Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ, he's never sworn so much using the name of a deity he doesn't even believe in so much in his life.
He makes his way over, he gets over to that mess on the ground that looks too much like his brother and sure enough the closer he gets the surer he is that it's him, it's Stanley, looking worse than he ever did back when they still got their noses bloodied every time they stepped into the gym.
His clothes are in shreds, his skin is too, and god there's so much blood up close, the smell of it so thick he can taste it on his tongue like an old penny and fuck, fuck, fuck this can't be happening.
It's like he walked into an episode of the Twilight Zone - everything was all nice and normal, then suddenly a shitshow was dropped into his lap out of the blue, and now he's gotta dance for the camera and show the audience how he deals with having his world turned on its ear.
Stan's babbling now, he's saying things that don't make sense, things that make too much sense that Ford doesn't wanna look too closely at right now, things he can't stop to consider because his brother is bleeding and probably - probably overdosing on who fucking knows what. Ford tries not to listen too much, tries not to let everything Stan is saying tear down what little composure he's managing to hold onto, because he needs to have his shit together right now. He needs to - Stan's saying it himself, he's, he's the big brother, he's got to fix this. He's got to find a way to make this right. He's got to do something, he's, he has to have a plan -
He finds himself taking hold of Stan's shoulders, his eyes wild more than a little wet at the edges. He has no goddamn idea what he's doing but it's something and, and he has to know what to do. He has to figure it out.
"Stanley, Stanley, it's okay, you're okay, look at me." His voice is tight when he speaks, and more than a little frantic. If he sounds like he's holding onto his vague semblance of calm by a thread, well, it's because he is.
"I'm here, okay? I'm here. I - we need to get you to a hospital, you need a doctor, a real one, not - goddamn it, twelve doctorates and not one of them in medicine, fuck me."
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He makes his way over, he gets over to that mess on the ground that looks too much like his brother and sure enough the closer he gets the surer he is that it's him, it's Stanley, looking worse than he ever did back when they still got their noses bloodied every time they stepped into the gym.
His clothes are in shreds, his skin is too, and god there's so much blood up close, the smell of it so thick he can taste it on his tongue like an old penny and fuck, fuck, fuck this can't be happening.
It's like he walked into an episode of the Twilight Zone - everything was all nice and normal, then suddenly a shitshow was dropped into his lap out of the blue, and now he's gotta dance for the camera and show the audience how he deals with having his world turned on its ear.
Stan's babbling now, he's saying things that don't make sense, things that make too much sense that Ford doesn't wanna look too closely at right now, things he can't stop to consider because his brother is bleeding and probably - probably overdosing on who fucking knows what. Ford tries not to listen too much, tries not to let everything Stan is saying tear down what little composure he's managing to hold onto, because he needs to have his shit together right now. He needs to - Stan's saying it himself, he's, he's the big brother, he's got to fix this. He's got to find a way to make this right. He's got to do something, he's, he has to have a plan -
He finds himself taking hold of Stan's shoulders, his eyes wild more than a little wet at the edges. He has no goddamn idea what he's doing but it's something and, and he has to know what to do. He has to figure it out.
"Stanley, Stanley, it's okay, you're okay, look at me." His voice is tight when he speaks, and more than a little frantic. If he sounds like he's holding onto his vague semblance of calm by a thread, well, it's because he is.
"I'm here, okay? I'm here. I - we need to get you to a hospital, you need a doctor, a real one, not - goddamn it, twelve doctorates and not one of them in medicine, fuck me."