Twenty-five years ago was a long time to know and love someone. If Eric Murphy was a woman, Vincent Chase would have married him years ago. They would probably have a house full of Catholic babies with reddish curls and pale blue eyes and pillowy lips. He'd often considered what life would have been like if he'd found the female version of his best friend; it would have probably been the most perfect relationship he ever found. Instead, he had to find all of those things in a mouthy Irish Catholic street kid from Queens who could meet him shot for shot and preferred to fall in love with every skirt he slept with rather than look at his best friend twice. Not that Vince was complaining, he had a love for the birds, too. He just appreciated the most important relationship he'd ever had in his life, the one true thing he had always been able to count on.
That kind of trust was what sent him running across a bustling set early one Wednesday morning, a month into his latest film shoot. They were deep in the wilderness of northern Canada, shooting some movie about an epic dog sledding race gone wrong. E had actually found the script buried in the middle of a huge file Lloyd had sent over from Ari's office. It was the first time over the past few years that Eric hadn't been there every single day while Vince was on set. He'd had to fly back to LA on the red eye last night for an important meeting to negotiate Vince's next big contract. It was just eighteen hours and then he would be right back by his best friend's side.
Turtle had come to him as soon as Vince's private cell phone rang, the so-called bat phone that only the guys and Vince's family could reach. His face was pale as he stepped onto the set, not caring an ounce if he ruined the shot. The director started screaming at him in a thick French accent, but Turtle couldn't even hear him. He only handed over the phone with shaking hands, words failing to come as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. Vince glanced down at the phone and saw his best friend's name on the screen.. What could he have said to get Turtle this upset, he wondered as he took the tiny silver device. Turning away from his beautiful co-star for some privacy, he managed to cradle the phone despite the thickness of the down parka that was barely keeping him warm.
"Yeah, E, what is it?"
"Vincent, this isn't Eric," an older woman told him on the other end of the line. He recognized the voice immediately. It sent shivers down his spine to hear Eric's mother, clearly upset, calling him from Eric's phone. "There's been an accident."
Vince didn't say anything else as he took off running, Drama and Turtle right on his heels as he headed for the car. With his cell phone pressed to his ear as he sprinted as quickly as his legs could take him, he listened while Eric's mom told him about the accident Eric had on the 105 on his way from LAX to the meeting. It was bad, really bad, and he still hadn't regained consciousness hours later. He could barely hear Drama calling the set back to explain as Turtle navigated his way to the scenic airport on the edge of the small town where they had been staying. Ice covered the roads, not even beginning to melt as the morning sun peaked over the horizon, but Turtle managed to keep the SUV on the road.
"I'm on my way to you," he promised Eric's mom. Turtle found his way to the airport parking lot, throwing the car into park before it was even to a rest. Eric's mother's soft sobs filled his ears, and he would have given anything to be right there with his arms around her. She'd always been a second mother to Vince, just as Rita had been one to Eric. It killed him to think of her there alone. "I'm on my way to, E, you just have to hang in there for me. Can you do that, Ma? Can you do it for E and me?"
"I'd do anything for my boys," she managed through the tears. "Just get here, Vince, okay? He needs you. Eric really needs you."
Drama was screaming at the poor girl behind the ticket counter when Vince finally hung up with Eric's mom and got into the airport. Vince usually could flash his best smile and smooth things over when the guys got to be too much, but he just couldn't find that usual charm right now. His best friend was hanging on by a thread, and he wasn't there. He hadn't be there. Hell, E wouldn't have even been there if Vince hadn't thrown a fit and insisted that his best friend take care of the deal personally.
"Look, I don't care what you have to do or how much it costs," Vince demanded softly but harshly. "Just get us on the next flight out of here, do you hear me? It's an emergency."
Those were the last words Vincent would speak for the next several hours. Turtle and Drama both tried to entice him into conversation. Turtle answered the phone each time Eric's mom called back with an update, filling the boys in with the few details she could offer. Vince would only nod stoically before slipping his eyes closed, not wanting anyone to see the sadness and concern clouding his otherwise confident gaze. It didn't matter how many times his Turtle and Johnny assured him that things were going to be alright, he wouldn't believe it until he had seen E for himself.
The hot desert air hit him like a cruel blast the minute he stepped off a plane. Drama and Turtle planted themselves firmly at his side, serving as makeshift bodyguards to protect him against the unwanted paparazzi and usual fans waiting for him at the arrival gate. Vince kept his head low, his eyes covered by the dark sunglasses that actually belonged to his character. A car was waiting for them at the curb, both Ari and Shauna inside.
