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Are you real?

Summary:

Ford thinks Stan is alive. Is he though?

Notes:

aaaaaaa i"m back ! anyway, please enjoy this angst between the stans ,, i love it way more than my … other writings - haha -

no smut today ! this was kinda my vent writing but i decided to make it into an au ,,

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It"s been a long time since Stanley"s disappearance. But Stanford doesn"t believe that. His brother is real, he is with him, he cooks everyday, listens to his stories. It"s probably just a rumor, right?

Though, this gossip affected his dreams. He got a very bad nightmare where he lost Stanley for real. The imagination was where his brother got into a very violent car accident.

It caused Stanford waking up with a heavy breath, quickly realizing that it was just a bad dream. But still, he decided to run to the kitchen, where Stanley usually was.

Oh how happy he was to see that Stan was there. Even giving him a sudden hug in relief.

Stanley got a confused look on his face, but shrugged his shoulders, smiling at his beloved brother.

For now, Stan wanted Ford to go outside, since he was still cooking and it"d be a pretty boring thing to wait for.

Nodding his head, Stanford had dressed himself up in his daily clothes, with pens, pencils and his journal in hand, going outside to investigate for a while.

This time of the day, Stanford was ecstatically returning back to his house from the research he had discovered. Stuff like this always made him interested since high school. It was even better when his brother listened to him.

As excited he was, to tell Stanley all of it. Stanley, of course was waiting for him, even set up a table just for Stanford. Hearing the door open, Stan saw his beloved walking in with his journal. A smile appeared as he sat down on the chair in the kitchen.

Ford had the same smile, but wider. He loves his brother that much. He sat down as well, facing Stan, beginning to talk all about the abnormal things he had discovered. Stan obviously loved to listen to them, though he reminded Ford that his food was getting colder, so he should eat it quickly.

Ford does as he was told so, placing the dishes in the sink after he was done. Though, he didn"t want his conversation stopped, just talked with Stan for a while, till, Stanley had to do … something.

Nodding, trusting his brother. Since he had some time for himself, he decided to read over the research he had wrote. It was a very interesting investigation for him. His notes had small blank pages, so he decided to doodle Stan on them. It looked really cute.

The sun was almost setting down, but Ford didn"t want to stop his investigating. He went outside, not noticing that Stan wasn"t there. He was probably doing the thing he told later, he thought.

Ford found so many other anomalies that fit just right into his journal. He felt like he was made to fit in with oddity and not normal things. It was like an actual home. A place where he was fully comfortable for himself. All of a sudden, he felt so strange. He felt like throwing up. His vision started to get blurry to the moment where he couldn"t even focus at all.

A few hours or so past, eyes blinked slowly as he woke up in a hospital bed. He thought this was an imagination, until he rubbed his eyes and wore his glasses.

Next to him, was his pal, Fiddleford. What was he doing here? And why was Stanford in a hospital. Lord, there were so many questions he wanted an answer to.

"Fiddleford?" Inquiring, sitting up, even Ford couldn"t answer this.

Fiddleford was silent till he saw his buddy waking up, sighing in relief.

"You good, Stanford?"

Nodding, at the realization that Stanley was all alone at home, certainly worrying about him. Though, he couldn"t see him in here.

Come to think of it, he questioned why he was here. One blink he made, then appeared here. His skin was pale, with black circles under his eyes. It looks like he hasn"t even eaten anything.

"The doc told that you haven"t eaten anything, are you doing okay at home?"

What a silly question. Fiddleford must be joking. Stanley feeds him every time, he doesn"t have to worry about Stanford health. There"s Stanley everyday in front of him.

"Of course, Stanley looks after me everyday," Unexpectedly, gazing at Fiddleford as his face expression changed into a cold one. He just got up, telling Stanford to come with him. Ford was allowed out of the hospital since he had no damage done to his skin, just tips given out.

Both of them walked out, Ford, confused, but still deciding to follow him.

His eyes were shattered into pieces. His joy was gone when he saw that Fiddleford brought him into a graveyard. One of the tombstone had Stanley"s exact name.

Not even a minute past and Ford just began to become hysterical, looking at the gravestone then back at Fidds.

"… Fiddleford, what is this?" Hyperventilating, cackling as Fiddleford stared at the gravestone.

"Your brother, he is dead, he died a few years ago, you know that rumor that came around on the TV, right?"

"It"s real,"

Wow, Ford couldn"t have been so upset by a situation like this one. This gravestone was so real, which is. It showed Stan"s birth and death, his full name.

"Fiddleford, I"ll dig open this and see Stanley"s not here,"

He was in a burst of both laughter and filthy tears, wanting to dig the ground until he was stopped by Fidds. He insisted him to not do it. His brother did a lot of grateful stuff to him, so he shouldn"t do this for the sake of his brother. Ford just stared onto the ground, suddenly getting up on his legs, running back to his house, but this time, Stanley was … there.

"Stanford? Finally, you have no idea how worried I wa - " Though, he was cut off by an embrace Ford gave, hugging him really tight, sobbing into his chest.

"Stan … Stanley, you"re real, they - they said you"re dead, and I - "

God, poor thing couldn"t even make a normal sentence without crying.

But Stan, rather smiled, looking at Ford"s eyes.

"Don"t believe them, sweetheart, now, why don"t we eat? I"ve made so much food today, "

Wiping away his withered tears, holding his hand as he walked to the dining room, plate already on the table Ford sits on.

 

"I know you always liked my cooking, so I made extra, enjoy,"

Stanford smiled, looking at the empty bowl in front of him.

"Thank you, Stanley."

Notes:

thank you for reading !!! don"t forget to leave kudos and comments ! (*˙˘˙)♡
( will edit if i spot grammar mistakes / need to change or add something )