Archive of Our Own

Stan got into his car and ran away.

The principal’s words rattled around in his brain.

You have two sons: one of them is incredibly gifted, the other one is standing outside of this room and his name's Stanley.

Why the hell did they want him to be at the principal’s office in the first place? It wasn’t like they were gonna talk to him at all anyways! The whole conversation was about Ford and his future, not Stan’s!

That clown? At this rate he’ll be lucky to graduate high school.

What did that asshole know about his grades? He didn’t even know what his employees did in the lab during recess! And Stan’s grades were not that bad, thank you very much. They were not great, maybe not good either, but they were certainly average enough to graduate! Even a clown could graduate from that poor excuse of a high school!

You’ll have one son here in New Jersey forever.

No. Absolutely not. They had a plan, Ford and him, and they were gonna carry it through. It was their childhood dream! What could they possibly offer him that was better than a life of endless freedom, adventures and —if they were lucky— treasures and babes! What else could one ask from life?

Your son might be a future millionaire.

Right. That.

Millions. A future.

But Stanford couldn’t actually want that, right? After being terrified of people their entire childhood, of wanting to be invisible and trying to hide in books or a boat, how could he possibly want to go somewhere like that? A preppy school for spoiled rich brats, who would look over his shoulder like they owned the place? That would just be a prison with nice wallpaper and comb-overs!

No, Ford would hate that. He wouldn’t last a day, much less without Stan by his side to protect him from the jerk of the week. Sure, the marketing was nice and the promises were sweet, but that was all they were: empty promises. What they had, the Stan O’ War, was real. It was a labor of blood, sweat and tears that had kept hope in their hearts since they were like ten. It was their ticket out of the swamps of Jersey, away from their bullies and teachers, their parents and everything that had made their life a living hell.

So no, Ford wouldn’t throw everything they had worked so hard for just for a chance at some fancy-Mcpants university. They would get out of Glass Shard Beach together. As they promised.

◅▫◅▫◅▫◻▫▻▫▻▫▻

It had been three weeks since that stupid reunion at the principal’s office, and Stanley was nearing a panic attack.

He could feel it coming. Such a familiar feeling, pressing hard on his chest and making his fingertips go numb. Around him, the walls seemed to disappear out of sight, leaving him disoriented, nauseous, alone.

Well, he was alone after all. He was at the boxing room, way past his usual class time. He had asked the coach to stay a couple extra hours today, knowing he wouldn’t want to go home with Stanford. He could not stand any more ramblings about the great and mighty West Coast Tech and their remarkable syllabus, the formidable selection of courses, the unreal opportunities they offered for their brightest students, the seemingly never-ending list of things they could provide for his genius brother.

Things Stan couldn’t provide. Couldn’t access. Couldn’t even dream of.

It really was something out of his world. But not Ford’s. No, Ford could easily fit in there with fellow nerds and achieve things that Stan didn’t even know he wanted until his twin had barged into their room blabbering about the director’s offer. 

What a fucking idiot he had been, to think that him and Ford could have a future together. Pa had been right all along; he had been riding on Ford’s coattails for years, hoping his brother would step down to his level and meet Stan there.

But how was he supposed to know he wanted something else? Ford had promised! He had fucking promised he’d be there, that they would both be there, together against the world! And now at the drop of a hat —a fucking pamphlet, that’s all it took—, he was willing to give up his (their) life’s dream just to join the very same people who had always looked down on them! 

Stan wiped his eyes furiously, checking his surroundings to make sure there was no one there, even if he already knew there wasn’t. Better be safe than sorry. He got up from his spot on the bleachers, still feeling a little dizzy but able to breathe. He inhaled a few times, grateful that the panic attack had left before it even arrived. He wasn’t always that lucky.

The light of the streetlights outside the room’s window shone bright, a sign that the night was starting to fall and he really needed to get out of high school. With a groan, he cracked his back and changed into his usual clothes, leaving the gloves on the shelf by the door. As he walked along the corridor, he noticed some small, colorful blinking lights coming from the hall on his right.

Meh, what was a quick glance anyways? He was already past dinner time. Maybe Ford would even be asleep already, hoping to catch some shuteye before tomorrow’s presentation. Or maybe he’d pull an all-nighter. That would be much more in brand for Ford. Whatever it was, checking out the mysterious lights was just another way to avoid going home yet, so Stan took it.

When he reached the source of the lights, he noticed they were coming through the window of the gymnasium door. He pushed it open, looking around to see that the colorful lights belonged to a machine that… well, who knows what that machine did. Didn’t look very sophisticated, though: it was just a bunch of wires connected to a metal square with LED lights of different colors on the top. For fuck’s sake, it even had some tape keeping everything together! What a joke of a project. It definitely paled in comparison to…

Stanley stared at the object right next to the previous non-identifiable gadget. There, in all its glory, stood the current bane of his existence: Ford’s perpetual motion machine.

Stanley clutched the strap of his bag, unable to move for a few seconds. That stupid piece of metal, on the contrary, kept its circular motion, clearly not giving a damn about the boy standing right in front of it. As foolish as it might’ve seemed, Stan felt as if the device were taunting him, laughing at his misery. He felt his blood boil.

“I’m about to lose my brother forever,” he muttered, moving closer to the table. “This is all your fault, ya dumb machine!”

His yell was cut by the booming sound of his fist against the table. The device trembled like a leaf, and Stan felt the ground open beneath his feet. With wide eyes, he kept looking at the metal arms tirelessly going in circles, the sinking feeling of something very bad about to happen quickly settling in his stomach.

The machine stopped trembling. 

A few more seconds.

Still working.

A minute. Two minutes. Three.

No changes. 

Stanley took a couple of steps backwards, almost refusing to blink, dreading what might occur if he stopped making eye contact with the invention. He waited a few more minutes, his whole body shaking from the tension. But nothing happened. The machine kept its pace, unbothered by circumstances, blissfully unaware of the danger it had been in just mere minutes ago.

Finally, Stanley exhaled in relief. 

YOU FUCKING IDIOT, DO YOU REALIZE WHAT COULD’VE HAPPENED JUST THEN? 

Yes, he realized. Very much so. He almost ruined his brother’s life, his project, his hope for the future! How could he possibly have told him that, had it happened? Stan felt the age-old burning feeling in his eyes, but he refused to cry again. He forced himself to breathe deeply. Nothing had happened, the machine was still fully functional and Ford would still have something to show to the board members and they would surely be blown away by it and take Ford to West Coast…

Right, that was exactly what he had come here to forget.

After making sure one last time that the machine was still functioning, Stan walked out of the gymnasium and got into his car. There was no way he would go home now; he still didn’t want to risk seeing Pa’s face or listening to Ford practicing his presentation for the millionth time. Instead, he started the engine and headed to the only good place that would remain once his twin abandoned him.