I don't even know anymore. Tw: Stanley pines and his sad life. Lol, Idk what this is help me.
The knife slid smoothly out of his stomach. It wasn't serrated, thank goodness. Stan winced as he quickly applied pressure to the wound. He was bleeding out fast.
He had been walking down the street in the middle of the night, considering whether he should rob a store for a bite to eat or maybe sneak some cash from some fools wallet when it happened. His hood was up and he was turning a corner when out of nowhere a cold metal was pressing into the back of his neck.
"Into the alleyway, now." a tired voice rasped out. Stan internally snorted. Whatever was happening, he was sure this man was a rookie. The gun was shaking against his head and probably wasn't even loaded. Stan played along until they were both in the alleyway.
"H-hey. Whoever your workin' for, I swear to pay 'em off. Let's just talk this out like gentleman, yeah?" Stan pretended to stutter. On the inside, he was grinning. He could practically feel the fear rolling off this nutter.
The man grunted and shouted unnecessarily loud, trying to cover up his nervousness. "On the ground! Now!"
Stan started to kneel, then quickly shot upward and knocked the gun out of the man's hands. He noted that the man was little more than a boy, and was dressed as if from the ghetto. Probably doing some sorta gang initiation. Stan himself had done a few of those, none had anything to do with putting a gun to a random man's head though.
He swiftly knocked the boy to the ground, kicking the gun away and growled. The boy squeaked in fear but attempted to kick Stan's legs out from underneath him. Stan stumbled and the boy lunged, his hand going to Stan's middle. They both gasped. The boy looked stricken with fear and guilt. He spared Stan a glance before speedily running from the darkened dead end.
Stan chuckled without humor. Typical.
Now he was bleeding out, more than a mile from his only home. (The StanleyMobile.) Well, this sucks. Stan carefully gripped the edge of his shirt and pulled. He ripped it hard enough that part of the fabric came off, and he carefully wrapped it as tight as he could make it around his middle.
He pulled himself up with minimal effort. It wasn't like he wasn't used to this sort of thing. This was just one of many, many wounds.
Stan was trudging down the street, attempting to make it back to the car where his medical supplies were slightly, only slightly mind you, better than the impromptu
bandage. He looked up when a car on the side of the road stopped beside him. He froze, staring suspiciously at the vehicle. He watched as the window rolled down.
"Ya alrigh' there?"
It was a man, a very scrawny, nerdy looking man. Stan snorted internally, either this man had a heart of gold and was very brave or very stupid. Who stops the car for a bleeding homeless man twice your size in the middle of the night? This guy, I guess.
Stan didn't respond, he just clung tighter to his waist and kept on walkin'. Looks can be deceiving, this guy could be a secret agent for the government, one of Rico's men, or just some nobody, but I ain't takin' that risk.
...
Fiddleford had been driving home, out late that night after working overtime, to see a man making his way very slowly down the street. When Fidds headlights illuminated the man in question, he gasped.
The man was scuffed and dirty, blood pooling from his midsection. Heaven's ta Betsy! Wha' happened ta that poor man?! Fidds quickly rolled the window down, "Ya alrigh' there?" Obviously not.
The man kept walking, leaving Fidds gaping. " Now jus' wait one moment!" Fiddleford climbed outta the truck and stood right in front of the man, who glared at him. Fiddleford didn't back off.
"Watcha want, nerd? Leave me be!" He growled. Fidds stood his ground.
"No! Yer bleedin'! Where are ya goin'? Can I give ya a ride there?" The man looked shocked for a moment before he settled on annoyance.
"Look, kid, just leave me be. Go back to ya truck and leave me-" The man doubled over, and Fidds moved to help but was batted away by a large bloody hand. Fidds eyes widened in fear, (For the man, of course.)
"Please let me help. Please?"
"I-arg.- could be a killer for all ya know! How do ya know I don't deserve this?"
Fidds was stumped for a moment. He hadn't considered that, but then he thought, why would a murderer bring that up? " Because if you were a murderer, then ya woulda let me help ya! Taken it ter yer advantage!"
