Archive of Our Own

When Colton Grace is five years old, his (little) twin brother climbs into his bed, wiggles under his bear blanket, and hums a tune that Colt recognizes as his name.

“Wha’s wrong, Ry?” Colt asks, blindly pressing his fingers against Ryland’s cheek. He forgets to pretend that he’s sleeping and looks at his brother, only to see Ryland staring at him with big bug eyes (that’s what Mama calls ‘em, at least). “Nigh’mare?”

Ryland has a lot of those.

He always says he doesn’t know what happens in them, but Colt knows he’s lying. Ry can’t lie as good as Colt, which is why Colt always talks first whenever their mom or dad asks them about stuff they broke.

“Nothing,” Ryland finally answers. He still stares.

Colt rubs a fist against his eye, only stopping when he sees small gray fuzzies. That means he’s doing it too hard. “Ryry, you gotta sleep,” he says, covering Ryland with the other half of his blanket. “We got school t’morrow.”

“I know,” Ryland says, and sighs that sigh that makes him sound like Dad after a long day at work. “Can I tell you somet’ing, Colt?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I like having a brother.”

Ry always says weird things like that—but only around Colt, who would never tell anyone, not even their parents, anything Ry says. It’s their rule as twin brothers. And it also makes him feel special.

“Me too,” Colt says simply, and covers Ryland’s eyes. “Sleep now, Ryry.”

“No.” Ryland pouts. “Come look at the stars with me, Colt.”

Far too used to the request and knowing his brother will do it with or without him, Colt carefully slides out of bed to grab their rain boots (since he doesn’t know how to tie their shoes yet), helps Ryland into his jacket since he sometimes gets confused about the arms, and clumsily places Ryland’s glasses on his face. He grabs Ryland’s and carefully sneaks them down the hall, guiding him over all the creaky steps, and out to their backyard so his brother can look at the stars.

Ryland has loved them forever. Every night, they come out here so he can look up at the sky, and of course, Colt has to join him to make sure he’s safe. It’s his duty as the big brother—or so Dad says, but Colt’s okay with it.

“What are ya looking at, Ry?” Colt asks when Ryland climbs onto the chair he moved out here for him. Usually, Colt will leave him to go off and play with the toys they used in the day, but right now, he wants to know. He moves closer to his brother, hopping over a small anthill, and tries to see what he’s seeing. “Is it the Little Dipper? Oh-Ry-Uhn?” Then, excitedly, he says, “Gemini?!”

(One of Ry’s specialities is his knowledge of stars. Sometimes, when they’re out here, Ryland will tell him all sorts of stories about the bright lights in the sky. When he got to the one about the ‘twins’ in the Gemini constellation, Colt decided that he liked that one the most. He even told Ryland that they were like Castor and Pollux, and it made Ryland smile brighter than Colt had ever seen.)

“No,” Ryland says. “Tau Ceti.”

“Why?”

“My friend is there. I gotta watch him sleep.”

“Oh.” Colt considers this. “Like how you watch me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

Colt watches as Ryland pushes the right sleeve of his jacket up, exposing the birthmark that almost looks like a three-pointed leaf. Other than his weirdness, it’s the one thing that sets them apart.

Ry likes to touch it a lot, or pet the area like he does with the neighborhood cat they’re not supposed to feed. Sometimes, he’ll do it and hum something longer than Colt’s name. It’s what Colt hears now, and like always, it makes something in him shake. Colt doesn’t know why. He never knows why. 

“I’m gonna go there,” Ryland says next. He’s starting to sound sleepy, so Colt pulls him out of the chair and makes his brother climb onto his back, slowly carrying him back inside the house. “I’m gonna go to Tau Ceti, and I’m gonna see my friend.”

(Art by @RavenIsBored26)

“Okay, Ry,” Colt says. “But not yet. We still got school t’morrow.”

“Okay.” Ryland yawns in his ear. “Will you watch me sleep, <Colt>?”

He hums the last part, which is how Colt knows it’s his name.

“Yeah, Ry,” Colt says, carefully stepping over the squeaky steps on the way back to their room. By the time they get there, Ryland’s snoring in his ear, so Colt has to dump him on the closest bed (his, oops) and remove his jacket and boots. Once he does the same for himself, Colt tucks Ryland in, climbs under the covers beside him, and kisses his brother’s forehead the way Mama does.

“Night, night,” Colt also says, dropping his head onto the pillow and staring at Ryland’s sleeping face. He’s already drooling. “Love you, Ry.”

Ryland doesn’t say it back, but that’s okay. Colt knows he does, too.

★★

“Colt?”

“Yeah, Ry?”

“I want an apple.”

Colt stops walking. He’s still holding Ryland’s hand as he considers his little brother, who stares back at him with those bug eyes again. Then, Ryland tips his head all the way back and points at something over their heads. Colt does the same, seeing bright red apples hanging off the branches of the biggest tree in the playground.

“Okay,” he says, releasing Ryland to walk over to the tree trunk.

For as long as Colt can remember, Ryland has always loved fruits.

He always chooses them whenever their parents give them snack options, while Colt prefers chips, pretzels, or yogurt balls. And sure, Colt likes fruit, too, but definitely not as much as his brother. Ryland can eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and still ask Mama and Dad for more!

(When he finally asked about it, Ryland had looked at him with his head tilted and said, while using the same voice he’d get when talking about his friend in the stars, “I always miss fruit when I go away.”

From then on, Colt would choose fruit as his snack so he could give Ryland the rest.)

So if Ryland wants an apple, Colt is going to get him an apple.

Even though their parents always warn them about climbing trees, Colt ignores all these rules to make his way up to the branch with the shiniest apple he can see. 

He carefully plucks it from the leaves and shimmies back down with it in hand, grabbing his brother by the hand and leading him over to the water fountain. Colt instructs his brother to push the button so he can rinse it off, the way Mama does, before drying it on his shirt like Dad—except he doesn’t take a bite to ‘test’ it, since the apple is for Ry only.

“There,” he declares after it’s dry, holding it out to his brother. “All done!”

Ry gives him the biggest smile Colt has ever seen, and the rest of their journey is filled with the sounds of Ryland munching on his green apple, sticky fingers in Colt’s hand.

Colt gets in trouble, but he doesn’t care. It’s worth it to make Ryland happy.

★★

“What do you want to be when you grow up, Colton?”

Colt wrinkles his nose at the sound of his name, but he doesn’t try to correct his kindergarten teacher because he doesn’t want to get in trouble for it (again). “Um,” he says, dragging his red crayon over the car in his coloring book. “I think I wanna be a race car driver. Daddy put it on the TV, and it looks cool. And fast!”

His teacher laughs. “That sounds very much like you,” she says, tapping on his paper. “You might give your parents heart attacks with your profession, but I know you can achieve your dream!” She moves on to Ryland, who frowns down at his notebook, glasses sliding down his nose. Colt reaches over to push them back into place. “What about you, Ryland? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Molecular biologist,” Ryland says, grabbing his pencil and scribbling something. He also covers the paper with an arm, so Colt can’t even peek at it. Rats! “And then I’m gonna be a science teacher ‘cause I love teaching.”

“Very ambitious,” their teacher says, but Colt thinks she looks a little confused. A lot of old people get that look around Ryland. “Well, I believe in you, Ryland. Or should I say, Mr. Grace?”

“Dr. Grace,” Ryland says, swinging his legs. “M’gonna get a PhD.”

“What’s that, Ry?” Colt asks curiously.

“A degwee,” Ryland answers. He stops, frowns, and says, much slower this time, “Degree.”

Colt sighs. “More school?” he glumly says.

“More school,” his brother confirms.

“Alright, Ry,” Colt says, scooting his chair closer to Ryland. He grabs his box of crayons, pulls out the brown one—Ry’s first favorite color—and gives it to his brother. “I guess we’re gonna do more school.”

“You don’t hafta go, Colt.”

“I gotta!” Colt bumps their shoulders together, smiling when Ryland does the clicking hum that tells Colt he’s happy. “M’your big brother, Ry! I hafta take care of you!”

Ryland sighs like Mama does whenever Colt gets scrapes all over his knees from tumbling in the grass. Then, he stares at Colt with one of those smiles that makes him seem… different. Sadder, maybe.

“Okay,” Ryland says, using the crayon to draw something that looks like a weird crab-spider on his paper. The teacher moves on to another student, probably to ask the same thing, so Colt leans back in his chair to watch Ryland draw.

★★

“You’re my favorite human,” Ryland declares when they’re ten.

It’s right after Colt’s soccer match, which he personally won, and Ry is draped over his back like a koala instead of a brother. He crouches so Ryland can properly climb onto him to give his brother a piggyback ride to the car.

“You’re my favorite human, too,” he replies, which makes their parents laugh for some reason. Colt doesn’t think he’ll ever understand grown-ups. “How come you don’t wanna do any sports, Ry?”

“Because I’m bad at them,” Ryland answers promptly. “Trust me, I tried! My friend laughed at me the whole time ‘cause I kept tripping over everything.”

“Uh-huh,” Colt says, hefting Ryland up higher. “That sounds like a bad excuse, Ry…”

“It’s true! One time, I even broke my arm tripping over the ball! It was sooo embarrassing!” Ryland squeezes an arm around his neck. Colt has to smack him several times before he’s released and he dramatically gasps for air. “Besides, I like watching you play! You’re really good, Colt.”

Colt gets a little embarrassed about the praise. “Thanks,” he quietly says, stopping by the car. He turns enough to look at their parents, but they’re lagging while they talk to his coach. Ugh! “You’re good at your robotics stuff, you know. I saw you win the last competition.”

Ryland squeaks in his ear. “You saw??? What?! I thought you were at practice!”

“Coach canceled ‘cause he got food poisoning,” Colt tells him. He releases his brother when Ryland starts wiggling around, grabbing his hand before he can step away. Colt also reaches up to fix his crooked glasses. The frames are still new, so he doesn’t want them to break. “You looked… happy, and like you were having a lot of fun. How come you haven’t told Mom and Dad about it?”

Ryland shrugs. “I dunno,” he says quietly, dragging a foot across the dirt. He makes a noise in the back of his throat—a couple of clips and a low hum—and looks at Colt. “Um. It’s something for me, you know? I don’t want them to make a big deal about it, especially when I’m really doing it to feel closer to my friend.”

“Your friend,” Colt repeats slowly. He frowns, trying to remember all of Ryland’s friends. Ryland doesn’t have many because while Colt loves talking to people, Ry prefers to sit alone under a tree with his hands buried in grass. “Okay. Which one?”

“The one at Tau Ceti,” Ryland answers. He uses his other hand to rub his fingers over his thumb, one of many nervous habits, and says, “He’s a great engineer. I’m usually thinking about him whenever I build my robots.” Ryland forms a fist a couple of times, eyes flitting across the area. “It’s okay if you watch.”

“Are you sure?” Colt says hesitantly. “I don’t want to… bug you.”

“You never bug me,” Ryland says, suddenly meeting his gaze. “I know we fight sometimes, but I always mean it when I tell you I like having a brother. You’re the best thing to come out of this life, and I feel less alone with you around.”

He’s giving Colt a look that makes him think of their mom, the kind that reminds him that he’s loved. Colt basks in the feeling of it, pulling Ryland close to wrap his arms around him. Ryland hugs back immediately, and Colt can’t resist squeezing him until he makes that weird chirpy sound he loves to hear.

“I love you too, Ry,” Colt tells him after releasing him. He beams at his brother, who gives him a small smile in return. “I’ll keep going and cheer you on! Like you do for me at my games!” He pauses, thinking. “Do you think I can use an air horn at your competitions, or is that too much?”

“Definitely too much.” Ryland grabs Colt’s wrist, sweeping his fingers up and down Colt’s arm. “But I’ll let you do it.”

“What’s that mean?” Colt asks curiously. When Ryland gazes at him questioningly, he points at where Ryland touches him. “You’re making one of those clicking-hums while it happens. What does it mean?”

Ryland stares at him with his bug-eyed expression, which seems bigger from behind his glasses. He doesn’t do it as much now that they’re a little bit older, but it does come up whenever Colt presses him for answers about his strange noises and musical language. “It means something important,” he says after a while and resumes his motion. “You’re not ready to know yet.”

“But you’ll tell me one day, right?” Colt says, jutting out his bottom lip when Ryland looks shifty. “Please, Ry? You know I won’t tell anyone! I’ve been good at keeping all your secrets.”

“Yes, Colt,” Ryland says with a huff. He smiles again, but his eyes get all shiny like he’s about to cry. “One day.”

Colt hugs him again. He doesn’t let go.

★★

That night, after Ryland completes his nightly ritual of staring at Tau Ceti while their parents sleep, Colt isn’t surprised when Ryland climbs into his bed and flops over the second pillow Colt keeps there for him.

Colt busies himself with tucking a blanket around Ryland’s shoulders (he gets cold easily) before wiggling beneath his comforter. He reaches out to turn off his lamp, rolls onto his side to better look at his brother, and waits.

“If I had you before,” Ryland says eventually. Colt quickly opens his eyes and pretends he wasn’t falling asleep. “I think I could have been—” He hums something Colt doesn’t recognize. “—for you.”

“Wha’s that mean?” Colt questions.

Ryland doesn’t say anything for a long time. Colt refuses to let the threat of sleep overtake him, and keeps himself so still that it almost hurts. He stares at his brother, and although Ryland doesn’t meet his gaze, he looks back in Colt’s general direction.

“Brave,” he quietly answers. “I could have been brave for you.”

Colt throws an arm around his brother and tugs him close. “You’re already brave,” he tells him. “And I don’t want to hear you say you’re not. ‘Cause you are!”

“Thank,” Ryland says, muffled against his chest. 

He wiggles around a few times, but Colt refuses to release him. Ryland’s struggling stops after a while, and soon, Colt hears the soft sounds of his brother snoring. He lets the sound lull him to sleep—tangled together, the way they’ve always been.

★★

At fifteen, Ryland ignores him for a whole week.

It’s after Colt misses his robotics competition because his new coach wouldn’t let him run late to practice, so he assumes it’s because of that. He apologizes over and over again, but Ryland doesn’t acknowledge them. Colt even bikes to the nearby store to try and make amends with his brother’s favorite candies, Sour Skittles and Twizzlers, only to see them go untouched.

“I don’t like when you two fight,” Mom says when Colt is having a snack after school—alone, because Ryland went upstairs, slammed his bedroom door, and immediately started blasting that weird Russian music he’s been listening to lately the moment they got home. “Have you tried apologizing, honey?”

“I did,” Colt mutters, breaking one of his pretzel sticks into smaller pieces. Salt and dust get all over his fingers, but whatever. “I apologized so many times, but Ryland won’t forgive me! And I don’t wanna get mad at him for it, but—but—!” He sniffs, hurriedly wiping his eyes before the tears can fall. “I miss him, Mom.”

“Why don’t you try and talk to him when he goes out to do his stargazing?”

Colt stares at her with wide eyes. “You know about that?!” he exclaims, embarrassed when his voice cracks. He ducks his head after Mom arches a brow and huffs. “Right. You know everything.”

“Exactly! And as your all-knowing mother, I think you have a better chance of getting Ryland to talk to you if you go out there and make him do it.” She leans over to pinch and shake his cheek, and while Colt does try to push her hand away, he also leans into the touch. “You know our little Ryry has always needed a bit of a push to do things!”

“I don’t wanna make him more mad at me, Mom…”

“It’s madder.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true!”

“Try it, Colt,” she says before ruffling his hair. Hers is lighter than his—closer to Ryland’s shade, he thinks, and it’s always his favorite thing to look at. She also pushes the plate closer to him, tapping a finger against his cup of Gatorade. “I’m sure everything will be fine in the morning.”

★★

Colt stays up that night.

For once, he’s grateful that his parents cleaned out the spare room for Ryland, because it means Colt doesn’t have to pretend to be asleep while he waits for his brother to sneak out.

(He also ignores the memory of crying his eyes out the first night they slept in separate rooms, only for Ryland to rush in at one in the morning to throw himself onto the empty side of Colt’s bed, face wet with tears. From then on, they tried their best to learn how to be apart, but sometimes, Colt wakes up from the greatest sleep ever to see Ryland drooling on his second pillow.

After spending so much time together, it’s hard to be apart.)

Finally, Colt hears the click of Ryland’s door.

He waits until he sees the shadow of his brother pass, waits until he hears the faint creak of the back door, before flinging his blanket off the bed and hurriedly climbing out. Colt shoves his feet into his sneakers and follows after Ryland. Of course, he’s a few steps behind, so by the time Colt finds himself outside, Ry is already sitting on the chair they keep out there for him, face tipped toward Tau Ceti.

(Colt briefly looks at Gemini and wonders if Castor and Pollux ever fought like this. Did the wound caused by their distance ever fester and ache within Castor, as it does to Colt now? Or was he so good at being a brother that he never fucked things up between them?)

The question tears out of him before he can stop to think about what to say: “What did I do, Ry?”

Ryland jolts, but he doesn’t look toward Colt, who almost expects to see one of his bug-eyed expressions over managing to sneak up on him. It’s a crazy thought, since it sometimes feels like Ryland has better hearing than he does, but he gets nothing. Not even a hum.

“Ry,” Colt pleads, but Ryland doesn’t even twitch. He moves around his brother to stand in front of him, and Ryland fucking bows his head so he doesn’t look at Colt. As much as it angers him, it also makes him all the more panicked. “Come on, man. I said I’m sorry so many times already.”

Still nothing.

“What can I do?” he asks next, practically collapsing onto the grass in front of him. Colt sees Ryland hunch his shoulders, fingers rubbing against his thumb, and almost reaches out to him… but it might not be welcome if Ryland hates him. “Tell me how to fix it, and I swear, I’ll do it! I’ll do anything!”

“Colt,” Ryland quietly says. “Stop.”

“No, Ry! Can you just—” Colt’s voice cracks, but he doesn’t care. He also doesn’t try to stop his tears from falling, hands clenched into fists in his lap. “Can you look at me? And can you tell me what the fuck I did to make you so mad at me?”

“Language,” Ryland mutters.

“It doesn’t matter!” Colt bursts out, eyes flitting to the house and back when Ryland shushes him. “It doesn’t matter,” he repeats in a quieter tone. “Because my brother is mad at me, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t! And I want to figure out how because I can’t lose you!” He sniffles, reaching out to grab Ryland’s hand. Ryland doesn’t pull away this time. “Don’t make me lose you, Ry.”

Ryland lets out a shuddering gasp.

Colt freezes, only because he recognizes the sound as it usually means Ryland’s about to start bawling. He’s more sensitive about some things, so Colt has learned all of his tells. Colt has even come up with ways to stop them so his brother doesn’t spiral. However, before Colt can pull him into a tight hug, Ryland throws himself off his chair and into Colt’s arms.

“I’m sorry!” he says, sounding hysterical. “I’m sorry, Colt! I’m sorry! I don’t—” Ryland shoves his face into Colt’s shoulders, and all Colt can do is squeeze him tightly as he sobs, rubbing his back the way Dad does whenever Ryland has a nightmare. “It’s not your fault! I swear! I just don’t know what to do, Colt! I don’t! How can I leave you behind?”

“Leave me behind…?” Colt’s starting to get worried. He tries not to show it, focusing on holding Ryland even tighter. Although his brother trembles in his arms, the action seems to stop the worst of his tears. Good. “What are you talking about, Ry?”

Ryland suddenly slumps against him, trembling. Colt wishes he had brought out Ryland’s favorite blanket for additional comfort. “Colt,” he says thickly. “I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

“Why did you?” Colt prods, reminding himself to return to his questions later. “Was it because of the robotics thing?”

“Yes,” Ryland whispers, shame entering his tone. “If it were any other life, I wouldn’t have cared, but… I got so used to having you at my competitions that I got mad when I didn’t see you. I got mad at you for not being there.” His breath hitches, so Colt squeezes him again, waiting until he hears Ryland sigh to loosen his hold. “But then I got mad at myself for being a terrible brother.”

“You’re not,” Colt says firmly. He leans back so he can stare his brother in the face, meeting his red-rimmed and teary eyes. “Ryland, you’re the best brother in the whole world. Hell, you’re the best person I know!” Colt grabs Ryland’s head to shake him, hoping his message sticks. “And I really am sorry for missing your competition. It won’t happen again. If my coach tries to stop me, I’ll quit the team.”

“Colt!”

“What? You’re way more important than soccer!” He shakes his brother harder, and Ryland makes a sound that’s a mixture of a click and a squeak. Colt likens the noise to a kitten hissing. “Listen.”

“No.”

“Listen,” Colt repeats. “It was wrong of me to skip it—and not warn you ahead of time that I wouldn’t be there. You can totally stay mad at me about it for as long as you want, but… don’t shut me out. It makes me feel alone, and after having you my whole life, I’m not ready for that.”

“Yet?” Ryland says, subdued.

“Ever,” Colt stresses, trying to ignore the way his chest goes tight at the thought. He shakes his brother one last time before releasing him to ruffle his hair, smiling when he hears Ryland’s small huff.

Things between them fall silent, but it’s less oppressive than the past week, so Colt thinks there’s a chance of achieving forgiveness. He holds out a hand when Ryland starts to get twitchy, letting his brother drag a finger over his knuckles. Colt grins when he pauses over one of the crooked ones.

“I still can’t believe you punched my sixth-grade bully,” Ryland says, flipping Colt’s hand over. His brother also likes to trace his palm lines, but he never tries to read Colt’s future from it—something about his friend being afraid of superstitions. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I know,” Colt tells him. “But why would I stand by and let my brother get beat up? You’d do the same for me.”

“I would,” Ryland replies, sounding very serious. He’s giving Colt that look that always makes him seem much, much older. “There’s a lot I’d do for you, Colt. But—” His face crumbles briefly, giving Colt a glimpse of so much grief and pain. It’s enough to make his own heart ache, especially after Ryland’s eyes fill with tears once more. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“Hey,” Colt says gently. “You’re plenty strong, Ry, and you can do anything if you put your mind to it!”

“That’s the problem!” Ryland releases Colt’s hand and wraps his arms around himself. Colt has to reach out and shove a couple of fingers between Ryland’s fingers and his skin because he keeps trying to scratch himself. “You’re going to hate me.”

