Chapter Text
It all happened so fast. One moment they were crossing the street, the next he was laying on the asphalt and the silver sports car that had come out of nowhere was speeding away just as fast as it had appeared. Cars were honking all around them, and people were shouting, but E had tuned out all noise, his focus solely on Vince, still laying in the middle of the road where he'd fallen after the impact.
E had fallen too, Vince pushing him out of the way before E could even see what was coming. It would hit him hours later that Vince had effectively saved his life, for now E couldn't think, he just got up and made his way towards him.
Vince laid unmoving, blood, so much blood, spreading from under his head like a red liquid halo, but what broke something inside E was seeing his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, open and just as still as the rest of his body was. E was on him immediately, calling his name, grabbing at his shoulders, a hand reaching for his neck to check his pulse, and why couldn't he feel it?
E felt someone push him aside, and barely registered Drama was now all over Vince much like he had been moments before, likely reaching his same devastating conclusion, while somewhere beside him Turtle put the phone on speaker, and someone started giving Drama instructions on how to do CPR.
E watched the scene in front of him from a distance, as if he was outside of his body, not a participant in this, merely a spectator, and the only thing that kept him anchored to the world was Vince's hand that E had grabbed and now didn't want to let go of, though it was limp under E's strong grip.
E closed his eyes not to see what was in front of him anymore, and he found himself whispering Vince's name over and over, though no answer came.
"Sir, you've got to let him go." A voice said after what might have been hours, and when E opened his eyes he saw an EMT looking at him with sympathy. E looked down at Vince's hand that he was still holding. Reality had hit at some point after he'd closed his eyes, and he knew there was nothing anyone could do that would fix this, fix him, but he wasn't ready to let go yet.
Everything blurred after that. E wasn't sure how they got him to let go of Vince's hand, or how they got him to sit down, but he found himself in the back of an ambulance with a metallic blanket on, watching as the EMTs covered Vince's body with a white sheet.
He heard clamoring from the side of the street, where he could see the police were keeping reporters from coming any closer. Of course TMZ was already there. Fucking vultures. Something burning built up inside E, and he felt like he was going to lash out. He wanted nothing more than to go over there and take their cameras, throw them to the ground and start a fight, just so he could get beat up, just so he might feel something that would penetrate the numbness that had taken over him.
But E could still hear Vince's voice, telling him to calm down, to just let it go, advice he'd given him countless times. And Vince might not be there anymore to rest a hand on his shoulder to ground him, but E thought he felt it anyway. He knew Vince wouldn't want him to go make a scene so, his willpower stronger than it had ever been, E just turned away from the flashing cameras.
It occurred to him then that he wasn't the only one on the scene that was fighting to keep his composure. Standing next to the ambulance where another EMT had just finished flashing a light into his eyes and seemed to deem him healthy enough, Drama was now looking in the direction of the cameras. E decided to go to him, grab him by the shoulder the way he had felt a phantom sensation do to him mere seconds earlier, and Drama met his eyes and just looked at him for a moment, before pulling E closer into an embrace.
E hadn't realised how much he'd needed that until it happened, how much he'd needed that closeness with a living, breathing body. It seemed enough to ground them both, and E felt Drama's breath slowing down, just as his own was. He had no idea how long they'd been standing there in each other's arms when he felt another pair of arms wrap around them both, and E opened his burning, tear-filled eyes to see Turtle had joined them, a bandage around his shoulder and a bruise starting to develop underneath it, looking just as devastated as the two of them.
They held on tight to each other, realisation dawning on them that it was just going to be the three of them from now on, all they had was each other.
It was Drama who stepped away first, and E followed reluctantly. "I'm going to call Ma." He said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't want her finding out from the press."
E watched Drama get it together just enough to make the most difficult phone call of his life, and that reminded E of his own duty. Regardless of what had just happened, he was still a manager, he had to manage the situation.
"Turtle," he called, feeling the responsible part of himself take over, "can you call Shauna?" They owed it to Vince to make sure that the news was broken with dignity that only someone that was as close to him as Shauna could manage.
Turtle did as he was told, and with her taken care of, E realised someone should call Ari, and it hit E that that someone was him. There was no delegating it to anyone else. So he got his phone out, the screen scratched from the fall but still functioning, and managed to dial his number with surprisingly unshaking hands, but it was his spirit that was unsteady.
E barely even listened to Ari answering the phone. He sounded cheerful, his usual self, might have thrown the habitual insult in there, but E heard none of that. He didn't reply for a moment, and heard from Ari's change in tone that he knew something must be wrong.
"It's Vince, Ari. He–" E didn't want to say it. Saying it would make it real, and it couldn't be real. Vince couldn't be gone, Vince that had been at E's side for as long as E could remember, Vince that was going to grow old with him. Vince that he still had to tell… "He's dead."
The silence that followed seemed to last an eternity, both of them trying to come to terms with the reality of what those words meant.
