Ford was waiting for him by the Stanmobile.

He hadn't seen him yet.

Stan froze.

What else was he supposed to do?

His brother hadn't spoken to him in two months. He hadn't spoken to him, either, but that wasn't because he wanted it. Ford had made it clear that he didn't want to have anything to do with the person who had sabotaged his entire future. If that had changed at some point, he was going to have to let Stan know.

He didn't think he could handle being rejected by his own twin brother again.

But now Ford was here, outside the school, next to his car.

He couldn't move. What if it was bad?

Why would Ford be coming to talk to him if it was bad? He had heard how Ford was doing exclusively through his mother and other brother for two months now. Who even knew if Ford had heard anything about him?

He couldn't stay here forever. And while a part of him was tempted to just run away from this entire conversation, he knew he couldn't. If nothing else, his car was right there.

Ford really did know him.

"So, um, hi," he said, smiling nervously, as he approached the car.

Ford glared at him. "Hi? Is that really all you have to say to me?"

Stan unlocked his car and threw his backpack on the passenger seat, trying to center himself or whatever. "I thought it'd be a good start. I, uh, haven't seen much of you lately."

"Is that a joke?" Ford demanded.

"No?" Stan asked, hating how that came out as a question. "I mean, yeah, I've seen you at school I guess. Because we're in the same classes. But this is the first time we've actually spoken since…well, you know. That night."

"The night that you ruined my life?" Ford demanded.

Stan flinched. "I was going to say the night I got thrown out of the house but, yeah, that happened to. Listen, did you come all the way over here just to yell at me? Because, in case you forgot, I got thrown out of the house. I think that more than makes up for your project."

"Oh, don't give me that," Ford said dismissively. "Shermie took you in that night. Don't act like you've been living on the streets. You're even still here in school!"

"So, what, that makes what happened okay?" Stan demanded. "Dad had no idea Shermie would do that. I know I didn't. And what if he hadn't been able to find me? You think I was planning on hanging around this dump for the rest of my life?"

"What, I'm supposed to pity you because of things that might have happened but didn't?"

"No but maybe you could have done something other than turn away and spend the next two fucking months ignoring me, Stanford!"

How had this happened? Why were they fighting? He didn't want to fight. He missed Ford. But the words just kept spilling out of his mouth and Ford had clearly come over here looking for an argument.

"Like what?" Ford challenged. "Never mind it's not fair to expect me to defend you after what you did, what would have happened if I insisted that Dad not do that? Do you really think he was going to listen to me? I don't recall him saying 'I'm doing this so Ford doesn't have to live with you.' It's all about his goddamn money. If I defend you it might make it worse because he'll think I don't realize what you've done and think it's even more imperative he separate us."

Stan laughed incredulously. "Oh, yes, way to frame you turning your fucking back on me as in my best interest!"

"I didn't say that!"

"Oh, no?"

"Well, that wasn't why," Ford amended. "Though you have to admit that I'm right."

"I don't have to admit shit. Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything but I'd have liked to know that my own twin brother had some sort of problem with me being left out in the cold like that!" Stan shouted. "And don't you even dare tell me Shermie went and got me. You didn't expect that either. What did you think was going to happen to me when he told me to go?"

Ford looked away. "I-I suppose I didn't think about that part."

"Of course not," Stan said contemptuously. "It was all about you and your stupid project."

"Don't you dare act like you're the victim here!"

"How am I not the victim? I was thrown out of my own house with nothing but my car and a duffle bag – a pre-packed duffle bag! – because of one mistake."

"A mistake?" Ford repeated. "Stan, a mistake would be you dropping my project when you helped me carry it into the gym. You deliberately sabotaged me."

"You still believe that?" Stan demanded.

"Why wouldn't I?" Ford asked. "Nothing's changed."

"Everything you've ever known about me and you really think I would do that?" Stan asked, hurt. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter but it did.

Ford was quiet for a long moment before slowly nodding.

"How could you even think that?"

"I didn't want to," Ford admitted. "I tried not to. That whole walk home I just kept telling myself that there had to be some other explanation. It had to be a coincidence that that bag was there. It wasn't yours. Or you left it there when you weren't sabotaging my project. I even tried to tell myself that it was an accident."

"It was an accident!"

