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Stan frowned. His brown eyes, usually warm and full of joyful sparks, were glowing dangerously. He was focused on the young man standing in front of him. When he spoke, his voice was practically a reproachful snarl.
"So that’s how it is, huh? You were sticking with me, cause it was convenient. Now you can’t benefit from it anymore, so you throw me away like some kind of trash! You used me!"
Hearing these accusations, Ford inhaled sharply. Usually very collected, he felt anger building up in his chest. Outraged, he yelled at his brother.
"I used you?! Only because of me you passed from grade to grade!"
"Only because of me you weren’t a punching bag!"
Both of them were breathing heavily. They felt angry and betrayed by one another. Stanford pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses and let out an irritated sigh.
"Look, Stanley… We’re not kids anymore. I can’t babysit you all your life. We have to grow up and think about the future."
The grimace on Stan’s face grew bigger. The hurt was clearly audible in his low, gravelly voice.
"I get it, there’s no place for me in your bright future. Why would you need your dumb brother anyway? He’s only dragging you down!"
"Hey! It’s not my fault that you’re not even trying to be better. If you worked harder, you wouldn’t have so many problems. But you just refuse to act responsible! Don’t blame me for your problems."
"I’m not trying?! You must’ve forgotten that not everyone is a genius like you, poindexter. And you know what? I may be stupid, but I’m not deaf. I can hear what people say about me. I’m just an idiot brother of Stanford Pines, the perfect, golden child! They all believe you’ll achieve something great. Meanwhile, I’m a clown that nobody cares about."
Ford fell silent. He knew all of it was true. For them, his brother was a scapegoat responsible for everything that’s bad in the world. He wanted to comfort Stan and tell him that he doesn’t think all that, but his pride wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t admit to being wrong. Instead, the boy looked right into his twin’s eyes.
"That’s not my fault. I’m not responsible for your failures."
His tone, patronizing and overly calm, was what made Stan snap. He leapt forward, grabbing Ford by the front of his shirt and pushing him against the wall. The smaller boy closed his eyes, waiting for a punch. But the hit never came. He cautiously looked at Stanley, who suddenly seemed to lose all his fire. He let go of Ford and took a step back, pushing his big hands into the pockets of his varsity jacket. His voice was nothing more than a resigned mumble.
"You’re right. My existence is not your fault."
And before the young man in glasses could say anything, he ran off towards the beach.