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It’s been a few years since Pa kicked Stan out of the house, a year since he’s had any real food or a safe place to sleep. He’s tried to stay out of Glass Shard but the longing finally got strong enough to make him drive back to a familiar section of the beach.
He knew that he looked awful, there was no other way to describe him. His hair was greasy and unkempt, clothes disheveled and stained, and there were more holes in his shoes than not. These last few years haven’t been kind to him, too many bad deals and even worse ideas.
Just looking at the waves peacefully washing ashore hurt Stan in a way he didn’t know it could. The world kept turning even if his life was falling apart, time keeps marching with or without him. A feeling of nothingness took Stan over as he watched the world around him, the beauty of the moon lit world lost on him.
Without a single thought, Stan got out of his car and began walking. He couldn’t remember if he closed the door or locked it but it didn’t matter anyway. He had nothing but the car itself and she barely ran as is.
With a few final stumbled steps and hitched breaths, Stan looked at the Stan O’ War with a numb feeling wrapping around his body like a blanket. This was the reason he lost everything, the very thing that will be the reason Stan’s gonna die on the streets.
He thought coming here would make him feel better, give him a place to think. Instead as he looks upon the wooden boat, he feels nothing. If it disappears the only person who would care is Stan and he’s as good as dead.
Stan felt like he was in a trance as his feet took him towards the once beloved boat. He felt nothing as he flipped out his lighter and grabbed the book still on the banister from this morning, one about nautical terms and sailing tips. With a simple flick of his thumb, a single flame licked at the edge of the pages.
One moment he was standing on the deck and the next he was staring at the little bedroom he and Ford built last summer. It was full of blankets and books, stuff that they would never need now. Stan knew deep down he should take at least one blanket, something to help him live on his own, but honestly he wasn’t planning on living that long.
His hand moved of its own accord, throwing the burning book into the messy pile of blankets. Stan just stood there watching as the flames began licking at the flammable material, beginning to spread as each second passed.
Maybe he should stay here, die alongside the only dream he ever really had. It’s not like he had anything, only a pre packed duffle bag and his car. What was the point of trying to keep going, Stan was nothing anyway.
Smoke began filling the small bedroom, burning Stan’s eyes and making him cough. The smoke was the reason Stan could feel wet tears pour down his face, nothing else.
Pa always said he took the easy way out, what would be easier than just ending it all right now. Then he would just be known as a disappointment, the exact thing everyone already knew he was. It would be so easy to just lay down and die here, let the fire engulf him just like it was doing the Stan O’ War.
Before he got the chance to find a place to lie down, a hand grabbed Stan’s elbow and ripped him out of the room. It began dragging him away from the smoke burning his lungs making him twist around to match the pace of the person. Through his blurry sight he could have swore that he was being pulled out by someone in the same yellow shirt Ford loves so much.
The feeling of clean air hurt like lemon juice in a paper cut, making Stan cough violently. The hand ignored the stumbling steps and if anything, they quickened the pace. Ripping at his arm as they pulled him over the banister of the flaming ship, not caring as Stan was unable to keep his footing. Without waiting for him to stand up again, they dragged him through the sand until he could no longer feel the heat and the cool feeling of wet sand met his cheeks.
From where they were, the sound of heavy breathing and waves crashing against the shore drowned out the sound of crackling wood. His arm was suddenly let go, hitting the sand with a dull thud. Stan heard the person drop to their knees and muffled sobs from where he lay limp in the sand.
“Stanley?” a wavering voice asked, sounding suspiciously like Ford. The voice was thick and scared, leading Stan to know that it couldn’t be Ford.
The sound of shuffling fabric slowly moved closer the longer Stan couldn’t get his mouth to move. He felt stuck where he was, breathing through the sand on the beach and limp where the person stopped dragging him.
A six fingered hand grabbed his shoulder and with a grunt of effort managed to flip his body over. It was much easier to breath this way but sand trickled down into his eyes, making him let out a hiss of pain.
With strength Ford rarely used, he hauled Stan to his feet and wrapped him in a tight hug. Stan couldn’t get his arms to move to return it, just standing there loosely in his brother’s grasp. A sudden gasp came from Ford before Stan was thrust out of the hug and held at arm's length by the shoulders by his twin.
“What were you doing you knucklehead!” Ford screamed in his face as he viciously shook Stan by his shoulders, “You could have died of smoke inhalation, you were just standing there in the smoke and not moving! Is that what you wanted, to die in that stupid boat!”