"Then why didn't you tell me about it?" Ford demanded. "It wasn't the kind of accident where you shut the door and don't realize the picture fell off the wall. I asked why your bag was by my broken project and you knew exactly what happened."

"I…"

What could he say? Ford was right. He should have told him. He knew he should have then. But he thought everything was going to be alright and why tell someone about a mistake you almost made but didn't? He knew how Ford would react.

"If it was broken I should have gotten the chance to fix it! I should have gotten the chance to tell the West Coast Tech people so I didn't make an ass of myself in front of them! If it was an accident, why the fuck wouldn't you have told me? Unless you wanted me to fail which you're implying you didn't."

"Of course I didn't! Look, I should have told you. I know I messed up. But I swear, it was only damaged a little. It was still running. I put the little grate thing back on. I thought it was okay! And yeah, I know, I still should have told you. But I just…I was scared," he admitted.

"Scared," Ford repeated, unimpressed. "And you say you didn't want me to fail? Don't pretend you wanted me to leave you and go there."

"Of course I didn't! But that's not the same as wanting you to fail. I wouldn't do that. And better losing you to the other side of the country than losing you a few blocks down the street." Suddenly Stan felt very tired. "Why did you even come here, Ford? You didn't get the chance to yell at me enough when Dad threw me out? I know that I fucked up. It was an accident but I still did it. And I'm sorry. And I wish I could get your school back for you but I can't. Why now? Why today? You don't seem like you want to do anything, what's the word, constructive."

"It's easy to stick to the 'it was an accident' story now," Ford said. "Never mind you were behaving like a guilty man."

"I don't know what I was 'behaving' like, just what happened," Stan protested. "You know I don't always think things through."

Ford's mouth twisted wryly. "Yes. I do."

"Either believe me or don't. What happened happened and I can't change it."

"I need you to stop," Ford told him.

"Stop? Stop what?" Stan asked. "Stop defending myself? Then stop accusing me. This is my car and I'm getting in it and driving back to Shermie's when this is done. I'm not the one who leaves when this conversation is done."

"Just stop…" Ford looked like he was struggling to find the right word, which was a rare sight indeed. "Stop everything."

Stan frowned. "I have no idea what you're talking about right now."

"Stop staring at me. Stop looking sad when I don't acknowledge you! Stop always being there!"

"Wha-I'm not always there. I haven't been home in two months!" Stan insisted. "The only time you see me is at school. And, what, was getting me kicked out of my home not enough for you?"

"I told you, I had nothing to do with that and you know it."

"Yeah, well you sure didn't care, didn't you? Do you want me to be kicked out of school, too?"

"Yes-no-I don't know! It's not like you're even going to graduate! Why are you still here?"

Thing was, Stan had asked himself that question on a near-daily basis since that first, horrifying day in class where he realized he had no idea what was going on. Rachel and Shermie had been working with him and he may have been scraping by with Cs but that was more than he had thought to get. In English he had even gotten a B+ once. He was good at making shit up. But it still didn't feel real. He still didn't think he could graduate on his own merit.

But Ford didn't get to say that to him.

"I'm here because I have just as much right to be here as you. I am going to graduate. And how am I possibly bothering you? I can't help it that I hate that you're ignoring me! I'm respecting it, aren't I? I'm not trying to make you do nothing. And as for looking at you? I'm sure I don't do it that much." Did he? He didn't know. "But how would you even know if you weren't looking at me?"

"We needed time apart. We needed it even before you ruined my entire future."

The words stung. He saw being separated as an unwanted consequence, not the fucking goal. "There will be other colleges."

"Yeah and they won't be West Coast Tech. I could become a millionaire and I will never know how much better my life would have been if you hadn't ruined it."

"You don't even know if you would have gotten in." The words were out before he could think about it.

Ford froze. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I mean, technically you don't-"

"So that makes it okay? I might have failed anyway so what does it matter you failed for me? If you didn't think I could have gotten in what reason would you have to sabotage my project?"

"I already told you, I didn't-" Stan started to protest.

"Yeah, yeah, it was an accident. Save it. We needed time apart before and we need it even more now!"

"What do you mean, we needed time apart?" Stan asked, confused. "I know I didn't."

Ford sighed. "Of course not. I don't know how you never felt it but I've been feeling it for a while."

"Feeling what?"

