doing art or whatever

Growing up, they were two peas in a pod. Stanford was the brains, the cool twin with the cool extra finger and Stanley was the other one.

The two wouldn't go anywhere alone, even as toddlers it was hard to separate them when they needed to use the bathroom– eventually they learned there were just some things they had to do alone.

Still, Stan was always there to support his nerdy brother. When Ford had a presentation after school, he would skip boxing practice to make it, if Ford wanted to attend a new science club, Stan would tag along despite having no interest, Ford had some new quirky interest and wanted to ramble, Stan was there to listen always even when he didn't understand it.

The point is, Stan never really changed. He stayed the brother he always was, always sticking close just in case his twin needed someone, always there making jokes when his brother was upset and always there to punch bullies when Ford was threatened.

He didn't change. Ford did.

Suddenly, Ford didn't like when Stan distracted him from getting in too deep in his head. Suddenly, Ford found his jokes too childish. Suddenly, everything Stan did was annoying to Ford.

It was one day when he got into trouble in class for, admittedly, taking it too far that Ford seemed to finally snap. Stan had been desperate, okay? Ford hadn't been talking nearly as much with him, avoided working on the Stan O War and would roll his eyes whenever Stan suggested something nerdy just for him! So Sue him!

Stan had been getting low grades, the usual, messing about in class, in classic class clown action, and trying to get his brother to laugh just a little at him– Heck, Stan would've taken a slight huff with a smile! Then, the teacher ruined it for them all and sent Stan to the principal's office, whatever.

It was when Stan was finally free from the clutches of the principal that the trouble really began.

He raced out, catching Ford just in time to walk home together, called to him and barely managed to set his hand on his brother's shoulder before it was promptly smacked away by a– get this– six fingered hand!

“You always do this!” His brother had spun around, face screwing up into that angry owl look of his while Stan's hand was still frozen up from where it had been slapped away.

“For once in your life, can you take anything seriously?!” His brother shouted, which was rare and Stan definitely didn't like considering how much he was shouted at by adults already. He was never a fan of shouts but he simply lowered his hand, staring at his brother as he caught his breath.

A few students paused to watch and Stan could hear the whispers and snickers, his ears growing hot as he controlled his expression and bubbling embarrassment in order not to turn into self-defence fury.

Stanford surely could have waited until they got home to argue, couldn't he?

“Come on, Sixer, I was just messing around–”

“That's all you ever do, Stanley! Mess around! Mess things!” Stanford interrupted and then, with a cool and cruel voice proceeded to say “I refuse to be there to pick up after your messes anymore”

With that Stanford left, walking home alone despite the fact they had the same destination.

Okay. So maybe his attempt to get closer to his brother had been all wrong, yeah. Still, Stan was trying, Ford wasn't.

No, all Ford ever did was push him away but keep him on a leash, close enough to tug in case he needs him but making sure there is distance for God knows what.

Stanley didn't change, he stayed the same boy that Stanford would laugh, play and joke with. Stanford is the one who changed…

So why is Stanford the one who is angry here? If anything, Stanley is the one who should be angry here.

It had been nearly a week of petty harrumph and cold shoulders from Stanford and maybe a little bit of self-reflection from Stan and a lot of working in the shop or cleaning the house before Stan came to a realisation while laying in bed late that night…

He is so fucking bored.

Usually, he and Ford had things to do together from playing around, lounging together, reading (Stan reading comics), to random exploring and so on… Now everything seemed rather… stale.

It was like that time when his brother was sick and Stan hadn't been allowed near him at all. Stan had spent so long just messing around, maybe being more destructive than usual before just… deciding to sit down and space out. His mother had said it had been the greatest two days of her life, the day when Ford was slowly recovering from his fever and Stan finally managed to behave.

And maybe Stan would've been offended, maybe he was a little still, but to be honest…. Yeah. Valid. He was a nightmare as a kid.

It was during boxing that the boredom seemed to really creep in, though. The whispers of other students crawling up his spine a little more every day, the way some of the other teens would try poke him into fighting his own twin (“personally, I wouldn't let that slide”), the happy expression of his mother from having Stan behave once again, the indifferent look of his father instead of the usual scowl…

Stan stood in his usual pose, hopping foot from foot, and despite seeing the punch coming, he didn't react at all.

He was sent home. Busted lip and spinning head. Coach made sure to tell his father how disappointed he was and Ford didn't even bat an eye.

Unlike the night Ford snapped, his father didn't send him to his room without dinner. However, that usual disappointed scowl returned… Stan noticed it as his mother helped clean his face up.

☆

You may think it was a one time thing but Stan may or may have not let it occur more than once. He may have sat back, listening to his father shout about how he just had to be a failure in everything, including boxing.

“Stop that” Ford muttered when he entered his room with a few too many bruises, nose stuffed with paper to stop the bleeding.

“If you think you can get pity from getting beaten up, you are very wrong, Stanley”

Stanley did not stop.

A fight at school once or twice, boxing where he'd welcome the punches, dizzy spells from when his head was knocked too hard and maybe talking back to his father once or twice before standing back to receive a beating from him as well.

