There's a point, you know, sometimes there's a point where you have to put your foot down, a point where you have to make a stand and say "alright, that's enough." This? This moment right here, where Stan is looking at him like he's not really there, talking about him like he'll go away unless he poisons his brain with even more of whatever the fuck that pill in his hand is? That's Ford's breaking point. That's where he draws the line in the sand and decides no, no, fuck it, he can't do this anymore, he can't keep going along with this delusion.
Ford drops to one knee, lowers himself down so he's eye- to eye with his brother, and he grabs his hand - curls it over the fist holding tight to that pill - and he squeezes tight.
"Stanley." You'd think he'd follow that up with something, but no, no all he does is look at his brother and feel sick while looking at him because he had hoped if he had just played along long enough he'd have time to figure things out, to figure out what to do. But he can't do that, he can't go along with this anymore and he still doesn't have any goddamn idea what he's going to do and he's sorry.
He's supposed to be the one with the plan, the one who always knows what to do because knowing things is all he's good for. What does that say about him, if he can't even do this one thing, this one thing his brother needs him to do?
"I'm not going anywhere." He adds, just to say something, just - just to make it seem like he's got some sort of plan here, some sort of inkling of what he's doing.
"I'm here, okay?" He reaches out, curling his hand around the back of his brother's head, his fingers tangling in his unruly hair just to emphasize his point, to really drive it home. "I'm here. I'm here for you, and you don't - you don't need to take anything to make me stay. You don't need to do anything, alright? Just - just trust me, please. I need you to believe me. I need you to believe I'm not going anywhere."
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Ford drops to one knee, lowers himself down so he's eye- to eye with his brother, and he grabs his hand - curls it over the fist holding tight to that pill - and he squeezes tight.
"Stanley." You'd think he'd follow that up with something, but no, no all he does is look at his brother and feel sick while looking at him because he had hoped if he had just played along long enough he'd have time to figure things out, to figure out what to do. But he can't do that, he can't go along with this anymore and he still doesn't have any goddamn idea what he's going to do and he's sorry.
He's supposed to be the one with the plan, the one who always knows what to do because knowing things is all he's good for. What does that say about him, if he can't even do this one thing, this one thing his brother needs him to do?
"I'm not going anywhere." He adds, just to say something, just - just to make it seem like he's got some sort of plan here, some sort of inkling of what he's doing.
"I'm here, okay?" He reaches out, curling his hand around the back of his brother's head, his fingers tangling in his unruly hair just to emphasize his point, to really drive it home. "I'm here. I'm here for you, and you don't - you don't need to take anything to make me stay. You don't need to do anything, alright? Just - just trust me, please. I need you to believe me. I need you to believe I'm not going anywhere."