“… No? Why would I hate you?”

Ryland says nothing. He curls in on himself and starts to shake, so Colt draws his brother back into his arms to hold him together, resting his cheek atop Ryland’s head.

“Nothing can make me hate you, Ry,” he vows, keeping his voice steady and firm so the message gets through Ryland’s anxiety-filled brain. “And no matter what happens, we’ll always be brothers. Got it?”

“I—”

“Got it?”

“Got it,” Ryland finally says, and Colt catches a glimpse of his small smile before Ryland ducks his head. “I’m sorry.”

“And I forgive you,” Colt says because he does. He reaches out to push up Ryland’s glasses to wipe away some of his tears, accidentally smearing dirt across his cheek. Whoops! Maybe Ry won’t notice… “I’m sorry, too. You don’t have to forgive me right away, but I need to make sure you hear it.”

“Well, I do,” Ryland tells him. “Forgive you, that is.”

For some reason, the rest of the world seems a bit blurrier to Colt. “Oh,” he says, voice cracking. “That’s cool, I guess.”

They stay in their embrace for what feels like a long time. Eventually, Ryland attempts to squirm away, but Colt holds onto him tighter and starts rubbing their heads together, cackling when Ryland immediately starts complaining and hitting him. 

It soon devolves into them tussling on the grass, and in between their scattered laughter and playful insults, Colt can’t help but think that everything feels perfect again.

★★

Dad wakes them up early in the morning and stuffs them into the car. 

Their mom sits in the passenger seat with an eye mask on and earbuds in, already lost to the world. Colt tries to find any clues about where they’re going, but all he sees are a few bags by their feet. He can’t tell what’s inside, and peeking will alert his dad, so he decides to leave it alone for now… unless Ryland checks! Colt stares at his brother, hoping he catches his signal.

Unfortunately, their twin telepathy must be broken, because Ryland immediately breaks out the questions when they pull out of the driveway—albeit much sleepier.

“Where going, question?” Ryland mumbles, stomping his foot twice. He also rubs his eyes with a yawn that makes something in his jaw click. Colt winces at the sound. “Why so early, question?” Another two stomps. “Dad! Answer me!”

“You’ll see when we get there, Ryland,” Dad says, cheerful as ever. “Why don’t you two go on and sleep, huh? It’ll take a while.”

Ryland grumbles something unintelligible before dropping his head onto Colt’s shoulder, humming in a low tone, “<Colt>, watch me sleep.”

“Yeah, Ry,” Colt whispers, tucking the blanket he smuggled in with them. “I’ve got you.”

Colt doesn’t have it in him to fall back asleep, not when he has a brother to watch. Also, he wants to be ready with one of Ryland’s sick bags in case he wakes up nauseous. His motion sickness hits at the most random moments, which is something that upsets Ryland greatly.

(“Flew in a jet, been in orbit, used a space elevator to get in and out of orbit, went on a roller coaster, and yet, I still get sick over a long car ride,” Ryland had muttered once. He was hunched over the side of the road during their winter trip to the mountains. Dad thought it might have been the altitude change. Colt knew the excuse didn’t make Ryland feel better. “<Colt>, hold my hand.”

Colt had sighed, but he still held his brother’s hand while he vomited again.)

He stares out the window for the rest of the trip, smiling widely when their surroundings eventually give way to beautiful blue waters and sandy beaches. Colt tries not to jostle his brother too much when he shakes his hands out excitedly, flexing his knuckles until they feel right again.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!” Colt whispers to his father, completely and utterly delighted. He glances at his brother, still asleep, and says, “Ry’s going to be so happy.”

And when Ryland wakes up, he’s clearly delighted by the surprise trip. He has his face pressed against the window while he makes a whistling trill, as he always does whenever their parents take them to the beach. Ryland doesn’t even get sick when they slow down! That’s a major improvement.

They claim a great spot by a fire pit, and Colt hurries to help Dad unload everything so he can have more time in the water. Ryland helps Mom set up their towels and chairs, and he somehow manages to stand still while Mom applies sunscreen on them.

“Nooooo,” Colt draws out when she drags him in next. Ryland sticks his tongue out at him and rushes off to the water, their dad loudly reminding him to come back for food in an hour. “Mom, stop! I’m fine! I like the sun!!”

“Yes, but the sun doesn’t always love you,” she replies. “There’s no reason to risk it when you’ve had so many sunburns already.”

“That’s a tan, Mom,” Colt grumbles. “And I can do it myself!”

“I know.” She smiles at him. “But I’m your mother, so I’ll help you for as long as you let me.”

Most teenagers would probably shy away from such a thing, but Colt always sees how Ryland seems to soak up any bit of affection their parents give him, and it makes him push past his initial feeling of embarrassment to let it continue.

“I’m so glad you bounced back from this,” Mom says afterward, cupping his face and giving him a bright smile. He and Ry have the same one, and he knows this because Dad has commented on it so many times before. “It always hurts me when you two fight. All I’ve ever seen is you two adoring each other since you’ve been born!” She leans in to kiss his forehead, and Colt can feel himself perk up at the gesture. “I remember the day so clearly… Almost like it was yesterday!”

“Ma,” Colt complains, even as he leans into her touch. “M’not a baby…”

“Not true!” Mom cheerfully replies. “You’ll always be my baby!” Some of the humor leaves her face, shifting to the warm fondness Colt often sees in Ryland’s eyes. “The doctors separated you two for some tests, and neither one of you stopped crying! Not until we put you in the same crib. Isn’t that funny?”

“Really?” Colt says, mystified. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yup! And it was the same when we brought you home! It got to a point where we’d let you nap together every day with one of us watching. Heck, when we’d lay you both down on the same blanket for tummy time, you’d start holding hands! It was the sweetest thing in the world to witness.” She pulls Colt in for a hug next. Colt doesn’t resist, and he even returns the embrace as tightly as she holds him. “You were his first word, you know?”

“I was??

“Mhm! Compared to you now—”

“Hey!”

“—Ryland was such a noisy baby. Always making these weird little sounds or blabbing to you about something or other. He liked to hum, too! Kept doing a little tune that might have come from a song I heard while pregnant… Then, one day, clear as a bell, he says your name!”

Colt can feel himself smiling like a loon. “I love this story,” he says honestly, dropping his head onto his mother’s shoulder. His last growth spurt caused him to surpass her by a couple of inches, but he still does his best to fit against her like he did when he was much smaller. “What was mine?”

“What else?” Mom says with a grin—his grin. “It was ‘Ry.’”

★★

As the setting sun casts an array of orange and pink across the clear skies above and the water below, Colt finds Ryland somewhere beyond the tide pools.

His brother stands in the water with the waves lapping at his ankles. Colt looks down to see something clutched in his hand, and when he goes over to Ryland, he carefully extracts the object from his curled fingers. It rolls onto his palm, cold to the touch and heavy, and when he peers closely at it, he finds an oval-shaped stone with white flecks on the surface. Before he can ask about it, Ryland shifts, dragging Colt’s attention to him.

“I miss my beach,” Ryland says as he stares out into the distance. Colt follows his gaze and uses a hand to shield his face, squinting when he sees something splashing out there. Dolphins, maybe? Or seals! Colt hopes they’re seals. “These waves don’t sound the same, my tree isn’t here, and there’s no fog. I miss it.”

“What are you talking about?” Colt says, bemused.

Ryland looks at him, the weight of his stare as heavy as the sinking feeling in his gut whenever he sees Ryland looking up at the night sky with something akin to longing. “Nothing,” he says finally, giving Colt one of those secretive smiles. “Nothing at all.”

★★

High school is a blur.

It’s hard for Colt to focus most of the time, but Ryland makes it easier for him whenever they sit down and study together. He explains everything in a low tone, and Colt never feels as stupid as he does whenever some of their teachers talk down to him during study hall. Colt says as much when they’re reviewing something for their next test, and Ryland looks genuinely touched by the sentiment.

Colt stays on the soccer team, occasionally ditches practice to watch his little brother win at robotics, and signs up for martial arts classes. He dates a girl, falls in love, gets his heart broken, and cries his eyes out on his brother’s shoulder while they watch some crappy rom-com at his request—because Ryland’s great at indulging him.

“You spoil me,” Colt mutters during their fifth rewatch of Pride & Prejudice. “Not even Mom would willingly watch this with me a second time.”

“I think I’m allowed to spoil you,” Ryland replies from where he’s hanging upside-down on the couch, glasses perched precariously on his chin. “You’re the only brother I have.”

When Colt and Ryland graduate, get accepted into the university of their choice, and receive scholarships for soccer and robotics respectively, their mother throws them a big party. She also invites distant relatives and all of their classmates.

It’s… a lot, even for someone like Colt, who was friendly with most of their graduating class, but it’s even harder on Ryland. Every time Colt catches a glimpse of his brother, he sees Ryland looking completely overwhelmed by the attention. He ends up instigating a few distractions to let Ryland escape a few times, and he even lets their boring aunt drag him into a conversation about a feud she has with her broken TV.

Eventually, Colt sees his brother slip out the back door, and he escapes his well-meaning family members to follow him out. Unsurprisingly, Ryland is sitting in his chair with his head tipped back. Colt already knows where he’s looking.

“Two more decades,” Ryland quietly says. “And then some.”

“For what?” Colt asks.

Ryland doesn’t answer. But he does hold out a hand, and Colt moves closer without hesitation to grab it. He stands there for what feels like a long time, watching his brother stare at his star.

★★

The apartment they get (with help from their parents) is 15 minutes away from school on foot, carries the faintest scent of bleach, and seems smaller than advertised, but it’s theirs, which makes it perfect in Colt’s eyes.

Putting furniture together, however, brings out a weird side of his brother.

“Come on, Ryland,” Colt hears him mutter when he finds Ryland trying to put his bed together. There are a bunch of screws laid out on a piece of miscut cardboard to his right, a wooden panel in one hand, and a metal bar in the other. “You became an engineer not just once, but twice to prove a point in your lives. This shouldn’t be so difficult.” He thunks his head against the wooden panel. “So why is it so fudging difficult?! Why!!”

“You can do it, Ry,” Colt comments as he steps into the room, although it comes out fainter than intended. His mind snags on something Ryland said, and it’s what prompts him to ask, “Engineer?”

Ryland goes still in a way that Colt rarely sees. He lifts his head, glasses askew and hair mussed (likely from tugging it out of frustration), and stares at Colt with a frown, eyes blank. It makes Colt shift uncomfortably, but before he can repeat himself, Ryland’s expression clears. His lips quirk into a smile that seems more amused than anything.

“I’m not lying,” he says. “I’ve been reincarnating for a long time now, and in a couple of my lives, I decided to become an engineer instead of a molecular biologist. It’s pretty simple, Colt.”

Colt rolls his eyes. “You and your stories,” he says, waving a hand. His heart gives a rather sad pang over Ryland deliberately keeping something from him, but he reminds himself that they’re allowed to have secrets, even from each other. “Want me to lend you a hand? It’ll distract me from trying to find our kitchen knives.”

“Go ahead,” Ryland says, placing the bar down and passing him the instruction booklet. “If you can figure this out, I’ll buy us lunch.” 

“Lunch is over, Ry,” Colt says, pointing to the window. “It’s dinner.”

“Oh.” Ryland frowns. “How long have I been in this room?”

“If you have to ask that question, it’s been too long,” Colt answers with a sigh. He tosses the instructions down and pushes himself up, holding out a hand toward his brother. “Come on, Dr. Weirdo. Let’s go.”

“It should only be Weirdo,” Ryland corrects, grabbing onto him. Colt lifts him up with only minimal strain, but that’s due to the soreness and exhaustion that comes with moving half his life to his college apartment. “Give me a few years to earn that title.”

“Godspeed,” Colt says, wrapping an arm around Ryland’s shoulders and guiding him out the door. “God fucking speed.”

★★

At twenty, Colt and Ryland try out parties around their college campus.

Well, it’s mostly Colt who wants to go around to have fun, and Ryland only ever tags along when Colt makes a show out of asking him. The hands-and-knees bit usually works, but sometimes, on days when Ryland is clearly feeling particularly cruel to his loving older brother, Colt has to pull out the Victorian child voice to plead with Ryland to join him.

These parties introduce him to new people, places, and beer, but he only sticks to his one cup rule (or one sip, depending on how lukewarm it is, or how bad the jungle juice of the night tastes) when he’s with his brother. Ryland judges him for it sometimes, but when Colt points out that underage drinking is a better choice than doing drugs, he stops.

Ryland gives him a two-hour grace period before he makes requests to leave. Sometimes, Colt gets a bad feeling the moment he walks in, and he’ll turn right back around to take his brother out to whatever fast-food restaurant sounds appealing during that late hour.

His twin draws the line at frat houses, which is something Colt agrees with wholeheartedly.

It doesn’t stop them from dealing with frat guys, though.

“You should let me take you out.”

“I’ve already told you no.”

Colt’s head snaps up at the sound of Ryland’s voice, eyes flicking around the room until he finds his brother. Ryland is tucked away in a corner, looking unamused as a frat boy looms over him, apparently trying to chat him up even though Ryland is giving off pretty clear signals that he’s not interested.

“Sorry,” Colt half-heartedly says, shrugging the hand off his shoulder. He ignores the protests of the girl next to him and pushes himself up, ready to go over and save his twin from another slimy asshole.

He’s had to do it so many times already—college has brought forth so many people eager for his brother’s attention. Although Ryland does an excellent job of warding most off, some are terrifyingly persistent.

“Come on,” Frat Boy whines, sounding more like a petulant child than an adult. “I’ve been bugging you for weeks now, and you still haven’t given in! What’s it gonna take for you to go on a date with me?”

“Nothing,” Ryland says. “Because I don’t want to date you.”

“Why!”

“I’ve already told you why.”

The other guy scoffs. “Yeah, well, I don’t buy it!” he declares, moving closer to Ryland. Colt catches the flicker of discomfort that passes over Ryland’s face, and he quickly walks over. “If you’re really taken, then why haven’t we seen this guy around, huh?? Sounds like you’re lying just to lie!”

“And you sound like a tool. Is there enough oxygen going to your brain?”

“Okay, whoa,” Colt cuts in when the guy clenches a fist, stepping in front of his brother. As much as he wants to laugh at Ryland’s creative insult, his protectiveness overrides it. He jabs a finger into the other man’s chest, frowning. “No means no, shithead. Leave my brother alone, or I’m going to drag your ass outside and beat the shit out of you.”

“Colt!” Ryland hisses, but Colt doesn’t back down, not even when Ryland hums his name and tugs on the back of his shirt.

He rolls his shoulders back and meets the idiot’s gaze, blood pumping at the thought of a fight. Colt even loosens his stance to prepare himself, offering the grin Ryland once described as ‘serial killer-esque.’ He leans toward him, delighted when Frat Boy steps back, and says, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Christ,” Dumbass says, stumbling over nothing. He narrows his eyes before huffing and turning away. “Whatever. I’ll get my rocks off somewhere else.”

Colt almost punches him on that alone, but Ryland’s hand on his arm stops him. He watches the asshole walk off, mumbling something about guard dogs, and makes sure to say, loudly and pointedly, “Woof.”

★★

“I am curious about something,” Colt says after they leave the party, bumping their shoulders together. The park they’re walking through is empty, and the only sounds come from the ducks at the nearby lake. “How come you don’t date? I mean, I totally get why sometimes, especially with all the idiots at this school, but there are plenty of fish in the sea. You could probably find someone… cool.”

“Not interested in those fish.” Ryland bumps him back before stopping at a lone bench beneath a lamppost. He drops down on it with one of those heavy sighs, legs stretched out in front of him. Colt eyes him for a bit before doing the same. “I’m not lying when I say I’m taken, you know.”

Colt blinks. “I think I’d know if you were dating someone,” he says, frowning. “We spend way too much time together for you to sneak around.”

“Yeah, because the person I’m dating isn’t here right now,” Ryland replies with a huff of laughter. His head tips back, and Colt knows, without a doubt, that he’s looking toward Tau Ceti. That’s when it clicks for Colt.

“Oh,” he says, and decides to entertain this fantasy. Although if Ry has kept it up all these years… “Your friend in the stars?”

“He’s near one right now.”

“Yes, I know. Tau Ceti.”

“Mmm. He always gets there before I’m even born in some lives.” Ryland brushes a hand over his arm. Colt watches as he traces the edges of his birthmark. “It’s more than dating, though. I’m his partner—his mate. We’ve been finding each other in every life, and this one will be no different.” He hums. “Our love transcends death.”

The air suddenly feels heavy after the declaration. Colt realizes, with startling clarity, that he believes him.

“How will you do that?” Colt dares to ask.

Ryland turns his head, staring at him with a dreamy smile. “I told you before, Colt,” he says. “I’m going to go to Tau Ceti, and I’m going to see my friend.”

Colt reaches out to snag his brother’s hand, squeezing his fingers and waiting for Ryland to squeeze back. “Okay, Ry,” he says. “But not yet. We still have school tomorrow.”

When Ryland starts laughing, all Colt can do is laugh with him, even though his heart trembles at the thought.

★★

“Would he mind it if you dated other people?” Colt asks when they’re back at their apartment. 

He grabs Ryland’s designated ceramic bowl from the cabinet, the colors a mixture of turquoise and brown, and pours some of their freshly made cheap ramen into it. Colt also adds half an egg on top and slides it to his brother, who eagerly starts eating it.

“He says he wouldn’t, but he got awfully jealous in our first life together,” Ryland says with what sounds like a giggle. It’s much more melodic, though—very different from his usual laugh. “A lot of… people propositioned me after we made it to his home planet. He pretended he was okay with it, but I heard him mouthing off to someone who dropped off a love letter. Even so, he did encourage me to experiment until I can meet him again, but like I said, I’m not interested.” He slurps some noodles and shrugs. “Plus, it feels wrong to date someone in some lives only to dump them the moment I find—” Ryland hums something.

Colt frowns, turning away to pour the other half of the ramen into his Hello Kitty bowl (a gag gift from Ryland). “What was that last bit?” he asks. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

“… Really? I feel like—well, maybe not. Anyway, it’s his name. When we first met, I decided to call him Rocky, but what I hum is the equivalent of his name in his language.”

“Rocky?” Colt snorts, grabbing the bottle of lemon juice from the fridge to splash some into his soup. “Yeah, that sounds about right for you.” He carries his bowl to the other counter and slides onto the stool to sit across his brother, watching as he bites into his egg. “You don’t get lonely?” Colt asks next.

“Not really,” Ryland says, smiling at him. “I mean, I have you, and knowing I’ll eventually see him again helps.” His eyes brighten, and he leans forward, looking as excited as the day he got to do experiments in the campus lab. “<Rocky> once got really impatient and flew out to Earth to kidnap me when I was fresh out of college. NASA and every other government in the world raised a stink about the whole thing, even though I willingly went and stayed with our alien invader.”

Colt stares at him. “That might be the craziest thing I’ve heard you say,” he declares, focusing on his soup. “And you say a lot of crazy stuff, Ry.”

“Trust me,” Ryland says. “That’s just the beginning.”

And then he noisily and annoyingly slurps down more ramen. Colt scowls and focuses on his own bowl, tuning out Ryland’s next giggle.

★★

Once Colt fully passes the general education hurdle in his classes, he starts trying out a few things.

While Ryland is already set on his major—he wasn’t lying about the molecular biologist thing—Colt starts to feel adrift. Although he still plays soccer, it’s more so he can keep his scholarship than anything, and he doesn’t want to stick with it forever. Ryland suggests that he sign up for some electives and noncredit courses, which is how Colt finds himself in a drama, acting, and tumbling class.

Colt enjoys the last one the most.

He comes back to the apartment bruised and sweaty most days, especially after soccer practice. Ryland will sometimes shriek at the sight of him, only because he already knows what fate awaits him—a hug from his adoring big brother.

“By seven minutes!” Ryland cries, holding out their broom. “Stay away, demon! I just showered!”

“But I missed you,” Colt says with an exaggerated pout, arms spread. “Don’t you love your favorite brother?”

“You’re my only brother!”

“Exactly!”

Even though Ryland throws things at him and runs away, Colt always wins the battle between brothers. It typically results in Ryland beating a fist against his back while squawking, but the ritual is too funny to stop.

During one of his tumbling classes, the professor brings an actual stuntman, who talks about what he does, how it works, and more. He even leads them through an easy stunt sequence that requires them to use their tumbling knowledge, giving pointers and correcting some of them with a friendly smile.

He’s there the next few classes, and one day, he brings a woman who sits in the back and messes around with her phone. She’ll lift her head during their attempts at a tumbling sequence, but otherwise, she seems uninterested.

But afterward, she gives a speech that’s mostly nonsense about stuntwork being the backbone of all great movies, and how Hollywood is always looking for people to let themselves get hurt to make the movies better (exact words and all). It piques Colt’s interest, and soon, he’s mapping out electives for his last years of school, swapping his major to kinesiology, and sitting Ryland down to talk about his new future.

“A stuntman?” Ryland says, sounding aghast. His glasses hang off one ear, and the bags under his eyes make him look like a raccoon, but the shock of Colt’s announcement brings some life to him. Colt hurriedly passes him a cheese stick, which Ryland eats absentmindedly. Thank God. “You—what? How are you going to do that?”

“Well,” Colt says with a thoughtful hum. “I have to do a lot of training first… Like, a lot, but school has some of the classes I need that focus on basic stunts. Gail—the lady that talked to us—is actually willing to pave the way for those that are interested, and I think it could work out for me.” He sighs. “I need to change my diet to bulk up a bit. Will you help me?”

Ryland stares at him. “Buy us pizza for dinner, and I’ll consider it,” he says, shaking his head and turning back to his work. Colt squints at the screen and sees stuff that barely makes any sense, even with the science knowledge Colt picked up through osmosis. “I would have thought this life would give me fewer gray hairs, but whatever.” Despite his grumbling, he still directs a soft, proud smile at him, and Colt can feel his ears warm with embarrassment. “It’s nice to hear you so excited about it, Colt. You’ll be great.”

