Archive of Our Own

A loud bang violently wakes Ryland up from his (well deserved, thank you very much) cat nap.

He startles, jerking his entire body, and sliding off the narrow dorm bed half-way, with his legs tangled up in his weighted blanket and his shoulders hanging over the edge of the bed. The blanket is still emanating heat, he didn't sleep for long. He groans, patting the old carpet beneath him, trying to get his bearings and find his glasses, because everything was blurry and what if there was danger-

Then, his hearing registers a groan coming from somewhere in the room, matching his own. He stills, narrowing his eyes and turning his head to the left. Now, he knew precisely what it was that woke him up.

“C’mon, man. I was having a nice dream. I think.” He mumbles, and as he relaxes, a yawn escapes. The good kind, that brings tears into your eyes, as you stretch your body like a cat would and crack all of your stiff joints. He does not remember anything about the actual nature of his dream, except the soft, a little salty breeze on his face… So it had to be nice, right? But Kenneth doesn't need to know that.

Kenneth is his dorm roommate. They don't have much in common besides that. Their wardrobes, their personalities, their family roots, their life philosophies, the state of their bank accounts… are all wildly different.

Though, you could say their work ethic is pretty similar. It is just bringing different results.

Kenneth is sitting behind his desk, his back is arched uncomfortably forward, and his forehead is laid down on the surface of the table. It is messy, but that's okay. Ryland has a very matching desk on his side of the room. It's full of loose papers, broken pens, books related and unrelated to his major, empty energy drink cans, an opened bag of chips and a pair of his horse riding gloves he chucked there last evening when he came back to the dorm. His eyes are closed, and the obnoxiously loud groan he is making in the back of his throat is still going. 

Ryland finally fishes out his glasses from under his pillow and slides them on his face. “What is it? Talk to me, now that you’ve woken me up.”

“I hate this. I can’t fucking do this.” Kenneth replies, finally stopping with the prolonged groaning. Ryland fights an urge to roll his eyes. “I was told there would be trips. To the beach. Instead, I'm doing math. Eugh.”

Ryland doesn't suppress the eye roll this time. “Math is an universal languag-”

“Oh shut it. You don't get me, man. You're too smart for that.”

“Plenty of people change majors during their first year, Kenneth.”

“I don't want to change it! I want to study the beach!”

Ryland feels a very strong urge to change the subject. Otherwise, they will be at it for hours. He had tried explaining to Kenenth why his geology major isn't what he expects it to be, and even after almost half a year of participating in courses and seeing his fellow geology majors, he is still holding onto it. Let's just say, there are also many differences between them and Kenneth. However, that didn't dissuade the platinum blonde - instead, he started watching all their favorite anime series to expand their mutual conversation starters. He was… Just like that. A friendly, little lost young man with a lot of love to give to the people around him. A little gullible, and naive, but Ryland in his mild self-awareness could not throw that rock at him.

“Did Barbara reply to your text?”

Another loud bang. The same one as before, confirming Ryland's original hypothesis - the sound is Kenneth slamming his head against the table.

“No.”

Well, that's not good. Talking about his on-and-off girlfriend is always a homerun in distracting Kenneth, but… It only works if things are cool between them. So the seesaw has tipped over into the “off” territory, since she was ghosting him for the last two days. She is an impressive woman - Ryland had only seen her a handful of times, but she is one of those people who are just brilliant at everything, and can do whatever they want in life. She is studying two (or maybe even three) majors at the same time, volunteering, participating in all sorts of clubs at campus, and therefore there is very little time for Kenneth left in her day. When, by some miracle, Barbara does have time for Kenneth, there is always some kind of an emergency her friends are having, that need specifically her attention. And even if there magically isn't… It's a girl's night. 

Kenneth keeps a very distorted image of her person, and is biased to defend her at every turn - a nasty side effect of them knowing each other for more than half their lives. Even if her overall neglect of their relationship isn't intentional, and Ryland honestly doesn't think it is, this just isn't healthy for either of them. Ryland never felt privileged enough to just tell him to break up with her, especially with all the misery this relationship seemed to be causing him almost daily, but… He hopes someone closer to Kenneth than Ryland will tell him. Soon.

“But I get it. She is prepping for the party and doesn't have the time to think about me. I respect that. I am comfortable in my feelings, and I am able to remain nonchalant about our relationship.”

“There is too much to unpack there, and I just woke up. So I am choosing to ignore that.”

“Fuck you, man.” Kenneth finally lifts his head from the table (without immediately slamming it back down), straightens his back, and stretches his arms high above his head. He is trying to study shirtless for some unknown reason, so Ryland has a clear view of every muscle in his back working overtime. Then, he turns around, and looks at Ryland with a playful smile. 

Colt in the back of his head tells him to flip Kenneth off. Ryland doesn't. He shakes his head, rolls over to face the wall and snuggles in his weighted blanket. 

“Well, since you clearly don't need my help, I'll get back to my nap. Wake me up in an hour? Colt's coming over and I would like NOT to be woken up by him like last time.”

Kenneth giggles, and his blue eyes sparkle mischievously. “Colt's coming? Are you bringing him to the party?”

“Why would I go to your girlfriend's party again? And why would YOU go if she ignores you like this?”

“It's the biggest party on campus, and it's a Friday night. Duh.”

Yeah. Duh. Of course, why didn't he think of that. Ryland doesn't reply, relaxes his breathing, and slips back to the dreamland.

