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Things went differently. Not by much, but differently. Stan ruined Ford’s project. Ford found out, Stan got kicked out. But that night he left, Stan made a stop.
His gut had wanted him to put his pedal to the metal and get out of New Jersey as soon as he possibly could. Crank up the radio, roll down the windows and drive fast enough that the wind wiped away his tears for him. But as he followed the dark road that led out of town his steering wheel took him elsewhere.
The sand of Glass Shard beach crunched under his feet, and would no doubt be in his shoes before he left, but he went anyway. The cold mist coming off the surf dampened the metal chains of the swings he clung onto. He’d been white knuckling them since he first sat down, and he wasn’t sure when he’d started to lose circulation in his fingers but it was long gone.
He didn’t wanna think about it. Was doing everything in his power not to. But Stanley Pines was a useless screw up, and he couldn’t do even the basic, simplest things, like not thinking about how cold he felt inside. How his heart had dropped and his blood ran cold when Ford shut those curtains.
He wanted to be angry. He wanted so badly to be angry at Ford, at his parents, at the world, at himself. Wanted to spit and scream and punch something until he was bloody. But there was nothing. Not a damn thing left.
Stanley looked out to the ocean. Then up to the stars. He closed his eyes and faintly hoped he would open his eyes back to summer sunlight, when they were just kids getting sunburned on a beach. When he didn’t hate himself and when his brother didn’t hate him either.
He heard footsteps in the sand behind him.
“Stan?”
Stanley whipped around so hard he smacked his head on the swings chain. His knuckles popped uncomfortably as he finally unclenched his fists but he didn’t notice. His stomach felt tight as he wanted to cry all over again as Ford approached.
The two stared at each other, and the waves continued crashing.
“Ford-” Stan’s voice cracked at the first syllable and he couldn’t do it. A lump of something guilty choked his throat and he turned away, back to the ocean where he hunched forward, trying to make himself as small as possible. Maybe if he shrunk enough, Ford would forget he existed. Maybe that would be for the best.
But his brother, his dumb-smart big brother who couldn’t read a room to save his life, just stalked forward, regardless of Stan’s hopes.
The metal chains creaked as he settled into his place at Stan's side. Just like he’d always been.
Stan, not for the first or last time in his life, wished he could literally fight back the urge to cry. If he could get one solid swing on it he was certain he could knock it out; but Ford's words rang in his ears. Not everything can be solved with punching.
Ford was the one to break the silence, in the most destructive way possible.
“Why? Why did you break my machine?”
Stan sobbed.
“I- I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!” He screamed and stood up furiously, putting space between the two of them. “I fucked up! Just like I always do, and I ruined it!”
He spun around on his brother, knowing he really should just stop talking but the dam was broken and it’s not like he could make things worse. “I didn’t want you to leave, I don’t want you to go to college without me! It was supposed to be you and me together, forever, against the world just like it’s always been. But you have opportunities, you have a future, you’re gonna be something great and I’m just gonna be your dumb, lesser twin for the rest of our lives!”
“Stanley-” Ford stood too, not quite following after Stan but not willing to let him just walk away either.
Stanley continued, gesturing everything he spoke as hot tears ran down his face. “And I’m fine with that Ford! I’m fine being the loser and the idiot, because it means you’re the better one! As long as I’m being compared to you it means that I can’t be that bad, right?”
Stan ran his fingers through his hair, pulling hard like the pain could help ground him.
“I want you to be happy, Stanford. I want to watch you succeed and- and do all those great things you're gonna do but- how am I supposed to watch you be great from so far away?” His final words came out like a whimper as the emotions left him, and he wrapped his arms around himself, sinking to his knees in the sand with a sniffle.
Stan bowed his head as he cried. It’d been what, five, maybe six years since he’d cried like this? Since a cry came from someplace so deep within him that he could literally feel it ripping its way out his chest?
If they had still been that age, if they had still been who they were and not who they are now, Ford would have already been on his knees by Stan’s side, rubbing his back and comforting him; telling him it would be okay and that no matter what they would always have each other.
But they weren’t that age, and they weren’t those kids. And as usual, it was all Stan’s fault.
Ford stood away from his twin, something tight curled up in his chest as he watched his little brother sob. He wanted to step forward and wrap his arms around him but he couldn’t. The anger and the betrayal was still fresh; It held him back like a concrete wall. He had been so close to getting everything he had ever wanted, just to have it snatched away at the last second by his own brother.
But it was just an accident. Stan had said so; He didn’t do it on purpose, he was just hurt and scared and Ford wanted so badly to believe him. That it wasn’t just jealousy, that he hadn’t just ruined Ford’s chance at a great life just because he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his own.
Ford had noticed it of course, how could he not? The two were joined at the hip. Whenever discussions of the future arose Stan shut down, brushed it off, came up with some witty remark to bypass the conversation. Ford knew Stan was scared but he had just assumed it would be alright. His tougher, stronger little brother would always pull through with one of his hairbrained schemes at the last second and do something that would make everything turn out fine.
But things weren’t fine, and Ford wasn’t sure if they were going to get better.
