#he's looking down like he's tryin to remember if he put deodorant on this morning

[hopeforged]

& mike schmidt.    —     02     /    ??       mutuals   can   reblog.

[kittykat-creations]

R.I.P- Grief

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Trigger warning for suicide.

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DENIAL

"No no no no! Sixer? Ford! Wake up! Come on!"

"I'm sorry about your brother."

"Thanks," Stan repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

He wished people would stop bringing it up sometimes. That way he could act like it didn't happen. Like his twin brother was just home sick with some sort of bug. Like he would go home and fall on top of his brother, who would be laying on his bed, and recount the school day like it was the worst thing ever. Like he would then give Ford the homework and then voice how if he was the one who was sick, he would refuse to do any work until the next day.

"Hey, Stan," a girl greeted him at lunch, about to sit beside him. "I'm sorry about-"

"You can't sit there," he blurted out before he could stop himself. The girl raised an eyebrow and stood back up. "That's Ford's seat."

"Oh... ok..." the girl stood awkwardly. "Sorry."

And she left to go sit with her friends.

The next day-  you wouldn't believe it, the timing of the thing- a new kid began going to the school. Stan entered the classroom and saw the kid sitting at Ford's desk.

"Hey," Stan said shortly. "That's my brother's desk."

"Oh," the boy picked up his stuff. "Sorry. Where is he?"

"He's..." Stan felt his throat tighten, and he shook his head. "It's not important. That's his desk. Move."

"Alright," the boy looked at him weirdly before moving to a different seat.

"His twin just committed suicide a few days ago," another student murmured to the new kid. "He used to sit there."

"Oh gosh..."

No, Stan thought. No. Ford's just at home. He's fine. He's just sick.

Stan looked at the homework board and wrote down what was written. Just like he always did when Ford was sick.

Stan laid down that night, staring across the room at Ford's bed. He hadn't let his mom remove the blankets and sheets. It was just as messy as always.

"Night, Sixer," Stan spoke, staring at the pillow.

Night, Lee, he could hear him reply. Just as always.

ANGER

"No! You don't get it! Just leave me alone!"

Stan stood in front of it, his hands deep in the pockets of the stupid dress pants. Tears filled his eyes as his mouth formed an angry frown. He growled and kicked at the dirt.

"Come on, Sixer," he grumbled angrily. "Really. What'd you go and do this for? We were supposed to go together. On the Stan O' War. You promised."

He stared at the grave for a few more seconds before giving a short yell and stopping off.

"And you broke that promise."

The funeral was almost over.

"Sweetie, it's time to go home," Ma spoke softly, reaching to rub Stan's shoulder.

"Don't touch me," he grumbled, shrugging her hand off. He stomped towards the car, waiting outside of it when he found out it was locked.

"Hey, Stan," Bella murmured, walking over with Fiddleford. They were matching. Typical. "...you good?"

"What the hell do you think?" Stan snapped. "I just had to bury my brother. Of course I'm not good!"

Bella blinked and frowned.

"Hey!" Fiddleford frowned as well. "What was tha' abou'? She was only tryin' ta comfort ya, Stanley."

Stan scoffed.

"Not very well, huh?" He grumbled.

"Now really!" Fiddleford folded his arms. "What's brought this on? We're upset about losin' Stanferd too, ya know!"

Stan growled and was about to shout back when he noticed Bella standing timidly behind her best friend, drying another wave of tears. He sighed and looked down at his feet, kicking the pavement sadly.

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled. "Sorry. I just... Ford promised we'd go together. And then he went and did this, and-"

Bella hugged him around the chest, tears leaking onto his shirt. He hugged her back.

School hadn't been much better.

"Hey loser! Shouldn't you be gone by now?" Crampelter laughed. "I would think the teachers would have given up on ya without your freakish twin-"

"Shut up, Crampelter!" Stan shouted. "Just shut up! It's your fault! You pushed him! If it weren't for you I'd still have my FUCKING BROTHER!"

"Woah!" Crampelter just dodged the fist thrown his way. "Hey! Watch it!"

"YOU WATCH IT!" Stan screamed, aiming to punch the bully's face. He succeeded, and Crampelter fell against the lockers.

"Pines! Stan, stop it!" A teacher came running over, holding Stan back. "What on Earth are you doing?!"

"He was talking shit about Ford!" Stan cried, tears of anger forming. "Sixer ain't freakish!"

"Alright, alright," the teacher said. "Go take out your anger on one of the punching bags. I'll write you a note."

Stan huffed and stomped down the hall.

"You, Crampelter, are to go down to the nurse," the teacher scolded. "And then you're to come to me to receive your detention slips. I think two weeks should do it."

Stan smirked triumphantly.

BARGAINING

"Do y'think that if I had noticed, Ford would still be alive...?"

"Very impressive, Stanley!" The teacher smiled as she handed back Stan's test with a bright red 'B' in the corner. "Your grades have really picked up! I'm very proud."

"Thanks, Ms," Stan smiled lightly. That smile fell once the teacher moved on. A B wasn't enough. Ford always got A's. So, if Stan got an A, maybe something would happen. He wasn't sure what, though. Maybe it would be revealed that Ford really was alive?