“Should I get a stage name?” Colt muses, unwrapping another cheese stick. As planned, Ryland snatches it from him before he can bring it up to his mouth, but Colt pretends to pout over it anyway. “A lot of people do in the entertainment industry, and Gail suggested it, too. I dunno.”

“I think you already have one in mind,” Ryland says, giving him a look. “What’s your new name?”

“Colt Seavers,” Colt answers tentatively, relaxing when Ryland beams. Still, he hurriedly adds, “I’ll still be Grace with you, though.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Ryland says, chewing on his cheese while he turns back to his work. Colt sees that he’s still smiling. “Seavers, huh? You should tell Mom. She’s going to love that you’re using her maiden name.”

He brings it up to their parents during their next call, and while they fret over him and his well-being, they also seem pleased to hear about his future in stunt work—Mom gets especially delighted once he reveals the stage name he has in mind. Dad sends him some YouTube videos about the subject, and even though Colt already had them saved, he thanks the man anyway.

Colt goes to his classes, still does soccer, attends some weekend martial arts sessions, and even works some basic gymnastics lessons into his schedule. Ryland even puts together a diet plan he can use until he finds a nutritionist, but when he presents the chart to said specialist, she marvels at how accurately it fits him.

“I worked alongside nutritionists across many lifetimes,” Ryland tells him absentmindedly when Colt questions him about it, hunched over his laptop in the darkness of his room. Colt considers turning on the light, but the last time he did, Ryland hissed and cowered like a vampire. “Being a willing volunteer for a space expedition made it easier to involve myself in those things.”

Befuddled yet again, all Colt can do is stare at his brother. “Alright,” Colt says finally. “If you say so, Ry.” He decides to leave his brother to his studying, but not before flicking Ryland’s light on and off several times, grinning at his wordless screech.

They go home every other weekend to visit their parents, jump from party to party whenever Ryland feels social enough to try it, and Colt even tries dating a couple of people before realizing he’s too busy for it.

And throughout it all, Ryland continues his nightly ritual of going outside to look at Tau Ceti.

He always makes time for it, and sometimes, he’ll even set an alarm to wake himself up in the middle of the night to go out. Colt still joins him, but occasionally, he stays in to peek out the window and stare at his brother. 

Ryland’s expression rarely changes from the longing Colt has grown so used to seeing throughout their entire lives. Sometimes, it’ll carry a tinge of joy, but more often than not, there’s a sadness in his eyes that Colt can’t bear to see. It’s why he occasionally watches his brother from inside the apartment, trying to ignore the heavy weight in his stomach.

“I miss home,” Ryland whispers one night.

“We can go home,” Colt gently tells him, reaching out to snag Ryland’s wrist. Touch seems to help during the sadder moments, and sure enough, he feels his brother relax minutely. “We can go home anytime you like, Ry. I’ll take you.”

Ryland shakes his head. “Not that home,” he says with a very noticeable hitch in his voice. Colt squeezes him tightly, only because consistent pressure prevents him from spiraling too badly. “I miss him so much, <Colt>. It feels like I can’t breathe sometimes.”

“It’s alright,” Colt says, squeezing once more before leading him back into the apartment. Ryland lets him, which means he must be feeling pretty terrible about it, so he’s going to do his duty as a big brother and try to make everything better. “It’ll be okay, Ry.”

“He’s waiting for me,” Ryland mutters as Colt guides him into bed. After ensuring he’s settled beneath the covers, Colt flicks on the lamp for them. He sits next to his tucked-in brother and reaches out to brush a gentle hand through his hair, listening to his shuddering sigh. “<Rocky> always waits for me for so long. He’s there before I’m even born most times, and no matter what he does, his crew still dies.” Ryland sniffles. “I’m not there to watch him sleep.”

“I’m sure he knows you’ve been watching him almost every night for the past decade and a half,” Colt tells him, shifting until he’s lying down beside him. Ryland immediately drops his head onto Colt’s shoulder, and Colt stares up at the ceiling, stomach twisting when Ryland makes a noise not unlike a sob. “Plus, you love each other! Doesn’t that mean you always feel him, no matter how far apart you are?”

“Yeah,” Ryland says thickly.

“It’s still okay to miss him,” Colt says, awkwardly bumping their heads together. “Especially when he probably misses you just as much.” He lightly knocks a fist against his brother’s side. “Making yourself miserable over it won’t help anyone. He wouldn’t want you crying your eyes out over him, would he?”

“… No.”

“Exactly. Now, I’m not telling you that you can’t be sad about it, okay? I get that distance makes it harder, but I just don’t want you to let it consume you.” Colt grabs the remote off Ryland’s bedside table and flicks on the TV. “I’ll put something on; and we can eat our feelings out with ice cream, and you can tell me whatever you want about Rocky. Does that sound good to you?”

“Yes,” Ryland says softly. He sniffs and sighs, head dropping off Colt’s shoulder. Colt looks over to see him burrowing into his pillow, eyes red-rimmed, but no longer wet. “Thank you, <Colt>. I’m glad I have you.”

Colt pours every ounce of affection he can muster into his voice when he says, “I’m glad I have you too.” He switches to the HDMI input, blinking when he sees the title menu for Rocky. “Hm. Well, I guess I know what we’re watching.”

“Listen—”

“Nope.” Colt hits play. “Will you be okay if I leave for a bit to get us our carton and spoons?”

“Yeah,” Ryland says softly. “I’ll be fine.” He reaches out to grab Colt’s wrist, squeezing three times before releasing him. “Thank, thank, thank.”

Towards the tail end of their marathon (because of course they had to watch the rest), Ryland quietly says, “When this first happened, I thought it was a dream. And every time afterward, I only kept doing it because I knew he was waiting for me on the other side. Sure, it gets repetitive sometimes, maybe a bit boring, and even with all the risks and losses along the way, it’s worth it.” He hums a wordless tune, shutting his eyes. “Loving him is worth it.”

“I bet,” Colt replies, wondering if he’ll ever feel so strongly about another person.

“You make it worth it too, you know.”

Something in Colt grows warm. He always feels grateful for his life and family, but right now, Colt feels it so strongly that he wants to burst. 

“Yeah?” he says, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.

“Yeah.” Ryland adds a few clicks into the song that follows, although they come out much softer—a usual indication that he’s slowly falling asleep. He pulls his blanket over his head and hums again, something Colt recognizes like the back of his hand. “You watch?”

“I watch,” Colt confirms. Even though he’s exhausted, and he sees the sun peeking out from behind Ryland’s curtains, Colt stays up longer to watch his little brother sleep.

★★

Eventually, a miracle happens.

Colt gets hired by the people working on the Miami Vice Stunt Show.

It’s partially thanks to Gail, her connections, as well as her odd belief in him, but she refuses to admit that she had any part in it. She sends him off to get a boating license, signs him up for a fire stunt workshop, and after some practice, Colt successfully drives a boat through a ring of fire.

“The day you get set on fire is the day I’m going to go bald,” Ryland declares when he comes home smelling like victory. When Colt says as much, his brother wrinkles his nose and says, “More like mildew. Did they dunk you into the water, too?”

“No,” Colt cheerfully replies, grinning when Ryland arches a brow. “I threw myself into the water so I wouldn’t explode.”

Ryland looks horrified. “Please don’t get sick,” he begs. “I can’t afford to get sick right now!”

“Didn’t you technically already take these classes?” Colt muses, dragging himself over to their fridge to snag a bottle of red Gatorade. Electrolytes have always been his friend, now more than ever. He takes a long swig, smacking his lips together afterward. “Shouldn’t the homework be easy for you?”

“You would think,” Ryland mutters, dropping down into his chair with a heavy sigh. Colt watches him run his fingers through his hair, making it stick out in different directions. “I mean, yes, everything related to my major is pretty easy, and it helps that I now have an eidetic memory from my time as an Eridian, which is what I dubbed Rocky’s species—”

Colt promptly chokes on the next sip of his Gatorade. “You have what now?”

“—but that’s not what’s causing me trouble this time!” He picks up his textbook and thrusts it in Colt’s direction. Colt wipes his mouth, cleans his hands on his pants, and reaches over to take it. He frowns down at the cover, which has a pretty painting and the words The Norton Anthology of English Literature: The Romantic Period on the front. “It’s this!”

“Are you double majoring?” Colt says incredulously, idly flipping through the thin pages. Fuck, there are so many. This thing feels like a brick, too! “Why English, of all things?”

“<Rocky> is a romantic,” Ryland mutters. When Colt glances at him, still in shock, he sees a red flush bloom on Ryland’s face. “He, uh… Other Eridians on his planet liked to compose ballads about us and our adventure, and he decided to write one for me. It was beautiful.” Here, Ryland sighs dreamily. Christ. Maybe Colt should throw the book at his head. “And in his human life, he published a book of love poems dedicated to me before we even met! I have to reciprocate!”

Colt stares at him. “Ry,” he says, very carefully. “I think reincarnating and finding each other in every life is romantic enough.”

“Not for me,” Ryland mutters, snatching the book out of his hand. He flips to one of his earmarked pages, and when Colt sneaks a peek, he sees Ryland’s familiar scribble all over the margins. Colt even sees Rocky with a heart around it. Wow. “I meant what I said. Keep your germs away from me until I’m done with this 15-page paper.”

“… Does that include the Works Cited page?”

Ryland puts his head in his hands. “No,” he says, sounding so sad it may as well be a sob.

As Colt involves himself in more stunt work, he invites Ryland to the show to watch him. Ryland declines the first few times, citing his English homework, but he has no reason to deny him during spring break. Colt manages to coax him out of the apartment with the promise of prissy coffee and sandwiches, but quickly realizes it might be the only time Ryland will ever see him do a stunt due to his fried nerves.

(“So,” Ryland even says after Colt drives the boat over a controlled explosion, voice hollow. “This is how Adrian felt.”

“Who’s Adrian?” Colt wonders, but never gets an answer.)

In between all his crap, visiting home, and making sure Ryland doesn’t drive himself into the ground with his second major (he’s trying to convince his brother to turn it into a minor, and it might be working), things seem to be going well.

And then their parents die.

★★

We’re so sorry, but your parents have passed, the doctors tell them when Colt and Ryland arrive at the hospital after the call, looking sympathetic and exhausted. We did all that we could, but the trauma was far greater than anyone anticipated.

Drunk driver, the officers say when they pull them aside, hats off and mouths downturned. Unavoidable. Sorry, kids.

We can give you a week, the counselors, professors, and soccer coach all say. A week to get everything in order and catch up on any work. I’m sorry for your loss.

Throughout it all, Colt struggles to stay tethered to reality.

A part of him believes it to be some terrible dream—that he’ll reach out to his parents during one of their bi-weekly phone calls and hear them answer on the third ring with life and warmth in their voices. Colt even tries it after they come home from funeral preparations and breaks down crying in his parents’ bedroom when it goes to voicemail.

His brother finds him.

He doesn’t say a word while he gathers Colt into his arms, massaging his scalp in a way that reminds him so strongly of their mother. The clawed hand of grief grips his heart tightly, puncturing him and letting the pain spill out in the form of gasping sobs. 

Colt thinks he loses a bit of time, because when he’s aware again, he’s lying on the couch with his head in Ryland’s lap, the video of their parents’ wedding playing on the TV. He watches his father carefully spin his mother before pulling her close to sway along with the song, and their matching smiles make his chest go tight. Colt sniffs, going still when he registers another sound.

Ryland is crying.

Fat tears roll down his little brother’s face, his shoulders shuddering whenever he sobs. Still, he’s quiet, barely sniffling even when Colt can hear his snotty nose—almost as if he doesn’t want his grief to take up any space in their childhood living room. Colt stares for only a couple of seconds longer before he sits up to throw his arms around his brother, clinging to him tightly. He feels Ryland’s hands slide over his back before clutching the back of his shirt, fingers twisted into the fabric.

“It hurts,” Ryland chokes out, a low keen following. The sound carries the sorrow that resonates deep inside Colt, and that’s when his tears start rolling, too. “It hurts, Colt. I can’t—”

“I know,” Colt says with a sniff. “But I’m here, okay? I’m here.” He glances at the TV, smiling, even when he sobs, when their dad dips their mom into a kiss. “Let’s finish this up and go to bed, Ry.”

“Share?” Ryland whispers in a voice so small that it takes him back to when they were five and Ryland wanted to spend every waking (and sleeping) moment with him.

“Yeah,” Colt answers, squeezing his brother. “We can share.”

★★

Not for the first time, Colt feels lucky to have a brother like Ryland.

He handles everything with the funeral—from the coffins to their parents’ final resting outfits to the food they’ll have at the wake, and even the floral arrangements that he somehow manages to get at a discount.

Even more impressive, Ryland manages to get it done within a day… and he promptly passes out in Colt’s bed, only because Colt can’t currently handle being apart from him.

“Don’t you dare leave me, too,” Colt says, tangling their fingers together when the coffins lower into the ground. He feels so wrung out and raw from all the condolences he received, the speech he had to give about his parents, and the tears that seem to come and go as they please. “I can’t handle it, Ry. I can’t be alone. Don’t ever leave me alone.”

Ryland squeezes his hand. “I’m here,” he says softly, gently. “I’m here, Colt. I’m not going anywhere.”

That night, Ryland doesn’t go outside to look at Tau Ceti. Instead, he stays in and cries with Colt in their shared grief—two orphans, holding each other afloat.

★★

(It’s hard to go back to life.

Colt returns to his stunt work after getting caught up with school, crying his eyes out when the rest of the crew gives him a bouquet of lilies. He places them in one of the few vases they acquired after the funeral, and when he gets home one evening, he discovers that Ryland has been drying out some of the dying flowers. 

Petals and blotting paper stick out from his brother’s big textbooks, weighed down by the ceramic plates passed down from their grandparents. Colt navigates around a box of his parents’ things, pausing when he sees the vase of leftover flowers by the kitchen sink.

Just that morning, they were all wilted and sad—reminding him of their loss. Now, it’s almost like they’re freshly bloomed, and the sight makes him smile for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Did you lose any of your parents?” Colt asks in the late hours of the night, a little tipsy from some of their dad’s whiskey. He liked to collect different brands during his rare work travels, and Colt packed most of them to take back to the apartment. “In your other lives, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Ryland says softly, taking the glass from Colt and drinking what remains. His face looks a little wan, and Colt resolves to feed him better. “It never gets any easier.” He suddenly meets Colt’s gaze, his smile weak, but there. “At least I have you this time. It… helps.”

“It does,” Colt agrees, carefully bumping their feet together. “Any regrets?”

“None,” Ryland replies, tapping his nail against the empty glass. He starts humming a low tune, and while Colt can pick out a few of his Eridian words, the rest sounds like a normal song. Maybe it’s one of those ballads he mentioned? “I just wish we had more time.”

Colt blinks. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Ryland shakes his head and doesn’t answer. Colt doesn’t press it, and after a while, he picks up the bottle of whiskey and pours some more.)

★★

One year after their parents’ passing, Colt stands with Ryland at their graves and asks, “Tell me something new about yourself.”

“Hm?” Ryland stops fixing the flower arrangement they brought, peering up at him with a perplexed look. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Colt answers, shifting his weight. He glances around the cemetery, only mildly uncomfortable with the lack of noise (it used to be worse during their first visits), before looking down at his brother again. “Tell me something new about yourself, Ry. Like… Have you suddenly started liking bananas?”

Ryland immediately wrinkles his nose. “Disgust,” he declares, sticking out his tongue. “Don’t you ever mention that vile fruit in front of me again! <Bad, Colt>! Bad!”

Colt manages a brief, if soft, chuckle. Laughing outright feels wrong to do in such a quiet space. “Don’t dodge the question,” he says, lightly kicking near Ryland’s ankle. Ryland releases an offended chirp, and Colt waves him off. “Come on, Ry. I’m curious! I feel like I still don’t know a lot about you.”

“You’re my twin brother. I think you know everything about me.”

“Whatever,” Colt grumbles, pressing a kiss to his fingertips before leaning over to brush them against their mother’s plaque, then their father’s. He rolls his shoulders back when he straightens, looking up at the bright blue sky. “I’ll tell you about my brief fling with one of the other stunt guys on set!”

“I already know all about it,” Ryland replies dryly. “Because you cried your eyes out when he suddenly moved away.”

Colt turns away, smacking his hands against his face when it burns with embarrassment. “Whatever,” he says again, although it comes out petulant. He considers the swaying leaves on the far off-trees and hums. One year, and he still feels the weight of his losses on his shoulders. Even so, it’s lighter—like maybe he can recover from the hurt. “Ready to go?”

“Mm.”

He waits until he feels his brother’s presence beside him before he starts moving, leading Ryland down the path back to Colt’s car. Eventually, Ryland links their arms together, making that weird lilting hum that tells Colt he’s thinking hard about something.

“I can play the piano,” Ryland offers when they finally make it to the parking lot. “Is that something?”

Colt stops and turns toward him, mouth agape. “Uh,” he says after a while. “Yeah?! I’d say that’s a pretty big something, Ry!”

Ryland releases one of those musical giggles. “Sorry!” he says, eyes full of mirth. He even does an elaborate jazz hands motion, something Colt has only seen a couple of times throughout his whole life—after Colt scored his first winning goal, and when Colt got accepted into the same college as him. “The look on your face is too funny, Colt!”

“Oh, sure,” Colt grumbles, knocking their shoulders together. He then takes his brother’s wrist and leads him over to the car. “Make fun of your big brother, why don’t you?”

“By seven minutes!”

“Still counts.”

As he starts up the car, Colt is hit with another curious thought. He fiddles with the radio when it starts spewing some bullshit song about love and drugs, switching stations until he lands on something more enjoyable. He glances at his brother, who stares out the window with a faint smile, humming some ditty. Ryland looks healthy and well-rested, which is such a stark difference from last year, and he seems more at peace with himself. It’s nice to see.

“You didn’t want to get put into piano lessons growing up?” Colt ends up asking, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Or something piano-related, I guess…”

Ryland waves a hand. “That’s way too much work, and it makes people look at me funny when I choose to go into science instead of broadening my musical talent,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “It’s no big deal, though. I practice my skills whenever I encounter a piano in the wild.”

Colt suddenly has an idea for a gift. An electric keyboard can’t be that expensive, right?

“Alright, alright,” he says. “You make a good point.”

“I’m actually better at using the organ,” Ryland says, sounding proud. “Sometimes, the church two blocks past the downtown area will let me use theirs if I help them clean up after services. It gives me another chance to hear Rocky’s songs again before I go off and see him, but honestly, I do prefer a piano… Easier to carry.”

“You’re so weird,” Colt says, but it comes out fond. He starts backing out of the parking space, ready to take them far away from the quiet cemetery where their parents have been laid to rest. “You should play one for me.”

“I will,” Ryland promises. “I’ll do a ballad from Erid—the planet that Rocky is from.”

“Why not one of Rocky’s songs?”

“… Some are too naughty.”

Colt exits the parking lot and stares at the open road ahead, suddenly full of so much regret. “Sometimes,” he says. “I wish I could keep my mouth shut.”

“Me too,” Ryland says, his voice carrying a hint of mock sympathy.

“Oh, yeah?” Colt glances over to make sure Ryland has his seatbelt on. He smiles and presses down on the gas pedal, cackling after his brother shrieks. “This is what you get, Ry!”

“<Bad, bad, bad>!” Ryland screams, whacking him on the arm. “<Bad Colt>! See if I play a song for you now!”

But he’s laughing loud enough that Colt hears him over the engine of his car. Colt laughs with him, smacking a hand against the wheel as he slows them down. Some oldie their mom loved starts playing on the radio—Night Moves, he thinks. When Colt starts singing along, deliberately off-key, he hears Ryland join him in a similar tone, creating a beautifully annoying harmony.

★★

(Somehow, Colt manages to convince Ryland to pierce his ears with him.

“College is the time for going through dumb decisions, right?” Colt asks from where he’s doing crunches on the floor, feeling his abdomen burn with each one. He’s been going at it for way too long right now, but it’s one of the few things that prevents his random bouts of grief from overwhelming him. “We should make one.”

“I don’t like where this is going, Colt.”

Colt sits up and frowns at his brother.

Ryland rolls his eyes. “<Colt>,” he amends.

“Thank you,” Colt says, and returns to his crunches. “Besides, it’s not bad!” He pauses, considering. “Maybe. I know you don’t like needles.”

“It depends,” Ryland replies, hunched over his laptop on the couch. He has their mother’s favorite quilted blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and Colt knows it’s because his emotional state reflects Colt’s. One of their twin superpowers is sharing the same emotions, even when they’re apart. “I’ve gotten tattoos before. I’m actually due to get one soon…”

“Really?!” Colt rolls onto his stomach and crawls over to his brother, lightly swatting his ankle. “What the hell, Ry? Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?!”

“I made my own bad college decisions back in my first life,” Ryland says, looking grave. “However, I got so used to the tattoos that I kept getting them in every life afterward. But, uh—” The corner of his mouth twitches upward. “When I get to Erid, I usually gain a few more. They’re big on having body carvings, and I wanted something to represent my bond with <Rocky>. He learned to tattoo, and we went from there.”

“That might be the most romantic thing you have ever told me about the two of you knuckleheads,” Colt tells him, dropping his head on the cool floor. “Okay. Well, how about a piercing?”

And so, Colt and Ryland go out to get their left ears pierced at some shop near their apartment. Colt argues for that side because they’re both left-handed, which Ryland agrees to as long as they wear matching earrings. It’s only natural that his younger brother picks out the gold star-shaped studs.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised,” Colt admits when he’s in the chair. “You don’t seem like a jewelry person.”

“You’re both right and wrong,” Ryland says, crossing his arms. His eyes flick over to the front, where their piercer is talking to another person. “I’m not a fan of Earth jewelry, but <Rocky> loves to make me some. They’re big on sound over there, which shows in their clothing and jewelry. I’ve had a lot of rings, necklaces, bracelets, and even anklets throughout my lives.” He pushes his glasses up his nose, smiling. “He even made a chain for my glasses when I kept dropping them.”

“Huh,” Colt says, tilting his head. “So, why not here?”

“Doesn’t sound or feel the same,” Ryland answers, shrugging. “Plus, whatever I get won’t be from him.” He extends a leg to tap their feet together. “But… I like the idea of this. And so will he, once I explain how I got it.”