“Stop that! It's distracting” his twin would whine when his father spent a good while in a screaming match with him, only silenced by a belt.

Stan did not stop.

Eventually, whatever that boredom streak was, started turning internal.

Stan found himself biting his nails too far or scratching his scalp too much, testing random limits he may have such as how long he could stay underwater or how close he can get to a flame…

It was one certain morning that the boredom finally hit like a wave, rolling him and pulling him under, hitting him against the rocks until he is stopped of anything human, that Stan looked to his notebook and thought–

“Might as well”

Stan began paying attention in class. He began actually answering the problems on the board even though he couldn't see that well and the sheets of paper, taking notes of he wasn't busy doodling.

The first time he handed the answers on a little sheet over, he got yelled at for copying Ford which got said twin covering his work with his arm and turning his body against Stan like Stan wanted to steal all his pens and notebook.

Fortunately, Stan stayed behind to ask the teacher to move seats. He's sure Ford would be ecstatic over it and like that Stan could finally see the board.

The next morning, when the teacher made him and some girl in the front change seats, Stan didn't get to see his brother's satisfaction. Although… Ford seemed far more grumpy than usual by the time he arrived home.

There was a weird vibe settling in the school between Stan and his teachers. A sort of questioning and expectation from him.

Teachers began being nicer to him, being less snappy and making less back-handed comments, they didn't call on him as much or smack his hand with a ruler, Stan even managed to catch a little appreciative nod from his maths teacher and that's like getting a nobel prize for him.

At home, no one really questioned Stan. Then again, Stan supposes they were happy with the peace and quiet for once.

At home, there wasn't anymore loud laughs or dumb jokes, no random singing trying to coax a smile from Ford or their mother into a song. It was quiet just the way everyone must have always wanted.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Stan couldn't handle the silence. He would get in his car and drive off to the piercings where he could sit and watch the sunset while wasting his battery to listen to the radio. To listen to anything, anyone talking.

Other times he stayed home, unwilling to move and just stuck reading, writing or working on homework. Drawing didn't seem as fun nowadays, it wasn't so fun when there was no one to see his creations or encourage his stupid dreams…

Speaking of dreams, he wonders how the Stan O War is doing. The old gal must be rotting from the inside out if some teens haven't found her and made it their hang out drinking spot. Stan would bet the place was covered in piss and beer cans by now… the thought made his chest tighten.

Still, it had been a nice dream, leaving Glass Shard beach. An excuse he had made in order to help Ford find somewhere where he belonged when, really, it was just Stan being selfish again and wanting the safety of Ford and no one else to hurt them.

“What are you doing?”

Stan blinked, not having processed being talked to right away. Looking up, he found his twin hovering over him, looking down at where Stan laid on his bed.

Seeing his brother's impatient expression morph into annoyance, Stan realised he should probably answer.

“Uh… reading…?” Perhaps some sass managed to come out towards the end but it was all drowned out by the confusion.

“Since when do you read?” Ford huffed as though the very idea of it offended him.

“I've always read”

“Yeah. Comics.”

What…what was going on right now? Stan didn't know what to say or how to react to this conversation. He is a little hurt with the way Ford is talking to him, if he's honest, but with how everyone talks to Stan in the same manner… he supposes it was only a matter of time.

“Is this one of your new tactics?” His brother asked, arms crossing “first you let yourself lose in boxing matches on purpose– I've seen it, by the way, you could've easily blocked a lot of those punches.”

“Then you start arguments with father like you have some death wish, scratch your scalp until it bleeds and now… now you read” frustrated, Ford gestures towards the book Stan is holding.

“I mean– moving seats in class, really, Stanley? Just how immature can you be? I'm the one who is upset with you, not the other way around” finally, Stan sorta understands something Ford is saying because so far Ford has just been listing random shit Stan does.

“I couldn't see the board” Stan blinks again.

“Oh yeah, sure– Suddenly you can't see the blackboard”

“I've never been able to see the board?”

To this Ford blinks at him, all annoyance gone in seconds, replaced by confusion.

“And– well, I thought you'd like the change” Stan sits up a bit to shrug.

“Why would I like the change?” Ford immediately latched onto that as a reason to be upset with Stan again “We have always sat next to each other! Always!”

Once again, Stan doesn't know what to say to whatever Ford is saying and… it's quite nerve-wracking really. He always knew what to say and what Ford meant but… right now he couldn't find the reasoning behind this conversation.

Not to mention, it was weird. Stan was sure he should be jumping at the chance to talk to Ford again, that he should be happy that Ford is talking to him, that somehow his actions dragged a reaction from his brother again.

“Wait– you've been coming to my boxing matches” Stan closes his book and apparently that's not the right thing to say because Ford's face goes a little red from anger and he makes a frustrated sound.

“NO!”

“But earlier you said–”

“Whatever! Don't bother me! I'm studying!” With that, Ford cut their conversation (somehow it felt more of an interrogation) short and sat at his desk, grumbling to himself before muttering to Stan–