Stan couldn’t find a way to muster any energy to be mad, just a dull spark that fizzled out before it could do anything at his brother's words. It didn’t matter anyway, once Ford was done here Stan would be alone again. He would be alone and left with the knowledge that the only dream he had ever worked towards was literally up in smoke.
Pulling his eyes away from Ford, Stan just watched the flames start pouring out of different openings. Each flicker took more and more of what was once the only thing that Stan really cared about outside of his twin, now just like everything else it was falling in on itself. All of this was happening because of Stan, it was all his fault.
Maybe it always had been, everything bad that’s ever happened was probably his fault. Stan was a plague on this earth and somehow he never noticed, it was good that Ford finally did. Although he did wish that Ford gave up on him before his dreams went up in smoke like the Stan O’ War.
“Are you even listening to me, you idiot!” Ford was so mad he was spitting, his face red as his twelve fingers tightened to the point of bruises. “You could have died!”
Slowly tearing his hollow eyes away from the Stan O’ War, Stan noticed how wet Ford’s eyes were. If he didn’t know it was from the smoke Stan would have thought that Ford was actually scared and worried for him. But he did know better, the only reason Ford saved him was because he was a good person. No other reason, his twin was always better than him.
“It doesn’t matter Ford,” Stan mumbled out, deep weariness making his shoulders sag in his twin’s iron grip, “You should go home.”
Ford’s face spasmed for a moment, flickering through too many emotions for Stan to parse out. That hurt more than the smoke in his lungs, the idea that just one year apart took that away from him.
“It doesn’t matter!” Ford screamed incredulously, finally stopping the shaking. “You could have died and your response is; It Doesn’t Matter! ”
Ford viciously bit out the last three words, punctuating each one by leaning forward and gritting his teeth together. For just a moment the brothers were nose to nose, Ford’s heavy breathing and rage filled eyes the only thing that Stan could focus on. Then Ford pushed Stan backwards, making him stumble back as Ford turned and started pacing.
Stan would have thought that his brother would have already left, good deed done and all that. Instead here he was, pacing a line in the sand as he rambled to himself and waved his hands around.
“What were you thinking, about any of this!” Ford spun to face him and pointed a finger in his face. “There were so many ways this could have gone wrong and killed you! ”
Ford stopped for a moment, just staring at Stan while panting heavily. Then another flash of rage and fear entered his eyes, taking in a breath to start up again.
“You should have left me.” Stan blurted out, cutting whatever rant his twin was about to start. Somewhere deep inside him, Stan knew that if he made it to tomorrow he would regret that. But in the end Ford needed to stop thinking of him at all, he’s surprised that Ford was so mad at all honestly.
“Left you!” Ford’s vitriol seemed to simmer for a moment before coming back tenfold. “What, and let you die in that fucking boat!”
Stan just nodded before he could stop himself, shocking Ford out of whatever he was about to say. His twin worked on logic, how could he not see that was the best outcome of the night.
“I’m not worth saving Ford. I’m worthless. There is nothing redeemable about me, no good quality. Everyone was right,” Stan spoke in a monotone voice, unable to really feel anything. A blanket of nothingness covered him as he watched Ford’s face turn an even brighter red. “I’m just the stupid spare parts you didn’t need in the womb. I was born to live off your scraps, to be nothing more than a burden.”
How his genius brother put up with him for so many years confuses Stan, it was so clear that Ford was the better human. Anything Stan could do, Ford would do ten times better. Why would he choose to stay with Stan after the bullies stopped? Once they were old enough and Ford was every teacher's favorite, no one really attacked him. It was great other than how it made Stan useless, more than he had been before.
After a moment of Ford just staring at him with an open mouth, Stan let his eyes drift back to the fully engulfed boat. He wishes he could have stayed on it while it burned, go up in smoke just like all the dreams it used to hold. That ship was the only good thing Stan’s ever done in the world and it wasn’t even worth it.
If Ford wasn’t going to let him die onboard the Stan O’ War then he should get out of Glass Shard before Pa found him. He didn’t know if Filbrick would beat him but better to assume the worst than be shocked by it. The last thing he needed was a hospital bill he couldn’t pay now that he was going to have to live, at least until he found another good way out.
Stan tried shaking his brother’s hands off his shoulders but it just made him tighten his grip. With a small frown, Stan looked back at the now ashen face of his twin. Ford’s mouth was still open and his eyes wide, his body tense and trembling slightly. Stan twisted around to make sure there was nothing that would cause his brother to be so scared but as he thought the beach was empty except for them.
