holding a Coca-Cola can in his left hand. He lifted his right arm, inviting Ryland to scoot closer.
Ryland did it on instinct, settling at his older brother’s side.
They continued to watch (with occasional facts about the stunts, of course).
It was nearing 11:30 p.m.
The TV was no longer shedding light on the living room. The kitchen was dark as well, all the cutlery washed, the paper cups stacked inside one another and sticking out of the trash can.
The twins were already under the covers of their beds. Ryland lay on his side, cheek smushed against his palm, observing Colt. His brother sat up in bed, one leg tucked close to his chest, eyes on some video playing on his phone. Probably another backstage episode about stunts.
“Colt!”
Ryland and Colt both visibly jerked from a sudden whispering voice of their older brother in the doorway.
“Bed. Now,” Court murmured a little louder, noticing that Ryland wasn’t asleep yet.
“I know, just another minute! I gotta know how—”
“You have school tomorrow and you’re not letting your brother sleep,” Court cut him off, giving a pointed look.
Colt’s head whipped in Ryland’s direction. “Am I keeping you up?”
Ryland shrugged. “Not really.”
“See?” He returned his eyes to his older brother. “Just a few more minutes! I’ll even turn off the sound, I’ll watch with subtitles,” he pleaded, giving the puppy eyes Ryland taught him.
An audible sigh left Court. He thought for a bit. Even if he wanted to, there was probably no way to convince Colt to go to sleep, unless the boy didn’t want to. He had way too much energy for Court to deal with every night.
“You better not be yawning tomorrow morning,” Courtland warned. “Good night, little shits.”
“Good night!” The twins chimed, perking up with matching smiles.
Court let out a warm chuckle before closing the door to their room.
Ryland plopped back onto his pillow with a contented hum. Nothing beat the first night in fresh sheets. Court changed them once every two weeks, usually on Saturdays, but since the twins had finished the chores early, they’d decided to tack this task onto the list as well.
It felt good to sink into the cool sheets. But more than that, Ryland and Colt were also proud of themselves for pulling off this chore—it wasn’t easy fitting a fresh duvet cover on Court’s comforter, which was double the size of the twins’. And Ryland liked to think Court noticed their effort, that somewhere down the hall he was also melting into his mattress, fully relaxing for the first time this week.
Ryland tilted his head in the direction of his twin brother’s bed. Colt was sitting cross-legged, his blanket nudged aside, still invested in the video playing on his phone.
“Night, Colt,” Ryland said with an amused chuckle.
“Night, Ry,” Colt chirped back, not tearing his eyes away from the screen.
Exhaustion pulled Ryland under in seconds. His thoughts blurred, then disappeared entirely. Every muscle went loose, sinking into the fresh sheets. His breathing slowed, becoming deep and even, each exhale bringing him further into sleep. His limbs grew heavy—heavier than usual, though he was too far gone to notice. He had no intention of tossing and turning anytime soon. Ryland wasn’t sure he could, even if he wanted to.
He was almost… paralyzed.
Paralyzed…
“Is he fucking paralyzed?! Can he not do a single fucking thing?!”
A yell echoed in Ryland’s head. Distant, but clear. Every single word.
And the intonation, the voice, was so familiar. So… unwelcome in his mind.
Ryland opened his eyes. He was standing in a narrow hallway, clutching his fox plushie with tiny hands. A dark figure of a man, big and intimidating, was looming at the end of the passage. He reeked of cigarettes.
Ryland took an instinctive step back. Something crunched under his shoe. It took some effort to turn his head and look down. Shards of ceramic. It had blue patterns with birds and flowers on a white background. Or used to have, at least. There was no way of fixing what was shattered.
When Ryland turned back to the hallway, the man was closer.
Much closer.
He was just a meter away from Ryland. The darkness curling out of the blurry figure was making it hard to breathe. As if it could swallow him whole.
Ryland opened his mouth to make a sound—
Nothing followed.
Only a strangled whimper, even though he tried calling for Court.