Afterward, when Colt stumbles out of the shop with a throbbing ear, he stops to grab Ryland by the shoulders and peers at him closely.

“Hey,” Colt says with a grin. “We’re identical!”

Ryland shoves him into a lamppost.)

★★

Colt graduates with a degree in Kinesiology, moves to a place closer to Ryland’s grad school, perfects his ability to drive a boat with his hands tied behind his back, and somehow manages to land the role of being the main stuntman for Tom Fucking Ryder.

And upon meeting him, Colt realizes he absolutely despises the man.

“You have to stay away from him whenever you visit,” Colt says desperately during one of his daily phone calls to his brother. No matter the time difference, Ryland always picks up—which is great for Colt, but Ryland sometimes falls asleep on him, and he’s left ranting over his snores. “I don’t want him to damage your brain cells by proximity.”

Ryland laughs. “What does that even mean?”

“He has—” Colt glances around to make sure the man’s not around. Sometimes, if he says the man’s name, Ryder will appear out of nowhere like a demon from Hell. “—okay. Douchebag has this thing where he jots down his thoughts on Post-it notes, right?”

“Right…”

“And his most recent one was a question about why ketchup was red.”

Silence.

“Uh.” Ryland finally says after Colt lets him process it for longer. He sees Dan in the distance waving him over and sighs, slowly making the trek toward the man who’s steadily becoming one of his best friends (Ryland takes the top spot, of course). “What?”

“I know!” Colt loudly says, startling a few crew members. He smiles apologetically, gestures to his phone, and speeds up, only mildly embarrassed. “Not only that, but he’s just annoying in general! If I lure you onto set, I’m afraid he’ll flirt with you just to get on my nerves. And then I’ll lose my job, ‘cause I’ll punch him.”

“Okay,” Ryland says slowly. “Consider this, Colt: if Tom Ryder flirts with me, it doesn’t matter, because I’m a fully taken man.”

“Consider this, Ryland,” Colt replies, wincing when Dan waves again, albeit more frantically this time. “He’s still going to do it, and I’m going to end up in jail.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” Ryland says, but he sounds amused instead of angry. Still, Colt huffs, chastised. “Also, if you react to what he’s doing, he’s only going to do it more because he knows it’ll annoy you! Take it from someone who taught middle schoolers across several lives.”

“Alright, I see your point,” Colt grumbles. “Listen, I have to go do a stunt. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Ryland says. “Try not to get hurt, okay? I like my brother in one piece.”

Colt grins, even when a swarm of people descends on him to fix his clothes and makeup. “I’ll do my best,” he promises, hanging up right as someone takes his phone away.

★★

“Honestly, Ry, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” Ryland says with a smile, taking the shot from the bartender. “But it’s our birthday, so I might as well!” He knocks it back like it’s nothing, tipping the empty glass toward Colt without a change in expression. “Twenty-five and still alive, right?”

“How did you do that?” Colt says, amazed.

“Once you’ve had Russian Vodka, everything else goes down easy,” Ryland tells him.

“When did you have Russian Vodka?!”

“In a lot of my lives, actually. There are always a few bags of it on my trips to Tau Ceti, and I befriended a couple of crazy Russians during my time on—” He stops, like he always does whenever he gets close to discussing some Big Important Thing (as Colt has mentally labeled it) from his other lives. “Yeah. I finally started letting them convince me to join them for drinks. It was pretty funny to drink them under the table.”

“Huh,” Colt says thoughtfully, peering down at his shot. He knocks it back, a shudder of revulsion coursing through him when the taste coats his tongue and the warmth slides all the way down his throat and chest. “Ugh. Let’s get something sweeter.”

“Wimp,” Ryland replies. 

Colt gives him a noogie. 

★★

When his brother is appropriately tipsy, Colt wraps an arm around him, tugs the man against his side, and says, “Tell me about one of your lives.”

“<Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky, Colt>,” Ryland says with one of those musical laughs. He knocks back the rest of his fruity drink and smacks his lips together, humming. It sounds thoughtful, rather than actual speech Colt needs to decipher. “Hm. There was one where <Rocky> and I were both human.”

“Whoa,” Colt says, blinking at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Really!” Ryland gets a particularly besotted look on his face. It’s almost unsettling, only because Colt has never seen this type of expression from his brother before. “In nearly all of our lives, we had incompatible atmospheres. Touching each other in any way would result in pain, which is how I got this—” He holds up the arm with his weird birthmark, eyes crinkling at the corners. “—in our first life.”

Colt stares at it for a while, the thought tumbling around his head. He then meets his brother’s fond gaze, thinks on it some more, and finally, he says, in a voice far too high, “That’s his handprint?!”

“Yeah,” Ryland says in a low, pleased tone. “He saved me. And ever since then, I’ve had it on my arm.” He grabs Colt’s drink out of his hand and takes a sip. Colt scrambles to snatch it back, pouting when his brother laughs.

“Get your own,” Colt grumbles, wiping Ryland’s spit off and gulping about half of it. A shudder passes through him at the taste, but he perseveres. He watches Ryland stroke his mark with a sappy smile and nudges him, waiting until his brother looks his way before asking, “So, you met as humans?”

“Completely by chance,” Ryland says with a nod. Then, he snorts. “Or by fate, I guess. I was still in college when we met—forced to attend a mandatory guest lecture from some corporation that was funding a good portion of the engineering department. Their top engineer was the one who had to talk to us. Lo and behold, the lecturer walked onto the stage, and he happened to be my soulmate from all of our previous lives.”

“Huh,” Colt says, frowning. “But… How’d you know it was him?”

“His human… form was similar to the humanoid ones he had in some lives. But even then, I looked at him, and I just got that feeling, you know?”

Colt doesn’t know, but he’d like to meet the girl (or boy) of his dreams and find out one day. “What happened next?” he asks, prodding his brother again. “Did you go up to him after the lecture and get to talking? Did he recognize you?”

“Yes,” Ryland cheerfully replies. “And then he took me to his house, and we had lots and lots of sex.”

“Ugh!” Colt exclaims, recoiling. Several other people in the bar glance their way, but immediately return to their business when Colt does nothing else. His ears burn, more out of embarrassment and horror than anything, and he drops his head onto the table to whine, “I didn’t need to know that, Ry!”

“You asked!” Ryland leans against him and practically cackles in his ear. Colt swats him away several times, but his little brother doesn’t budge. “I mean, it was the first time <Rocky> could touch, taste, feel, and see me without issue, so…” He trails off with a hum. “Yeah.”

Colt sighs and finally lifts his head. “Well,” he says, only mildly annoyed—mostly at himself, but whatever. “When you say that, I guess I can understand…”

“In the life after that, we were both <Eridians>, and it was equally beautiful.” Ryland peels himself off Colt and leans against the other side of the booth, stretching his legs across Colt’s lap. Colt pats one of his knees, catching how one corner of Ryland’s mouth ticks upward. “We made lots of—” An unknown click-hum-click. “—in that one.”

“Huh?” Colt says, confused. He flicks through his mental dictionary of Ryland’s alien language, but comes up with nothing. “What was that word?”

Ryland huffs a laugh and smirks. “You don’t wanna know,” he says. 

Colt eyes his half-empty glass thoughtfully. “Will you tell me if I let you have the rest of my drink?” he asks, holding it out to his brother. “I mean, you already drank out of it, so you might as well have your germs back.”

“My germs,” Ryland mocks, snatching it out of his grasp. Colt raises both brows when he downs it without hesitation. He even swipes a hand across his mouth afterward before slamming the glass onto the table. “Colt, we’re twins who live together. We share the same germs. Hell, we came out of the same womb!”

“You said hell,” Colt whispers. A giggle slips out. “Isn’t that one of your no-no words?”

Ryland leans over and presses a hand against his face, dodging every lick Colt tries to deliver. Whatever!! “Okay,” he declares while they’re deep in a very real and serious slap fight. “Okay, okay! I’ll tell you what it is! But I’m going to whisper it into your ear, and you’re not allowed to be weird about it! Is <Eridian> biology! Understand?”

“Understand,” Colt excitedly repeats. He takes an ice cube from his glass and tosses it into his mouth, idly crunching on it while he shoves Ryland’s legs off his lap to scoot closer. “Tell me, my weird brother from the stars.”

“Not from them,” Ryland corrects in what Colt calls his ‘nerd’ voice. “I’ll be going to them, okay?” He releases a couple of soft whistles before cupping his hands around Colt’s ears.

At first, Ryland says nothing. Colt continues to wait him out, bouncing his leg when the restlessness gets too much. Eventually, his brother explains it all to him in a whisper in a matter-of-fact, neutral tone, completely changing Colt’s worldview.

He’s never going to look at eggs the same.

★★

(“You know,” Ryland says while they walk through the empty streets later. A Burger King crown rests crookedly on his head. Colt lost his a few streets back. “In ten years, I’ll be in the stars.”

Colt tucks his hands into his jacket when they stop for a moment, watching his brother turn in a circle before tipping his head back. He already knows that Ryland is looking in the direction of Tau Ceti—like he’s done every night for as long as Colt can remember.

“Why?” Colt finds himself asking, mostly fueled by the last bits of alcohol still in his system. “Why can’t you stay here?”

“Because he misses me,” Ryland answers with a note of unwavering finality. “Because he needs me.”

Something like grief cracks Colt’s chest open. He feels it crawl into all the spaces between his ribs, snaking around his heart and squeezing tight enough for his breath to hitch. Colt rubs a hand over his shirt, and even reaches up to wipe his eyes, before quietly saying, “I’ll miss you more.”

He says nothing more when Ryland begins crying silently, his eyes still fixed on a star they can’t even see.

When they finally get home, Colt doesn’t let his brother go to his room alone. He drags Ryland under his covers instead, their shirts and jeans still on, and lies there, matching his breathing to his twin brother to quell the sudden surge of anxiety. There’s a weight in his stomach, and Colt wonders how he can miss someone who’s still within arm’s reach.

Eventually, Ryland falls asleep with the blanket over his face, and Colt reaches out to press his fingers against Ryland’s wrist, letting the beat of his pulse carry him to slumber.)

★★

While Ryland’s deep in the trenches working on his Master’s degree, steadily approaching his doctorate, Colt sticks to his stunt work, travels to different countries and states for Tom and Gail, sprains his arms, legs, and ankles several different times, and occasionally gets enough of a break to return to the apartment he’s still paying for.

“Maybe you can come watch me one day,” Colt says hopefully, clasping his hands together when Ryland starts to look wary. “It’s all safe, I swear! Nothing bad will happen!” He almost grins when his brother frowns, which is nonverbal Ryland-speak for him slowly giving in. “Plus, I’ve gotten better at falling out of windows and getting set on fire, so it’d be cool if you watched me finally complete a perfect take.”

“Watching you jump off one boat was enough,” Ryland mutters before sighing. The resigned look on his face tells Colt that he’s winning, and he tries not to be too outwardly smug about it. “Fine. I’ll go. But you have to promise not to invite me to witness another one of your death-defying stunts for at least six months.”

“Deal,” Colt quickly agrees.

Luckily, Ryder’s upcoming film takes him to Los Angeles, making it easy for Colt to book a flight for his brother and pick him up from Burbank Airport.

“Ugh,” Ryland says when he gets into the car, pouring some Sour Skittles into his hand and shoving them into his mouth. “It always surprises me when I get sick. Like, I’ve been to space several times, and I still get born with motion sickness? That’s so messed up.” He turns his head toward Colt, who slowly pulls away from the curb and merges into the small line of traffic. “Isn’t that so messed up, Colt?”

“So messed up,” Colt dutifully agrees. “Want me to talk?”

“I just need to sit here for a while. Music is fine, though.”

Having Ryland on set gives him the confidence and luck he needs to pull the main stunt off almost flawlessly, and as an added bonus, he gets no complaints from Ryder, either. It’s entirely worth the beatdown he gets from Ryland afterward for worrying the hell out of him, and as a bonus, Ryland joins him for karaoke with the crew that night.

“Can you sing?” Colt asks when they sit across from each other in a booth, sharing an expensive margarita. Well, it’s mostly Colt who’s drinking it, but that’s fine. Colt loves margaritas. “Wait, no—” He holds up a hand when Ryland opens his mouth. “No, I know the answer. You absolutely can sing.”

“What makes you say that?” Ryland says, bemused.

“You’re already great at humming,” Colt tells him, having another sip of his drink. “And you told me your hubby made up ballads for you, so I bet you either did the same or learned how to harmonize with him.”

“That’s… pretty accurate.” Ryland peers at him over his glasses. “Has our twin telepathy finally kicked in?”

“You’re thinking of the number purple,” Colt replies, hiding his smile behind another sip.

Ryland scowls immediately. “Shut up,” he grumbles, plucking the red umbrella from his drink and twirling it between his fingers. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“… I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I said shut up!”

Ryland makes fast friends with Dan and a few other people Colt talks to regularly. He can tell that they all like him, and while Ryland still looks somewhat bewildered to be drawn into conversation, much like their early days whenever Colt would seek him out to play as a kid, it seems like he’s enjoying himself.

“So,” Dan asks later in the night. They’re sharing a cab back to the hotel. Colt has an arm around his brother, watching him play Bejeweled on his phone. “What’s it like being Colt’s brother?”

“Stressful,” Ryland immediately answers, not even looking up from the screen.

Dan laughs. “I bet!”

“Hey,” Colt says, pouting. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Colt, you were always the kid who’d do the most daring dares. Do you know how many times I had to distract our teachers so you wouldn’t get in trouble? I lost count after thirty-seven.”

“But you were still willing to do it for me,” Colt coos, dragging Ryland closer. His brother immediately starts flailing, but nothing can stop Colt when he’s set on his task, which is how he plants the messiest kiss on Ryland’s forehead, complete with a very loud, obnoxious, “MWUAH!”

“You made me lose my streak!” Ryland complains.

“I’ll make you lose your whole phone if you’re not nicer to me,” Colt says petulantly. He huffs when Ryland rolls his eyes and returns to his game, glancing at Dan with a smile. “See? He loves me.”

“Love is a strong word, Colt,” Ryland mutters.

“It’s written into his DNA,” Colt adds, ignoring him. “A stipulation in his birth certificate.”

Ryland lifts his head, and Colt sees him give Dan a long-suffering look. “Is he like this with you, too?” he asks. Colt gasps in mock offense, but Ryland doesn’t even look at him! Whatever.

“Oh, yeah,” Dan says with a smirk. “All the time! You can’t begin to imagine how frustrated I get sometimes when he doesn’t listen to me during a stunt.” He waves a hand. “But enough messing around. I actually do love having your brother in my life. Colt is great at stunts, and he’s an even better friend.”

“Yeah,” Ryland says softly. “He’s the best.”

Later, when Colt burrows beneath the covers, he feels the bed dip on one end and turns his head to see Ryland sitting beside him. He arches a brow, questioning, and Ryland shrugs, picking at something on Colt’s comforter. Colt waits patiently for his brother to speak, but Ryland still says nothing. When he lifts the covers, Ryland immediately slips beneath, looking vaguely guilty.

“It’s okay, Ry,” Colt says, reaching out to pat his cheek. “You were joking. I know you love me.”

Ryland brightens. He hums and chirps, low in his throat, and Colt clumsily attempts to echo the sound. Colt doesn’t know what it means, but it makes Ryland’s smile widen, so he figures it’s something along the lines of a similar sentiment.

“I’m glad you have friends,” Ryland tells him when Colt’s on the cusp of sleep. He hums quizzically and hears Ryland chuckle. “I like that they look out for you. I’ll keep in touch with Dan to make sure you’re safe.”

“Mmkay,” Colt manages, yawning. “You still my bestiest friend, capiche?”

“Yes, Colt. I capiche.”

His brother stays for another day, chatting to more people on set and miraculously avoiding Tom Ryder’s awareness. Colt thinks some of the crew might be helping out with that, but he has no proof. He’s grateful nonetheless, only because he doesn’t want to deal with Ryder’s annoying presence… or watch him try to worm his way into his brother’s life.

Ryland leaves Los Angeles with a few new numbers in his phone, something Colt teases him about on the drive to the airport. His brother seems a little embarrassed, but there’s no mistaking the pleased crease of his eyes.

“I don’t make a lot of friends,” Ryland tells him after Colt gives him a back-cracking hug goodbye, rubbing his side. Colt grins, tempted to drag him in for another. “It’s hard to make those connections, knowing—” He cuts himself off with a sigh, eyes going distant. Colt strays closer to nudge him, watching Ryland blink and shake his head. “Well, I don’t want to make people miss me.”

“You deserve to be missed,” Colt tells him, and hugs him again. “Love you, Ry. Text and call me every day, or I’ll drive down there and kidnap you.”

“Promise,” Ryland says, nodding. “You’re coming down for my graduation, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Colt assures, and he doesn’t.

He gets there early to fight all the other people for the best seat in the damn place, phone in hand to record Ryland’s big moment. When his brother walks across that stage, Colt cheers loud enough to make Ryland’s shoulders climb to his ears. His voice sounds raspy the next day, but it’s totally worth it when he catches Ryland’s smile after Colt makes him celebratory pancakes.

★★

While working on the next Tom Ryder film, Colt meets the love of his life.

Jody Moreno is funny, smart, and way out of Colt’s league, but she stands there and watches him with a beautiful smile as he asks her out for coffee without fumbling his words (even though he did several times when he practiced in a mirror). She even agrees, much to his surprise and delight, and suddenly, the day arrives, and Colt doesn’t know what to wear.

“This is my most desperate hour,” Colt pleads when he video calls his brother. “Help me, Obi-Wan Ryry. You’re my only hope!”

“Don’t call me Ryry,” Ryland mutters, the video going slightly blurry when Ryland peers at him over his glasses. “What are your options? And don’t try to pretend you’re going to wear anything other than your Miami Vice jacket over your outfit, alright? We both know you will.”

“Shut up,” Colt mutters weakly, flipping the camera to show what he has laid out on the bed. “Okay, well… This is what I’ve got.”

“Mmm. Okay. Dark blue button-down shirt, if you want to look nice, but casual. Black jeans, and whatever shoes you want. I’d tell you to wear boots, but I know they sometimes squeeze your bad ankle and bring back your limp.”

“Stop making fun of me,” Colt says, pouting. “You’re not being a very nice brother.”

“Is it mean when it’s true?”

“Shut up…”

Ryland laughs. “Hurry up and get ready, <Colt>,” he says. “And then tell me all about your girlfriend when you get back. I can already tell you’ve got it bad for her.”

“She’s not my—” Colt feels himself flush. “We’re just getting coffee! She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Yet,” Ryland says in that knowing way of his.

Colt huffs and hangs up.

★★

When he gets to the cafe, Colt is so full of nervous energy that he takes a moment to shake it all out while he’s still sitting in his car. Then, he gets out on semi-shaky legs and nearly bumps into Jody on the way in.

“Oh!” she says. “You’re early!”

“I wanted to be,” Colt tells her honestly. He feels a little embarrassed, but the pleased look in her eyes makes him feel better. Colt hurriedly opens the door for her, gesturing into the cafe. “After you.”

She offers to find a seat, and Colt agrees immediately, rubbing a hand over his jeans while he waits in line to order. He pulls out his phone to text Ryland a keysmash full of his feelings, and Ryland sends back several laughing emojis because he’s a cruel brother who thrives on Colt’s pain.

“Tell me about yourself,” Jody says after Colt finds her and places her coffee on the table. He takes a seat on the opposite side of the booth, trying not to stare. It’s hard not to when she’s so pretty. “Got any family?”

“Just my brother,” Colt proudly says. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, taps it, and spins it toward her to reveal his lockscreen background. It’s the most recent selfie he snapped of himself and Ryland—both of them at the aquarium in glittery jellyfish hats, a bunch of moon jellies behind them. “We’re twins! I’m the eldest by seven minutes. He’s pretty smart, you know? Just finished grad school not too long ago.”

“Huh,” Jody says, and Colt quite likes the way her lips twitch up into a small smile. “The glasses are cute.” She looks up at him with a soft expression. “You care about him a lot, huh?”

Colt stares at the picture until his phone goes dark. “Yeah,” he quietly says. “He’s all the family I have left, and the best brother in the whole universe.” He glances at her, curious. “What about you? Any siblings?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Only child! I’ve always wanted a brother or a sister, but my parents never gave me one—not even when I put it on my Christmas wishlist.” Here, Jody chuckles, and Colt laughs with her. “It must be nice having a brother. And a twin, nonetheless! What’s that like?”

“It’s—” Colt stops with a hum, considering the question. “Honestly, I’ve never really thought about it. I’ve had my brother with me my whole life, excluding those seven minutes when I was waiting for him to be born. I guess…” He huffs a laugh, smiling down at his coffee. “Having him is like having a permanent best friend. I can’t imagine life without him.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment,” Jody says, hushed. She smiles at him, and Colt feels himself perk up at the sight of it. Oh, man. Ryland’s right. He’s got it bad. “I’d love to meet him one day!”

“If I can convince him to come to set again, sure,” Colt says wryly, grinning when she laughs again. “He gets bad motion sickness on planes and long car rides, and he gets way too worried about my stuntwork.” He feels a wave of fondness for his brother. “I know my job is to basically get professionally injured, but I try to be careful, so I don’t stress him out. He’d probably have a heart attack if he got a call from the hospital about me!”

“Well, good thing we’re there to make sure it doesn’t happen,” Jody says, and when he peeks at her, Colt sees that she’s already staring at him, eyes bright. “What’s your favorite stunt to do?”

“Boats,” Colt says, cupping his coffee cup with both hands. “I’m great at driving boats.”

They end up staying there for almost the whole day, chatting about everything and nothing. Colt can’t help but think that it’s so easy to be himself around her. His heart races whenever he draws a smile or a laugh out of her, either from a dumb joke or a childhood story about himself and Ryland. He even tells her his real name, and when she says she likes that one better, it’s hard to keep the blush off his face.

Afterward, they walk through a nearby park, where he resists the urge to hold her hand and buys them both some soft serve from a nearby truck. Jody links their arms together when they get their cones, and Colt nearly bursts into flames on the spot.

