Chapter Text
Stanley stared back in disbelief as the front door slammed in his face. Up in the window he still called to his brother, begging them to see sense. “High-six?”
The curtain was pushed shut and he was left under the flickering lamp light with only a small duffle bag of his belongings and the keys to his El Diablo.
For a moment he felt tears well up in his eyes before he yelled back at the silent house. “Fine! I’ll show you!” Stan muttered the next part under his breath, “I’ll make millions,” on his way over to the car he’d fixed up over the last couple of years. Jumping in and peeling out, for a while Stan drove in circles, not knowing where to go or what to do next. He refused to cry, though.
Finally Stan drove over to the beach and parked. Jumping out, he made his way with his duffle over to the Stan O War. The boat him and Stanford’d been fixing up since they were kids.
Despite how angry his twin had been, Stanley hoped his brother would show up so they could talk more without Pa making it worse. Stan stayed there all night, laying out on the deck, hoping Stanford would feel—something, some twin telepathy—and find him.
Stanford didn’t show up.
That’s fine. Stan thought. He’s angry. I’ve never seen him this mad. He probably just needs some time, he thought.
Stan had some snacks in the car. People on the pier left stuff out all the time. That Saturday he hung around the Stan O War again and picked food off beachgoers.
But Stanford still never showed up.
That night Stan laid out on the deck of the boat again. He looked at the stars. Constellations his brother had tried teaching him stared back, cold and hazy from the bad city air.
On Sunday, Stanley decided he needed a plan.
He still hoped Stanford would come by, but if he didn’t…if he didn’t…
Stan didn’t know. All his life it’d always been Stan-and-Ford. Twins. Inseparable, by both desire and necessity. Ford had been teased and bullied mercilessly, and Stanley had always defended him. They’ve had each other’s backs for 17 years.
And now, after one stupid accident, one mistake, he was kicked out and forced away and told to make up the millions he’s cost the family.
Stanley’s breath hitched and it grew harder and harder to take in air.
What the hell, Stan thought, struggling to breathe. Tears and snot fell freely as Stanley focused on gathering air into his chest. It took him half an hour to calm down long enough to breathe normally. What do I do? Stan wondered. I ain’t got money or skills. I can’t just leave…
That night, Stan made a plan.
I’ll show them. They think I’m a worthless screw up? I'm gonna finish and graduate. I’ll make my millions soon enough…