The man lowered his head closer to Ryland’s. The smell of cigarettes invaded the boy’s nostrils, making him want to wrinkle his nose, but he didn’t. For some reason, he knew it was better not to do it. His face stayed the same—wide-eyed and eerie.
“You—” A gruff voice came from the figure. “—will learn how to take responsibility for your actions.”
A hand shot out faster than Ryland could react, grabbing him by his tiny wrist and pulling forward.
It was just a single pull, realistically not enough to take him from the hallway to the bathroom, but here he was.
In front of a filled bathtub.
The panic within Ryland’s chest amplified in an instant. He looked at the water with the same gaze he’d had while watching that movie scene.
Ryland managed to make a ragged intake of breath and—
“Cou—”
His plea was muffled by the water, his screaming turning into bubbles. A firm grip on his head kept it submerged.
“You will learn, Ryland. You will listen to me.”
He instinctively jerked back, thrashing against his father’s hands. It wasn’t working. He was still held down, the cold edge of the ceramic bathtub stinging his stomach.
Ryland could feel the tears slipping from his eyes and mixing with the water in this damn bathtub.
It was as if the figure could read his mind, because its voice sent a jolt of despair through him.
“Don’t try calling for Court now, Ryland.”
“You have to learn from your mistakes.”
Ryland’s body started shaking. A lack of oxygen made him feel dizzy. His chest stung.
He wanted to call for his brothers. He wanted to at least hear them, to know that they were coming. Because they always did.
Court would never let something happen to Ryland or Colt. He would do anything to protect them, even kill. Colt would bite and kick, even if it got him into more trouble. And Ryland would desperately try to shield Colt, dragging all of the attention to himself and away from his brother by doing something way worse and more noticeable.
But if it was just Ryland who was in the spotlight? He didn’t resist. He knew it would make the whole thing worse, so he’d just pray for everything to end faster. It was a realization that suddenly dawned on him as he was losing more and more air.
Ryland couldn’t do… anything.
Anything at all.
He tried, but it was a fight between a little fox and a trained hound dog.
He had no chance.
At some point his arms got weaker. Ryland could no longer struggle as efficiently against the grip of his father.
He couldn’t see the figure’s face. He wasn’t even sure it had a face, only tiny white dots for the eyes. But he could swear he felt satisfaction radiating off the silhouette. He wanted to curl up and cry even harder.
“You will grow up to be a man, Ryland.”
“You will not need anyone to save you, Ryland.”
His vision started to darken; the voice became more distant. More distorted.
“Ryland.”
A thought flickered in his mind. Was this a nightmare?
But it was so real. He could feel everything, could hear the voice calling his name. Could feel the hands on his arms, could feel his tears.
So, this thought went away as quickly as it came.
Even if it was a nightmare, it didn’t necessarily mean it wasn’t real.
After all, most of his childhood was indeed a nightmare.
“Ryland…”
”Ryland!”
Another strained whimper left Ryland’s body.
“Ryland, please!”
He lay on his right side, the mattress slightly sunken behind him. Colt was kneeling over him, gripping his twin’s arm, shaking him awake.
Colt knew something was wrong from the second he heard Ryland’s first pained sound. Lucky, too, that he was still awake—a full hour after they’d said goodnight.
Yet he didn’t feel lucky.
Colt felt completely helpless.
He saw his brother struggling to breathe, his wheezy intakes of air, his cheeks wet from tears. He’d been trying to wake Ryland up for the past five minutes, but nothing was working.
Ryland was too far gone in his nightmare.
Colt was panicking. He knew better than to do it in situations where he still could help, but he couldn't control it. Couldn’t control the tears forming in his eyes. Living peacefully for the past three years had kind of erased that ability of his to always be on high alert. Always be prepared to help his brothers.
But he wouldn’t just retreat and leave Ryland be, no matter how scared he was. No. Colt would be biting and kicking through everything, like he always does.