"Vin, don't worry, we're already on top of this," Shauna assured him as soon as the door slammed. Vincent looked at his publicist incredulously. Like he really gave a damn about the press right now. He'd never cared what the media thought. That was E's job. He'd always been about the guys and having a good time and making cinematic magic. E's accident fucked with all of that. "I called ahead to the hospital to guarantee that no one could get to you guys. E's mom is in a private waiting room. She's being taken care of."
He heard Turtle or Drama thank her as he turned to look out the window. If it was anyone else, Vince would know exactly how to deal with it. He'd just follow E's lead. Eric would know how to handle it, how to shield any of it from touching Vincent. He'd taken care of all the disasters in their lives, from the fight in third grade when someone had called Vince a fag for starring in the grade school play to the fallout from a few movies that hadn't quite been received with critical acclaim.
It was only when Ari said something about how they could spin this to Vince's advantage that the movie star sprung into action. Vince slammed his hands against the wooden bar in a vain attempt to keep him from choking the life out of his agent. "Don't you fucking talk about E like he's some publicity inconvenience," he said evenly but angrily. "My best friend is laying unconscious in a hospital bed, and I'm not there. I don't give a fuck what anyone says about this, including you, Ari. I'm not leaving his side, and you're not going to use this to make yourself some fucking money."
Drama rested his hand on his little brother's shoulder. "It's okay, Vin, we're almost there," he said gently. "Turtle and me will take care of everything."
"Vinny, I'm sorry..."
"Ari, shut the fuck up," Turtle snapped, turning his back to block off the agent. This was the last thing any of them needed. He just wanted to get Vince into the hospital and see Eric without having a national incident. Cedars Sinai wasn't exactly private, but it had one of the best trauma centers in the country. Even someone like Turtle knew that. "Just for once, shut the fuck up and think about Vince first."
There were four photographers and someone with a video camera from TMZ waiting for him when the car arrived outside a private entrance. Shauna was the first out of the car, working her PR magic to get them back by providing a few vague details about Eric's status. Ari was right behind her, his best smile plastered on his face. The paparazzi weren't interested in what either of them had to say, though. They were all there for one shot of a distraught Vincent. He knew that he should manage some fake smile to reassure the assholes waiting for him that E was going to be fine, but he couldn't do that. He wouldn't do that. None of this mattered if E wasn't here to share it with him, and this had reminded him exactly of that.
"Ready, Vince?" Turtle asked, his hand resting on the door handle, waiting for permission to open the door. As soon as they stepped out of the car, all of this would become very real.
"I want to go first," Vince decided, brushing Turtle aside. He had already taken too long to get in there. Pressing the sunglasses back over his tired eyes, Vince swung his legs out of the limo and sprinted toward the hospital. Flashes exploded on all sides of them but he didn't see them. He only saw Eric's mother, hunched over tiredly, outside a room at the end of the hall in the intensive care unit. He flew right into her open arms, finally allowing the tears to come. Turtle and Drama were right behind him, hugging Eric's mother as Vince wandered over to look through the double-paned window.
"He's not doing so good, Vincent," the older woman said as she came up behind him. Vince slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close. It was exactly what E would do if the situation was reversed and Rita was waiting for him to wake up. "The doctors say that it's not looking so good. His chances get worst with every hour that passes."
"Fuck that shit," he cursed before looking up at her sheepishly and apologizing. Eric's mom had that whole Catholic guilt thing down perfectly. "What do they know, hey? I've never cared what other people think. They don't know, E, Ma. We know him. We know how good he is. He's always been a fighter, a scrapper, since we were kids. This ain't any different. E's gonna pull through."
A nurse came by and asked shyly if they needed anything. Turtle chased her off, recognizing immediately the stargazed look in her pretty olive eyes. "You can go in and see him, Vin," Eric's mom offered. "They said that it was only family, but it don't get much more family than you. I got you clearance, the boys too. Shauna has been taking real good care of me since I got here. I guess you being a star is finally paying off."
Like Vincent's mom, Eric's mother had never really been into the whole Hollywood scene. Other than the Aquaman premiere a few years back, she had barely come out to LA at all. She would see the boys when they were home for the holidays and always politely thanked her boys whenever they would send gifts from sunny LA. "I'll get him whatever he needs," he promised with a tight embrace. This woman had given him everything when she had given him the best friend he had ever known. Eric was more than just some guy he'd know since he was a kid. He was his partner-in-crime, his other half, his saving grace.