---

“Fuck yeah, let's go to the party!”

Ryland really should have been able to predict this particular outcome. 

He is sitting in one of the better diners on campus with Colt, and as they were working through the special combo meal for two, Ryland couldn't help it but vent about his frustrations with his stubborn roommate. And the second his outgoing, adventurous twin brother heard there is a college campus party taking place… One they were apparently invited to… Well, not being invited wouldn't dissuade Colt from going anyway. 

“No.”

Colt gives him a smile. A dangerous smile. A smile that means Ryland is about to be ragebaited into high heavens. The “I really don't take no for an answer” smile. 

“Why not? It's Friday, and we had no concrete plan except dinner. Dinner is finished. I'm not going home yet, so it's either a boooooring card game, or a super fun college party!”

“Have you ever seen me at a “super fun college party”?” Ryland makes air quotes with his fingers. 

“It's neither super, nor fun for me. I never know what to do with my hands. And Barbara doesn't have a cat.”

“That's so dumb. Fuck what everybody else thinks, just be yourself. And why would you search for a cat if I'm there with you?”

“You're acting as if you don't grow a pair of wings every single time you take a first sip of alcohol and miraculously disappear on me in any party setting whatsoever.” Ryland scoffs, and Colt makes an offended face at him.

“That's so not true.”

“Is so!”

“Okay, I admit, maybe yes, but not this time!” Colt holds out two fingers in the “I swear” gesture. Ryland shakes his head and looks down.

“I need to study anyway, so…”

“Liar.”

Ryland flinches. “At least we're even.”

A silence descends over them, and Ryland tries to busy himself with mixing the ice cream in his half-full sundae glass. Colt drops the smile for a few seconds, silently studying him. It's clear though, he won't drop it. He's like a dog with a bone.

When Colt speaks next, the smile is back. “Sooo, what I hear you saying is, I need to run to the store real quick, pick out a goofy beanie and a pair of reading glasses, find the party, and I'll be let in because people know me there, and then…”

Ryland's eyes widen, and his breath stutters. The spoon clatters back into the glass. Those implications were horrifying. He has a reputation to upkeep, and he has been doing so well to get his science major peers to at least respect him, and Colt knows that. He breathes out through his nose, trying to wrangle the nerves. “You wouldn't.”

The smile remains on Colt's face, unchanged. Ryland is staring into his eyes now, unmoving. They stand off like this for a while, and while Ryland never quite gets uncomfortable under his twin's gaze, the idea of Colt parading around the party as him unsupervised is something that makes Ryland anxiously pick at his fingers under the table. 

Colt notices this, and his heart is just too soft to let his baby brother suffer for too long. “No, you goof, of course I wouldn't, because I want us to go together! I promise, I won't leave your side. And I understand you would rather be holed up watching a movie, but I am really restless today. This might be my only chance to experience a fine, proper college rager. C'mon, Ry, pretty please, you wouldn't take this opportunity away from me, right? We leave the second you say so.”

Ryland knows he has no choice. He hates saying no to Colt, and he knows Colt wouldn't pressure him into it if he truly hated the option. The truth was, Ryland was a little bit curious about Barbara's party. If it took that much active focus to set up, it must be amazing. And earlier, as they were waiting for their food to arrive, Colt offhandedly said he's had a hellish week at work, so if Ryland taking him to the party would help him unwind… He did want to do that.

It's Ryland's turn to groan and slam his head into the table, just barely missing the sundae glass in front of him.

“Is that a yes?” Colt asks, his voice slow and careful. Ryland groans again. Colt giggles.

“You're the best, do you know that?”

“You better appreciate that then.” Ryland mumbles into the table. Colt giggles again and makes a move to wave down the waitress.

They pay for the dinner, and get up to leave. Ryland pauses in gathering his jacket when he sees Colt eying him, his eyebrows scrunched up in thought. Ryland immediately pats down his pockets. Phone, dorm keycard, dorm key, wallet, headphones, chewing gum, hand disinfectant, band-aids, tissues… He's got everything. Only when he looks back at Colt, the older twin speaks.

“I do wish you would have told me earlier. I would have dressed in something more cool.”

Ryland gapes at him. Colt is wearing simple black cargo pants, heavy boots and a red jacket combo he usually does, but feels comfortable and looks good in. 

“I have no idea what you mean. You look great.”

Colt grins. “I do, don't I? But we gotta do something about…” He gestures at Ryland's general direction. “This.” 

Ryland feels anger sizzle in his chest. He is dressed appropriately for the weather, thank you very much, he wouldn't be caught underdressed in the evening and risk catching a flu - jeans and a thick denim jacket, a yellow t-shirt and a pompom-adorned beanie. “What happened to “just be yourself”? You are so full of it, you know that?”

Colt throws his hands up, a substantial amount of guilt written all over his face. “No no no dear twin, what I mean is-”

“I'm not listening to you!” Ryland sets off towards the door. Colt immediately bolts after him. “We're still going to the party, right?” Ryland opens the door of the diner, and chilly fresh air on his face makes him relax a little. He can do this. It's going to be a-okay. What could go wrong?

“...Yes.”

“Yay. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. If they don't love your ass just as much as I do, fuck 'em all. I only said that, because I hope we won't be underdressed. But, you're actually right. It's a college party, not a Hollywood gala.”