The man looked at him in disbelief, then laughed. "I suppose your right." He stood up a bit straighter, still clinging to his side. "I'm trying to get to my car. It's not far from here. So you can go. I'll be fine."
Fidds shook his head, "Ya need a doctor! Yer really bleedin'."
The man snorted. "I've treated worse, really. It looks worse than it is." He tried to keep walking, but Fidds wouldn't let him. "No. I'll take ya there, if ya won't let me take ya to a professional, then I can do tha' at least."
The man looked so confused that it nearly broke Fidds heart. " Why won't you leave me be? I'll be fine!" He tried to push past the scrawny southern.
That's of course when the lack of food, water, and all his blood loss ganged up on him all at once and he fell over once more, unconscious. Fidds kinda sorta caught him.
" Oh dear."
...
Stanley woke up.
His eyes were still closed. For a moment, he thought maybe he was back at home. There was something soft beneath him, and there was the sound of someone else's breathing in the room.
Ford?
His eyes shot open, and he realized he wasn't at home at all. Shooting upwards he naturally grasped for a bat that wasn't there. He realized he wasn't in a motel either. He slowed down when he noticed the throbbing pain around his abdomen.
"Oh."
He remembered now. He looked around to see that weird guy sitting in the corner of the room, snoring softly. Perfect. Now I can finally get back...WHERE AM I?!
Stan groaned. He laid back down on the bed with a huff. What the actually freak is this? Does this count as kidnap? Stan thought agitatedly. All the noise woke up the nerd, who sat up with a yelp.
"Wha'? What's goin' on?!" The kid's eyes landed on Stan's glaring ones and he smiled, "Yer awake! Sorry, but ya passed out in the street an' all and I couldn' just leave ya there. Names Fiddleford Mcgucket, at yer service!"
Stanley grunted, "Stan." Stan felt kinda awkward now, he hadn't had much human interaction outside of scamming people or trying not to die. He had noticed the nice, white bandage around his stomach.
"Uh...thanks Fiddlesticks...I should really be goin'." Stan moved to get up, only to get pushed back down. "Hey! What is this?!"
The kid looked apologetic. "I'm real' sorry, but ya could open yer wound if ya move too much! I don' wanna bring the doctor back."
Stan's eyes widened in alarm, he got up, pushing Fiddleford aside, totally ignoring his cries of worry. "What doctor?!"
"Hey now! Calm down! I called a friend 'o mine and he fixed ya up! Why are ya freakin' out?!"
"Because the last doctor to look me over, took my kidney!"
Fidds stared in shock. "I-I'm sorry, but I can promise he didn't take yer kidney. Or anythin' like tha'." He backed away. Stan realized he was probably a bit more than scary looking. He backed down,
"Look, I'm sorry for yellin', but I..." Stan sighed. He started to tilt, "I'm about to fall over agai-off!" He fell back on the bed, looking exhausted. Fidds hovered nervously,
"What jus' happened? Do ya need somethin'?"
Stan coughed, "Water."
Fidds eyes widened and he ran out of the room with a swift, 'be righ' back!"
Stanley felt a little bad for conning the guy, but what else was he gonna do? Getting up from his place on the bed, Stanley found a single window in the room and blessed his lucky stars it was a ground floor bedroom. He quickly opened the window, and clambered out, making sure to close the glass behind him. He gave the house one last look, one filled with confusion, gratitude, and guilt before he promptly turned and started walking.
Standing alone doesn't mean I'm alone, it means I'm strong enough to handle things by myself.
...
You don't have to be alone.
I was drunk on popsicles and Tumblr. This is not my fault. I didn't want to make this a complicated series, and I don't know how Fidds got in here, this was meant to be Stan-d alone during his grifter days, but...yeah.
Idk about the ending, I wasn't sure how to finish it, so I looked up 'alone' quotes on google. Praise Google! Yay. I know this wasn't very good, I am sorry, but I hoped you liked it anyway. I like to think of it as the actual quote being Stan's thoughts and the last bit being Fiddleford's. Fidds knows you don't have to be alone.