"Where are you?" Ari asked, and E had to look around, remind himself where they were. It felt like the outside world had stopped existing ever since the impact, and there was only the middle of the road, the ambulances with their flashing sirens the only landmarks.
"Corner of Beverly and Brighton." He said as he slowly took in his surroundings again.
"I'm coming." Ari replied, and then he was gone, and E was alone with his newfound spatial awareness. It was only then that he noticed the blood on him, and E knew it wasn't his. It was Vince's.
Not knowing what to do with himself, E sat down on the asphalt and let his tears flow freely.
Going back to the house had proved more difficult than any of them was expecting. The drive home was slow, but to be honest E had been surprised Turtle was even willing to drive at all; he had tried suggesting they take a taxi, but Turtle had refused, as if clinging desperately to the one thing he knew how to do, his assigned role, his one contribution to the crew. Driving only made Vince's absence stand out more, his vacant passenger seat painfully evident to all three of them.
It shouldn't have surprised them that reporters were waiting for them right outside the house, but it did infuriate E, and this time he felt no reassuring presence to calm him down.
Somehow, they made it inside without giving into the provocation of the cameras, and Arnold came to greet them as usual, but then he went back to waiting in front of the door as he always did when one of them was missing. Turtle went to sit by the door with him and pet him, and Drama said he was going to make something to eat, and E decided to go take a shower, wash the blood off him. But as he was heading to his room he passed Vince's, and he paused.
Stepping inside Vince's room felt to E almost as sacred as stepping into one of those old cathedrals, the ones that carried a lot of history, and were so big and so beautiful that they made you feel so little and insignificant. It was no incense, but the room smelled like Vince, and it pained E to know that it wouldn't take long for it to fade, never to return again.
E looked around and found comfort in the usual messy state of the room. He remembered how Vince's inability to keep any room clean and nicely organized used to nag at him. E had always been an organised type of guy, as far as he could remember, so it was inevitable that their two opposite habits would clash, and it had only gotten worse when they had started living together.
E remembered the many hours they'd spent arguing about the mess Vince always left in his wake, until they realised Vince was making enough money to simply hire someone to clean up after him.
Unable to help himself, E's mind went back to other fights they'd had, and the one that stood out the most to him right now was one of their biggest; when he'd told Vince to make him his manager, officially, or else. E wasn't sure he had had a real plan on what he'd have done if Vince had refused, a part of him had known Vince wouldn't have, couldn't have.
But he should have.
E had spent the past few days hearing from everyone how he'd fucked up Vince's career, and he'd deserved it. Truly the only person that hadn't personally blamed him had been Vince himself, as always too kind to see or admit the truth. But they were right, they were all right; from the journalist that had called him the new face of nepotism, to Ari, whose words echoed in his mind and haunted him.
I blame you for every bad thing that's ever happened to Vince.
E blamed himself too, how could he not? Not only had E ruined Vince's career, now he'd forever scarred the memory people would have of him. No one would remember Vince as the star he was, the lead in the highest grossing movie of all time. No, they'd only remember him as the recent flop that Medellín had been. E had destroyed his legacy.
And every bad thing that ever could happen to him for the rest of his life.
Vince had pushed him out of the car's way. His last action had been to protect him. Turtle and Drama had been hit too, just barely in comparison, but it was Vince who had taken the hit. The hit that was meant for him.
"It should have been me." He found himself saying to the empty room. "You should have let it be me. I deserved it."
Vince would have been sad, of course he would have. Vince always looked to him for decisions, any decision, and it had only led to E thinking he had the authority to make those decisions for him, always bigger decisions, until they had become overwhelming and everything had come crashing down at Cannes.
I blame you for every bad thing that's ever happened to Vince.
But ultimately, Vince would have moved on. He'd have finally turned to competent people for his professional decisions, he'd have had Ari to guide him through deals. And without E to hinder him, his career would have skyrocketed.
"I never meant to let you down like this." He added, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
And every bad thing that ever could happen to him for the rest of his life.
"I loved you, Vince." He found himself confessing. "I love you."
The feeling went back decades, unspoken, but loud in his every action, in every decision E took. All he'd ever done, he'd done out of his love for Vince, the selfless kind of love that E had never thought was worth mentioning, not when he feared it wouldn't be requited.
I blame you for every bad thing that's ever happened to Vince.
It could have been, that had always been a possibility, and E found himself thinking back to some mixed signal he had gotten from Vince over the years, from some subtle but complicit looks to Vince's habit to always be very touchy with him, always end up with a hand resting on E's shoulder or wrapped around his back.
And every bad thing that ever could happen to him for the rest of his life.
But in E's admittedly slightly pessimistic view of life, confessing his feelings would only have caused problems, awkwardness and tension between them at best, distance and distrust at worst, so E had always been too afraid to say anything.
And now that he'd finally found the courage to say it out loud, it was too late.
I blame you for every bad thing that's ever happened to Vince. And every bad thing that ever could happen to him for the rest of his life.