---

Well… That was a sound assumption. Just not the correct one.

Ryland is pretty confident about getting the place right. Loud music could be heard from across the street. The sorority house is huge, built utilizing modern architecture, with prominent columns and big glass fixed panel windows. The colorful lights, people mingling in front of them, and a lot of silver decorations and outfits registered next, and the intensity of it all really makes Ryland wish they could turn around… 

But it is too late. Colt is already reaching the neatly trimmed lawn in front of the house, and walking up to an asian dude, taking a red plastic cup from him in one smooth motion. Colt sniffs the liquid inside of the cup, looks at the dude with exasperation and returns it to him. “C'mon, man.” He huffs, and resumes his trek to the door. 

Ryland shakes his head, picks up his pace, and makes sure to throw a “Sorry-” in the way of a visibly offended dude. He catches up to Colt when the older twin touches the door handle.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

Colt turns his head and leans in, their noses an inch from one another. Would it be anyone else, Ryland would already be backing up. Not from Colt. “Remember this, baby brother. Vodka? A big no no. Makes me sick as fuck, and therefore makes you sick as fuck.”

Ryland chuckles, and nods. Colt returns the smile, and, satisfied with the show of understanding, pushes the door handle.

Inside is everything Ryland could already see from the outside, but…more. The music is much louder, as these arches of the ceilings and walls make for a very good acoustic transfer. Walls are decorated with light drapes, effectively reflecting the colorful lights from the spinning party lights strategically placed all around. And people… Well. Almost everyone in the room is wearing some kind of silver-toned outfit. Ryland sees sparkly cocktail dresses, crop tops with silver writing, reflective sweatpants and jackets, many expensive pairs of sneakers, and a lot of silver jewelry.

“Kenneth didn't mention anything about a dress code!” Ryland yells into Colt's ear from behind, but Colt doesn't even flinch. A data point established - talking to each other was not going to be fun (or coherent) when the music was this loud. Ryland grips his shoulder to stop him again, as Colt sets off with an unrelenting resolve to find any other kind of alcohol than vodka. Colt turns, scrunches up his eyebrows, does a double take of the room, and then leans in and yells in Ryland's ear. “-NOt----dress---fuck!”

Oh yeah. They were twins, alright.

The song that’s playing is that loud, because - as they find out shortly after entering the main, big lounge room of the house - there is a dance performance going on. The majority of the partygoers are standing by the walls, or sitting on the couches that were pushed away from the center of the room, where about 10 girls are dancing to the song, in perfect sync. Their outfits aren't fully matching, but their movements are, and in the middle of that group is Barbara.

She looks beautiful. She always does. She is wearing a strapless overall, covered in silver sequins, reflecting the lights as if she herself is the disco ball of the party (and Ryland supposed she could be, in a sense). A portion of her hair is held up by a complicated bow, and she is adorned in jewelry and her ever present smile. 

Ryland finds himself a little hypnotized by the girls’ dance, so much so he almost jumps out of his skin when he feels an arm being thrown around his shoulders. He looks to the side, expecting Colt's crooked nose, but a different face awaits him. A familiar playful smile and the bluest eyes he's ever seen in his life. A colorful sleeve of a faux fleece hoodie, and a black bandana nestled in platinum blonde hair.

“--knew--d come!” Kenneth yells in his ear, and oh this is already getting old. “--s Colt?”

Ryland looks around, because he should be right there with him, but he isn't. He spies a red jacket near the table to their far right, next to the fixed panel window overlooking a pool. The table is covered in the plastic red cups and beer bottles, and Colt digs through them with the determination of a man dying of thirst. Ryland points at him, and Kenneth laughs out loud. Well, Ryland sees that he does, but doesn't hear it at all. With the change in their angle, he can now see a very interesting thing about Kenneth. He isn't wearing any silver.

Ryland tries to mime the question as simply as he can. He points at himself, then at Kenneth, then at Colt, and then touches the closest silver thing he sees - a drape on the couch they are standing behind. Kenneth looks at him for a while, blinking slowly, then nods. A nice byproduct of shared existence with Ryland is that people learn to pick up on nonverbal cues a little bit faster, since he needs to use them to communicate when he himself goes nonverbal from exhaustion or stress. 

Kenneth replies simply, by shrugging, and Ryland feels a pang of grief for his roommate. Something definitely happened. He should ask him about it later.

Colt comes back, holding three freshly opened beer bottles. He hands them out, and then greets Kenneth with a grin, a fist bump, and by clinking their beer bottles together. Ryland simply holds his, unsure of whether he feels up for drinking alcohol tonight. He knows Colt (or Kenneth for that matter) would never force him into it, but Colt made sure to grab him a bottle, to make sure he knows he has the option, or doesn't immediately feel left out. Ryland appreciates that.

The dance routine was coming to a close, the song reaching its last chorus. Soon, all these people would unfreeze, and the room would be pure chaos of dancing, screaming and other shenanigans. 

Well, that does it. Ryland clinks his bottle against the two others, and takes a sip. What could go wrong?

---

Ryland usually doesn't drink his beers fast. He isn't a huge fan of the taste, preferring sweeter drinks that fully mask the bitter kicks of alcohol. He rationally knows it isn't a good idea to chug an entire beer bottle out of nerves, praying it would alleviate his social anxiety induced suffering. But today, out of all days, he isn't being very rational about anything.