Eric's private room was small and dark, the only sound the constant hum of one of the many monitors wired to his small body. Sliding into the only chair at Eric's bedside, Vince finally pulled off the sunglasses to take a good look at his best friend. There were bruises and scrapes every where, bandages hiding patches of raw flesh and hideous gashes oozing blood. Casts covered his left arm and right leg. Hair had been shaved away along his left side where they had given him more than two dozen stitches. It was the worst sight Vincent had ever seen in his life, and he would have given anything to trade places with his best friend.
"E, fuck," he choked out. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The singular curse word was the only coherent thought he could form as he looked down at Eric's comatose body in front of him. "How the fuck..." Asking the question just didn't seem right. He knew how he had gotten there, how they had gotten there. It was Vince's fault. Well, the accident was probably the drunk asshole who fell asleep behind the wheel's fault, but Vince was the reason Eric was in LA. He was the reason he had left Queens in the first place. Up until now, he had never once questioned his decision to ask E to come out. Now, it just seemed selfish knowing that he had put his best friend in that bed. "I'm sorry, E, I'm just so fucking sorry."
He could hear Eric in his head, reminding him that this wasn't his fault and that Eric would have ended up on that plane to California every single time. They had never done anything apart, even those eighteen months when they had lived on opposite sides of the coast. Barely a day had ever passed that didn't include a conversation between the two of them, even if it was just a fifteen second exchange with a promise to call the next morning. The only time they had really been apart and out of touch was that summer after Medellin when Vince had hid out in Mexico, and even then, they had kept track of each other through Drama. Vince could still remember telling his best friend that he missed him and loved him when E was trying to convince Vin to come back to LA for that Danger Beach meeting. It had been the most honest thing he'd said to anyone in months.
Looking up at Eric through dark, wet lashes, he finally reached timidly for his best friend's hands. Eric's fingers were cool and limp in his hand, but Vincent covered his hand with his own anyway. "Your mom is a mess, E, you should see the guys. I don't know what I'm supposed to do to fix this. I know that you need for me to be that guy, but I've never been that guy. That's always been your thing," he murmured softly, resting his forehead against the mattress. "You have to come back and help me figure this out! This thing doesn't fucking work without you. This whole superstar thing, it's always been because of you. You're the first one who ever believed that I could be anything more than just some kid from Queens. I don't even give a fuck about that anymore. I just care about you and me and Turtle and Drama and your mom. I just care about our family. Please."
Vince had never been desperate day in his life and certainly never begged for anything. "So, here's what we're going to do, okay, E?" he asked rhetorically. "We're going to sit here. You're going to get the rest that you seem to need, and I'm just going to talk. I'm going to keep talking until you wake up and tell me to shut the fuck up like you used to when I would talk all night about some girl I hooked up with in high school."
And for the next six hours, Vincent lived up to his word, talking non-stop about the old days and the film and random things about the guys and everything he could think of with his very tired state of mind until his voice was completely hoarse. The guys came in and out, offering up their words and bringing him water. Eric's mom sat with them some, talking a little bit and filling in the blanks in Vince's stories. When one of the doctors came to remind them about visiting hours, Turtle and Drama managed to negotiate the special treatment that Vince was used to and E deserved.
"Vince, maybe we should get you home so you can get some rest."
"Fuck you, Turtle, I'm not leaving E."
Drama and Turtle exchanged a tired look. "Listen, Bro, you need to be your best for E. You're not going to be any good for anyone if you're exhausted," Drama tried to reason. "I'll stay here while you go home and get some rest."
"I said I'm not leaving E," Vincent replied automatically. "He wouldn't leave me." There was no arguing with Vince because they both knew that he was right. Eric would never leave Vincent alone in a hospital, not even if he was surrounded by the rest of their close-knit world. Vince was going to be the first person E asked for when he woke up, and he had every intention of being right there when his best friend called out for him. "You guys should go home and get some sleep. See if you can take E's mom. She could probably use some rest and a shower."
"Shauna already took her out to the car," Turtle told him as he came over to pat his friend's hand. "E, we'll be back in the morning. Vin, call us if there is any changes."
"You'll be the first to know," he promised tiredly before bumping his fist against his friend's. Drama waved tiredly from the doorway before leaving Vince and E alone in the dark, sterile room. "You hear that, E? They're all worried about you. You can't have these guys worrying about you, huh? We can't fucking take it. We always fall apart when you're not around."