"Like I can't be my own person with you around. Like I'm not just Ford, I'm Stan-and-Ford. Like everyone looks at you and sees me and looks at me and sees you. Like I don't know how to exist without you and I can't live with you in my pocket the rest of my life. I need to figure out who I am without you. And now it seems I can't even trust you. Accident or not, you fucked that right up afterwards and if that's not betrayal then I don't know what is."

Stan was completely floored. How long had Ford been feeling that way? He had never felt anything close to that. Did that just make him the annoying twin, the one Ford wanted to run away to the other side of the country to get away from? He wasn't brave enough to ask.

"When have I ever-"

"Oh, it's not anything you did, not really," Ford interrupted. "Not before the science fair. It's just who you are and who I am and maybe it's just a part of being a twin. I don't know. But I needed space before and now I can't even look at you without remembering everything you've cost me. I thought, when Dad kicked you out, that at least this way I'd get some space. Instead you show up every day at school like nothing happened and I don't know what to do because you have a right to be here and you're not even talking to me but you're still suffocating me!"

Stan froze. "I'm…suffocating you?"

Ford looked uncomfortable. "Yes."

"I haven't gone anywhere near you in two months."

"I'm aware of that."

"What you're objecting to is essentially me just living, me breathing the same air as you, me trying to get my diploma so I don't have to share a room with Isaac for the rest of my life," Stan said slowly.

"It's not…rational, I know," Ford said awkwardly. "But you're always there. You can't help what you feel. And I feel like I'm never going to escape you."

He didn't know what to say to that. He didn't know what to feel about this. He just knew that he couldn't stand to be there for a single second longer.

"Some brother you turned out to be. All I wanted to do was spend time with you, the only one who ever wanted to spend time with you, and I'm suffocating. You'd rather I be living on the streets than quietly sitting at the back of the class."

Ford winced. "Wait, that's not what I-"

"Well, you know what? You're in luck. You get to escape me for the rest of the day. In fact, isn't today Friday? You won't have to see me again until Monday and you never even have to speak to me ever again. Another few months and you'll never even have to see me again. How's that for suffocating?"

He climbed into his car, trying to ignore the fact that his legs were shaking, and drove off.


Shermie knew that there was a problem when he returned with Isaac that night to find Rachel alone in the kitchen.

Usually after school, even on a Friday, Stan worked on homework at least until dinner was over and he did so in the kitchen so that one of them could help him.

"Where's my brother?" he asked her.

"In the bedroom," Rachel replied. "Shermie, I think he had a fight today."

"A fight?" Shermie asked, alarmed. That didn't sound good. He knew that Stan got into some scrapes sometimes but he hadn't ever since coming to live with them. Maybe getting into a fight was his way of proving that he was back to normal? "Do you know what happened?"

Rachel shook her head. "Not really. And I don't mean a fistfight or anything. He just came home looking like he had just gotten back from a funeral and wouldn't talk about it. I figured I'd leave you to try and figure it out."

He made a face. "Thanks, dear."

She held up her hands. "Hey, you are his brother. You know him better than I do and I'm still kind of tiptoeing around what happened because I don't trust myself not to call your father an asshole several times during the course of the conversation."

"Stan may not mind that," Shermie said.

"True but it really should be you having this conversation," Rachel insisted. "You strike out and I'll try my luck at it but for now give me the baby and go talk to your brother."

"Yes, ma'am," Shermie said, handing his son off to her.

He spent a few minutes putting his things away and trying to compose himself for what could be a very tricky conversation before he knocked on the door of the room.

For a moment there was no answer.

"Come in," Stan said quietly, sounding like he'd much prefer that whoever it was not come in at all.

Shermie went in anyway. "Hi, Stan."

Stan was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His pillow was clenched in his arms. He sat up and looked at Shermie. "Hi."

"So, uh, Rachel told me that you might have ha-"

"I talked to Ford today and it didn't go well," Stan interrupted. Well, that was easier than he had expected. "We kind of got into a fight. It was awful."

"And was this the first time you've spoken to him since, well…?" Shermie asked. He was pretty sure Stan would have told him if he and Ford had spoken before but he didn't want to make assumptions.

Stan nodded. "I've been trying to stay out of his way since it was pretty clear he didn't want to talk to me and, you know, I kind of ruined his life."

"You didn't ruin his life," Shermie said immediately. "You know you didn't."