As per his expectations, people swarm them right after the dance routine is over, the volume of the music goes down, and people feel satisfied with the boisterous applause and many shouted praises and cheers aimed at the dancers. Barbara stands tall, smiling and waving, and then thanking everyone and encouraging them to enjoy the party. So, the partygoers immediately turn to the next most interesting thing - the wrongly dressed newcomers. 

Ryland remembers having to fight his breathing from getting out of control, as he gulps down the beer, grinning Kenneth and loudly speaking Colt flanking him on both sides. Colt must be telling one of his work stories - of course he would immediately jump to that, an ultimate party attraction. Being an actual up-and-coming movie stuntman has many perks. Kenneth is speaking next, gently shaking Ryland with his arm still around his shoulders, and when people oohed and aahed with their eyes digging into Ryland’s body, he finds himself taking more erratic gulps. 

Then, Barbara shoulders her way through the crowd, her smile unchanging. She immediately leans in, saying something to Kenneth in a hushed tone, and Kenneth’s relaxed smile disappears in an instant, his eyes cast down. Ryland remembers feeling anger. Then, an empty bottle in his hand gets removed by someone, and he hears Colt speaking, the sentence curling up towards the end in a question. Barbara laughs, and extends a hand towards Colt. They shake hands, but Ryland knows Colt’s face as well as his own, and can see the subtle pinched expression, the one indicating when something bothers him, but cannot quite voice it yet. 

Ryland sways on his feet, and Kenneth's arm drops from his shoulders. He mumbles something about needing a minute, hoping it could be heard, and steps backwards. There are hands on him, on his arms and shoulder blades, and voices speaking around him, and he sees Colt grabbing Kenneth’s arm, pulling him into his side and saying something loudly, gesturing at platinum blonde’s outfit. 

Ryland catches himself on the edge of a table, and hands slowly fall off of him, as he doesn't react to any of those concerned questions, trying to stabilize himself on his own. This is fine. He just needs to calm down, and the haziness of his vision will go away. He looks at the table below and sees a red plastic cup with water in it. Oh, right. Water. He needs to chase the beer with some water, and it will all be fine.

The awful and sharp sting of pure alcohol sears his throat.

Colt did warn him about vodka earlier, didn't he?

Then, honestly, the blackness of the quickly drunk alcohol and sickness envelops his memory, and that’s a very good justification for where he finds himself right now. Over the toilet, puking his guts out.

He is all alone in the dimly lit bathroom, the sound of the party pleasantly dimmed. His glasses are hanging under his chin, and his hands shake so much he grips the toilet bowl for support. He allows himself one pathetic moan, as the storm in his stomach finally seems to calm down, but oh gosh why. He worked himself up again over nothing, like a dummy, and got turbo drunk as a result. He should have let Colt impersonate him at the party and stayed in the dorm, digging through his TBR list under his weighted blanket. That would be way less embarrassing.

He stews in his anxiety shame for quite some time, leaning his uncomfortably hot cheek against the cool marble of the toilet, so he squeals out loud in alarm when all of a sudden a gigantic black boot comes through the opened bathroom window.

After the boot, a long leg enveloped in the painfully colorful leggings follows, and then a torso in a baggy pink coat, adorned with silver metal decorations. Ryland is fully convinced he is hallucinating this poltergeist, until the blonde, half-shaven head pokes out from the window too, smiling wide at him, and then the person leaps, landing in the middle of the bathroom on both feet. Ryland squeals again.

The young woman giggles, and looks pointedly at Ryland.

“You have been occupying the bathroom for ages, man. I need to pee.”

Ryland blinks at her owlishly. “Uh, I’m… Sorry? I’ll just…” He tries to move his body, pushing away from the toilet bowl, but his limbs are not cooperating with him, and he ends up keeling over, landing on the plushy bathroom carpet with a thud.

“Yeah, you’re clearly doing great. I’ll tell you what, just close your eyes and I’ll do what I came here to do.” 

He sees the woman stepping over him with purpose, and yelps, not only closing his eyes, but bringing his hands up to cover his entire face. He hears rustling of her clothing, and for the next part, he does his absolute best to focus on the music playing behind the door, not on the sounds coming from above him. He doesn’t think he has ever been this mortified in his entire life. He feels sick all over again, his stomach churning uncomfortably. His face feels hot under his hands. The absolute nerve of this person… Although, he supposes, there were not many different choices to be made. When nature's calling…

He hears the toilet flush, another rustle and an awful lot of clinking and rattling coming from her clothes being put back in place, and only when he hears the sink running, he dares to peek from behind his fingers.

The woman is grinning down at him as she washes her hands, and that makes him yelp again. He feels like a goshdarned baby rabbit, hiding in the tall grass from the bustling traffic.

“Don’t worry, you took it like a champ.” She reassures him. He drops his hands from his face, and if they only weren’t shaking so much, he would be able to put his glasses back on top of his nose without almost gouging out his eye. Well.

“You… Do you do this often?” He asks in a shaky, way too high voice.

“Pee? Yes, multiple times a day.”

“N-no, I meant… I’m sorry, uh…”

“Wanda.” She says, and now is bending down, extending a hand towards him.

He takes a deep breath in. He takes the hand. “Ryland.”

