Soft.
Turtle had always struggled to understand the relationship between Eric and Vince. The three of them had been best friends since Turtle showed up that rainy day in third grade, a Yankees cap backwards on his head and a football tucked under his arm. He had followed them around the neighborhood and then around the world without question, understanding he ranked third in their friendship but wearing it like a badge of honor. He was fine with not being the most important person to either of them because he didn't seem to need them like they needed each other.
It was both a blessing and a curse to be a best friend to both of them because he was often the one that got put in the middle when things weren't going there way. This also meant that he was the first one to be brushed aside when things were. There seemed to be a lot more of the prior lately than the latter, especially since Vince's star was on the rise again and he was putting more pressure on E to get him the big-name projects that he wanted. Turtle had spent hours listening to both of them complain about the other, each trying to outdo the other when it came to bitching about their inconsiderations. Everything had come to a head last night when E had failed to get the number of some starlet Vince wanted to chase, and Eric had finally had enough that he actually fought back.
So, like he so often did between the two, Turtle had sprung into action. E wasn't the only one that was fed up. After making plans for the night at some new club with Drama, Turtle had locked the two best friends at the house alone and told them he wouldn't be back until the next morning. "You two need to fix whatever's broken here because we can't take much more," he'd told his friends, his arms crossed over his chest as he peered down at them sitting on the couch. "Things have been fucked up between you two for awhile. I don't care if you fight, scream, whatever. Just fucking fix it."
That was hours ago, and Turtle was home to see what progress the two had made. E's Aston Martin was still in the driveway, and it didn't look like it had moved all night. The television was blaring as he came into the house, a little louder than his hangover headache would have preferred. He started to call out to them but noted the time on his watch as he came into the den. It wasn't even eight yet and the chances that Vince was up yet were slim to none. He opened the door to the darkened room, expecting to find E asleep on the couch alone. Instead, Turtle shut the door softly when he saw Eric and Vince sprawled out on the sofa together, the indigo lights flickering brightly on the wall as Sports Center played loudly on the plasma.
Things start to snap into place, and he saw for the first time all the things that he had somehow missed before. Vince and Eric started fighting right around the time they took that scouting trip to Napa, and Vince came back with those teeth marks on his neck. It always seemed to get worse when one or the other brought a girl around and got better whenever she was sent packing. Theirs had always been an affectionate friendship, but he had noticed E sitting closer to Vince lately and allowing Vince to put his arm around his shoulders a little more.
He's still adding up all those little things when E comes into the kitchen in search of a cup of coffee. He ducks his head boyishly like he always does when he's stressed or embarrassed, his blue eyes avoiding Turtle as he pours a cup of Colombia's finest into the bright red mug. "How long?" Turtle asks finally, looking up at his friend over the edge of his own coffee cup.
Turtle sees the conflict in E's eyes. Telling the truth could cost both Eric and Vince a lot, but he couldn't lie anymore. Not to Turtle at least, not after what they had put them through. "Since Colombia off and on," Eric answers shortly, coming over to sit across the table from his friend. "Some when we were kids, even a little when I first came out here. But really, like where it mattered, since Medellin."
"And now?" Turtle asks, setting down his cup and reaching into the pocket of his shorts for a joint. This news was too big to take on completely sober. He wishes Drama was here. He would say something stupid and make Turtle feel less self-conscious about whatever he was about to say. "Are you guys back on? Did you fix it?"
Eric nods solemnly, a small smile playing across his lips. Turtle had seen that smile before, the one that he reserved only when he was talking about Vince. It was the same one he'd seen the night Vince had landed his first role in the school play and the time they'd gotten lost on the subway in Manhattan and when Vince bought him the Maserati. "Yeah, we fixed it," he finally says. "Thanks, man."
"Thanks for what?" Vince asks sleepily as he saunters into the kitchen, falling easily into the chair next to E and reaching blindly for his coffee cup.
Turtle leans back in his chair and watches his two friends fight over the cup of coffee, grinning at each other in a teasing way that promises that things really are good. He might never be the most important person in the world to Vince or Eric, but he was happy with the position he had been given. They might not need him like they needed each other. They just needed him before they could figure that out.