"Wow Stan, yer grades are gettin' good," Fiddleford smiled encouragingly. "Any reason why?"

"I dunno... it's what Ford would have wanted," Stan shrugged and shoved his test in his folder. "Maybe I can, I don't know, make him proud or something?"

"Aww..." Bella frowned.

"Yeah, I knew it was dumb," Stan mumbled.

"That's not dumb!" Bella assured. "That's nice. I get it."

"Thanks. I just... ugh, I want him back so much!" Stan replied, laying on his desk. "I'd do anything to see him again..." He noticed Bella's scared look. "Besides that! I promise. I won't leave you guys."

"Whew," Bella sighed in relief. "Good."

When Stan got home, he took the test from his backpack and taped it to the wall above Ford's bed. The B looked rather out of place among Ford's other A-covered papers, but it fit better than a C.

"We're gettin' there," Stan murmured, his eyes sweeping over all the papers, tests, and assignments. He then turned to look at the map taped above his own bed. It had been Ford's favorite. It was only a basic map of the world, but it was covered in red dots, each one representing a strange anomaly or going-ons somewhere. Ford had been documenting every one. They were where they were going to go on the Stan O' War.

Stan remembered something strange he had seen on the news that morning. Some sort of weird creature spotted in Oregon. He couldn't remember the name of the town, so he stuck a red dot in the center of the state.

DEPRESSION

"No Ma, I'm not hungry... I'm sure. I'll just have some milk."

Stan woke up, but he didn't get out of bed. And when Bella woke up, she stayed with him. Fiddleford was the only one up and moving.

"Mornin', y'all," he spoke, sitting across the room on the floor and eating a waffle. "Ya gonna get up?"

Bella shook her head.

"Yeah, me neither," Stan agreed.

"Alright," Fiddleford sighed. "Y'all at least want some breakfast?"

"I'm alright," Stan mumbled. Bella shrugged slightly.

"Some milk?" Fiddleford asked her. She slowly nodded. "Sippy cup?" She nodded again. "Alright, Ah'll get it fer ya."

Fiddleford left the room and was heard walking downstairs. Stan pulled Bella closer to him, closing his eyes and keeping his arm around her. He breathed in and kissed her forehead, rubbing up and down her back.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I've just been up and down these past couple weeks. I haven't spent a lot of time with you."

"It's alright," Bella mumbled. "I get it. I miss him, too. ...And I really don't wanna lose you, too..."

"You won't," Stan promised. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here."

"Good..."

He stood in front of the grave again. But this time he was there with both Bella and Fiddleford. He hadn't been back since the funeral about two weeks ago. He still didn't want to see it. He wished it would go away and be replaced by his brother, alive and well.

-Stanford Pines- A beloved brother and son.

That barely covered it. Stan could think of a million more things Ford was, but they wouldn't have fit on the headstone. Stanford was the best student, the best friend Stan could have ever asked for, the best twin to have ever existed. He was a nerd, a dork, awkward beyond belief, and so so so much more.

Bella stepped forward to lay the bouquet of flowers at the base of the headstone. Without the plastic, they looked perfect against the fresh grass that had began to grow in over the disturbed dirt.

The three friends stood for awhile before turning and walking back home.

ACCEPTANCE

"That was my brother's desk. No one really uses it anymore. It's closer to the front, if you need it."

Cleaning day. Or, sort of. Stan tried to distract his mind as he stripped the sheets off of Ford's old bed. Bella and Fiddleford had already taken the blankets and pillow case and put them in the hamper. The pillow was placed back in the cabinet. All of Ford's old clothes were gathered off the floor and tossed in the hamper as well. After they were cleaned, they would be donated.

All except the jacket.

Stanford's brown jacket had been hung in Stan's closet, the day they took it off to dress Ford for the funeral. Stan had refused to let anyone touch or clean it. Today, he had taken it out and worn it while cleaning.

Ok, maybe it should be washed after today. Ford had never used deodorant.

"Almost done, guys," he spoke when Bella and Fiddleford returned. "Just gotta clean up the tent and clear off the bookshelf. You guys wanna pick out some of them now?"

"Sure," Fiddleford nodded. Him and Bella sat in front of the shelf, beginning to go through the books. Bella got most of the fictional ones, and Fiddleford got the science and non-fiction books. He also took a few science-fiction books. By the time they divided the contents of the shelf up, everything was done.

It was almost like Ford hadn't lived there for the past fourteen years.

Almost.

One entire wall was dedicated to all of Ford's projects and aced tests, along with a few group photos of him with Stan, Bella, and Fiddleford. And of course, the barrel Stan and Ford had found on the Stan O' War sat at the foot of Stan's bed, filled with the maps Ford had left for his twin.

It had been a long few weeks, and Stan had never felt worse during them. And of course, he was still upset and devastated about losing his brother. He wasn't convinced at all that he had cried for the last time about Ford. But hey, at least he had the courage to finally clean his stuff out of their room, and he had stopped using present-tense when referring to him.

That was a start, wasn't it?