“What’s got you down in the dumps, Ryland? Ugh, that’s too long. Can I call you sugar?” she asks next, her tone direct and loud, in contrast with her movements - she gently takes his forearm with her other hand and helps him to slowly sit up, and pauses there, giving him a moment to get his bearings.

“Uh… That’s fine… Well, I…”

“I saw your twin out there. He is your twin brother, right? He is so sloshed he jumped fully clothed into the pool. Not only that, it was like, a double salto jump at least. Earned him one heck of an applause. It was hilarious.”

Ryland battles a groan. Oh Colt, why?

“Anyway, he clearly holds his alcohol better than you do. Or, did the dinner agree wrong with you? That sometimes happens, you know. Wait, I should have…” she lets go of him and begins to rustle in her jacket and its many hidden pockets. Ryland paws at her, catching her elbow, and making her pause.

“How long was it… From the dance performance? The one Barbara did.”

“Which one?”

Oh boy.

“So, a long time. Got it.” Ryland now groans and only Wanda’s hand catching his shoulder stops him from toppling back to the ground.

“Don’t worry, you missed nothing special. Well, maybe except Allan doing the keg stand, and he was doing super well, but then lost his balance and fell backwards and knocked over an entire table full of vodka shots, spilling it on at least six people. Oh, and your brother making out with Kenneth.”

What.

“What?”

“Yeeeah, that’s gonna leave a mark. Nobody’s seen Barbara since. Honestly, there were rumors going around of their relationship not going so well, and I don’t know her that well, mind you, but who am I to complain when that piece of yummy white chicken just became as free as a bird?”

This is officially the weirdest, most frustrating conversation Ryland’s ever had. And that was saying a lot, with Colton The Ragebaiter Grace being his twin brother. 

“My brother. The person with…” He gestured at his face. “This. Made out with Kenneth? And Barbara saw it?”

“Hell yes. And they weren’t even trying to be sneaky with it. If there was one close enough, your bro would definitely have Kenneth bent over the table.”

This was a nightmare. First, he gets an obscene number of people looking at him and touching him, then he gets turbo drunk and turbo sick, then this woman pees in front of him, and now he gets this unbelievable exposition. Yes. He would like to wake up now, please.

“’S no dream, sugar. Why? Is that significant? Your bro can have his tongue in whoever mouth he wants, ya know. If it’s consensual, of cours-”

“Kenneth is my roommate. And as far as I know, he’s still in a relationship!” He has to give one thing to Wanda. She definitely brought him to full consciousness with this conversation. If only his limbs cooperated with him…

She tsks. She takes his elbow, and pulls him slowly to his feet. She smells faintly of some kind of herbal perfume. He wobbles, but not as much as he feared he would. However, when he straightens his back, his emptied stomach gives him a sharp sting, and he doubles over, whining. 

“Let’s get some water in you first.” Wanda says slowly. He nods, and watches her rinse out a plastic red cup that just… is there, forgotten by someone on the sink. She then pours tap water into it, and hands it to him. He takes a slow sip, trying to avoid overwhelming his stomach with it, but the cool water feels so good against his inflamed, raw throat, he soon ends up gulping down the entire cup. He lowers the cup, sighing in relief, and looks at Wanda. She is digging around her pockets again, with a focused expression. He lifts his eyebrows at her in question.

Then, she smiles victoriously, and pulls out a pill bottle. “Here. This will calm your stomach, and you can continue drinking. Just… Not Allan levels.”

Ryland makes a face. “I don’t… I don't think I want to drink any more.”

“That’s okay too. But it’s a long walk to the dorms, and I guess you want to wrangle your brother to leave with you, so I would take any help I get offered.”

Ryland hums, and hesitates only for a moment more. He is tired. He doesn’t want to think so much anymore. The aftermath of this night is already a horrifying omen on his horizon, so what the heck.

He takes the offered pill, and pops it into his mouth. He moves slowly to pour himself another cup of water to wash it down. The pill tastes… strange. It is not like the over-the-counter medicine he is used to. Maybe something more herbal-based? It tingles his tongue as it dissolves, just sitting on it. Should it be doing that? Ryland does his best to ignore it as he takes a gulp of water, the pill disappearing from his mouth.

“How do you know Barbara?” He asks awkwardly, as he stays still in front of the sink, waiting for the pill to do something about the cramps in his stomach. He looks at Wanda in the professionally-lit mirror, clearly designed for taking selfies in front of it. Wanda isn’t looking at him. She is looking at the pill bottle, her eyebrows scrunched a little.

“Sorry sugar, what were you saying?” She jerks after a few beats, looking back at him, giving him the most suspiciously innocent smile imaginable. He swallows nervously.

“I asked… How do you know Barbara.”

“Oh, you know how it goes. A friend of a friend of a friend. Orbiting each other, never really talking to each other. Anyway, I gotta go. I got a…thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yes, a thing. Good luck with your brother, sugar.”

And then, she moves as quickly as a cat, diving out of the window, leaving Ryland absolutely dumbstruck. 

---

The first sign of something being very wrong is kind of nice, actually. Ryland exits the bathroom, and the music isn’t as loud as he expected it to be. In fact, it is exactly as muffled as it was behind closed doors. He walks through the corridor, avoiding people with his gaze, occasionally stumbling and catching himself on a wall. If his limbs were heavy before, now they feel way too light, as if stepping wrong would disconnect him from Earth's gravity and send him careening off to deep space. Well, at least until the high ceiling stops him, and he stays stuck there like a half-deflated helium balloon. 