Stan shrugged. "Yeah, well, that's not how he sees it."

"He just lost a really great opportunity," Shermie said. "And he's seventeen. He's not exactly going to have a clear view of these things."

"I'm seventeen," Stan pointed out.

"Yeah, I know," Shermie agreed. "Look, Ford will figure it out. But that's not something you need to worry about."

"Could you worry about it maybe?" Stan asked. "I mean, I want to help but I know he won't let me. And I don't know very much about his whole college thing."

Shermie considered it. He would have gladly given Ford any advice if he'd asked, which he hadn't, but while he didn't consider himself an expert either he had been through the process. "Okay. I'm not sure he needs my help but I'll make sure to offer it just in case."

"Thanks," Stan said. "I mean, if he ends up at a crummy school instead of West Coast Tech I'm going to feel even worse about this whole thing."

"What happened?" Shermie asked.

Stan shrugged. "I don't know. He was waiting by my car and then he was yelling at me about his project and that was two months ago."

"You're both still thinking about it," Shermie pointed out. "You being here and not speaking with him is because of that. And the fact that this is your first conversation since then…yeah, it's probably for the best you got that out of the way."

Stan laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I'm not so sure about that. But I least I finally got the chance to explain about how it was an accident even if he didn't believe me."

"Well, maybe he'll think about it and realize you're right," Shermie said. "Or maybe he'll forgive you either way."

"Yeah, maybe," Stan said glumly. "Then he started complaining about how seeing me around was all suffocating and stuff."

"What?" Shermie asked, surprised. "You haven't been talking to him, though, right? How could you just going to school be suffocating?"

Stan shrugged. "I don't know. It wasn't making a lot of sense. He was just talking about how he wanted a break from me but I'm in all his classes and it sounded like he wished I wasn't even at school at all."

"It might be easier," Shermie conceded. "But that's not his choice. If he wants you to leave him alone, you really should leave him alone. And that's what you are doing. But if he has to put up with having you in a few classes then he has to put up with having you in a few classes. That's a part of growing up, you know. Learning how to deal with people that you'd rather not have to deal with."

"Like stupid twin brothers who are only good for wrecking stuff," Stan muttered.

Shermie gave him a look. "Stanley. You know that's not true."

"He doesn't think I can graduate."

Shermie could have kicked him. While it was true that they all had had some sort of concern about Stan and school and Ford would probably know the situation best, having had Stan copy everything off of him for years, that didn't mean he had to go right out and say it! And Stan was perfectly capable of graduating. His brother wasn't stupid. He didn't care about any of the school subjects and he would never have Ford's brilliance (he had never met anyone with Ford's brilliance. Hard enough being a genius' big brother. He didn't envy Stan being his twin) but he wasn't stupid. And Shermie had seen some truly stupid people graduate with him. He was pretty sure a few of them had never gotten a grade higher than a D+.

And Stan was working so hard! Harder than he had expected, actually, given his refusal to do the work himself for at least five or six years now. But now he had something to prove. Now he had people he didn't want to disappoint and now he didn't have access to Ford's near-perfect work. And what did Ford know about any of that? Nothing because he didn't care to know. And that was his right but he didn't get to refuse to keep up with Stanley's life and then disparage him like that.

It occurred to him that he really should get more details. It would do to be annoyed with Ford if Stan were only projecting onto him, after all.

"What did he say?"

Stan shrugged. "He said he doesn't think I can graduate. But he's wrong. I may not get those whatever those are at graduation that says you're a nerd but I'm going to graduate. Dad doesn't think I can do it. Ford doesn't think I can do it. Mom…well, she's hopeful. Only you and Rachel really believe in me and I'm not going to prove them right. I'm going to graduate and then I'm going to make a million bucks and then the joke will be on them!"

"It sounds like your talk with him was rough on you," Shermie noted. "I'm sorry for that."

"But not surprised."

"After two months of radio silence and what happened that night? No, I'm not surprised." Shermie sighed. "Disappointed in the whole situation, perhaps, but not surprised. Did you get anything out of your talk?"

"You mean Ford's random and unprovoked attack against me?" Stan asked rhetorically. But there was something in his voice. Something he wasn't telling him. "I don't know. I don't think so. Although…"

"Yes?"