“She’s the one,” he later declares to his brother when Ryland calls to grill him for details. Colt throws himself down onto the hotel bed with a sigh, hugging a pillow against his chest. “Jody is so… Jody, y’know? She’s so smart and pretty and man, I’m so into her that I feel like I might explode. We have work tomorrow, but she told me to talk to her whenever I get a break! She said that!! Can you believe it, Ry? Do you think that means she likes me back??”

“Probably,” Ryland says, and he laughs when Colt huffs. “I’m sorry! I’m not good with romance.”

“Says the person who’s in a relationship that literally spans lifetimes,” Colt grumbles, which only makes Ryland laugh louder. He kicks his feet, rolls around on the comforter, groans into a pillow, and finally, he whines, “Ry, help…”

“Alright, look,” Ryland says, and the firmness in his voice makes Colt sit up, a little worried now. “I think most people don’t want to spend almost all day with the person they went on a coffee date with, especially when she’s still getting to know you. With this in mind, I think there’s a high probability that she likes you. Or, at the very least, she will like you the same way you like her. Does that make sense?”

“Yes…”

“I guess you have to keep doing what you’re doing, and try not to mess it up. If you do, practice your apology, and don’t blame her for her feelings.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“Even I say the wrong things to <Rocky> from time to time,” Ryland says wryly. “Cultural differences and all.”

“Mm.” Colt frowns. “You sound happier than usual. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a conference coming up in Denmark,” Ryland says, humming a few notes. “Big deal. Lots of people like me. I’ll get to talk about some of my more controversial theories, probably get snide comments about my work, and then I’ll snap and deliver a derogatory insult to one of my peers, getting me kicked out of my field.”

“What?” Colt cries, surprised. He puts Ryland on speaker and starts searching for flights to Denmark. “No! I won’t let that happen, Ry. I can be there before the conference starts if I leave in the next ten minutes!”

“It’s okay,” Ryland says. Colt can hear the smile in his voice. “You don’t have to come, Colt. It’s one of those things that’s supposed to happen, only because it’ll put me on the path to where I belong.” He chirps, so Colt absentmindedly chirps back, still considering some flights. “Fate has a funny way of making sure I do my part.”

“That’s a little scary,” Colt says, wishing Ryland could see his frown. “You’re okay with that?”

“I’ve learned to live with it,” Ryland replies quietly. He hums again, the notes coming out sadder. “As long as I get to see the love of my life again, I think I’m okay with anything.”

Colt doesn’t know what to say.

His brother seems content with the silence, and eventually, Colt hears him start up one of his wordless songs. He stares at the contact picture of Ryland, which is him climbing onto the mascot statue on their college campus after Colt issued a dare, and slowly hums back at him. Ryland stops on his end and makes a few excited clicking sounds before continuing. Together, they make harmony that has no meaning to Colt, but likely means everything to Ryland.

And yet, it still fills him with the same warmth he gets from knowing he exists in a world with his brother.

Colt’s end of the song eventually tapers off into a yawn. Ryland echoes it, so Colt decides to be the responsible one since he has to wake up early for another fighting sequence and a car chase. But first…

“Call me if you need anything,” Colt demands, continuing after Ryland makes a noise of agreement, “I mean, it seems like you’re prepared for what’s about to happen, but if you want some comfort, I can provide. Either over the phone, or in person—I’ll be there.”

“Back at you,” Ryland says, a touch of worry entering his voice. “Even if it’s for a broken nose.”

“That’ll never happen,” Colt tells him. “I’m too good at my job to break my nose.”

Ryland does call him when he basically gets tossed out on his ass with his funding cut. He sounds way too chipper about it, even with his life in shambles, but he does promise to visit Colt more frequently until he lands his teaching job.

“How do you know you’re going to get it?” Colt wonders, sipping lukewarm coffee during a break between takes.

“I always do,” Ryland replies. “I’m a teacher at heart. Sure, there may have been lives where I didn’t end up at the same middle school, either because I’m in a different country or planet, but my path always leads me there.” A pause. “Will you come out and help me decorate my classroom when I get it?”

Colt huffs a laugh. “Sure, Ry,” he says. “I can do that.”

Two hours later, he calls Ryland to tell him about his freshly broken nose. Colt hears Ryland laugh loudly enough for the medic beside him to hear. He sulks over it, but Ryland showing up the next day makes up for all of his teasing.

★★

As time passes, Colt breaks his nose a couple more times, somehow becomes Tom Ryder’s only stuntman, starts sorta dating Jody while on set, and kisses her (or more) almost every day.

Ryland lands the teaching job, so Colt drops by for a day to help him decorate his science classroom. He stands on a chair while Ryland directs him where to hang up his solar system model, noting how Ryland seems more at peace and settled with himself.

His brother ends up moving to a smaller apartment closer to the middle school, a decision Colt fully supports since he barely comes home (stupid Ryder). Colt sends his brother money out of guilt, and while Ryland initially refuses, he gives in when Colt points out that it’s his (and Ryder’s) fault that he needs to downsize.

The separation from his brother hurts more than anything. Although they still call and text every day, knowing that he doesn’t really live with Ryland anymore makes him mope on his worst days. His schedule gets busier, so he can’t even visit as often as he’d like, but he always makes sure he’s free for their birthday.

“Christ,” Colt says the night they turn thirty, staring at the tequila shot in front of him. They’re sitting in a booth at a random bar, where some baseball game is playing on the TV. “I feel old. I feel so old. The other day I stood up after a stunt, and my knees cracked. Which is crazy when I’m in shape and exercise regularly, but man.” He looks up at his brother, watches him stare out the window with a distant look on his face, and asks, “Do you feel old, Ry?”

“Always,” Ryland says. “Am I a horrible person?”

Colt blinks. “Um,” he says, scrutinizing Ryland’s shot (it’s equally untouched) before looking back at him. “What?”

“Am I a horrible person?” Ryland repeats, folding his hands together and meeting Colt’s gaze. There’s a new look in his eyes, one that makes him look so much older, wiser, but beneath it, all Colt sees is his little brother seeking comfort. “I’m nearing—” He stops, chews on his bottom lip, and sighs. Ryland drums his fingers across the table, nearly hitting his shot glass. “I don’t know.”

“Talk to me, Ry,” Colt says gently, reaching out to tap the back of his hand. “Is this about your… thing?”

Ryland gives him one of those bug-eyed stares that makes Colt feel a rush of nostalgia. He chuckles, ducks his head, and toys with a napkin. “You know,” he says, voice lighter. “I’ve always thought you’ve taken the news of my reincarnation pretty well. Most people would probably run away screaming, or try to lock me up in an asylum.”

“Well, those people didn’t grow up with you and your general weirdness, Ry.”

“I’m not that bad…”

“I learned some of your alien language just by existing in proximity to you,” Colt points out. “And I also grew up with you watching me sleep. Sometimes, you make these scary hissing sounds when you’re annoyed, and you chitter at stray cats.” He smiles when Ryland pouts, leaning across the table to ruffle his little brother’s hair. “You’ve always been a weirdo, Ryland.” Colt pats his brother’s cheek next. “And that’s totally okay.”

“Thanks, Colt,” Ryland says dryly.

“Seriously, though. Where is this coming from?” Colt lowers his voice and waggles his brows when he asks, “Were you some kind of murderer in a past life? Is that it?”

Ryland hesitates.

“Oh my God,” Colt whispers, eyes wide. “You were a murderer.”

“I mean,” Ryland says, which doesn’t help. Colt makes sure to say so, which draws a huff from his brother. “Okay, I know it sounds bad, but—” He abruptly lifts his shot and knocks it back, the glass banging against the table when he sets it back down. “Throughout my lives, there are a few things that seem to stay the same, and no matter what I do, I always find myself on a very familiar path.”

“What path?” Colt asks, curious.

“Spoilers,” Ryland says with a twitch of his lips. Colt rolls his eyes and throws a balled-up napkin at him. “It’s how I know that it’s not time travel. Honestly, I still don’t know how to figure out whether they’re different timelines or universes, but I’m not all that concerned. As long as I get to <Rocky> in the end, I’m good with anything.”

“I guess me being your brother is the outlier in this one, huh?”

“Yup! But other times, the differences have been smaller. My adult height seems to change with each one, and there were a few where I was born in another country. I’ve had different parents, my hair and eye color aren’t always the same, and, well—” He gestures to Colt. “But, uh… A few people that always die, no matter what I do.”

“Oh.” Colt looks down at his tequila shot before sliding it closer to his brother. “That doesn’t make you a murderer, Ry.”

“Feels like it,” Ryland says quietly, downing Colt’s shot as well. “When I got the hang of things a couple of lives in, I tried to save them from their original deaths… But even if I do, fate seems to play its hand and makes them die anyway.” His face changes, and suddenly, he looks nothing like Colt’s brother—only a man haunted by all that he has seen. “I’ve learned that it’s best to let things play out the way they did in my original life.”

“That makes sense,” Colt says as gently as possible.

“Doesn’t mean I feel less bad about it.”

“They die either way, right?” Colt asks, and when Ryland nods, he continues, “It’s like you said, Ry—letting them go the way they originally did seems like the lesser of two evils, especially if it’s quick and painless. You’re sparing them the pain of something worse, and I don’t think that makes you a bad person… or a murderer.”

“Mmm,” Ryland grumbles. From the sound of it, Colt knows it’s the Eridian version.

“Stop that,” he chides.

“Mmmm.”

“Nope! No guilting yourself over this! You tried to save them before, Ry.”

“And then I stopped trying.”

“For good reason!” Colt so badly wants to reach out to touch or noogie his brother, but the way Ryland curls in on himself tells him that it won’t be welcome. So, instead, he clinks the empty shot glasses together, waits for Ryland to look at him, and asks, “What else is different about this life? Besides your cool older brother, of course?”

Ryland stares at him for a long moment. Then, he huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “What cool older brother?” he counters. “All I see is a dork.”

Colt gasps in mock offense, putting a hand on his chest. “How dare you call me a dork when you go out into the world looking like that!” he says, reaching out to flick Ryland’s glasses, which dangle off his face like usual. “Answer my question, Ry!”

“Alright, alright,” Ryland says with a laugh, holding up both hands. His expression clears of guilt and sorrow, and he now gazes at Colt with pursed lips, brows furrowed as he drums his fingers across the table. “The strawberries are different.”

“… How different?”

“Well, they used to be red in my original life.”

“Really?” Colt can’t imagine them being any color but fuchsia. “That’s pretty interesting.”

“I know, right!” Ryland smiles. “Some of the animals we have here, like the Dodo and the Western Black Rhinoceros, were extinct in mine, and the gas prices are pretty good for the year we’re in. There’s an extra national park, movies I never even had, and cooler fossils.”

“Huh,” Colt says, considering it all. “Can’t imagine a world without a Dodo, if I’m being honest. I feel like it’s the most common bird you see out there.” He leans back against the booth and clicks his tongue, smiling when Ryland repeats the noise back at him. “So, do you have a favorite?”

“I’m liking this one a lot,” Ryland admits softly. “It’s nice having a brother.”

“I like having you around, too,” Colt says, raising a hand when he sees a bartender walk by. He points at the two empty shot glasses and passes them over when she holds out her tray. “Alright, enough seriousness! I need to take my two shots to catch up to you, and then we can go where the night takes us. How does that sound?”

“Like I’m going to regret all of this when I wake up with a hangover,” Ryland replies, but he smiles as he says it. “Thanks, Colt.”

“Don’t thank me,” Colt says, lightly kicking his ankle. “I’m just doing my job as your favorite big brother.”

“You’re my only big brother. By seven minutes!”

“Exactly!” Colt pouts at him. “Why’d you make me wait so long, bro?”

“Don’t call me bro.”

“But you’re my bro, bro!”

“I’m about to walk out this door and ditch you forever,” Ryland says, jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll cancel our birthday and head home.”

“You can’t cancel our birthday!” Colt says with a laugh. He quickly slides out of his side of the booth and goes to the other side to squish Ryland against the wall, ignoring his brother’s protests. “It’s our birthday!” Colt bats Ryland’s hand away when the other man attempts to smack him, using all of his weight to keep Ryland there. “You can’t get rid of me, Ryland! We shared a womb! You’re stuck with me forever!”

“Ew!”

“Don’t say ew! That’s where our bond was formed!”

“Shut the fudge up, Colt!”

“Just say fuck! I’m the only one around!”

“No!!”

They keep squabbling like they’re kids again, even when the bartender stops by to drop off Colt’s two shots. Colt grabs them when Ryland tries to snatch them off the table, drinks them quickly, and gags at the burning sensation. He drops his head onto Ryland’s shoulder, fighting the urge to vomit.

“That’s what you get,” Ryland says smugly.

Colt wheezes.

★★

“How did you know you loved him?” Colt asks.

They’re sitting on a couch at a rooftop bar, far away from the entrance and the other people milling about. As always, Ryland has his face tilted to the stars, eyes fixed on one they cannot see. Colt knows he’s still listening by the questioning hum he releases, and the odd clicking noise he makes at the back of his throat.

“Your… Rocky,” Colt clarifies. He shifts closer to his brother and bumps their shoulders together, hoping to be the tether that brings him back to Earth. “How did you know you loved him?”

Ryland breathes out, shoulders going lax. Finally, he turns his head away from Tau Ceti, and Colt watches as the expression on his face flickers into something softer and loving. His eyes are so full of yearning that it makes Colt ache; a spot beneath his ribcage goes taut.

“Maybe when he saved me in our first life,” Ryland says, brushing his fingers over his birthmark. “I told you before that we don’t have compatible atmospheres, and we—I was… hurt. Passed out. I was going to die, but he got out of his side to save me. <Rocky> did it at the cost of his own life, and I realized just how much he meant to me while I was waiting for him to wake up… knowing there’d be a chance he wouldn’t.”

The tightness doesn’t go away. “How does it feel?” Colt asks next.

“Good,” Ryland answers, huffing a laugh. “It feels good to love him and be loved by him. And it’s never hard, you know? Loving him is as easy as breathing. It’s always going to be there, even when he isn’t.” He looks up at the sky again, and Colt knows his attention is back on Tau Ceti. “No matter what happens or where we find ourselves, I always choose him. And he’ll choose me.” A hum. “To me, that’s a part of our love. That’s what makes it so good and right. <Rocky> is the person I’ve chosen to be brave for in every life so far, and I’ll keep doing it in every life after.”

Colt looks up at the stars, thinking of Jody. “Okay,” he says, exhaling shakily. “Now, how do I say it?”

“With your whole heart,” Ryland says gently. “There’s no need for romantic gestures or anything grand. You just have to say it, knowing you mean it, because that’ll be enough.” The pause that follows is heavy, but not uncomfortable. “Do you want help?”

“No,” Colt says, shaking his head. “No, I think I’ve got it.”

★★

Colt slides the sunglasses onto his face, letting the stunt crew help him off the ledge. His heart quickens with the thrill of the oncoming stunt, especially when he pushes himself off the side of the wing to, essentially, float in the middle while attached to a bunch of wires. He offers a thumbs up when the countdown begins, and readies himself to fall.

His plan is like this: complete the stunt without showing his face, take Jody out to karaoke, get drinks with her, sing her a song, confess his feelings, call Ryland to tell him, and live out the rest of his days with the love of his life.

His stomach swoops when he drops far too fast, then—

Pain.

★★

“Colt?”

There’s a dull ache all over his body. Fuck, he can even feel it in his teeth.

“Colt, are you awake?”

He registers the sound of machines around him and the feeling of gunk in his eyes. The scent of plastic and general cleanliness fills his nose, which tickles his slow-moving brain. His arm brushes against something that’s simultaneously soft and scratchy, but it doesn’t tell him where he’s at, and the unknown factor of it all stirs up some panic.

“Hey, it’s okay! Colt, it’s fine. You’re alright.”

You’re Colt, he thinks, which somehow allows him to register the voice talking to him. Ryland. That’s your brother. Ry.

“That’s good,” Ryland soothes. “Do you think you can open your eyes for me?”

Colt tries to say something, but all that comes out is a low groan. It takes longer than it should to follow his brother’s direction, as the fatigue makes his eyelids feel heavy. Bright lights nearly blind him when he finally succeeds, and he squeezes his eyes shut with a broken whine. He hears a soft curse, the sound of footsteps, and the click of a switch.

“Sorry,” Ryland whispers. “Try again in a bit.”

When the pulsating spots and lines clear, Colt slowly opens his eyes and finds himself in a dimly lit room. The only light he sees comes pouring in from the hall through the cracked-open door, a streak that bathes his brother in gold. He focuses on Ryland and sees his disheveled hair and clothes, as well as the bags beneath his eyes.

“… ay?” Colt manages.

“What?”

His tongue feels thick. Colt smacks his lips together, grimacing at the taste of death and nastiness in his mouth. He hums and clicks the way Ryland does, something in him relaxing when Ryland tentatively echoes the sounds. After what feels like forever, Colt thinks he’s okay enough to speak.

“You okay?” Colt asks. It comes out in a raspy whisper, and it immediately sends him into a coughing fit.

“Don’t rush it,” Ryland says with a quiver in his voice. Something clatters on Colt’s right side, and suddenly, there’s a cup beneath his lips, soft fingers gently holding his chin. “I’ve got some ice chips here, okay? The doctors left it here for you.”

One slides into his mouth, and although it almost makes him choke, he carefully guides the piece of ice between his tongue and his teeth to let it melt. Bit by bit, droplets of water slide down his throat, the cold soothing the irritation. It also quells the unexpected nausea he started feeling and helps to re-center himself.

“Better?” Ryland asks after the third ice chip.

Colt nods. His hair rubs against the pillow behind his head—not a great sensation. “You okay?” he asks again, more urgently than before.

Ryland makes a choked noise. The sound of ice shuffling together draws Colt’s attention to his hands. When he squints, he sees that they’re shaking.

“Am I—??” Ryland abruptly stops with a sniff, turning his face away. Colt flexes a hand when he hears his little brother keen. It’s pitched higher than normal, more Eridian than human, and Colt feels it sink into him. He responds to Ryland’s sorrow with a clumsy attempt at a soothing hum, but it doesn’t seem to get through.

So, he lies there quietly, wondering what’s wrong.

(Wondering why he’s in a hospital.)

Eventually, Ryland looks back at him. His glasses hang off his ears, like they always do, but his eyes are red-rimmed and full of tears. They glimmer in the light from the hall as they slide down his cheeks and drip off his chin. Some even get caught in his lens.

“Colt,” Ryland says softly. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Are you okay?” Colt asks again.

“Colt.”

“Need to know,” Colt says, desperate. “Ry, okay? Are you okay? Tell me.”

Ryland’s face crumbles. “I’m okay,” he says, but more of his tears spill out. “Are you?”

Colt goes to answer, shifting to get more comfortable. He bites back what probably would have been a scream when his back flares with pain, crawling up to his neck and digging its claws into his brain. His nails bite into his palms while he waits for it to pass, trying not to cry. He tastes blood in his mouth.

“Colt!” Ryland says, sounding panicked.

“Hurts,” Colt grits out, slowly lowering himself to his previous position. It takes way too long for the electrifying sensation to leech out of its original spot, and eventually, he’s left panting on his hospital bed, sweat cooling on his skin. “What—why—?”

“There was an accident,” Ryland says, voice shaking. Colt furrows his brow as he tries to think, ignoring the dull throb in his lower back. “You—”

The memories flash through his mind, quick and fleeting: being with Jody in the trailer, returning to set to make Ryder happy, going all the way to the top with a flutter of nerves in his belly, not from the oncoming stunt, but because he was going to confess to Jody afterward. He remembers getting wired up and kicking off the wall, and then he—

“—fell,” Colt finishes in a whisper. “I fell.”

“Yeah,” Ryland says in a similar tone.

Colt blinks up at the hospital ceiling, realizing that the ache in his lower back is from his fall, and it must be serious enough to warrant a stay here. He exhales shakily, thankful for the lack of doctors. Most of all, he’s grateful his brother is here with him, and while he is curious as to how Ryland got here, Colt has another pressing matter.

“Ry,” Colt croaks out, slowly extending an arm. The simple movement causes his body to flare with pain, but Colt doesn’t care. “Can you—”

Ryland reaches out without hesitation and squeezes his fingers. “I’m here, Colt,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s also kind enough not to mention it when Colt starts crying.

★★

Recovery fucking sucks.

After learning that the accident broke his back and that he had to get a couple of surgeries for it, Colt has to deal with a stint in the hospital and work through physical therapy to regain enough mobility. It’s a bitch to get through, especially since he swears he can feel the titanium in his spine whenever he stretches or takes a pathetic step.

Ryland sticks with him throughout it all, even when Colt frequently forces him to stay in the waiting room whenever he’s dealing with his crap. He expects to fight with his brother over it, but Ryland is weirdly receptive to his demands, and he’ll leave without another word. Colt has to guiltily ask the nurse to let Ry back in whenever they’re done, and Ryland returns with a smile and snacks he pilfered from the vending machines.

“I learned how to get them for free,” Ryland whispers to him one day when the nurses are gone, eyes flicking to the door and back. “If you want anything specific, let me know.”

Eventually, Colt gets discharged from the hospital with a wheelchair, several sheets of paper that he stuffs into a folder, and a prescription for pain medication that he immediately tosses away when he returns to his Los Angeles apartment.

“Colt,” Ryland chides, because he’s also part of the whole package. He walks ahead of Colt to move things around since Colt has to navigate the place in a fucking wheelchair. “You should keep them around in case you need them!”

“I don’t want them around,” Colt grumbles, awkwardly wheeling past his brother to his couch. He squints at the material, wondering why it doesn’t look as dusty as it should. “Did you come here while I was in the hospital?”

“Uh, yeah? I had to set things up for you.” Ryland drops their bags onto the floor and picks up the pill bottle. “Alright, I’m going to get started on a schedule for us to follow while you work on healing. I’ll tape it to the fridge.”

“Us?” Colt repeats, scowling. “Since when did this become an us thing, Ryland?”

“Since we were born seven minutes apart,” Ryland says, frowning. “Also, it’s Ry.”