That's funny. He giggles out loud, and has to stop his walk to do it properly. Wait, how does one giggle properly? He brings a hand to his mouth, hides his blissed grin behind his fingers, and giggles again, his entire body shaking as he does. Wait, why did he do it like that? That's funny. He giggles again, and almost loses his balance. He's been standing still for way too long, he needs to keep moving, because if he doesn't move, the ground is moving beneath his feet. 

What is this, an earthquake? If there is an earthquake going on, why is nobody alarmed? People are just standing around, talking to each other, swaying to the music Ryland barely hears anymore over the roar of white noise in his ears, drinking vodka out of their red plastic cups like idiots. Is he the only one registering the earthquake? Is he the only one sober around here?

He tries to remember what to do in case of an earthquake. This stuff has been drilled into him at school, it shouldn't be that hard to remember. He should go to the center of the building… Except, he has no idea where that is. He doesn't even remember how he got from the big lounge room to the bathroom he shut himself in.

So, that's a no. But, he can hide under heavy furniture. A table, or a bed. Preferrably, the furthest away from any windows as possible. If he remembers correctly, the entire ground floor is made of windows, so he needs to head upstairs. Were there any stairs? 

He takes a few hesitant steps, rounds a corner, and whoomp! There it is. A stairwell. He takes in a deep breath, and braves the ascent. He uses all four of his limbs to remain as steady as possible, with the whole house shaking around him, and a few surprised shouts are aimed at him, as he bulldozes through the legs of a kissing couple that is in his way, and as soon as he reaches the first floor, he starts running through a thankfully very windowless hallway illuminated by colorful fairy lights along the ceiling - they look like bugs, the bugs with shiny asses, buzzing annoyingly around. 

Ryland giggles again, and is delighted to find that he, in fact, able to do it while in full sprint. 

He reaches a bunch of closed doors at the end of the hallway, grabs a random door handle and pushes the door open with his entire weight. He loses balance as he falls inside, yelps and waves his hands frantically to keep his feet under him. A few staggering steps later, his knees sting as he lands on them, scraping his jeans on the carpet painfully, and his hands catch an edge of a… bed. A bed! Precisely the thing he is searching for!

He gasps, and leans down, getting ready to crawl under the bed. The gap is narrow, this will be a pain, but if it saves his-

“Ryland?”

He yelps, letting go of the bedframe as if it burned him, and straightens his spine, looking frantically around. Now that he's sitting down on the carpet, the earthquake seems to calm down a little. Good, good. It might be getting close to ending. Either way, a ton of time has passed, this is surely some kind of a record.

“Ryland, what the fuck are you doing?!”

He yelps again. He's never heard Barbara swear like that.

Wait.

Barbara?!

He blinks. His vision is so blurry, where the heck did his glasses go, but he registers a silver blob of a person, sitting on the bed. The room is illuminated very badly, with only one lamp on the bedside table lit, and there are many white clumps littering the bed. Ryland pokes one with his finger, and recoils with a shudder. Wet tissues.

“Get the fuck out! Or I'll punch you in your stupid face!” She is shouting at him, and, well, he definitely doesn't deserve that. 

“No! There's an earthquake!” He yells back.

“...What?” 

“Yes! We need to get under the bed, or we will die!”

“Is this some kind of a joke?” She scoffs, and that immediately angers him. Shouting at him is one thing, but not taking him seriously?

“Oh you know what? Screw you. I don't care.” He leans down again, pushing his hands under the bed, but instead of a free space, he finds a bunch of cardboard boxes in his way. Probably stored under the bed to maximize the efficiency of the space, but right now, very effing inconvenient for him. 

He grumbles, and as he gears up to pull the boxes out one by one to fit himself under the bed, he hears… Sniffling. He pauses, and straightens up again, looking at the other occupant of the room.

Barbara is curled up on the bed, and her shoulders shake, and she is wiping her face with yet another tissue. He tilts his head in confusion.

“Why are you crying?”

She seizes, as if he poured an entire bucket of ice water onto her head, and whips around to face him. He winces, because even to his blurry eyes, she looks awful. Her mascara and eyeliner are smudged all over her face, mixing with the glittery foundation. 

“Are you seriously asking me that?!” She screeches, and he leans back, almost falling over in panic. “Why did you bring your brother to my party? He's ruined everything! Who invited him? Who even invited you?” 

He's afraid to speak up. She might just tear his head off. But, actually, no. He needs to defend his and his dumbass twin's honor. He does his best to straighten his back, and to put on the most neutral face he can.

“Kenneth did.”

Barbara scoffs again, and a wave of anger rises up in Ryland's chest again. Now, he feels the need to defend himself, his brother AND his roommate.

“Yeah, that reaction feels about right.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know. You have been treating Kenneth like shit for as long as I know him! Aren't you supposed to be his girlfriend? Because you look like, acquaintances at most to other people. And while that could be absolutely okay, and nobody's business, if you guys actually agreed on it? But you didn't! Kenneth is So. Fucking. Miserable because of you, Barbara, and what did you do to change that? Plan awesome parties. And girls' nights. And now, you sit here and cry only because you pity yourself, nothing more and nothing less. What did I, or my brother for that matter, do to cause that? Screw you. I'll find some other bed to hi-”

He begins to turn, panting. He didn't expect an outburst like this to ever leave his body, but now that it did, he feels kind of nice. Vindicated, yes, that is the right word. He should be yelling at people more often. 