“Ryland, don’t try me,” he said as sternly as he managed, voice quivering anyway. “I’ll bite you if I have to. Or lick your hand—I know you hate it.”
As dangerous as his warning was, it didn’t do much to wake Ryland up. His body was still shaking, chest painfully tight, his pajamas clinging to his sweaty skin. Ryland’s eyes were slightly open, but he was looking into the void, in front of him. As if he wasn’t dreaming but wasn’t completely here yet. And this dissonance made it hard for his brain to focus on breathing. Each inhale felt like breathing through a straw, smaller than the last.
“Fuck—” Colt squeezed out, tears coming back with more force. “I’ll be right back, you hear me?”
He jumped off the bed and made a run towards Court’s room. It was dark, so he tripped over the carpet in the process.
Court was a light sleeper and pushed himself up on his elbows after hearing sprinting footsteps in the hallway. He could barely peel his eyes apart.
The door to his room swung open.
“Court!” Colt’s voice was strained from crying he wasn’t containing anymore. “Ryland! Something’s wrong with him!”
When Courtland started working for Fitz, both were quite surprised to find out how good Court’s reflexes were. He passed almost all physical tests on the first try, and if it hadn’t been for his lack of experience with firearms, he’d most likely be completing real missions for Fitzroy already.
But it wasn’t special training or morning runs or not skipping PE in school that got him to this point.
It was simply being a shield for his brothers at all times.
Court was off his bed in an instant. He dodged all the corners and walls perfectly, knowing the place by heart. Even in complete darkness he navigated without trouble.
Colt followed right behind, trying to calm his racing heart.
The mattress of Ryland’s bed dipped under Court’s weight.
“Ryland!” Court’s voice was steadier than Colt’s as he tried to wake his brother.
Ryland was still unreactive. Court pressed a hand to his brother’s forehead—damp with a sheen of sweat—then slid an arm underneath him, hoisting him into his lap. Ryland’s eyes fluttered open, just a little.
“Hey…” Court softened his voice. “You’re okay. We’re here.”
His expression stayed as soft as possible. He knew it was the best strategy to calm the twins down.
And it worked.
Court’s voice tore through the haze.
Ryland’s heart rate started to even out. He tried to breathe deeper, but it was hard—the air scraped in, thin and ragged.
“Easy… Small breaths.”
Ryland managed a nod. Good, Court thought. At least the kid was conscious and knew where he was.
Ryland’s next inhale came through his nose, following Courtland’s lead. This one was much smoother, even though he winced at the painful feeling in his chest.
Meanwhile, Colt’s crying had eased into occasional sniffles, with his trembling hands the only sign he was still shaken—Court’s presence alone seemed to have helped. Once his head cleared enough to think, he went and got a glass of water and a damp towel, hoping that they would help Ryland. He held out the items to his older brother, and the grateful look Courtland gave him loosened the tightness in his chest.
The towel helped. Getting rid of the sweat on Ryland’s forehead made him relax a little. Ryland’s hand reached up, gripping Court’s nightshirt.
“I’m better…” he exhaled, voice already steadier.
He even managed a small smile, making Court sigh with relief as they held hands.
Colt’s eyes kept jumping between the two brothers. His heart was still racing with the subsiding panic, but in addition to this he also started to feel guilty. He could always feel what was on Ryland’s mind, what was bothering him or what was the reason for his distress.
This time was no different.
That goddamn movie. He just had to choose it, didn’t he?
And somewhere deep inside he knew it wasn’t his fault. There was no way he could’ve known that scene would affect Ryland so badly. He didn’t even know it would be in the movie in the first place. And it wasn’t their first time watching something like this—they’d seen way worse shit when it was Court’s turn to choose a movie, and none of them had been affected.
Maybe it happened because Ryland was alone?
Did Colt really need those extra cheese sticks?
But again, he couldn’t have known.
This internal war of thoughts only made his eyes sting again. He gritted his teeth, but it didn’t help.
Court looked up upon hearing a sniffle from the other twin.
