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He’d taken pity on the kid that day, inviting him to stay at the Shack after hours to “watch a movie, or whatever.” When his morose expression finally lifted and glimmered as bright as one of his Fourth of July firecrackers, Stan knew he’d made the right decision. He knew how rough this day was for the kid. Might as well offer him a little something to help make it better. Of course, to be fair Soos wasn’t actually a kid anymore since it was his eighteenth birthday, but no matter. Once Stan passed fifty, suddenly everyone was a kid in his mind.
“What we gonna watch, Mr. Pines?” Soos asked with wide, eager eyes, munching away on a thick slice of meat lover’s pizza.
Stan finished off his third, and promptly licked the grease off his fingers. “It’s your birthday, kid,” he said. “Pick whatever you want.”
Soos set down his plate and crawled across the plush carpet to the video cabinet. Opening the wobbly doors revealed two shelves full of VHS tapes, ranging from old 60s westerns, to black and white period pieces, to a good selection of the 80s greatest hits. He didn't own anything recent. Rather, the odd mishmash of entertainment was just as antiquated as Stan himself. He watched with intrigue as the kid began shuffling through his selection.
“Let’s see, you have Return From the Past... Grandpa the Kid: The Long Nap... Exterminators...” He piled VHS tapes on the carpet, digging through to the back of the video cabinet. Seeing something he must have recognized, he flashed a toothy grin. “Oooh, you have the entire original trilogy of Galaxy Wars!” he exclaimed, holding the tapes up. “Those are like, my favorite movies in the whole world!“
Cold, bitter recognition caused Stan’s heart to sink about as far as his butt did in the cushion of this chair.
“Heh, those nerd movies?” Stan jokingly scoffed, scratching at the nape of his neck. “That really what ya’ wanna watch?”
“Sure, if you’re okay with it.”
He made a dramatic show of deciding their evening’s fate, pursing his lips and stroking his chin like a second rate Bond villain. “Hmmm. Well, I did say whatever you want... Sure, sure, pop ‘em in. Hell- heck, might as well make a full night of it, watch all three.”
“Really??” Soos beamed. He nearly stumbled over his feet running to the couch, and suddenly Stan found himself smothered in the sturdy, earnest embrace of this young man. “Thank you, thank you, Mr. Pines!”
He popped in the first movie of the original trilogy and settled in at the foot of the couch, the two sharing a six pack of Pitt Cola and a bowl of popcorn between them. Every few minutes, Soos would rattle off a “fun fact” about one of the actors in the movie, or how they filmed a certain scene, or how they recorded the lightsaber noise. Stan nodded as he listened, genuinely impressed with the sheer breadth of knowledge he had about all this. It reminded him a lot of- well. No matter. No sense in letting his mind wander in distant memory tonight.
“Hey, you know what’s funny?” Soos asked after they finished the second one. “Your copy of Return of the Jedi totally doesn’t match the others, dude.”
He cracked open another can of soda. “Oh, that?” he muttered. “Well, I bought it some years after the others, so of course it wouldn’t.”
He didn’t even buy the first two. That was- well, it was his brother. Ford. He was the nerdy one who was into all this sci-fi space battle stuff. Stan found them shoved in a closet a year or so after That Winter. They were some of the only movies Ford owned. Curiosity pulling at his heart, he watched the two- Galaxy Wars: A New Hope and Galaxy Wars: The Empire Strikes Back- while nursing a beer one night. (All right, so maybe it more than one beer.) The point is, they were some of Ford’s few personal belongings beyond mere academic awards or boring textbooks or clothing, so they must have meant something truly special to him, right? When he finished the second movie and realized there was a third one- one that Ford had never gotten to see, because of you, because you pushed him too far- he drove himself to the video store and snatched up the first copy he could get his hands on. He wanted his brother to have it, if when he finally came back. He watched it alone that night, imagining how Ford might react to the plot twists. How Ford would gleefully pick apart the bad Hollywood science. He totally didn’t cry at the end when the galaxy was saved. Or when Yoda died. Or when he realized Luke and Leia were twins. Nope, he definitely didn’t shed a single tear over this silly movie franchise, not at all.
He hadn’t watched through these movies since. They brought up too many melancholy memories for his own comfort, he supposed. Too many ghosts of the past. And now, watching it with Soos, the kid's childlike excitement constantly reminded him of Ford...
The way his eyes would light up at any new discovery.
The depth at which he cared for the characters in the fictional shows he watched in his youth.
Soos let out a yawn towards the beginning of the third movie, and curled up closer against the foot of the couch. His commentary was few and far between this time. It was late, about half past eleven. Stan could tell the kid was nearly tuckered out. Still, when the scene came when Luke realized he and Leia were twins, brother and sister, for some unknown reason he felt compelled to say something.
“Y’know,” he said quietly, “I’ve never told ya’, or anyone else here, but I’ve got a twin. A brother. Ford... He’s just as nerdy as you, actually.”
Stan let out a soft chuckle, his words fading into silence as he realized what he’d just admitted. What he’d never told a single living soul in this entire town, what he’d never entrusted to anyone.
“I... I miss him a lot, kid. A whole damn lot.” He tugged at the collar of his undershirt, suddenly feeling indescribably uncomfortable at sharing such personal detail, and yet all the same... Once he’d started rambling, he found that he couldn’t stop, like deep down he needed this release. “Heh, I suppose that’s why I get ya’ so much. Why your birthday’s such a hard time. ‘Coz... anymore, my own’s not that great either, y’know?”
The sudden silence prickled at his nerves. He glanced down at the kid, aching for any sort of vocal or non-vocal response, heart thrumming in the silence he left his admission to die in, and...
Soos’ mouth was wide open, breathing gently in and out.
The kid had already fallen asleep.
He almost barked in laughter. It was just his luck, wasn’t it? The one moment he tried opening up to another human person for once, and no one was awake to hear it. Perhaps this was the world’s way of telling him that no one else needed to know. It was his burden to bear, his past. He’d hate to force the kid to carry that knowledge with him too, and on his birthday no less.
Carefully, Stan pulled himself to his feet with a grunt. He nabbed a spare blanket from his own bed, and then returned to the TV room. With a watery smile, he tucked the blanket around Soos’ sleeping form.
“G’night, squirt. Happy birthday.”