Stan shrugged again. "It just might be a good thing, is all. I don't like that apparently he is having problems dealing with the fact that I'm in the same building as him but he actually came up to me and talked to me. That should…I don't know if he's going to do it again but if he does it should be easier. I kind of got the idea that he only came up and talked to me this time because he couldn't take it anymore."

"Not that he'll have much of a choice," Shermie said. "Graduation is still a few months away."

"Yeah," Stan said, looking sad. "I told him he'd never have to see me again after that."

"That's true," Shermie agreed cautiously. "Except for family events that I expect you both to be at and just suck up whatever issues you have. Like when Rachel and I have another kid or something like that."

"That's true, I guess," Stan agreed. "But don't expect me to do Thanksgiving."

Shermie snorted. "Yeah, no worries there."

"I just miss him, you know?" Stan asked rhetorically. "I don't really miss Dad and I see Mom often enough. Not as often as Ford but at least she'll talk to me. I miss Ford and it's hard to see him every day and just have no interaction but it'll be harder when he goes away and I never see him again. Except for all the stuff you make us both go to, of course."

"Do you really think it'll come to that?" Shermie asked.

Stan clenched his fists. "I'm not going to force myself on my brother. If he thinks I'm so freaking suffocating then fine. So be it."

"That's the kind of thinking that leads to you two literally never speaking again," Shermie cautioned. "Don't make this a pride thing."

"It's not a pride thing. It's a common decency thing," Stan claimed. "I won't go where I'm not wanted."

Shermie wondered, briefly, just what he had done to wind up in the middle of such a melodrama. He was a good person. He tried to do good things. He didn't deserve this.

Of course, neither did they was the problem even if they were the ones causing this mess.

"Just…be careful," Shermie entreated. "There's still time. It's only been two months."

"It's only been a day. It's only been two months. It's only been ten fucking years," Stan said, crossing his arms sullenly. "You'll keep saying that until one of us is dead."

"No, if it goes on longer than five years I'm abducting you both and locking you in a room until you get over your issues," Shermie corrected

Stan gave him a suspicious look. "Should I be worried?"

"You've got time. I know this is hard, but I really do think more time is the solution. Once he's got the college thing sorted out and is going to go to a place that he's happy with, the fact he won't be going to West Coast Tech will be less of an issue."

"But that's just it," Stan said. "No matter how great whatever school he goes to is, West Coast Tech will always be the one that got away. It's like women. You always remember the one you can't have."

Shermie gave him a look. "Stan, you have literally only been in one serious relationship and that's still going strong last time I checked."

"So? I can know things," Stan claimed. "Every problem his school has, he'll think that West Coast Tech wouldn't be like that. The dining hall isn't open as long as he wants it to be. The library doesn't have a big enough selection on whatever it is he's interested in. The sports team is terrible. He'll think 'if I were at West Coast Tech I wouldn't have to deal with this.'"

"Well, maybe," Shermie conceded because he could see very easily how that could be the case. "But you know that he can't be mad at you forever."

"Even if he isn't, if he stayed mad for twenty years it might just kill me," Stan said.

"It would not," Shermie said, going over to the bed and sitting down next to his brother. "You have me and Rachel and Isaac and all of your future children and Ma and Carla and…I don't actually know the names of your other friends but you have them, too."

Stan laughed. "Yeah, okay." Then, quieter, "You don't know that he won't hate me forever."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Fine, be angry with then."

"It's just highly unlikely. People don't stay angry with people forever," Shermie said.

"Some do," Stan said. "And, sure, like, I haven't killed anyone but it could still happen. What if Ford never gets over it?"

"I told you. Lock you both in a room," Shermie said.

"And what if that's not enough? What am I ever going to do without him?"

Shermie didn't know what to say. It was a stupid, awful situation and he hated it. And he wished he didn't understand so well why they insisted on hurting each other. He wished that he could fix it. But he couldn't. The only ones who could were them. Stanley, at least, was willing even if he didn't know how. He was willing to bet that Ford didn't, either.

No, he couldn't fix this and neither could their mother. All he could do was give Stan a place to stay while he was still growing up and be there for both of them and to try and give them whatever they needed to figure it out for themselves.

"I guess…" he said finally. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see. And in the meantime, you learn to live without him."

"I don't want to live without him," Stan said softly.

Shermie wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulder. "I know, Stanley. I know."