Stan talks. He talks a whole lot, and for the first time in a long while Ford lets him. He doesn't interrupt, doesn't interject with a protest or a correction even though God Knows he's got plenty of them to make. He just sits there, and he listens, and he lets his brother's words cut him deep and hollow him out like paring knives.
When he finally stops, once he finally runs out of words to gut him with, Ford feels tired. Not the kind of tired he's used to, but the bone-deep kind, the kind that settles in your soul and makes your whole body feel too heavy to keep carrying around.
God, he needs a drink.
Stanley still wants to help. He still wants to fight for him, even after - he said it himself, he said it just now, he can't even remember what kind of cigarettes their mother liked, or what Mr. Dagget's name was. He can't remember because he wasn't around, because he didn't get to be, because his own brother didn't even say anything to keep him from losing everything and it doesn't matter that speaking up wouldn't have done a goddamn thing, at least he would have said something.
Ford takes in a deep, ragged breath. The hand that isn't holding onto his brother's wrist moves up to his eyes, to wipe them or cover them, it's hard to say.
"...I never should have left you that message."
His voice cracks a little, but he's so past giving a damn anymore that he doesn't even try to cover it up.
"I never - I never should have let you get involved in this. I should have turned you away at the door, I should have made you hate me, at least then you'd be safe from all this."
His grip on Stan's wrist tightens, and when Ford looks up at his brother his eyes are red and watery, but they know better than to even try to shed any tears.
"I don't want you to get hurt, Stanley. You've done enough of that, because of me, but I - God, I need you, I - I can't do this by myself anymore and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I dragged you into this, I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to say no. I - I'm sorry I--"
Fuck, there goes his throat, closing up on him. Even swallowing and dragging in a deep breath won't seem to open it again, so hopefully Stanley can make sense of the words inside the rasp that escapes him next.
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When he finally stops, once he finally runs out of words to gut him with, Ford feels tired. Not the kind of tired he's used to, but the bone-deep kind, the kind that settles in your soul and makes your whole body feel too heavy to keep carrying around.
God, he needs a drink.
Stanley still wants to help. He still wants to fight for him, even after - he said it himself, he said it just now, he can't even remember what kind of cigarettes their mother liked, or what Mr. Dagget's name was. He can't remember because he wasn't around, because he didn't get to be, because his own brother didn't even say anything to keep him from losing everything and it doesn't matter that speaking up wouldn't have done a goddamn thing, at least he would have said something.
Ford takes in a deep, ragged breath. The hand that isn't holding onto his brother's wrist moves up to his eyes, to wipe them or cover them, it's hard to say.
"...I never should have left you that message."
His voice cracks a little, but he's so past giving a damn anymore that he doesn't even try to cover it up.
"I never - I never should have let you get involved in this. I should have turned you away at the door, I should have made you hate me, at least then you'd be safe from all this."
His grip on Stan's wrist tightens, and when Ford looks up at his brother his eyes are red and watery, but they know better than to even try to shed any tears.
"I don't want you to get hurt, Stanley. You've done enough of that, because of me, but I - God, I need you, I - I can't do this by myself anymore and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I dragged you into this, I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to say no. I - I'm sorry I--"
Fuck, there goes his throat, closing up on him. Even swallowing and dragging in a deep breath won't seem to open it again, so hopefully Stanley can make sense of the words inside the rasp that escapes him next.
"I'm sorry for everything."