Conservatorship AU snippet
Fordās confliction :) pspspsps @babyblankyerror
Stanford watched from the porch as his brother ran around the yard, happily playing on the new equipment Stanford had constructed for him. It had come about as sometimes when Stanley mentally regressed to a child, he would beg to go to the local playground. He didnāt understand that it wasnāt socially appropriate for a grown man to do so, or that he was too big for the slides there.
Stanley had always looked so downtrodden when Stanford told him no. It made Stanfordās heart twinge having to look into those hopeful eyes and crush that hope each time. But he couldnāt bring his physically adult brother to the playground and disturb the real children thereānot to mention the parents and what people would think of them.
After a dozen times of this happening, Stanford had had enough. Wanting to bring a smile to Stanleyās face, he began to plan out and construct adult-sized playground equipment for his brother in his own yard. His property was certainly large enough for it, and then Stanley could play as much as he pleased.
The project had just been finished this morning, and a smile tugged at Stanfordās lips as he sipped his coffee, seeing how excited Stanley was with his new playground. It was a little funny honestly, how Stanleyās childishness had slowly started becoming endearing to him. Stanford remembered when heād first picked Stanley up at the courthouse, and how disturbing heād found his brother, watching him act like a child.
But now, after having spoken with doctors and psychiatrists and therapistsā¦ Stanford couldnāt help but wonder if maybe things were better like this. He may not know all the details of what Stanley had been through, but he knew the kind of trauma his brother had been subjected to. How the things that had been done to Stanley had been so horrific his brain had regressed back to a younger mental state as coping mechanism.
Stanley didnāt remember what had happened to him. Stanford had been told that this wasnāt abnormal; that sometimes the mind would repress traumatic memories to protect itself. Stanleyās therapist was currently working on trying to coax those memories back in a safe environment, in order to help him process them properly and recover.
But Stanford couldnāt help but wonder if maybe Stanley shouldnāt. If perhaps letting Stanley stay the way he was, regression episodes and all, would be kinder. Stanley was happy like this. Wouldnāt it be cruel to force him to remember the trauma he had been through? To wipe away the innocence he had now?
Stanford sighed, conflicted. āStanley,ā he called, ākeep both hands on the swing, please!ā
āOkay!ā Stanley yelled back, holding properly onto the chains of the swing, correcting himself from dangling precariously.
āThank you!ā
Stanley beamed at him brightly, and fondness softened Stanfordās eyes. Could he really ruin that smile? He wanted to help his brother, he wanted to do the best by Stanley that he could as Stanleyās guardian. But what if the best he could do was to allow Stanley to remain as he was? What if trying to bring back his memories and stop the age regression made things worse for him?
Stanford wanted Stanley to get better, he did. He wanted his brother back the way he should be, as a grown man both physically and mentally. Butā¦ but was that unfair to Stanley? Was it more merciful to just let him be as he is now? He didnāt want to withdraw Stanley from therapy, but was it right to make Stanley relive his traumas again?
And if it was best for Stanley to remain like this, always fluctuating between adult and child, was Stanford prepared to take care of him for the rest of their lives? Heād accepted to be Stanleyās conservator as a temporary position until Stanley was well enough to make his own decisions again. But what if that never happened?
Stanford knew that he would, in a way, lose his twin. He would cease to truly be Stanleyās brother and become something more like a parent to him. He would be responsible for Stanley for as long as they lived, looking after an adult who didnāt always know he was an adult. That was no small thing. He would be Stanleyās dedicated caretaker, always having to factor Stanley into every decision he made.
Stanford stared down into the dredges of cold coffee left in his mug. He didnāt know what to do. He didnāt want to see that childlike, joyful expression on Stanleyās face fade away forever. But it also wasnāt about what he wanted; it was about what was best for Stanley.
āSixer! Look at me!ā Stanley called happily.
Stanford looked up and squawked in alarm. At some point unbeknownst to him, Stanley had climbed fairly high up in a tree and was gleefully waving at him from a not-so-sturdy looking branch.
āStanley! Get down from there, youāre going to get hurt!ā Stanford rushed off the porch to help Stanley.
Because in the end, helping his brother was all that mattered. Whether that meant Stanley got better or not.