“Whatever, Ry,” Colt grumbles, an ache blooming in his back. He eyes the pills in Ryland’s hand and forces his head away from the sight, staring down the hall to his bedroom. “I think I’m going to head to bed. Make yourself at home, I guess.”

Having Ryland around is both relieving and aggravating. While it’s nice that he’s not alone, Colt fucking hates that his pain is on display for his little brother’s sympathetic eyes, hates that there are some nights when the pain gets so bad he can’t sleep, and he can only reach a state of dozing after Ryland carefully massages his back.

He never checks his phone, and when he does, all he can do is stare at the messages from Dan and Jody. It makes him feel more and more despondent whenever he sees a new one asking about his well-being. Colt doesn’t even bother listening to the voicemails—it’ll hurt too much.

(Colt does, however, have a weekly ritual of blocking and unblocking Tom Ryder’s contact. The prayer hands emoji pisses him off every time he looks at it.)

Ryland cooks and cleans for them, does their laundry, and goes the extra mile by pulling out his dusty driver’s license to take Colt to and from his appointments. It gets to a point where Colt feels guilty about how much care Ryland is putting into him when he’s doing fuck all in return. He tries, of course, but even with his physical therapy, it’s so fucking difficult for him to stay standing without shaking.

It sometimes feels like he’s making no progress at all, and even with Ryland around to point out the opposite, Colt’s feelings of inadequacy fester. Flickers of envy lick at him whenever he sees Ryland move around with ease. It soon turns to resentment when he catches Ryland drawing up lesson plans on his crummy little laptop late at night because, cool, Ry gets to go back to his life while Colt stays here and rots.

The only way he can deal with this is by lashing out at his brother. Unfortunately for him, Ryland is (and has always been) good at managing Colt’s emotions.

He knows the right things to say to de-escalate any of the fights Colt seeks out, and Ryland always does an excellent job of giving him space without Colt needing to ask for it. Even when Colt’s being an absolute piece of shit, he still shows up in Colt’s bedroom when his tears get too loud, wordlessly massaging him until he can pass out.

Colt never sees a chip in his usually expressive face whenever Colt pokes and prods at old wounds, not even when he goes down the whole insult list to try and get Ryland to leave him alone for a second. It gets to a point where Colt wants him gone altogether, just so he can live in his sad, new life alone. 

(His phone still chimes with pleas from Jody. He shuts it off and stuffs it into a drawer.)

“Can you even afford to be out of work?” Colt throws out after a bad day at physical therapy. His own knowledge of kinesiology doesn’t even fucking help him, and it only serves to make him feel worse about himself. “Shouldn’t you be back in San Francisco by now?”

“No,” Ryland says, still folding their clothes. “I’m on break.”

“… You are?”

“Yes. Your accident happened a month away from the end of the school year. Everyone was more than accommodating when they heard what happened, and it helped that I was able to type out lesson plans for the rest of the semester in my cab ride to the airport and on the plane ride itself.” His star-shaped earring glimmers in the light when he turns slightly. Colt doesn’t even know where he put his matching one. “I’m here for as long as you need me.”

“What about when school starts up again?” Colt says, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.

“I’m here for as long as you need me,” Ryland repeats, much softer this time. He folds another shirt, places it in the pile he’s accumulating, and moves closer to Colt. The bags under his eyes are prominent, but he still smiles at Colt like he’s worth something. “I’m here to stay.”

“For now,” Colt says. And because he’s an asshole, he also adds, “Until you have to go out and look at your stupid star.”

Something in Ryland’s face spasms, and his eye twitches—the way it does whenever he’s secretly annoyed by something. Delight rushes through Colt, vicious and victorious, but it’s quickly tempered by a guilt that makes him slump on the couch, especially when Ryland continues to stare at him, saying nothing.

“Sorry, Ry,” Colt mutters.

“I haven’t gone out since we got here,” Ryland quietly tells him, which only makes Colt feel worse. Maybe he should have died in that fucking accident. “You’re more important, and even though you won’t admit it, you need me right now. He’d understand.”

“Okay,” Colt says, chest tight. He extends a hand, not looking at his brother when he pleads, “Ry?”

The couch dips when Ryland sits beside him. Nothing more is said when Ryland squeezes his fingers, and it’s enough.

★★

Mentally, physically, and emotionally—this whole recovery process is a bitch, and Colt’s unafraid to admit to himself that he’s not doing well.

His walking improves, and the pain becomes more manageable. Sometimes, he wakes up in so much pain that he wishes he never got into stunt work. Other days, Colt barely manages a trip down the sidewalk before wanting to collapse for several hours. Overall, he wants to die, but he can never admit it to anyone, least of all his brother.

Colt is so fucking miserable that he doesn’t know what to do with himself most of the time.

His little brother bears the brunt of it, never flinching at the crap he spews and still helping him, even when Colt doesn’t ask. He doesn’t scold Colt for pushing himself too hard, nor does he stop accompanying him to his physical therapy appointments, even though Colt resolutely kicks him out of the office to work on his exercises alone.

His presence is still a blessing and a curse.

It doesn’t help that Ryland is already mapping out how he’ll miss the first month of the next school year to stay with him, even though Colt knows he loves greeting all of his new students. He tries to convince Ryland to head back to San Francisco by offering to buy his plane ticket back, but Ryland refuses every time.

“I’m not going to up and leave you, Colt,” Ryland says during one such moment, a catch in his voice. He scoops more pasta onto a plate and holds it out to Colt, who stares at it with nausea rolling through his stomach. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Colt snaps. “You don’t have to stay and keep babying me, okay? I’m not—I’ve been doing good with my therapy! I’m doing my stretches! I—”

“You’re trying to isolate yourself by ignoring your friends,” Ryland tells him matter-of-factly. It grates at Colt, and he almost snarls at his brother, so tempted to take the plate and throw it back. The thought burns through him, and suddenly, he’s so fucking sick of himself—Christ, what a monster he’s turning into. “I’m staying.”

“You should go home.”

“No.”

“Why?” Colt chokes out. “Haven’t you been listening? I don’t want you here! I want you gone! I want you to leave me the fuck alone! Why, why, why aren’t you—” His eyes sting and his back twinges with pain. More than that, Colt is hit with another wave of self-loathing. He never likes being mean to his brother, but it’s all he can think of doing to get Ryland out of the way. “Why are you still here?”

Ryland looks at him, expressionless. Then, his face softens a tad. 

“Because you’re my brother,” he says, setting the plate down on the table. It barely makes a sound. Colt flinches nonetheless. “Because I love you.”

He exhales shakily, but it comes out as a hiccup. “Is it really that simple?” Colt asks.

“Yes.”

“Even though I’ve been so awful?”

“Even then.”

Colt bows his head, and when the tears come, he doesn’t try to stop them. “I don’t know why—” he starts, and stops when he feels his bottom lip tremble. His vision blurs as he continues to stare down at his lap, the guilt making him nauseous. “I don’t want to be like this,” Colt finally says after a while. “But I hate how much it hurts. I hate how useless I feel! And I-I—fuck, I hate everything right now.”

“I understand,” Ryland says. One of Colt’s chairs scrapes noisily, and he soon feels his brother’s presence beside him—warm and reassuring. “I’ve been there, Colt.”

His voice takes on a distant quality, which only appears when Ryland is talking about something from one of his other lives. Normally, Colt doesn’t entertain it beyond a passing interest, as it feels like doing so will make it all more real and push his brother to the stars.

Right now, he’ll take the distraction.

“Tell me about it,” Colt says.

Ryland stays quiet for a moment.

Even though every bit of him doesn’t want to be patient, Colt forces himself to wait and takes the chance to wipe his face clean with the back of his hands. He shifts in his chair, hoping to displace some of his pain, and glances at his brother, perking up when he begins his tale in a low, somber tone,

“In my first life,” Ryland says, tapping his fingers together. “Something happened to my—to <Rocky>. And I went back to save him, fully knowing I wouldn’t have enough food to survive living on his home planet. I’d make it there, yes, and maybe have some food leftover, but it wouldn’t be enough. Sure enough, I was… starving and malnourished, which caused me to develop a ton of maladies like scurvy and beriberi. It was really touch-and-go, even while the Eridians were working so hard to synthesize food and vitamins for me.

“<Rocky> was always nearby, too. Why wouldn’t he be? But sometimes, it was too much. I felt like all their efforts and resources were wasted on me, that <Rocky> was wasting his time watching me die slowly. But even when I lashed out at him, begging him to let me die, begging him to help me live, cursing him for taking care of me, cursing myself for being so weak… He stayed.” He huffs a laugh. “And when I finally worked up the courage to ask why, you know what he said?”

“What?” Colt says, hushed.

“He told me the same thing I told you,” Ryland answers, smiling now. It softens his face, and somehow makes him look wiser—like all those lives he lived are present, even now. His voice carries a melodic note when he continues, “‘I’m here because you’re my friend, Grace. I’m here because I love, love, love you.’ That’s what he said to me.” When he meets Colt’s gaze, his eyes are warm and full of understanding. “No matter what happens or what you say, I’ll still be here, <Colt>. Because you’re my brother. Because I love you.”

The tears come again. Only this time, Colt hides them in his brother’s shoulder when he reaches out to yank him into a hug. The movement makes him gasp in pain, but Colt doesn’t care. What matters more to them is how Ryland hugs him back, holding him together while Colt falls apart.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs, fisting his hands in the back of Ryland’s shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ryland says with a gentleness that no longer surprises him. Colt squeezes his eyes shut when he feels a barely-there pressure on his forehead. He feels protected, he feels loved, and it’s not something he wants to lose anytime soon. “You’ll be okay.”

For once, Colt believes him.

★★

From then on, Colt does his best to treat Ryland better.

Sometimes, his frustration gets the best of him, but Colt almost always stops himself before he can spit out any vitriol, the shame making him want to shrink in on himself when he apologizes for his behavior. Ryland is always so understanding, and he’ll even accept Colt’s apology with a quirk of his lips. Occasionally, he ruffles Colt’s hair, the way Colt would do to him when they’d have their occasional tussle on the floor as teens (and adults, sue him).

Their newfound closeness makes Colt feel braver, and he invites Ryland to attend some of his appointments. Although he’s hyperaware of his brother, his presence actually helps Colt feel somewhat calmer, and he’s able to get through them without feeling disappointed in himself.

Slowly, Colt goes out more, ever-aware of the wheelchair in the trunk in case his good day turns bad. He accompanies Ryland on grocery runs, holds all of Ryland’s books when they go to the local library, and even goads his brother into going to the beach with him in the early hours of the morning.

They sometimes stay there all day, and it feels a lot like their childhood, right down to the tide pools he stands in while he picks out the best shells or stones for his boyfriend in the stars.

“Don’t call him my boyfriend,” Ryland says with a scowl when Colt voices the thought aloud. “I’ve mated and married him several times already! Refer to him as my husband.” He sighs, placing the items back. “Not that I’ll be able to give these to him, of course, but it’s nice to think about.”

“Yeah,” Colt says quietly, peering down at the colorful conch shell rolling around his palm. He carefully leans down to drop it into the water, resolutely not thinking about Jody. “It’s nice.”

“I think she’d like it, too,” Ryland says from where he’s bent over a starfish, staring at it with one of those distant smiles that tells Colt he’s thinking of another life. “If you wanted to save one for her, I mean. Taking one shell won’t be so bad.”

Colt grunts, ignoring how the guilt and shame weigh on him. “S’fine,” he says, and pretends his next exhale isn’t as shaky. He looks over at the calm waves, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “She… Well, she probably forgot about me and moved on—which is also fine. That’s allowed.” Then, much more firmly, and hopefully less shaky, Colt repeats, “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” Ryland says, soft as ever.

“Yeah,” Colt says, pressing his hands against his eyes. “Okay.”

Rarely do they go to the beach at night, but when they do, they end up sprawled out on a blanket beneath the stars while a bonfire crackles near them. He never needs to look at Ryland to know his head is tipped toward Tau Ceti, and Colt occasionally finds himself gazing in that direction when he’s not staring at Gemini, wondering if this Rocky would like him as a brother-in-law.

He means to ask about it one night, but what comes out is, “How’d you even figure out what happened?”

“Hmm?”

“With my accident,” Colt clarifies. “I mean, I know you’re my emergency contact and all, but… I feel like you got there way too fast.” He turns to look at his brother and finds Ryland already staring at him, one brow arched quizzically. “I meant to ask after I was discharged, but…”

“But then you turned into an butthole?”

Colt huffs a laugh, shoving his shoulder. “Hey,” he says. “C’mon, Ry. You can curse! I won’t tell anyone.”

“No,” Ryland says with a huff. “Stop it! I’ve been good throughout all my lives! I’m not going to break my personal promise now!”

“Oh, and calling someone a ‘staggering waste of carbon’ is better?” Colt says dryly, laughing when Ryland scowls.

“It’s what I’m supposed to do!” Ryland exclaims, and when Colt repeats him, albeit in a tone pitched higher than normal, he’s not surprised when Ryland tackles him into the sand. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! Oh, I’m going to drown you. I’m going to drown you, and no one will ever find your body!”

“I’d like to see you try!” Colt retorts, turning his face to the side and spitting sand out of his mouth. “You know what? Go ahead and drown me, Ry! I’ll make sure you don’t get away with my murder by turning it into a double murder and drowning you with me!” He tries to pull on his brother’s hair, but Ryland dodges. “Wow. Wowwww. Who taught you that shit? Huh?? Who taught you how to escape my attacks?”

“Nobody! You’re just predictable!”

“TAKE IT BACK!”

“NO!”

“YES!!”

“NO!!!”

They wrestle on the sand for a while, and Colt’s so glad they’re alone out here because they definitely sound insane as they squabble like children. Eventually, they end up back on their blanket. Although Colt has sand in several places and crevices, there’s a bright smile on his face that matches the one his brother wears—and, fuck. He’s happy.

Colt’s happy that he’s here and alive, and isn’t that something?

“You still haven’t answered me,” Colt says when he sits up. He nudges Ryland until his brother does the same, peering into the face he has seen so many times in the mirror. “How’d you find out what happened?”

For a while, Ryland plays with the sand. He makes little piles between their knees, and Colt starts helping after a beat. It slides over his fingers when he buries them underneath, cold to the touch but soothing, as it reminds him of countless moments with his family.

(And Ryland, too—always by his side.)

“You know how we joke about having twin telepathy?” Ryland eventually asks, and when Colt slowly nods, he continues, sounding nervous, “Well, uh. I normally don’t keep my ringer on in class, but—I dunno. Something told me that I should that day. I spent most of the morning feeling like I was going to throw up, and then—” Here, Ryland releases a shaky breath. “Dan called me during my noon class, and before he told me, I just knew that something had happened to you. I was already booking a flight by the time I hung up.”

“Which is crazy to me,” Colt can’t help but comment. “You hate flights.”

“Yes, but I care about you more.”

Colt suddenly has to blink back tears. He directs his gaze to the stars, watching them twinkle from thousands of light-years away. “Oh,” he says softly. “Still, you don’t—”

“I know,” Ryland says, kinder than he deserves. “But you’re my brother, Colt. Why wouldn’t I be there for you?” The blanket wiggles, and Colt feels a weight on his shoulder. He peeks down to see Ryland’s head resting there, as he so often did growing up—trusting Colt to keep him upright and safe. It comforts him more than he expected. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Part of Colt almost doesn’t agree, but it’s easy to push it down and focus instead on how Ryland still trusts him, still loves him, even after he’s been an absolute piece of shit. Maybe that’s why he allows himself to cry freely and quietly confess, “Me too.”

★★

Surprisingly, Colt cries the most when his brother leaves for San Francisco.

He’s been doing well with his therapy, pain management, and walking. So much so that he pushed his brother to go back to prepare for the new year, even though every other part of him screams to keep his brother around for another month. Still, Colt perseveres up until they reach the train station, where he ends up clinging to his brother and crying into the other man’s shoulder.

Luckily, Ryland clings back just as hard and cries harder. He always has been the crier of the two, even over small things Colt would never consider—the changing season, fallen leaves on the ground, flowers, bees, or the rare warm sunlight during winter. It’s just another display of his kind heart.

“I’m going to visit you,” Ryland tells him after Colt reluctantly pulls away, the warning alarm echoing across the mostly empty station. “And you’re going to find your phone, turn it back on, and text me every day, even if it’s a crappy picture of some trash you found on the floor.”

“Alright,” he says, amused to see his brother’s bossy side. Colt stands there and lets Ryland pick nonexistent lint off his jacket, ruffle his hair, and even smooth down his shirt. The latter action makes him laugh and comment, “You’re acting like Mom.”

Ryland freezes for a few seconds before a mischievous smile stretches across his face. “Well,” he draws out, stepping toward the train.

Colt blinks and narrows his eyes. “No, wait—hey,” he says, reaching for him. Ryland dodges his grabbing hands and rushes off to one of the entrances, his cackle echoing in the emptying station. “No! Get back here, Ry!! Get back here and tell me you didn’t—it’s the eggs, right? Just the eggs, right???”

“Bye, Colton!” Ryland cheerfully replies, waving at him. “I’ll see you on the next three-day weekend!”

“IT’S COLT!” Colt shouts back, but his brother has already disappeared inside. What a fucker. 

★★

(Later, Colt obligingly takes a picture of a Twix wrapper on the floor.

Jody’s messages still sit there, unopened. The red icon next to her contact picture, a selfie she took with his phone when he wasn’t looking, stares back at him accusingly, and he ends up archiving every thread until only Ryland’s is left. He’s a little despondent about his actions, but he tells himself it’s for the best, even when every other part of him so badly wants to reach out.

He gets distracted by Ryland’s incoming text and ends up laughing loud enough to scare off the pigeons on the power lines when he sees the middle finger emoji.)

★★

“… I really don’t know how many more times I can handle it, Colt! That’s the ninth time a parent has flirted with me this semester! And that’s not even the worst part! Her husband started flirting with me, too!”

If Colt were any other person in the world, he’d commiserate with Ryland and offer words of comfort. Luckily for Colt, he’s in a universe where he’s Ryland’s older brother, so he quickly finishes his drink just so he can laugh at Ryland. He even holds his phone close to his mouth to ensure Ryland really hears him.

“You suck,” Ryland sulks on the other end. “You’re supposed to be nice to me when I’m suffering, <Colt>.”

“I am being nice,” Colt replies. “I’m being nice by listening to you talk about how you get hit on by single and married parents.” He barely avoids walking into a couple before tossing his empty cup into a trash can, continuing his evening walk through the park with his phone pressed against his ear. “What even is your life, man?”

“I wish I knew.” Ryland sighs. “Don’t know why I’m still surprised. This always happens to me.”

“Because you’re a copy of your handsome older brother,” Colt says. “Duh!”

“When you feel a sharp pain tonight, remember this moment.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Ry?”

Ryland doesn’t answer. Instead, he completely ignores Colt (like usual) to gossip about his coworkers, and even his students! Colt listens with rapt attention, looping back to the beginning of the park to lean against his truck. Eventually, Ryland’s voice tapers off to nothing, and Colt lets himself exist in the comfortable silence with his brother.

“Hey,” Ryland eventually says quietly.

“Yeah?” Colt replies, dragging his heel across the dirt. He tips his head back to look up at the full moon, listening to his brother breathe on the other end of the call. Although he does feel a flicker of concern, Colt waits it out, knowing his brother will speak when he’s ready.

And eventually, he does,

“Love you.”

Colt huffs a laugh, grinning widely. “I love you too, Ry,” he replies, hearing the happy hum of his name from Ryland. “You know, I’m really glad we’re the type of brothers who can say that to each other without wanting to explode.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to say it?” Ryland asks, sounding mystified. “You’re the only brother I’ve ever had, <Colt>. Of course, I love you.”

“… Really?”

“Yes! I’ve told you before!”

“Yeah, when we were kids.” Colt walks over to the nearby bench and plops down, feeling it jostle beneath him. He leans all the way back and stares at the tree above his head, bouncing his feet. “Wow. All those lives, and you get stuck with a brother like me.”

“Hey,” Ryland replies, tone sharp. “I’m incredibly lucky to have a brother like you. While it’s not what I expected, I’ve never regretted having you by my side. You’re the best thing to come out of this new life of mine, and even though I had to learn how to be a brother, I hope it’s been just as good for you.”

“God, Ry,” Colt says thickly, not even bothering to wipe away his tears. He sniffs and laughs, but it comes out as a sob instead. “You can’t say these things over the phone! I can’t even hug you, man.”

“Sorry,” Ryland says with a distinct wobble in his voice. “I had to speak from the heart. Was that too much?”

“In the best way,” Colt assures, letting himself cry freely. He’s so glad no one else is at this park right now because otherwise they’d probably be frightened of a grown man crying his eyes out while sitting alone on a bench. “Except for the seven minutes where I was waiting for you to be born, it’s all been great. No regrets on my end.”

Ryland laughs—loud, bright, and surprised—and replies, “You don’t even remember that!”

“You don’t know that,” Colt says, petulant.

“Yes, I do! It’s physically impossible, <Colt>!”

Colt tries not to laugh, but it bursts out of him anyway. It’s echoed by Ryland, and soon, they’re giggling with each other like they’re kids again—hiding under the covers so their parents still think they’re sleeping. It never worked, of course, but pretending made it all the more fun.

The familiar banter also gives him the chance to clean his face up with the sleeve of his hoodie, and when their laughter peters out into a comfortable silence, Colt’s eyes find their way back to the moon. A great deal of affection courses through him, and even though he’s still teary, it makes his smile linger.

“Thanks,” he says softly, tapping a foot against the ground. “You’re the best thing to happen to me, too. I’m glad I can be your brother.”

★★

Colt moves to a different apartment complex, grows out his hair, gets a job, changes his number when Jody and Dan’s texts keep coming in, and starts surfing as a hobby.

The months drag on.

Ryland visits and calls him frequently. Colt fully expects to get sick of him since he hears that it happens to other people with siblings, but the feeling never comes. He always looks forward to seeing and hearing his brother, and sometimes, he’ll even make the trip up to San Francisco to spend additional time with him.

“Would you ever consider returning to stuntwork?” Ryland asks him during one of his LA visits, leaning over to steal some of Colt’s mango ice cream, even though he has his own cup in front of him! This is what Colt gets for liking a different flavor. Whatever.

