Ford can feel something twist inside him, twist and snap like a fractured bone. His brother, his stupid, hopeless, loyal brother is sitting there and telling him he deserved better than he got despite - despite how his own life turned out. Despite Ford being too hurt to speak up, too much of a coward to say anything to their father on their worst night of their lives. He could've, he could've said something - it wouldn't have made any difference, once their father set his mind there was no changing it - but he should've done it anyway. He should've done it but he didn't and Stan is here forgiving him for that, blaming himself for not being around, and--
And he has no idea. He has no idea how misplaced his forgiveness is.
Ford feels lightheaded, suddenly. There's a strange buzzing in his skull, like his head is full of static. He finds himself feeling unsteady on his feet, and so he reaches forward to take hold of his brother's shoulders for balance.
"Stan." His voice has gone quiet again, and there's a watery quality to both his tone and his eyes that belies just how distressed he feels at the moment.
"Stan, I nearly destroyed the entire world."
His fingers tighten their grip on his brother's shoulders, both to emphasize the severity of his words, and because he just really needs something to hold on to right now.
"You--you're not to blame for any of this. You're not the guilty party here. I-I know, I know you think things should have turned out differently for us, for me, but..."
He swallows hard, tries to ignore the stinging in his eyes. He's never said this out loud before, never wanted to admit it to himself let alone anyone else, but Stan needs to hear it.
no subject
It don't matter
Ford can feel something twist inside him, twist and snap like a fractured bone. His brother, his stupid, hopeless, loyal brother is sitting there and telling him he deserved better than he got despite - despite how his own life turned out. Despite Ford being too hurt to speak up, too much of a coward to say anything to their father on their worst night of their lives. He could've, he could've said something - it wouldn't have made any difference, once their father set his mind there was no changing it - but he should've done it anyway. He should've done it but he didn't and Stan is here forgiving him for that, blaming himself for not being around, and--
And he has no idea. He has no idea how misplaced his forgiveness is.
Ford feels lightheaded, suddenly. There's a strange buzzing in his skull, like his head is full of static. He finds himself feeling unsteady on his feet, and so he reaches forward to take hold of his brother's shoulders for balance.
"Stan." His voice has gone quiet again, and there's a watery quality to both his tone and his eyes that belies just how distressed he feels at the moment.
"Stan, I nearly destroyed the entire world."
His fingers tighten their grip on his brother's shoulders, both to emphasize the severity of his words, and because he just really needs something to hold on to right now.
"You--you're not to blame for any of this. You're not the guilty party here. I-I know, I know you think things should have turned out differently for us, for me, but..."
He swallows hard, tries to ignore the stinging in his eyes. He's never said this out loud before, never wanted to admit it to himself let alone anyone else, but Stan needs to hear it.
"I've gotten what I deserve."