Ford fiddled with his extra finger, where the metacarpal connected to the phalange. The thing that made him a freak, a weirdo. The thing that had kept him from so much his whole life and he looked down at the one person who had stayed by his side regardless.
Ford stepped closer to Stan and sat down in the sand beside him. He didn’t reach out, didn’t pat his shoulder. But he stayed.
Eventually Stan’s cries quieted and his breathing slowed, the crashing of the waves now only interrupted by the odd sniffle. Ford licked his lips and tasted salt.
“I don’t think I forgive you yet.”
Ford could feel Stan tense up.
“But I will, eventually.” He turned to Stan with a strained smile. “We’re brothers after all.”
Stan looked up at Ford and his dumb smile and his eyes stung afresh with new tears. He rubbed away at them and tried to force himself to relax.
“Heh, suppose that’s fair.”
The two stared out at the ocean together, and the waves continued crashing. The cold continued to nip at the two of them and Stan shivered. Ford took off his jacket and handed it over. Stan looked confused but eventually took it. The warmth encompassed him like a hug and he felt at home again. He said nothing, but knew Ford could feel his gratitude through the night air.
Ford chewed his bottom lip. He knew what he had to say, but it was going to hurt. He swallowed, sighed, and stared straight ahead as he spoke.
“I think- I think it would be a good idea if you left.”
Stan turned to his brother and felt cold all over again.
Ford raised his hands to defend himself. “I’m not saying this because I’m mad at you- I mean, I still kinda am- But I’m not saying it to hurt you.” He looked at his brother and knew right away he was looking at the same face of betrayal he had given Stan just hours earlier.
“Listen, Stanley. You and I have always been by each other our whole lives. And I will always be grateful to you for that- but we need to grow up. And I don’t- I don’t think we can do that like this.” Ford curled his knees into his chest, and turned away. He couldn’t look at him anymore, but he could keep talking.
“There’s no way in hell Pa’s going to let you come back home, not after all the money we just lost out on. He’s probably going to smack me when he finds out I sneaked out to check on you.” Ford adjusted his glasses. He heard Stanley moving beside him “I think- I think this is a good opportunity for growth for both of us! I’ll go to college at Backupsmore and when things calm down a little bit we can-”
Ford stopped talking to the sound of footsteps leaving him. He saw the hunch of Stan’s back heading to his car, and jumped to his feet chasing after him. He reached out to grab his brother's shoulder.
“Stanley, please listen to me! I know-” Stan spun around and smacked Fords hand, not as hard as he could have, but harder than he had before. Ford pulled his hand back into his chest and looked at his brother. Stan wasn’t making eye contact.
“I know, Ford. I get it. You don’t have to explain yourself. This is for the best.” The shadows made Stan’s face too dark to read and Ford had the instinct to grab him by the shoulders and shake him like a cereal box.
“No, I do have to explain myself otherwise you're going to misinterpret me and think I’m trying to get rid of you! Which I’m not!” Ford shouted, pointing an accusatory finger.
“Does it matter what you meant? I’m still leaving either way.” Stan hissed bitterly, and Ford could hear his classic scowl in his voice more than see it.
“Yes it matters, because this isn’t goodbye!” Ford shouted again, grabbing the front of Stan’s jacket. Stan looked at him with a genuine mix of confusion and pessimism.
“This isn’t goodbye.” Ford repeated, weaker. He was losing steam, the anger giving way to grief. He looked at his brother and found that he was already missing him.
Ford dragged Stan into a hug, wrapping his arms hard around him and he was relieved to feel Stan immediately hugging him back.
“This isn’t goodbye,” Ford repeated for a final time into Stanley’s shoulder. “ I’ll send you letters; we’ll call. I’ll tell you about college and you’ll tell me about all the cool people you’ve scammed out on the road.” Stan laughed and Ford clung tighter to the way it jostled him.
After a moment of silence Stan spoke softly. “Be careful out there, Sixer. You’re not gonna have me to watch your back.”
Ford relaxed, pulling away so he could look Stan in the eyes. “I’ll always have you with me.”
“Ew, you’re gonna get that sap all over me, Poindexter.
“Oh shut up,” Ford laughed, punching his twin in the shoulder. “I mean it.
“I know, Ford. I know you mean it.” Stan said warmly, throwing his arm over Ford’s shoulder. He started leading the two of them back towards his car.
“So you want me to drop you off before I head out? Maybe you can sneak me down dads wallet before I head out on my big adventure.” Stan said mischievously.
“Hah, no.” Ford laughed, “I think we’re both in enough trouble as is.”
Stan hummed and let go of Ford as they piled into the El Diablo. Stan started the car, but hesitated before he began driving. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, uncertain.
“..... Don’t tell dad you talked to me.” He said with finality.
“Wasn’t planning on it.” Ford retorted. He rolled down the window. He could still hear the waves crashing.
“And roll up that damn window, I’m getting frostbite over here.” Stan said, shifting the gear into drive
Ford laughed again, and did as he was told. The sound of the ocean cut off as the radio came on and the two took what would be their last ride in the El Diablo together for a while.
But not forever.