Ford goes down without a fight, that tug on his neck throwing him so off-balance that he has to sit down next to Stan if only to keep from falling flat on his ass. Even if he had wanted to put up a fight and keep on standing, he wouldn't have been able to - his brother's grip is strong, and Ford hasn't been at the top of his game for...well, for a while.

It doesn't help that what Stan is saying, what he genuinely believes, is making something inside Ford's chest constrict so tightly he's afraid it's going to burst.

Even after everything that has happened between them, despite all of the hurt and the betrayal, despite the years of separation, despite never reaching out to offer help before selfishly asking for it - His brother is still here, defending him from harsh words just as he had all those years ago when Glass Shard Beach was still their home.

All at once, Ford feels as if the air has been knocked out of him. He tries to keep his face straight, tries to keep looking his brother in the eye, tries to summon up words to respond to his question, but he fails on all fronts. He looks away, and as he does his shoulders drop and his head bows as if gravity has increased upon him tenfold. He shuts his eyes, puts the back of his fist to his mouth and sucks in a deep breath as he stifles a sound that would have doubtlessly been pathetic if he didn't strangle the life out of it before it could leave his throat.

After a moment he blinks hard, forces himself to pull himself together, goddamn it and sets his jaw. When he speaks next its through gritted teeth, and he speaks more to the floor than to his brother.

"...Why can't you just hate me?"

That would make this - all of this - so much easier to bear.