“I don’t know,” Colt answers after a while, stirring his sprinkles into his scoop until it turns into a goopy mess. “It’d be nice, sure, but… I don’t think I’m ready to go back there and face—” He stops and shoves some ice cream into his mouth, looking away from his brother. The sweetness coating his tongue makes his stomach churn. “Anyway, if I go back and somehow run into Tom Ryder, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from punching his face in.”

“Fair,” Ryland says.

“You’re supporting my violence?”

“I’m your brother, Colt. I have to support you.”

Colt squints at him. “Hypothetically,” he says, grinning when Ryland groans. “Okay, listen! Hypothetically speaking, if I murdered someone, would you give an airtight alibi to the police when they inevitably call you to confirm my whereabouts during the time of the murder? Or would you give me up?”

“Give you up,” Ryland deadpans.

“Stop lying,” Colt demands, kicking the other man’s foot. He grins when Ryland winces and shoves more ice cream into his mouth. “Answer my question, Ry!”

“Well, obviously I’d give them an alibi,” Ryland says, drumming his fingers across the table. “And in the off-chance that they come to my apartment, I’ll even have some photoshopped evidence of us in the mountains to further prove that you were nowhere near the scene of the crime, complete with timestamps.”

“That’s… pretty thorough, Ry.” Colt leans back in his seat. “And scary.”

“You asked!”

“Well, thanks. I appreciate your willingness to prevent me from going to jail.” He points his spoon at Ryland’s unfinished ice cream. “Eat it, or I’ll take it from you and eat it myself. Don’t waste my money like that.”

“I’m the one who bought it,” Ryland grumbles. He does listen to Colt, which is a victory for big brothers everywhere. Colt celebrates by holding his ice cream cup to his mouth and slurping down what remains of his treat, licking the rest off his lips and grinning at his disgusted-looking twin.

“What?” he says.

“You have ice cream on your nose,” Ryland replies snidely.

Colt scoops up some of Ryland’s rocky road to smear it onto his in return. “Hey, Ry,” he says in a similar tone. “You have ice cream on your nose.”

Thankfully, his reflexes are still good, because he manages to duck his head when Ryland flings his spoon at him.

“Give me your phone,” Ryland demands on the walk back to Colt’s apartment, holding out a hand like he expects Colt to do it immediately.

So, Colt waits seven seconds before pulling his phone out of his pocket and slapping it onto Ryland’s palm. As expected, Ryland transfers it to his other hand to shake out the injured one, and all Colt does is grin when Ryland glares at him.

“You asked,” he says, gesturing to the phone. “I delivered.”

“You’re so annoying,” Ryland mutters, but Colt detects a hint of fondness in his voice. He leans over to see Ryland correctly guess his lock screen code (their parents’ birthdays combined) and watches as he navigates to the shop to… download an app? “It’s a tracker,” Ryland explains after Colt makes a questioning sound. “I want you to keep it on at all times, especially when you go surfing.”

“Tracker, right,” Colt says, nodding. He glances at the phone, then his brother, and asks, “Can I track you, too?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Oh. Okay. Cool.”

“It’ll make me feel better,” Ryland says, gazing at him sadly. Colt can feel his resolve weakening by the second. Dammit! This is what he gets for being the older brother. “Please?”

“Fine, fine,” Colt grumbles like Ryland didn’t already install it on his phone. He takes it back from Ryland and nods along as his brother explains all the features in the app, making mental notes of the basics. Although strange, it is nice to watch his brother’s icon when Ryland later takes the train back to San Francisco, and it settles something in him to see him arrive home safely some hours later.

Overall, life could be better, but Colt’s not complaining about how things are going right now. He misses Jody and Dan, sure, and he especially misses being able to hurt himself professionally to make actors look good, but Colt tries not to dwell on it too much.

And then Gail calls.

★★

In the aftermath of the whole mess, and after getting news of Tom Ryder’s death (which Colt doesn’t shed tears over), Colt returns to his hotel room with Jody and finds his twin brother sitting against his door, eyes closed and breathing steadily.

“Ry?” Colt says, perplexed.

Ryland’s eyes pop open. His glasses slide down his nose and stay in place when he squints up at them. “Colt?” he mumbles, sounding terribly confused. “What’d you wake me—” Ryland abruptly stops speaking. Then, he hops up, his backpack tumbling off his lap and onto the floor. “COLT???”

Colt waves, feeling awkward. “Hi, Ry,” he says, toeing at the crinkled portion of the hallway rug. “How was your flight? Did you throw up?”

“DID I—?” Ryland pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling shakily. “No. I’m not going to yell at you here. Can we go into the room? Please?”

“Y-Yeah,” Colt says, glancing at Jody hopefully. Her eyes flick between them several times before she minutely shakes her head and leans back against the wall, hands clasped in front of her. He’s tempted to fall to his knees in despair, but instead, Colt snatches up Ryland’s bag, pulls his key card out of his pocket, and lets himself and his brother into the room.

He shuts the door behind them and sets Ryland’s bag down on the nearest chair, resisting the urge to stumble over to the bed. Colt focuses on his brother, and maybe it’s the exhaustion, but he’s starting to feel a little emotional at the sight of him.

“You’re here,” Colt ends up saying, amazed.

Ryland whips toward him, eyes narrowed. “Of course, I’m here!” he snaps. “I got a call from the police questioning me about my brother, who’s wanted for murder, and then I checked the news to see that said brother was pronounced dead in an explosion.” He suddenly throws himself forward, and Colt barely has time to scramble to return the embrace before Ryland pulls back and smacks his chest. “You shut off your tracker!”

“My phone drowned!” Colt cries, wincing after Ryland proceeds to hit him again and again… and again. “Ry, I’m sorry! I meant to call you! I swear!”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me! You should have called the moment you were in trouble! I would have—I could have—” He makes a noise not unlike the shrill of a kettle, which makes Colt imagine steam coming out of him. “I don’t know!!” Ryland hugs Colt again, burying his face in Colt’s shoulder, and Colt cups the back of his head, feeling a pang of guilt when Ryland’s body shakes with a sob. “I was scared I wouldn’t see you again, <Colt>.”

“I’m sorry,” Colt quietly says, gently massaging his scalp. He’s clumsy with it, and although it’s probably not as comforting as when their mother would do it, it seems to soothe Ryland enough to ease the tension out of him.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Ryland orders in a thick voice, squeezing Colt tighter. “This is the only life I’ve ever had a brother, which means you’re stuck with me now, okay? That means you’re never allowed to leave me too early.”

“Back at you,” Colt replies.

Ryland sniffs and leans back, wiping his eyes with the cuffs of his sleeves. His face spasms in a strange way, but before Colt can ask about it, Ryland asks, “So, what happened?”

“A lot,” Colt says, sucking air in through his teeth. “I swear to you that I had nothing to do with Henry’s death. That was all Tom Ryder.”

“… Huh?” Ryland sounds genuinely puzzled. “That’s the actor you used to do stunts for, right?”

“See, this is why you’re my favorite brother,” Colt says, kissing the top of Ryland’s head with a loud ‘MWUAH’ and ignoring how Ryland swats at him. “But yes, him. It, uh… I guess it all started when Gail lured me out here by dangling Jody in front of me, and then everything fell into place for her and Ryder the moment I landed in Sydney. I barely got any sleep throughout that whole ordeal! And I was drugged!”

“Drugged??” Ryland pulls away from him completely, frowning. “What does that mean, Colt?”

“What else could it possibly mean? I got drugged!”

“How did you get drugged?!”

“Ryder’s drug dealer, Doone, offered me a drink, and—”

“YOU ACCEPTED A DRINK FROM A DRUG DEALER?!”

“STOP YELLING AT ME! IT WAS A MISTAKE!!”

“I’M NOT—!” Ryland makes a noise that’s too high-pitched for him to understand, so Colt figures it must be some derogatory term in Eridian. He doesn’t even try to tease his brother about it, feeling guiltier when he sees Ryland’s red-rimmed eyes. “I’m sorry, Colt. Can we sit down and talk about it?”

“Yeah,” Colt says gently. “That sounds good.” He moves toward the table in his room and stops when he sees a pristine coffee machine on the counter above the fridge. “Do you want coffee first? I need a cup or two.”

★★

When he finally gets through the entire story, Colt drifts in his chair for a bit while Ryland has his time to process it. He rouses a moment later at the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and Colt lifts the empty cup still in his hand, hopeful.

“I can’t even make fun of you for it because I’m just as bad,” Ryland comments as he comes over with the coffee pot. Except he takes the mug from Colt’s trembling (when did that start happening?) fingers and sets it on the counter to pour it for him. “That sounds like a nightmare, Colt.”

“Tell me about it,” Colt mutters.

“Although I’m still a little pissy about being out of the loop, I get why you didn’t think about reaching out.” A pause. “I am, however, very—” Here, he whistles sharp, fluctuating notes, scowling. Colt has no mental translation for this, and all he can do is gaze at Ryland imploringly, waiting for an answer. “—pissed about Ryder causing your accident. Where is he? I need to give him a piece of my mind. Preferably, with my fist.”

“Whoa,” Colt says, grabbing his cup after Ryland moves away and leaning back. He breathes in the scent of hotel coffee, and he swears it wakes him up some more, before taking a tentative sip. Mmm. Crappy as ever. “Last I heard, he’s dead.”

“Huh??”

“He blew up on set,” Colt explains, frowning. “Dunno how that happened, but I’m not gonna cry about it.”

“I am,” Ryland grumbles. “Only because I couldn’t do the job myself.”

“Double whoa! You good, Ry?”

Ryland barks out a laugh. “You just told me that the actor you worked for caused your accident, and you’re asking me if I’m good?” he says, an incredulous note in his voice. However, his expression shifts to something both fond and exasperated, and when he shakes his head, Colt sees that he’s smiling. “Only you, Colt.”

“Only me,” Colt replies, albeit confused. He takes another sip of coffee, feeling the warmth spread through him. “On top of being jet-lagged, I’ve been extremely exhausted. I think I got a nap between being drugged and doing the fighting sequence for Jody, but that’s about it.”

“Jody,” Ryland repeats, tone lilting at the end. “Is that who was outside with you?”

“Yes—oh, fuck!” Colt (sadly) puts his coffee down and pushes himself up, wobbling only a little. His eyes flick to the door, a little panicked. “Is she still out there? How long have we been talking?”

“At least five minutes,” Ryland says.

Colt swats him.

When Colt hurries to fling his hotel door open, he finds Jody still in the hallway, although now she’s sitting on the floor with her phone in her hand, alternating between different message threads, it seems. Colt gives himself a moment to stand there and gaze at the beautiful furrow in her brow, and the way she nibbles her bottom lip, before he clears his throat.

Jody lifts her head, expression shifting to something quizzical. They lock eyes, and Colt gets to see the slow smile spread across her face—dazzlingly bright—before she pushes herself up, steps closer, and… throws her arms around him. Yay.

“Everything okay?” she whispers in his ear, causing him to shiver.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, turning his head to bump their foreheads together. Colt closes his eyes and relishes the sensation of holding her close. “Ry was just really worried about me.”

“Ry…?”

“Oh, right!” Colt pulls away, reaches back into his hotel room, and yanks his brother out. Ryland stumbles, glasses going askew, and Colt releases him before Ryland can smack his hand. “Sorry, it all happened a little fast, but this is my twin brother!” Colt gestures to said person with a bright grin. “Dr. Ryland Grace!”

“You did not have to include the doctor part,” Ryland mutters.

Jody’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. It’s cute. “This is Ryland?!” she exclaims, and although her voice gets a bit shrill, Colt doesn’t mind. Honestly, Jody could probably beat him over the head with a chair or kick him out of a window, and he still wouldn’t mind. Is that a problem? He probably shouldn’t mention it to Ry. “Wow! You were right about the twins thing!”

“But I’m much more handsome, right?” Colt prods with a grin.

“Meh,” Jody says after visibly checking him out, turning toward Ryland with a smile. Colt sputters in indignation, which goes ignored. Typical. “So, you’re a doctor, huh?”

“Not a doctor, I just have a doctorate,” Ryland corrects like he always does—infuriatingly clinical. 

Colt resists the urge to shake him. Then, realizing he can since it’s his right as Ryland’s older brother, Colt grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him as hard as possible. Ryland tries to fight him, as he always does whenever Colt dares to bestow his brotherly brand of torture on him, but Colt doesn’t waver from his attack.

“Colt, stop!” Ryland says, sounding annoyed. He even starts smacking Colt’s hands, but it just makes Colt laugh and shake him harder. “Stop, stop, stop! You <stupid, dumb, stupid> brother! Unhand me, or I’ll put hair dye in your shampoo! You—You—!!!”

“Oh, God,” Jody mutters, and the dread in her voice makes Colt stop his attack to glance over at her, concerned. Her eyes flick between them several times, and finally, she says, “I know you told me, but I can’t believe there are two of you. Dan’s going to lose his shit! Wait, does he know??”

“He knows,” Colt chirps, dodging Ryland’s grabby hands. “Ry met Dan once when I finally managed to convince Ry to join me on set, but that was before we met.” Colt pauses, dragging his brother in front of him. “Sorry! Ry, this is Jody Moreno! The most amazing director to grace the planet.” He waggles his brows. “See what I did there?”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with him,” Ryland says, turning toward Jody with a frown. “I can give you my guide on how to keep him in line.”

“A guide??” Colt gasps, placing his hands on his hips. “What am I, a dog?”

Jody and Ryland don’t look at him when they simultaneously say, “Yes.”

“Whatever,” Colt grumbles, but secretly, he’s pleased that they’re getting along.

Even better, Ryland agrees to stay the rest of the week to spend time with him, and after a very light, 14-hour nap, Colt wakes up invigorated and drags Ryland around Sydney to various tourist sites. It’s not really something he gets to do when he’s doing stunt work on a movie, but with everything regarding Metalstorm getting drawn into the investigation, Colt has time to spare.

“I think I’ve used more sunscreen out here than I ever have in all my lives,” Ryland grumbles during a visit to a local beach, slathering the lotion over his arms. He glares at Colt, who’s trying not to laugh at him, and says, “You should be using some of this, too.”

“Nah, the sun loves me,” Colt says, waving a hand. “I’ll be fine.”

(By the laws of karma, Colt was not fine and ended up getting a matching sunburn with his brother. Whatever.)

Throughout their adventures, Ryland snaps plenty of photos of him and with him, which isn’t all that surprising. His brother is usually secretive about it, but Colt has caught a phone or camera pointed at him far too many times to count, and he knows everything will inevitably be saved to a file titled HM. Ryland refuses to tell him what it means, but Colt hopes to find out one day, even if they’re old and gray by then.

“Jody’s nice,” Ryland comments one morning during breakfast, taking a loud sip of coffee. His expression blisses out for a moment, as it always does whenever he drinks some, and Colt chalks it up to something related to one of his other lives. “I like her for you.”

“Yeah?” Colt says, unable to keep the grin off his face. “She’s great! And smart, too. God, she’s the best at her job, and I’m so fucking happy that she’s finally getting to direct a movie. That’s always been her dream, you know?” He rests his cheek on his hand and sighs, glancing at the door and wishing she’d stroll right in. “I don’t deserve her. Not after what I did. But she’s willing to give me another chance, and I’m going to do my best to prove that I deserve it.”

“That’s very wise of you, Colt,” Ryland replies. He also reaches over to grab one of Colt’s shoulders, peering at him over his glasses when he says, “Don’t let it go to waste, alright? A love like that isn’t something you take lightly. Do everything you can to keep her in your life, and don’t be afraid to tell her how deeply you feel for her. She deserves to hear it.”

“I will,” Colt promises. There’s no room for a joke or quip when he’s discussing his feelings for Jody. He mulls it over to figure out how to tell Jody without fucking it all up. Sure, Colt did get far with his boat-ride confession during the Tom Ryder debacle, but she should get something more from him.

Maybe writing it all down will help.

When Ryland has to fly back home, he hugs Colt for longer than normal, and he smiles at Colt in a way that makes his eyes look sad, somehow.

“Enjoy the sunlight,” he also says, poking at Colt’s healing sunburn. Colt scowls and smacks his hand away, which makes his brother laugh and effectively chases away the shadows of sadness. Good. “And send me some pictures of you and Jody, okay? Take her out to a nice dinner or something.”

“Will do,” Colt promises, dragging his brother into another hug. Ryland smells like sunscreen and Colt’s mint shampoo, and he fits into Colt like he always has. It soothes the ache he always gets in his soul whenever he’s too far from his brother, and he clings to him even tighter, whispering, “I’ll miss you.”

“Yeah,” Ryland says, sniffling. “I’ll miss you, too. Visit soon, okay?”

Colt knocks their heads together. “Promise.”

He waits until Ryland disappears from view and heads back to Jody. She tugs him against her side and starts chattering about the reshoots she’ll have to do with a potential new lead (some guy named Jason Momoa). Colt listens to her uninterrupted, and while he’s still sad about his brother leaving, he starts to feel lighter the longer he sits there with her.

“Love you,” he says during a lull, scratching at a tear on his jeans. Colt feels oddly… shy, and he sneaks a peek at Jody to find her already looking at him, pink-cheeked and smiling. “Um. Even though it was all pretty crazy, I’m glad it happened. I’m glad I came out here.”

Jody rests a hand over his. “Me too,” she says softly.

Colt follows Ryland’s advice and takes Jody out that night. She wears a beautiful, dark blue dress with tiny gems that glimmer like starlight. Her makeup is flawless, and her hair is twisted into a pretty bun with a few strands curled around her face. But the best part is the smile she gets when she sees him, and he feels his lips curl upward to match it.

He sends Ryland a picture of himself and Jody posing by the restaurant entrance, and another (his favorite) where they’re kissing. Ryland reacts to both with a thumbs-up and a yellow heart emoji, and Colt doesn’t need to look at Ryland’s phone to know that he saved both photos.

★★

Although Colt isn’t one to keep up with the news, Ryland does send him the occasional article about something freakish or interesting.

If he ever sends anything about aliens, Colt always asks if they’re about his partner in the stars because it’s worth it to hear Ryland’s exasperated sigh. Some articles become the topic of conversation during their phone calls, or Colt mentions them in person the next time he sees Ryland—because, of course, he reads them. It provides him with another connection to his brother.

One day, however, Ryland sends him several in succession.

Colt reads through them during his morning exercise routine. He pauses halfway through to take Jean-Claude on his daily walk, and then returns to them at lunch. Colt finishes the scientific articles and moves on to the ones theorizing about what might be happening with the IR light linking the Sun to Venus.

He replies to Ryland in the evening, curled up on the couch with Jody while some random space movie plays on the TV.

COLT: 🤔
COLT: petrova line—aliens or your husband?

RYRY: 🙄
RYRY: I should have eaten you in the womb.

Many weeks later, Colt happens to turn on the news and stops what he’s doing (getting ready to help one of his employees do a stunt) when they mention the Petrova line. They discuss it for a while, reaffirming everything Colt read, before moving on to something called the ArcLight probe.

Dan and Jody show up looking for him right when the findings are revealed, and they stand there with him as the screen changes. Suddenly, he sees black dots wiggling around, drawing gasps from the news anchors.

“Huh,” Dan says. “Those are the things in our sun?”

“I guess so,” Colt says, confused. He checks his phone to see if Ry sent a message about it, but all he sees is his earlier text about getting coffee with a friend. “Weird.”

“Does Ryland know anything about it?” Jody asks, placing a hand on his lower back and steering him toward the door. Colt lets her, unable to keep the giddy smile off his face. Dan rolls his eyes and mimics gagging, but Colt doesn’t care. He likes when Jody takes control of him. “Is it serious?”

“Some people think it might be,” Colt answers, stumbling out into the heat. Ugh, he’s going to be so sweaty by the end of the day. “Ry hasn’t said much, though, so maybe it’s not so bad?” He shrugs, pleased when Jody doesn’t move her hand, and lets her guide him back to set. “I’ll ask.”

Later, Colt fires off a text while he’s cleaning fake blood off his face. He doesn’t get a response until hours later, when he’s already curled up in bed and waiting for sleep to come:

RYRY: Semi-serious. You’ll be fine.
RYRY: Don’t let the conspiracy theorists get to you.

COLT: too late
COLT: i was born with one

RYRY: 😝

★★

His relationship with Jody progresses to the point where they discuss moving in together. Jody suggests some apartments, but Colt instead nervously shows her some houses he’s been looking at in his downtime.

“For kids?” Jody says, expressionless.

Colt immediately shakes his head. “No, I know you don’t want them,” he assures, which causes Jody to relax. “For Jean-Claude! I mean, we basically share custody of him, so it makes sense to get him his own backyard to run around in…” He gazes at Jody hopefully. “Maybe even adopt a sibling for him, so he’s not lonely while we’re gone?”

Jody smiles at him. God, she’s so pretty. “A house will be nice,” she says, reaching out to grab one of his hands. She strokes a thumb across his knuckles, and Colt doesn’t even bother fighting his blush, beaming back at her. “We should find one with a couple of spare rooms to have an at-home office, and maybe something for Ryland.”

“I love you,” Colt says helplessly.

“I know,” Jody says, leaning down to kiss his hand. He thinks he squeaks. “I love you, too.”

★★

On another birthday, Ryland sits across from him. His eyes are fixed on the plate in front of him, and there’s a furrow in his brow. 

“Hey,” Colt says softly, gently kicking his ankle. Ryland doesn’t startle, but he does lift his head to slowly blink at him. “Why the long face, Ry? Did they get your order wrong?”

“No,” Ryland says, shaking his head. He pushes his plate away from him with a sigh and clasps his hands in front of him, gazing at Colt with a calmness that freaks him out a little. “Colt.”

“Yeah…?” Colt says cautiously, setting his fork down. His birthday meal can wait.

“One day, you’re going to call, and I won’t answer,” Ryland says, tone serious enough to stop the stupid joke that wants to slip out of Colt’s mouth. “It’ll seem like I just up and disappeared, but rest assured, I’ll be fine. There’s no reason to file a missing person’s report or anything, because I’ll be out there trying to save the world.”