“Ah, come on, you too?” he murmured with a tender look. “Now I gotta deal with both of your crying asses?”
This earned him a wet giggle from both twins.
Ryland twisted slightly in Court’s arms and reached for Colt with one hand. Colt took it instantly, giving his eyes a wipe with a sleeve.
“Thank you.” Ryland smiled tiredly. “For getting help.”
Colt didn’t like to get all sentimental, but it was nearly impossible considering how much he loved his brothers.
It didn’t mean he never tried to seem braver even after crying like a baby.
He gave one last sniffle, puffing out his cheeks in mock indignation. “For the record, you were very stubborn about waking up. I still have a right to keep my promise and lick your hand for it.”
Ryland yanked his hand out of Colt’s grip with an already disgusted expression.
Court laughed, giving a little shake of his head. “I love you, idiots.”
Ryland was already able to lift himself and sit up in bed. Before Courtland could even set one foot on the floor, both twins reached out for him (well, Ryland was able to grab him, while Colt just plopped across the bed, because he was too far away from Court).
“Stay!” They said at the same time, slightly desperate.
Court gave them an unamused but gentle look. “So that you can push my ass off the bed? Yeah, no.”
But could he resist their puppy eyes?
Damn, Ry did teach Colt how to do them…
Court rolled his eyes fondly and gave a tilt of his head towards the door. “Let’s go.”
Ryland climbed out of bed in a hurry, momentarily checking his balance, and when it felt steady, he and Colt bolted after their brother.
It was the right decision to move to a bigger room. Ryland was cuddled up against Court’s side, his cheek smushed against the oldest Gentry’s chest, leg hooked over his torso. Colt was on a whole other level—sprawled across Court’s legs like a starfish. He had no idea how the twin was even comfortable, but whatever makes him fall asleep… The only available position left for Court was on his back, but he didn’t mind.
He guided his gaze from the ceiling down to the twins, who were completely knocked out and snuffling softly in their sleep. A tired smile crept over Courtland’s face.
They were a pain in the ass, but God knows he loved them. And he would give his life to save them.
Shaking all these thoughts away, Court drifted off as well.
When morning came, Ryland lay with his head against Colt’s shoulder. In turn, Colt’s leg was hooked over Ryland’s waist. They were somewhere in the middle of the double-sized bed, one pillow under them, the other one on the floor.
“Guuuys, you’re gonna be late, come on,” Court called to them, peeking out of the hallway and into his room.
“Just five minutes!” Colt whined with his eyes closed.
“You said it twice already. Get your asses up.”
Court retreated into the kitchen, flipping another set of pancakes. Obviously, it wasn’t their usual healthy breakfast.
And obviously, Court was just pampering them after a rough night.
Who could forbid him, though?
Ryland peeled his eyes open, stretching his arms and legs with a pleased hum. One of his hands ended up in Colt’s face, making his twin blink awake as well.
Colt yawned. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Ryland replied with the same sleepy voice.
After a few seconds of silence, Colt spoke again. “You okay?”
Ryland smiled and tilted his head back, looking at his brother upside down. “I am.”
After seeing Colt’s small smile of relief, he added in a teasing tone: “Going soft on me from now on?”
Colt’s expression instantly changed to one of disbelief and amusement. He lifted himself onto his elbows, stuck out his tongue and darted for Ryland’s hand which was still near his face.
“Colt—Ew! No! That’s disgusting!” Ryland yelped, laughing.
“Guys!” Court barked from the kitchen.
Both jumped out of bed, yelling, “Coming!”
They exchanged glances. Colt and Ryland were twins—they already knew what was on each other’s minds.
Colt narrowed his eyes competitively. “Race you?”
“First one to the kitchen gets the first portion of pancakes,” Ryland agreed.
They got into a sprinting stance.
Court’s voice reached them once again. “If you two dumbasses are planning to run and trip and fall, breaking your necks—"
Colt and Ryland shared a glance once again. They chuckled and hurried to the kitchen (walking).