So...I realize that the way I write this story, just the way it flows, and all the grammar errors? Ugh. You guys must be here for the plot because this is not well written at all. Tbh not sure where the storm came from. Also I was too lazy to reread the other chapters before writing this so if it's inconsistent...yeah.
He didn't get it.
Stan held his shirt in his hands, running his thumb over the worn fabric before quickly slipping it back on. Why would Shermie just storm out like that? Sure, it wasn't the best news, and obviously, everyone thought it was a huge deal, but Stan really didn't get it.
It's not like I'm worth the attention anyway.
Stan had watched on as something clicked behind Sherman's eyes and he'd stomped out. He flinched as the door slammed shut behind Shermie's retreating form, thunder booming overhead in tandem with the door's bang.
He sat stiffly at the table as he waited for Shermie to return, eyes staring glazed out the window, following the rain that ran down the glass pane.
...
Shermie wasn't exactly sure how to feel. On one hand, he was being torn up with guilt, an almost overwhelming feeling constricting his ability to breathe properly as he ran out of the kitchen and towards the front door. On the other- anger was burning in his very soul, making even his limbs tremble.
How could he have never noticed? Seen the signs? He had lived in that house for eighteen years. He was six years older than both Stanley and Stanford! Surely he would have been old enough, perceptive enough to see that they weren't okay!? His brothers had been breaking and yet he did nothing to stop it- he didn't even have an inkling of it happening. Filbrick was tough on them all, but hitting the twins!? That wasn't- no, that wasn't right.
Wait.
Shermie stood on his porch, blinking as rain fell into his eyes, running down his face like the tears he couldn't shed. Stanley, Stanley never said anything about Ford being hurt. His brow furrowed, making the water run down his nose. It didn't seem like Stanley, to let Ford get hurt. Even by their own father. He seethed, leaning back onto the door behind him as he rubbed at his eyes, his finger tips gripping unto his now wet hair.
Bad was the fact that Filbrick had been hitting his brothers...but worse it was if it had only been, been Stanley...
Shermie knew his brothers well. They were an unstoppable duo, adventurers and side by side until the end.
Except.
Stanley was protective in all caps. It was in his very soul. Shermie saw it constantly. Stanley looked outward at the good in the world and would lie down his life to protect it. The good being his family. Shermie had to stop Stanley from attacking a boy at school when Shermie was still in elementary with them {They only attended the same school for a year before Sherman graduated to the horror of middle school.}. The boy probably deserved a beating for the things he said to Sherm, but certainly not from Stan, who was half the size and twice as feisty as Shermie's bully.
If Stanley thought...that hiding this would protect them...
Shermie had to wonder how Ford ever got him to confess. It had to be Ford- no one else was as important to Stan.
But of course, this was all speculation. He had been far too angry to sit and ask for details, storming out into the storm {haha that was funny, right? Just me? I'll leave.} before Stanley could tell him much of anything. Shermie jumped slightly as lighting struck just a little ways away, the resounding boom vibrating in his chest. He took in a steadying breath and turned to push open the door again, rubbing the water out of his face and hair.
Stanley was sitting patiently at the table, staring out into the rain. Shermie was slightly relieved to see his shirt was back on. Those bruises were hard to look at-
"Stanley?"
Stan jerked out of his trance and turned towards him. He saw Stan relax slightly when he glanced up to see it was only Shermie. Stan slumped over the table again, holding his drink in both hands. "Hey bro. Um, are you done? With ah- whatever that was?"
Shermie snorted, despite the rage that still boiled inside of him. "Yeah, I'm done with whatever that was." He forced a small grin and Stan just stared at him blankly for a moment.
"Don't force it, Sherm. Honestly the fake smile doesn't look good on you." Stan muttered, taking another gulp of his cocoa. Shermie's smile fell.
"Don't be a hypocrite Stanley."
"Don't try and steal my bit." Stan retorted.
Shermie rolled his eyes, even though the words stung. Did that mean Stanley's smiles were never- when were they ever, real? Shermie sat down with a sigh, picking up his own drink. It seemed even warmer than before, now that he was cold and wet. They sat in silence for a moment, water steadily dripping to the floor off of Shermie.
Shermie looked up in alarm when Stanley suddenly choked on a sob, burying in head in his arms. Shermie shot up and stepped towards him in concern.
"Stanley!"
Stan sniffed. "I failed, Sherm. I couldn't..." Stan's breath hitched and he cut himself off. Shermie rubbed his back soothingly, but softly, kneeling down beside his brother.
"Stanley, you haven't failed anything. No one is to blame here expect that- that failure of a father." Shermie spat the word out like an expletive, glaring at the table, as if were somehow responsible for his father's cruelty.
Stanley took a moment and breathed in deep before sitting up, making Shermie's hand fall away. Stan rubbed at his eyes and yawned.
"You should go back to bed, Stan." Shermie advised, picking up the now empty mugs and walking over to set them in the sink. He turned back to Stan, who was now standing up. Shermie winced. He could only imagine how Stanley ached.
Stan hummed. "Yeah." He looked up at Shermie was a dazzlingly bright smile that was almost hard to look at. "Thanks for the drink bro!" the smile fell slightly. "thanks for letting them stay."
Shermie was shocked to see the smile, the same smile he'd seen so many times, but he shook off the thought and gave Stanley a true smile in return. "Not just them, Stan. You can stay here for as long as you need. I'm not going to leave you alone to deal with this." Shermie opened up his arms and engulfed Stan in a hug. It wasn't nearly as tight as the one that morning, but the sentiment was still there.
"It's going to be okay, Stanley." Shermie let him go and Stan sighed deeply before giving him the flash of a genuine smile before walking slowly back to bed. Shermie watched him leave with sad eyes and a heavy heart.
No one deserved this- least of all his big hearted brother. Shermie slowly made his way back to his own room, settling in for the night. Amelia shifted at his side and he curled his arm around her as he stared into the darkness, mind whirring.
They all needed to talk- and it wasn't going to be easy.
You guys can thank Abbyswancullen for this chapter! Man I've been putting so many stories off-
Stan: Wait, aren't you plannin' on makin' another story!?
Ford: Shh! Don't spoil it!
Stan: But- it's so SAD!
Ford: SHHHHH.
Stan: AND IT'S ALL ABBYS-
Ford: SHUT. UP. STANLEY.
Me: Hehe, thanks Ford. Anyway, sorry this chapter is short and kinda sucked, I woke up thinking I would have a free day off from like- life! But then my friend comes up and tells me she double booked herself- so I took over one of her things for today along with my own stuff, idk man life gets wild when I least expect it.