However, a hand fisting his denim jacket shoulder stops him, and he spooks, turning back to Barbara slowly. He fully expects a fist to meet his face.

He doesn't expect an armful of a silver-clad woman smelling of cotton candy, but that's what he gets.

“I… I'm sorry for yelling at you.” Barbara murmurs into his collarbone. 

He hums in mild confusion, and lifts up a hand to pat her exposed back, hoping to end the hug prematurely. She is strong. She is squeezing him so much it is borderline uncomfortable, and right now each touch feels like a burning iron against his skin. His stomach is churning uncomfortably again, and… Oh, wasn't the pill from Wanda supposed to prevent that? What was even in that thing?

“You're right. Of course you are. It's just…” Barbara sniffles, and loosens the hug a little. Ryland notices her awkward position - her middle and her legs are still draped over the bed, but her upper half is hanging in the air, entirely supported by his arms. If she lets go, she falls headfirst into his lap. Suddenly, he doesn't want the hug to end. 

“We were happy. We were normal. Then, we started college, and both got busy. Then, he managed to make some time, but I was still busy. He kept telling me, it is okay, it is alright, and that he would wait for me. It was so annoying, and I don't know why! I really don't, but I felt suffocated by him. So… I just started to ignore it, and hoped it would get better. It didn't. It got worse.”

“Things rarely do get better on their own, Barbara…” Ryland remarks, sighing into her hair. She really smells nice. Her weight in his arms reminds him of his weighted blanket, and with the momentary adrenaline from the threat of an earthquake spent and gone, he is getting sleepy.

“I know! That's the problem, I keep solving other people's problems, and giving them the same advice, but when it comes to me and Kenneth… I don't know, it is just too scary. We've known each other for so long, and… I can't lose him. I just can't cope with that.” 

“Well, as things are right now, you are losing him.”

She sobs loudly, right into his ear, and that shock makes him move. He groans as he shuffles forward, moving them both closer to the bed, and she thankfully gets the memo, lets go of him and lets him lean his arms and head onto the edge of bed. She immediately flops down onto the mattress, grabbing a pillow to hug instead of Ryland. 

“Look, he definitely shouldn't have kissed Colt. Knowing my brother, especially when he is drunk, it was 100% his idea, to make you jealous, and to kickstart your asses to resolve this. And I don't know if Kenneth knew the entire plan, or if he was just that desperate, but he shouldn't have done that either way.” Ryland pauses, feeling his eyes blink slowly. Oh, he is so tired all of a sudden, it's hard to keep them open. He yawns.

“You two need to talk, that's all. No evening plans, no phone calls from girlfriends. Just the two of you, some snacks, and maybe a whiteboard for notes and better illustrations of your respective points.”

The ensuing silence almost lulls Ryland to a slumber, so when Barbara speaks next, he startles awake.

“You are actually so nice, Ryland. Thank you.”

“Uh…” He flushes. “Don't mention it.”

“You look awful, by the way. Where were you the entire time? I don't think I've seen you for a few hours.”

Ryland groans. The faint light from the lamp is making his eyes sting, and his stomach is rolling dangerously.

“How much did you drink?”

“Not much! One beer.” Ryland protests, and she reaches out with her hands, taking his face and tilting it into the light. He groans again and shies away from her.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Embarrassment grips his ribcage, and he bites down a whine. 

“There was this… Weird woman. In the bathroom. She gave me a pill.”

“Oh… Ryland…” Barbara sighs, and slowly lifts her body up. “Let's get you home, honey.”

Barbara gets up from the bed, and wipes her face with a brightly pink wet wipe from her vanity, that removes all the smudged make-up. Now that Ryland watches her move around, he notices how pink her entire room is. No wonder his head is starting to hurt. 

She helps him to his feet, and supports him the entire way through the hallway, and down the stairs. His feet are steadier, but he feels incredibly heavy in her arms, his consciousness blurrying around the edges. He trembles from overexertion, his stomach being empty for far too long, and he notices just how cold he is. 

She leads him through the lounge room. It must be so late it’s early, because there are far less people loitering around, and the music is turned down from the “dancing” volume all the way down to the “background noise” volume. The sky looks just a little bit brighter through the large windows, heralding the incoming dawn. The girls that danced with Barbara earlier are running around with black plastic bags, picking up stray beer bottles, cups and snack packages. The party is nearing the end. 

Ryland sees Colt and Kenneth sitting outside by the pool. Barbara leads Ryland through the sliding glass door towards them. Both look a little rough. Colt's clothes are damp and crinkly, his hair tousled, his eyes lidded and grin lopsided, as he talks in a hushed tone. Kenneth still has a beer bottle in his hand, sipping the beer and chuckling at Colt's story. 

Barbara stops a few meters from them, thus stopping Ryland. She is still holding him upright like a sack of flour, and he finds he doesn't mind - his limbs and eyes grow heavier and heavier by the seconds, as he is forced to stand on his feet.

Barbara doesn't speak, but it doesn't take long for Colt and Kenneth to notice them. Colt's eyes bulge out comically, and he shoots up to his feet, tripping over himself to get to Ryland. Colt's hands feel pleasantly warm on Ryland's freezing face, and Ryland lets out a groan.