It was time to leave, else he might be tempted to think Ford’s fear was for Stan . “You need to let me go, Ford.”
“Let you go?” Ford sounded offended as he whispered the words.
Stan nodded again as he hummed out an affirmative, dull eyes locked onto Ford’s. There was no need to talk out loud and waste energy when he already needed some to walk to his car. Maybe he could drive Ford back to wherever he was supposed to be before leaving New Jersey for good. Nothing good, except Ford and Shermie, came from New Jersey.
Ford pulled him out of his musings by leaning into his face to scream at him, “Why do you want this so bad! You are my brother and I love you, why can’t you see that!”
He didn’t understand why Ford was fighting so hard to act like he loved him, why couldn’t he just let him go. It would be so much easier for everyone if he just listened to what the world was telling them. Stan was not needed by anything, everyone hated him, and he was a mistake .
“Ford, just move on. It’s just the nostalgia that makes you think you love me. It’s okay, I’ll move outta state for good.” Stan just couldn’t seem to muster up enough energy to even fake a smile for his brother. The numbness was covering every crevice of his soul, dulling what should be some kind of hurt.
“What so you can kill yourself somewhere else!”
Stan just shrugged, “maybe.”
“Maybe? Maybe!” Ford screamed, “This is not a joke Stanley! It’s your life that you are playing with!”
Ford had tears streaming down his face, more fear and sadness than rage in his eyes. It was clear that he wasn’t really mad at Stan, he was just scared. But that made no sense, Stan was worthless. A nobody that deserved to die a forgotten John Doe, at least then people could assume he made it big.
“If I wasn’t here would you have left the ship? Would you have let yourself die on the last bastion of our childhood, burn away and hope no one would mourn?”
“It’s not like you care, Ford.” Stan spit out, he didn’t mean it. Not really at least, but this was the only way for Ford to let him go. “It was a stupid idea anyway. The whole dream of sailing away, of escaping New Jersey with you. We were never meant to stay together forever, I just didn’t see that. Everyone else knew, everyone except me.”
Stan paused for a moment, pushing the feelings clawing their way to the surface back down. He needed to get Ford to back down from this savior mentality, to get his twin back on track to becoming who he was meant to be.
“I’m sorry that I probably dragged you down for so long, wish I would just like run away when we were young or something. Then you woulda had everything you’ve ever wanted. Instead you got your dreams crushed and wasted your childhood helpin’ me”
Ford’s face spasmed for just a moment before he leaned back, “Is that what you think our formative years were? A waste.”
“Not for me, I was selfish and enjoyed them. But you could have done so much if I just wasn’t there, woulda been better. I’m sorry for being so selfish and riding your coattails. I’m nothing but a worthless, dirty, lying, gifter just like everyone said.”
Ford just looked at him with furrowed brows, “You are still my twin, my brother Stanley!”
“I wasn’t supposed to exist, Stanford!” Stan screamed, the emotions once forgotten finally boiling over, “Why can’t you just let me leave, you won’t hear or see me again. It’s better that way.”
Ford stomped his foot into the ground, shaking with emotion. “Why can’t you understand that I don’t want that!”
Stan opened his mouth for a retort just to be cut off by his twin.
“You were supposed to come right back,” Ford screamed, “not leave for years ! I thought that once a few days passed you would come home, that we would graduate together. Instead you never came back, I even stayed at the Stan O’ War waiting for you!”
Ford was heaving in the air, fighting to keep his lungs working. “I went to college thinking you were dead ! I had no idea where you were or if you were okay, now here you are trying to kill yourself for real.”
Stan didn’t know what to do, Ford wasn’t supposed to care. This wasn’t something he had ever thought would happen, no one cared about Stanley. Why would they, he was just the extra, the spare parts.
“You should have just let me go the moment you closed the curtains, Ford.” Stan whispered out in a last ditch effort to make Ford understand. With a quivering lip, Ford closed the distance between them. Looking Stan over as he took in the small scars and broken look in his brother's face.
“Please,” Ford begged, “Come with me, we can figure this out Lee.”
“I’m tired Ford,” Tears started welling up in Stan’s eyes, “I’m so tired .”
Ford gathered Stan into his arms, holding him tight to his chest as he rocked them back and forth. Just whispering words of affirmation as Stan finally broke down, crying at the unforgiving world.
“We’ll figure it out Stan,” Ford mumbled into his brother’s hair, “I won’t leave you again.”