Hi guys! THANK YOU SO MUCH. Your reviews seriously keep me going, ALL of them. I'm like screaming that you guys love my weird writing so much! Anyway, I have another story for ya, be prepared for angst and then LOTS of fluff (if I can make my brain write it :P) ENJOY, MY MARSHMALLOW COMRADES.

Tw: Idk? Maybe uh...angry confused Ford? Stan who gave up kinda?

It wasn't bad, all things considered.

Stanely stared at the opposite wall, as if the hard gray stone would start staring back. It really could've been worse. He had it all thought out before it happened anyway, including all the ways it could go wrong. This was definitely one of the least terrifying.

Stan had been in a jail cell before. Six times before, to be more accurate, and there were certainly worse things. He sighed, abruptly ending his staring contest with the wall.

Pushing himself off the bed, he fell to the floor and began doing push-ups. He struggled for a moment to get in a proper rhythm, but his body recalled the familiar motion quickly. He was now staring at the floor as he pushed himself up and down again and again.

He didn't let himself think as he worked. He continued his excersise, unthinkingly, until his joints started to ache with the strain. When this happened he fell to the floor and lied on the cold stone ground, resting his head on his sore arms until he fell asleep.

It could've been so much worse.

...

It couldn't have been worse.

Well, Stanford thought, that was a bit of an exaggeration. A hyperbole, if you will. But Stanford, although prone to more logical solutions, was also just as dramatic as his brother, just in a different manner.

Ford paced, hands clenched behind his back as he wore a hole into the old wooden floor. What was Stanely thinking, running off like that!?

He just couldn't figure out what had gone wrong.

Things seemed to be going fairly smoothly with Stanley's recovery. Although, there were rough patches, Stanford couldn't have been happier with how things were progressing.

He was just happy Stan remembered his own name. Yet, as the weeks pressed on, he could see how his brother was piecing himself back together. By the time the children had to leave, Stanely seemed to be completely himself again. (They had called to extend the deadline for the twins return home, hoping their prolonged stay would help Stanely recover faster.) It had been a sad day when they watched their niece and nephew roll away on that bus. Yet nothing peculiar or even paranormal happened that day.

So why did Stan leave? Stanford had woken up the day after the twins had gone, hoping maybe to finally restock on coffee since Mabel wasn't there to steal it, but when he walked into the kitchen, Stanley was no where to be seen.

He had searched for so long, but by the time he had found the note, Stan had been long gone.

Rereading it did nothing to help the situation either, yet he stopped from his habitual pacing to pick it up off his desk before resuming his back and forth.

The crumpled paper was now hard to read, but Ford had it nearly memorized.

Ford,

I've been called a lot of things over the years. The more that comes back to me, the more I realize it's all mostly true. One of the most common things is that I'm a cheat. A con. A thief.

I don't want to be.

We made a deal. I'm not exactly sure how well you held up your end, but I'm not going to risk it. It's yours. The house, your name. Everything. I hope you'll be okay. I promise I won't bother you anymore.

~ Stanley Pines. P.s, ask Soos about taxes and bills. They've changed a bit since you've been home.

Ford swallowed hard and growled in frustration. The paper crumpled further under the force of his grip.

Stanford had too many regrets. That horrid deal was just the icing on the cake at this point. He knew why he did it though. At the time, everything had been Stanley's fault. Why would Ford want to be anywhere near the man who had ruined him!?

Now, Stanford knew better. Yet, one thing still bugged him, nagging at his mind.

When did he ever ask Stanely to leave?

Yes, at the time, perhaps it was implied. Maybe he wouldn't have minded if Stanley had decided to leave of his own free volition. But...he had never asked. Nor would he ever have demand it. Ford had to watched his brother thrown from his only home once, he didn't want to see it happen again, especially not in one lifetime!

Ford couldn't have ever done it. That would mean he wasn't any better than his father.

Ford hated Filbrick. Why did he ever compare Stan to that cold man? Stanely was a money hoarder, but he certainly wasn't cold. Or cruel.

Stanely was good. At his heart, his core, Stanely pines was a good man.

Ford sneered and tore viscously at the note, letting the shreds fall from his hands to the floor. He watched them fall with hard eyes.

He watched as the last shred settled on the ground and he stared at it.

What was he doing? Why was he wasting time trying to figure why Stanley left!?

Ford needed to get him back. The pained scowl softened, only to settle on a determined grimace.

He had found Stan once, hiding in a hole down in Mexico. Surely he could find him again.

Stan couldn't be far.

"I'm coming for you, you knucklehead. Whether you want me to or not."

I swear there WILL be fluff...eventually. ITS NOT LIKE THE OTHER TIMES I SWEAR IM NOT MISLEADING.

Ford: you do have a problem with that...

Stan: yeah...you really should stop getting there hopes up.

Me: I'm not lying this time! C'mon, don't at least one of you believe me!?

Ford: ...

Stan: nah, not really.

( Hey! MM! Are you TRYING to kill me with amusement!? XD. I seriously can't even handle the amazingness that are your reviews. DON'T DIE! 3 seriously none of you are allowed to die I love all of you. )