“Where were you, Ry? What happened to you?” Colt asks, and turns his head to Barbara, also extending the question her way. Ryland sees Kenneth stand up too, but hangs back, his gaze downcast and shoulders lowered.

“He's been slipped a pill. But as far as I can tell, nobody hurt him, and he's been talking and moving alright. He only needs to sleep it off.” Barbara comments, and slowly deposits Ryland's weight into Colt's outstretched arms. Ryland lets out another groan, as Colt's damp leather jacket feels awful to his frayed touch receptors, and he smells of way too much beer, but Ryland leans into his twin's frame, not having much choice. He relaxes, and cannot suppress the shivers anymore. Colt paws at his hand.

“You're absolutely freezing, fuck.” Colt breathes out into Ryland's ear, and Ryland feels a hand smoothing the hair at the back of his hand. The comfort is nice, and Ryland tries to get a quiet 'thank you' out, only to be stopped by his own, heavy tongue.

Barbara moves, and Ryland fights to focus his bleary eyes. She walks up to Kenneth, and both their faces carry remarkably similar emotions. Those of guilt, those of shame, of sadness. Barbara outstretches a hand, and Kenneth takes it without hesitation.

“We should talk this out. Properly.” She speaks softly, and Kenneth nods. She continues. “Are you mad at me?”

Kenneth blinks, tilting his head in confusion. “Not really. I thought you would be.”

“I'm not.”

“Okay. Okay, cool.”

Barbara smiles, her face lighting up in a genuine relief. “Cool. I'll let you take these two idiots home, then.”

Kenneth mirrors her smile, and Ryland knows exactly what his roommate is thinking. Knowing Barbara isn't angry at him over the kiss, is willing to talk about the whole mess, and giving him a task? He must be elated. However, Ryland's heart aches for Kenneth. He does wish the man would stand up for himself a little. And maybe he will, and Barbara will take some accountability, after hearing Ryland's outburst.

It's out of his hands now.

Kenneth steps out, and takes one of Ryland's hands from Colt, sharing his weight between the two of them. Then, he pauses, and lets go, clearly thinking better of something. Ryland hears a rustle of clothing, and then he is manhandled again, and a soft, warm hoodie is pulled over his head. He relaxes his muscles, and almost immediately falls asleep, making Colt and Kenneth scramble to catch him.

---

He wakes in his bed, very cozy and warm, still wearing Kenneth's colorful hoodie. The taste in his mouth is awful, he's thirsty and hungry, and he feels as if an entire truck has run him over. He finds Colt sleeping sprawled out on top of him, adding to the warmth and weight of his blanket. Kenneth's snoring can be heard from the direction of his own bed. The morning sun is streaming gently through the drawn curtains.

He can sleep some more.

---

“So, why did you kiss Kenneth?”

“Oh, you know about that? Oops. Yeah.”

“Yes, I know. What in the world were you thinking?”

“That he's hot, and deserves to let out some steam.”

“So, you were thinking with your dick. Got it.”

“Hey!”

---

A colorful splash of color from the very bottom of his clothes bag. 

A very distinct, carefree giggle of a person he essentially lived with for two years ringing in his ears. Then, he got a different roommate - Kenneth had to drop out of school, with his grades dropping way too low, and after that, allegedly became a successful horse trainer. Ryland's invitation to Kenneth and Barbara's wedding came in the post, but he couldn't attend. It was a destination wedding, somewhere at the beach in Europe, and Ryland just could not make it work financially to go see them. It was right after he got sacked and excommunicated from the scientific community... Ryland has not seen him since their goodbye in college. And never will see him again.

But the hoodie, the hoodie Kenneth let him keep after that one party - and Ryland had absolutely zero idea where in his apartment that was stashed up - is here with him. Whoever was sent to collect his clothes really must have the most cheeky sense of humor on the planet. The colorful faux fleece is soft in his fingers, promising warmth. Oh, right. He is searching for a clean sweater to sleep in, because right now, most of them are in the freezer washing machine, and recently, his body got too thin to regulate his body temperature properly in Hail Mary's cool, fragile atmosphere. 

He must have taken way too long, as his mind decided to assault him with the memory of the party, and as the wave of sorrow threatened to choke him where he stood, because he can hear the thumping of a xenonite ball in the distance. 

His hands shake, as he pulls the hoodie over his head. Rocky stops in his advance towards Ryland, and takes one look - or, I guess in his case, “hear” - at him, with his skewed glasses, shaky breaths and wet cheeks, and immediately understands.

“Grace leaking. Had new memory. Question?” Eridian asks slowly. Ryland nods, pulling his arms through the sleeves. He immediately feels better, the faux fleece enveloping him in warmth, unlike a fierce hug from a person from the far past, a person he used to care about, what felt like a lifetime ago. 

His mind has already uncovered the memory of his twin brother to him, and that revelation has been… The hardest thing Ryland ever had to go through. Especially with no way of contacting him after, with all the beatles sent off on their merry way. The journey to Erid has been long, painful, lonely, and Ryland is excited to see Rocky's home in the few months they have left on the countdown clock.

His heart beats against the hardened embroidered letters on the front of the hoodie. He absentmindedly traces them with his fingers, knowing all too well what they read.

“Take time. But hurry. Rocky ready to watch sleep.” 

Grace smiles, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand, and follows his friend to their bedroom. His chest proudly says 'I am Kenough'.