The need to move, move, move, to go go go and be gone, dissolves into something deeper and greater, when Ford, when he sees his brother close to him lookin' all well off, all big and grown up, like the guy Stan knew but more. There's a bigger need there, one that's been digging even deeper into him than the need to go, the need to move and never stop moving and once that big grown up Ford gets close enough Stan clutches at his clothes again and pulls at him again and tries to hallucinate all close up and a sob breaks out of him again because it's so real, he gets what all those people mean when they're all into their visions and sayin' they met Ghandi or some shit, because it's just like if his brother, his big brother, "You always liked to say you were the older one, the big, the big brother. What if you didn't care that I screwed up, what if, if you went after me and found me before, before um, jeez, Ford, it was so hot in there, that was the thing, it was so hot and it smelled like dirty socks and BO, it smelled like me and it tasted like rust, and the high hit halfway through and it was all, it was all-"
He lets himself lean forward, let someone else take his weight for once, take all the stains where the bloody drool oozes down out of Stan's mouth whenever he tries to force words out around the mass of screaming fuck that his mouth's decided to be right now, he closes his eyes and he sags and, for a second, for just a second, he lets himself believe.
Or, well, he tries. There's still that part of him that wakes up whenever he runs a con, the part that remembers what's a lie so the rest of Stanley, heart and soul, can keep on believing whatever shit he just spouted so it comes out sounding real. Well, he's gonna' con himself right now, if that's as close as he's gonna' get, that's fine. Stan Pines knows a big break when he sees one, and he can't count on getting a chance like this again.
He wants to make good on that chance, say something, all the things he always wanted to say to Ford, all the things he thought, late at night, that maybe, just maybe, and then shut those thoughts away once the sun started to rise, he wants to say all those things but his thick tongue can't get any of it out around the sobs because guess what, if he can't run if he can't go go go and he can't fight and if Ford's here in front of him, something his here and safe - well, maybe it's okay. Maybe it's okay. He lets himself sob, lets himself curl up against his big brother, his older brother, the brother who has his shit together because maybe, just this once, just for a little bit, Stan Pines can get exactly what he wants.
"Come for me. Come for me, Ford, please, please, I know I screwed up but I promise I can make it right, I can make it all right if I can just, just live through today, if I live a little longer I can figure out how to make up for everything. You'll see, just stick around and I'll make it worth it, just pretend you're still here 'till I get my feet back under me. Just, Ford, wherever you are, please. Please."
There it is. He was wondering what he was praying for, earlier, and look at Stan doin' it right this time. That musta' been why those prayers weren't coming true earlier, he was just putting 'em in the wrong mailbox.
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He lets himself lean forward, let someone else take his weight for once, take all the stains where the bloody drool oozes down out of Stan's mouth whenever he tries to force words out around the mass of screaming fuck that his mouth's decided to be right now, he closes his eyes and he sags and, for a second, for just a second, he lets himself believe.
Or, well, he tries. There's still that part of him that wakes up whenever he runs a con, the part that remembers what's a lie so the rest of Stanley, heart and soul, can keep on believing whatever shit he just spouted so it comes out sounding real. Well, he's gonna' con himself right now, if that's as close as he's gonna' get, that's fine. Stan Pines knows a big break when he sees one, and he can't count on getting a chance like this again.
He wants to make good on that chance, say something, all the things he always wanted to say to Ford, all the things he thought, late at night, that maybe, just maybe, and then shut those thoughts away once the sun started to rise, he wants to say all those things but his thick tongue can't get any of it out around the sobs because guess what, if he can't run if he can't go go go and he can't fight and if Ford's here in front of him, something his here and safe - well, maybe it's okay. Maybe it's okay. He lets himself sob, lets himself curl up against his big brother, his older brother, the brother who has his shit together because maybe, just this once, just for a little bit, Stan Pines can get exactly what he wants.
"Come for me. Come for me, Ford, please, please, I know I screwed up but I promise I can make it right, I can make it all right if I can just, just live through today, if I live a little longer I can figure out how to make up for everything. You'll see, just stick around and I'll make it worth it, just pretend you're still here 'till I get my feet back under me. Just, Ford, wherever you are, please. Please."
There it is. He was wondering what he was praying for, earlier, and look at Stan doin' it right this time. That musta' been why those prayers weren't coming true earlier, he was just putting 'em in the wrong mailbox.