Colt stares at his brother, befuddled, and it clicks a moment later. “Those dots.”

“Yes,” Ryland says with a click of his tongue. It’s paired with a strange hiss that Colt feels in his soul. “I named it Astrophage.”

“You named it?”

“I will,” Ryland replies, sounding thoughtful. “But that’s all I can say about it.” He swallows, and a glimpse into Ryland’s suddenly watery eyes takes him back to their childhood, where any of Ryland’s upset emotions or tears never lasted long because Colt would fix it. Colt always made sure he could. “Colt, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Colt immediately replies, trying not to show he’s nervous. “I’ll miss you.”

“I know,” Ryland quietly says. He raises an arm, hesitates, and drags his knuckles over the inside—up and down, up and down, up and down. Ryland also makes a clicking-hum while he does it, and it picks at Colt’s brain until he’s suddenly hit with the memory of Ryland doing it after Colt’s first winning goal.

(“It means something important. You’re not ready to know yet.”)

“What does that mean?” Colt dares to ask.

Ryland smiles. It looks sad. “It’s a goodbye, of sorts,” he explains, repeating the action. Colt watches him closely before clumsily copying his brother, relieved when a bit of life returns to his eyes. “The <Eridians> never say goodbye. They don’t have the concept of it, what with how closely-knit they are. Instead, they do that, which is not exactly a goodbye, but instead, it’s—”

“See you later,” Colt finishes.

“Yeah,” Ryland says softly, staring at him with shining eyes. “Exactly.”

“Okay,” Colt says with a nod before repeating the action.

After dinner, Ryland drags him into a crushing embrace. Colt returns it with equal amounts of strength, and they stand outside Ryland’s favorite diner, refusing to let go for a long, long time. 

The news mentions Astrophage a few days later.

★★

Colt still texts his brother.

He doesn’t expect a response, trusting Ryland’s word, but sending him daily updates about his life makes him feel better. Colt talks about Jody a lot, especially after they finally move into a nice house with a big backyard for Jean-Claude. He sends photos of her and the dog, their home and the nearby beach, and even the spicy margaritas he shares with his girl.

Days turn into weeks without a peep from his brother. Colt continues texting Ryland, and he feels lucky that Jody is so understanding of his weird little habit. She sometimes even asks Colt to relay a message on her behalf, hugging him from behind to look over his shoulder while he types.

Occasionally, he leaves voicemails, too.

Colt mostly talks about the stunts he helps people perfect or the strange movie plots he keeps encountering. He tells Ryland about projects he’s working on around the house, Jean-Claude’s vet appointments, and some scientific articles he read about Astrophage. If he has a moment during his travels for movies or shows, Colt sends pictures of his surroundings and leaves voice notes on historical facts he knows Ryland will love.

He always signs his calls off with, “I love you. I miss you. Stay safe.”

The absence of his brother hurts, but Colt tries not to let it get to him too much, focusing on his new life with Jody. He still has his moments, and sometimes, Colt will find his way outside with Jean-Claude when he can’t sleep, staring up at Gemini or Ryland’s star and wondering if he’s doing the same thing wherever he’s at—Colt last saw his tracker ping somewhere on the other side of the world before it shut off.

He worries, and he voices these worries through text or call to cope, but still gets nothing in return. Colt has to frequently remind himself that it’s okay, that Ryland is alive out there trying to figure out the mystery of Astrophage.

One morning, when Colt stops by the local park with Jean-Claude, his phone rings.

Colt pats Jean-Claude’s butt several times before unclipping him from his leash to let him run to his heart’s content. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and expects to see Jody calling. Colt ends up scrambling to answer when Ryland’s name flashes on the screen, pressing it to his ear with a surprised, if desperate, “Ryland??”

“<Colt!>” Ryland exclaims on the other end, his musical notes pitched higher than normal. His voice comes out similarly when he says, “Finally! Jeez, that took so many tries. Sorry! Service isn’t great out here.” A pause, where Colt hears rustling on the other end. “Can you hear me okay? Or is it too staticky?”

“You sound fine,” Colt says, dazed. He clutches the phone tighter, so moved by his relief that it brings tears to his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Ryland. I know you warned me, but I’ve been so—fuck, I don’t know.” Colt pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales shakily. “I missed you, man.”

“Miss you too,” Ryland says, voice growing soft. “Found my phone at the bottom of a bag. I wanted to—I dunno. I guess I needed to hear your voice again before I got tossed into the thick of things.”

Colt tips his head back to stare at the clouds above. The sun barely peeks through. “So, it’s true?” he asks hesitantly. “They’re eating our sun?”

“Yes,” Ryland answers quietly. He makes a couple of clicking sounds and sighs. “What are they saying on the news?”

“Not much,” Colt says. “Just that people are dedicating all their time to figuring out how to fix this Astrophage problem. Some channels are saying that they’re dimming the sun and that the Earth will cool in the coming years; others mention that the crops will die and the world will end.” He swallows. “Still true?”

“Still true,” Ryland tells him, sounding almost hesitant. “But it’s not as world-ending as it seems. We’re making advancements with breeding crops to survive colder temperatures and prepping special farms around the world. I’m leav—jotting down more ideas for them to use. And yes, I’m cheating by using my knowledge of my past, sue me.”

Colt chuckles, feeling some of his panic dissipate at the confidence in his brother’s voice. “Are you supposed to be telling me all of this?”

“No,” Ryland says, sounding far too cheery when he adds, “They’ll probably confiscate my phone now, but don’t worry! I’ll steal other phones and call you from those!”

“… Do you even know my number?”

“Of course,” Ryland says, sounding affronted. “Your old number was the first thing I memorized once Mom and Dad got us our own phones! I was waiting for the day to happen! And I did the same thing after you changed it!” He huffs. “Once you spend several lifetimes with advanced technology at your side, you tend to get a bit restless while waiting for the world to catch up.”

“Huh,” Colt replies, frowning and rubbing his chin. “So, does that mean you’ve had lives where you didn’t have phones?”

“Yes,” Ryland bemoans. “And let me just say—it’s infinitely harder to sext via carrier pigeon than it is through an interstellar messaging service.”

Colt stares at the swaying leaves. “You know,” he finally says after a while. “A lot of people have told me that they wished they could spend a day in my shoes just to see how fun it is with the stunts, but I think they’d turn around and give my life back to me once they realize they have to deal with a genuinely insane family member like you.”

He hangs up when Ryland cackles in his ear.

★★

As expected, Ryland’s next calls are sporadic and sometimes come in the middle of the night for Colt.

Not that he cares.

Colt cherishes every moment he gets with his brother, even if it means talking and talking until sunlight bleeds into the kitchen, until Jody trails out of their bedroom with a bemused, if understanding, look on her face before she starts up a pot of coffee for them. Hearing the joy in Ryland’s voice, despite the theories floating around the internet about the Astrophage thing, puts him at ease, and it makes him long for the day they can see each other again.

The next time Ryland calls, his words come out hurried and soft, like he’s too afraid of being overheard: “Keep an eye on the news tomorrow, okay?”

Colt frowns. “Is it bad?” he asks. “And hi, Ry.”

“Hi. No,” Ryland assures, which does settle most of his building panic. Still, he can’t quite contain his concern, even with the confidence in Ryland’s voice. “Official mission details are coming out, and there may be a press conference held with the people working on it.” His tone lightens. “You may even see a familiar face talk about Astrophage.”

“Is that so?” Colt says with a grin, leaning down to scoop up Jean-Claude’s tennis ball when the dog drops it in front of him, panting. Jean-Claude immediately stops and stills, fixating on his toy intensely, and he races off the moment Colt tosses it as far as he can. “Give your big brother a shoutout!”

“That’s unprofessional.”

“Like you care!”

Ryland sighs, but he sounds deeply amused when he says, “I’ll try.”

The press conference itself seems like a big event, with even the fucking President making comments on the Astrophage process. Overall, it’s harrowing and depressing, especially when it goes into detail about why exactly they’re sending people off to space, and what’ll happen when they get there. Colt keeps it on while he cooks dinner for himself, Jody, and Jean-Claude (because yes, he’s that dog parent now), and he only stops when the speaker introduces his brother (!!!).

He watches Ry step up to the podium with a bunch of papers in his hands, standing tall and looking extremely professional in his suit. Ryland looks directly into the camera, hums Colt’s name, and starts talking.

Most of it goes over Colt’s head, only because it sounds so complex and a bit worrisome in some parts, but he still sits there and watches the entirety of Ryland’s portion, pride welling up for his baby brother.

“Good job,” he says the next time Ryland calls, stepping out of the karaoke bar to hear him better. The streets are mostly void of crowds, but he can hear laughter and life drift toward him—a bunch of people singing about the end of the world or some shit. “You killed it up there, Ry.”

“Thanks,” Ryland says, and sighs loud enough that it makes his end of the call crackle. “Public speaking sucks. Are you happy with your shoutout?”

“Extremely,” Colt replies. He tucks his other hand into his jacket and looks up at the moon. It’s big and bright tonight, easily seen through the few clouds. “I feel bad for those astronauts, though.”

“I do, too,” Ryland quietly says. “I always do.”

Colt clicks his tongue, tracing the lines of his favorite constellation—Gemini, only because Castor and Pollux were twins like himself and Ryland. “Why do they have to go?” he asks, and out of genuine curiosity, he also says, “If you already know what’s going to happen, why do they have to go? Can’t you tell them how to fix it?”

“I wish I could, but it’s not that simple. A solution can’t be found down here.”

“And where are they going?” Colt asks, wincing when Ryland sighs again, albeit sounding more annoyed this time. “I swear I was paying attention! I just need… a refresher! Yeah!”

“Uh-huh,” Ryland says, voice dropping to a whisper. Colt hears voices in the background and knows their time must be up. “Gotta go. I don’t know when I’ll be able to call you again since we’re months away from launch now, but… I love you, okay?”

“Love you, too,” Colt says back.

“And I’ll miss you. I won’t forget you.”

“I… won’t forget you, either?” Colt replies, bemused. He moves closer to the bar’s entrance, humming to his brother. “Ry, that was a little weird, even for you. Are you getting enough sleep out there? Just listen to the waves, man. They’ll lull you to sleep—like how people count sheep, or whatever.”

“Hey, I never told you where I’m at!”

“You didn’t have to,” Colt says, huffing a laugh. “Tracker, remember?”

“Does that thing still work? I figured they tossed my phone overboard or something.”

“Nah, it’s shut off, but the last location I remember seeing was somewhere out in the ocean.” Colt kicks a pile of gravel away and lets out a breath. He’s warmed by his earlier margarita and the general merriment that comes with spending time with friends, but it’s nothing compared to how happy he feels talking to his twin brother. “Next time you visit, you can pick stuff out for your room.”

“… My room?”

“Yeah! Jody and I got a house—I left you a voicemail about it, but I dunno if you heard—and Jody was the one to suggest making a room for you,” Colt explains, giddy enough to bounce in place. “You can use it whenever you visit us! Hell, you can even stay here the whole time during your breaks! It’ll be just like when we were kids.”

“That sounds really nice, Colt,” Ryland says softly, a distinct hitch in his voice. “Thanks for thinking about me.”

Something in Colt’s chest aches badly, and he rubs a hand over the spot. He doesn’t even have to ponder where it comes from. “Hey, Ry?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re okay, right?

“I’m okay.”

“Ry…” Colt says with a frown, rubbing his chest harder. He opens and shuts his mouth, clicks his tongue, and eventually, he softly tells him, “Twin telepathy, remember?”

Ryland huffs on the other end. “Whatever, man,” he says in a much lighter tone. It eases some of the tightness in Colt’s chest, but it still lingers—faint, but there. “As I said, I don’t know when I’ll be able to call again, but… just believe in the Hail Mary, okay? It’ll work.”

“I’d rather believe in you,” Colt replies, missing him so bad it hurts.

“I guess that works,” Ryland says, sounding amused, and the call clicks, signaling its end.

The ache doesn’t go away.

★★

(“Happy birthday,” Ryland whispers when Colt answers a call at midnight.

“Happy birthday,” Colt replies, leaning against the heating pad pressed against his lower back. The surprisingly cool weather caused it to twinge consistently throughout the day, and the heat is leeching some of the pain away. “Thirty-five, huh?”

“Yup.”

“And this is the first one we spend apart.”

“I know,” Ryland says, still quiet.

Colt chews on his lower lip and stares out the living room window to see nothing but darkness. “I never thought about it,” he says. “But it’s pretty funny how we happened to be born as Geminis.” He hears Ryland huff a laugh on the other end and smiles, letting his head fall back against the couch. “Now, tell me something—were you originally a Gemini or am I infringing on your birthday?”

“No, I was actually a Cancer,” Ryland answers. Colt can hear the smile in his voice. “But if I had been a Gemini, I wouldn’t have minded sharing with you.”)

★★

Colt frowns when an unknown caller flashes across his phone screen. He nearly declines it on principle, too used to scam calls and the like, but his sleepy brain reminds him about his brother. He’s out of bed within seconds, hurrying downstairs and entering the kitchen—the farthest point from the bedroom. Colt taps on the green button and presses the phone against his ear with a hopeful, “Ry?”

What comes through the other end is his little brother’s wobbly voice saying, “Colt.”

“RY!” Colt immediately exclaims, slapping a hand over his mouth afterward. His eyes dart to the bedroom door, and when Jody doesn’t come out, Colt slumps over the counter, forehead thunking on the marble. “Ryland?” he says again, forcing himself to be much quieter. “Is that really you? It’s been months, man.”

“It is, yeah,” Ryland answers. His sigh crackles in his ear. “And I know. I’m sorry. We got really busy, and I could never find the right time to steal a phone. I actually had to make one out of crappy parts I’ve been squirrelling away for months now.”

“You—” Colt stops and frowns. “You know how to make a phone?”

“<Rocky> and I swapped professions for one life. I know how to make a lot of things now.” Ryland hums a little tune, and Colt does the same on his end, waiting for his brother to speak—waiting for anything, really. His stomach keeps twisting strangely, and he doesn’t know why. “I don’t have a lot of time, okay? And I wanted to have this conversation without my boss keeping tabs on things.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re sending me to Tau Ceti.”

“Tau Ceti…?” Colt repeats, confused. “Your star? What do you mean—” He stops himself from continuing, staring out the kitchen window and into the night, where the moon hangs low in the sky. His brain prickles, bringing forth the memory of the press conference where he saw his brother—strong, confident, and kind.

Tau Ceti is the only star not dimming, Ryland had said, looking straight into the camera. We intend to travel farther than any human has ever gone to find out why.

“Why you?” he asks, hearing how his voice wobbles. “You’re not an astronaut, Ry. Why do you have to go?”

“Because we lost our science team,” Ryland says, and there’s another distinct crack in his voice. “They were given too much Astrophage during an experiment, and it went horribly wrong. We’re launching in the next few days, and my boss asked me to step in as the unofficial tertiary scientist. I have three hours to decide.”

“And you’re going to say no,” Colt says, dread settling in his stomach. “Right, Ry?”

“Colt.”

“Right??” Agony sends him to the cold tile of the floor. “Tell me you’re not going. Tell me you’re staying here.” With me, Colt almost says, but the words get trapped behind the lump in his throat. “Tell me you’re saying no.”

“I’m leaving,” Ryland says in the gentlest voice imaginable. “I have to. Everyone’s going to say it’s a one-way trip, and that I’m making a great sacrifice for humanity. They might even say I’ll be remembered as a hero.” Here, his tone turns wry. Colt doesn’t get it. He doesn’t even want to try, not when his whole world is falling to pieces (again). “But I’ll be okay. I’ll live a long and happy life with my <mate>, so I need you to promise me that you’ll do the same.”

“Ry,” Colt chokes out.

“Promise me, Colt.”

Colt doesn’t promise, because then it means he gets to talk to his brother longer.

“Why are you doing this?” Colt asks in the silence that follows. He presses a hand against an eye when it starts to sting. There’s a pressure in his nose, too, and a weight in his lungs that refuses to go away, no matter how much he tries to breathe. “Why can’t you—”

“I told you I’d go someday, remember?”

“I never thought you were serious!”

“You did, Colt. You just couldn’t admit it.”

His lower back twinges when Colt curls in on himself, but he doesn’t care. A shaky, gasping sound slips from his lips, and he pretends he doesn’t hear a sob mixed in there as well. Is this how Castor felt when he lay there, dying by spear and believing he’d go into the afterlife without the other half of his soul? “Ry,” Colt says. “Ryland.”

“I love you,” Ryland says. Colt doesn’t miss the tremor in his voice. “I’ll miss you. And I won’t forget you.”

“I don’t know how to live without you,” Colt confesses.

And it’s the truth.

The only time Colt has ever been without Ryland was in those seven minutes before his brother was born. And since then, Colt has spent his entire life with Ryland by his side—at home, at school, during those nights when his brother dragged him outside to look at Tau Ceti, and most especially in the months after Colt’s injury.

Even when they traveled far to pursue their dreams, he was only a phone call or plane ride away.

And now—

“I know,” Ryland quietly says. He sounds hoarse, the way he gets when he’s about to cry. Colt gives up on trying to hold the rest of his tears at bay and weeps with his brother, already feeling like a chunk of himself is missing. “I’m sorry for that, too.”

“What will I do now?” Colt asks, slowly sinking to the floor and curling up on his side. It’s cold and terrible for his back, but the temperature difference keeps him present enough to hear his brother’s last words. “Ry?”

Ryland sniffles and says, “You’ll figure it out.”

Colt shuts his eyes. “Will I ever see you again?” he asks, not even bothering to hide the plea in his tone.

His brother says nothing for a very long time. Like always, Colt waits him out, even though the pain is tearing up his insides. It hurts worse than the time he broke his back.

“Maybe in the next life,” Ryland eventually replies, sounding hopeful.

“… Yeah?”

“Yes. Maybe I’ll even bring you up here with me next time.”

“Why can’t I come with you now?” Colt dares to ask. He wipes a hand across his face when Ryland goes silent again and releases a short laugh that carries no humor. “I’m going to miss you, Ry.”

“No more than I’ll miss you.”

Slowly, Colt rolls over until he’s staring up at the ceiling. His vision stays blurry. “Do you remember when we were kids?” he says. “And you’d always tell me how much you loved having a brother?”

“Yes,” Ryland says, hushed. “I do.”

“I feel the same way,” Colt tells him, feeling his heart twist when Ryland abruptly sobs on the other end of the call. “Having you as my brother has been the best part of my existence, Ryland. I can’t promise to be happy, because you won’t be with me, but I’ll do my best to make the most out of the rest of my life without you.”

“<Fuck>,” Ryland hums through his tears. It’s impressive enough for Colt to comment on it, and Ryland laughs wetly. “You wanna know something?”

“Always.”

“I’ve been a lot of things in all my lives, but I think being your brother has been my favorite.”

The tears come again. Luckily, his brother is right there with him—two twins born into the world together, crying like they did when their preschool tried to separate them during naptime. Only this time, it’s more real and permanent.

“In the next life,” Colt hiccups at some point. “I better be the oldest again.”

Ryland laughs like it hurts. “That’s fine,” he says. “As long as I have you, I’ll take it.”

★★

Twenty-six years after the Hail Mary first set off on their mission, the beetles return.

One year after that, the sun returns to full luminosity.

Celebration pours out into the streets all around the world. Images and clips of Earth’s saviors seem to cover every screen, and beneath it all, there’s a collective thrum of people saying their names—Ryland Grace and Rocky, Ryland and Rocky, Grace and Rocky.

But Colt has always known him as Ry.

Fireworks light up the sky, transforming the darkness of night into a gradient of reds and greens. People around him hoot, holler, and jump around, hugging their friends and family, and even strangers. Colt himself gets drawn into a few, paired with hair ruffles that make him laugh, before he manages to break off to a secluded part of the area. Here, he turns his eyes to the direction of the 40 Eridani system—unseen, but there.

Colt drags his right fist over his left arm and smiles.

★

★

★

★

“RYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”

Ryland Grace stops talking.

He closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and opens them to pass his tablet and files to a bemused Eva Stratt. Then, while fully aware of everyone’s stares, Ryland turns around and reluctantly spreads his arms… right as he’s hit with all 185 pounds of his brother and sent to the flight deck floor.

The wind gets knocked out of him, but Ryland honestly doesn’t care. He’s too busy returning the embrace as tightly as possible, smiling widely when he hears laughter in his ears.

“Hi, Colt,” he says after what feels like an hour of hugging. Ryland sees Stratt talking to the rest of the prime and backup crews for the Hail Mary, occasionally tossing glances their way. “We better get up before my boss decides to toss me into the ocean.”

“Like I’d let her,” Colton Grace, Ryland’s older twin by five minutes this time, cheerfully says. He yanks Ryland up with him when he stands, and Ryland’s too busy adjusting his glasses to shrug off Colt’s arm around his shoulder. “You were right.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Ryland tells him, elbowing his side. “I’m always right.”

“Mm.” 

Ryland fully leans into his brother. A large part of him, the one that makes up Rocky and all of their lives together, feels as empty as ever, but having his twin here soothes some of the ache. His eyes flick over Yao, Ilyukhina, and DuBois—pilot, engineer, and scientist, respectively—before looking at the risk specialist, a role he manipulated Stratt into creating in this life, by his side.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Ryland says quietly.

Colt tightens his arm around him. “Can’t get rid of me now,” he says. “I’ll keep bugging you from here on out.”

A snort escapes. “I don’t doubt it,” Ryland tells him, directing his gaze to the sky. There’s no way to see Tau Ceti without the right tools. It’s also broad daylight, and the angle isn’t correct, so he can’t even pretend. Still, it’s a habit he can’t seem to break. All Ryland can do is look until he gets there. “He’s excited to meet you.”

“Great,” Colt grouses. “I have my work cut out for me. How am I gonna impress the in-law?”

Some lifetimes ago, a comment like that might have made Ryland blush and deny the implication. Now, after years and years of intertwined lives with the soulmate he met in the stars, all Ryland can do is smile, slide a hand over the familiar claw-shaped birthmark Rocky seared into the very essence of his being in their first life, and say, “You’ll figure it out.”

(Art by @silverdrwss)