Chapter Text
Fiddleford Hardon McGucket was a solitary fellow.
That's what his Pa would always say about him. A solitary fellow. Always kept to himself. Didn't have much in friends.
Growing up on the hog farms in Tennessee, he really had been the odd man out. He loved machinery and mechanics. He couldn't even count how many times he'd taken the family tractor apart and put back together to improve and inovate it.
But what Fiddleford saw as innovation, his family and neighbors saw as "doing too much" or "making mountains out of mole hills".
It was almost inevitable that Fiddleford left for college as soon as he could graduate from high school. Traveling all the way to California to try something new. He thought he'd finally be around like-minded peers. People who thought like him. People who would appreciate him.
But he hadn't been more wrong.
It seemed even here the Californians could only focus on the ways he was different. The way he talked. His lazy eye that drifted when he got excited. The way he'd tap his toes and patter on his legs in Hambone when he got anxious.
And as for his "innovated ideas", it seemed like folks here still found them just as silly and outlandish.
Fiddleford's face felt beet-red as he hurried back to his dorm after his very first day of college.
On the first day of physics class, the Professor asked if anyone could share some theories they knew. He had been expecting common, universally accepted theories like the Theory of Relativity by Einstein, or the Theory of Motion. Fiddleford however misinterpreted instructions and decided to share his own personal theory he'd created himself. The Universal Hologram theory.
The idea that everything we see, feel and experince is merely a hologram and not the full "hyper-reality" higher beings could perceive. Much like a 2-D figure being unable to ever understand a 3-D space, humans were incapable of seeing past the holographic reality they experienced.
Fiddleford had always liked that one. A deep thinker. The sort of idea he'd mull over on a quiet night while watch the stars, wondering what else was out there.
But no one else in class thought so. The Professor mocked his theory in front of the entire class. Calling him a wack-job.
People laughed at him.
This was suppose to be a better place. Somewhere people like him could expand and grow. But Fiddleford had never felt so shrunken-down in his life. All he wanted to do was run and hide.
And he found himself desperatly wanting to go home right then and there. He couldn't take a full year of this. Being jeered at. Being treated like a joke.
At home no one understood him, but at least they didn't mock him. They weren't cruel.
However, just as he went to grab his duffle bag, his roomate came into the room with a rush.
And that was the moment Stanford Filbrick Pines came hurtling into his life.
Though Fiddleford didn't quite know who Stanford really was at the time. But he knew they were supposed to be roomates. And they shared the same physics class as well.
Fiddleford braced himself for more taunting and jeers but Stanford didn't do that.
In fact, he looked at Fiddleford with excitement. And understanding.
Stanford beleived him.
And not only did he beleive him. But he wished to help prove his theory as well!
They spent the entire rest of the day and night pouring over notes and equations. Digging deeper into the Holographic Universe Theory. Discussing how it would work, how it impacted human perception.
"The mind is a phenomenal device!" He remembered Stanford saying. "The mind determines our reality. Rationalizing what is and isn't real, regardless of the truth. It's amazing! Isn't it?"
"I'll say." Fiddleford nodded. He'd pondered the idea for years now. It was almost surreal seeing it being made into reality now. "Reminds me of something one of my Uncles used to say. Yer Mind's the greatest prison, but it's also the greatest escape... he was incarcerated for a long time and he'd say his mind was the only thing that got him through."
If he'd told that story to anyone else, they would have only focused on the fact that his Uncle had been in prison, and disregarded anything his Uncle or even he said.
But Stanford just nodded. "Your Uncle's a wise man, have you discussed your Holographic Universe theory with him as well?"
No one had ever treated Fiddleford or his family with such respect. It almost caught him off-guard hearing Stanford ask that.
"I... uh, you see... Folks don't tend to listen to me all that often..."
"I think that's a terrible shame. Because you're brilliant, Fiddleford McGucket."
Fiddleford found he didn't quite know how to respond to that. And so, without really thinking, Fiddleford said something shockingly sincere. Straight from the heart.
"And I think you're amazing, Stanford Pines."
And he really did think so.
Stanford paused at that, looking up at Fiddleford. Blinking once, twice. As if he hadn't heard Fiddleford right.
And then he frowned. Tucking his hands behind his back.
"You know... to amaze comes from the old english root amased, or to bewilder. To literally put into a maze."
"And you certainly do." Fiddleford said simply. "To tell you the truth, I was ready to quit school today. Pack up my things and head back to Tennessee. But then you came. And you showed me my ideas are worth pursuing... it's... it's a nice change. Better than what I'm used to."
Fiddleford didn't know why but he seemed to relax at that.
And Fiddleford chuckled. "Gosh! I feel like I'm just ramblin' now."
"You're not." Stanford was quick to say. Reaching out and grabbing Fiddleford's hand in his own. "In fact... I think I know exactly how you feel. My parents, they just see me as a meal ticket. And everyone else back home thought I was a freak."
"A freak? Now why on God's green earth would anyone-"
Fiddleford discovered the answer to his question soon enough. Stanford always seemed to have large hands from far-away. But up-close now, hand in hand, Fiddleford realized exactly why.
Six fingers.
Stanford had six fingers on each hand.
"Gosh almighty..." Fiddleford sighed, thumb stroking gently across the back of Stanford's palm. "I'm so sorry Stanford. I'm sorry folks could be so cruel over something so... so..."
"Terrible?" Stanford guessed. "Grotesque?... Bewildering?"
"Simple." Fiddleford ended up saying. "I mean, it's just genetics? In fact, I'll bet it's real impressive that you have full mobility on those extra appendages! Not everyone with polydactyly can say that!"
"You know about Polydactyly?"
Fiddleford almost wanted to laugh. "Sure I do! Who doesn't?"
"You'd be surpised..." Stanford sighed. "Growing up, I'd been accused of being cursed on more than one occasion, or being a curse myself."
Hearing that broke Fiddleford's heart. "Stanford Filbrick Pines. You are not a curse. You are a man. A wonderful man. And... and you're my friend!"
A friend... Fiddleford never had many of those.
Neither did Stanford it seemed. Because in the next moment Stanford tackled him in a tight bear-hug.
Later on, as their college years continued, Fiddleford and Stanford would discover they were even closer than mere friends or collegues.
But for now, after spending nearly 24 hours awake, creating formulas and equations, talking about things they'd never told anyone before... they became exactly what they needed in that moment. What they needed the most.
Best friends.
Real friends.