Memories

Lost

([A/N] The cover art is not how I personally see human bill, I just couldn't find anything else that I somewhat wanted 😭)

     [Narrator POV]

     After the first week of looking over the shack, Stanford was starting to regret agreeing. As being in the shack brought back many memories he wasn't emotionally ready to handle. While looking through the fridge for some breakfast and silently listening to the cold winter wind, Ford mentally thanked Soos for stocking the fridge for him. After Stanley's (somewhat unexpected) passing, Ford was wracked with guilt and did not have any interest in having conversations with anyone, let alone anyone in this town who knows Stanley and would ask how Ford is holding up recently. Ford had always struggled with emotions in every capacity. Dipper and Mabel try to be there for him but they have their own issues and lives to deal with. Fiddleford, after Stan's passing, knew he probably didn't have much time left either, so he was spending as much time as he could with his son before then. So Stanford was on his own; Until further notice at least.

     As he was finishing up his breakfast, he poured the rest of the coffee from the pot to his cup, set his plate in the sink and made his way to living room. Before he could make it through the door, the phone rang. Ford quickly set his cup down on the side table(added by Melody after too many spilled cups from the very uneven 'skull table' they had been using), and made his way to the phone.
"Hello?" Ford asked. He had stopped introducing himself by name after Stanley's passing, he couldn't handle hearing his own name for the first year knowing his twin would've still accidentally responded if he was still here.

     "Heya Ford! It's Soos, just wanted to make sure you're doing ok, figured I check in after the first week." Soos responded.

     "Oh hello Soos." Ford said. "You really didn't need to do that, everything is going fine here. Just go enjoy your vacation." Some silence followed before Soos replied.

     "I know losing your brother was hard, but I really wish you would talk to someone about it."

     Ford wasn't sure how to respond to that. Everyone in this town knew who he was and he definitely wasn't comfortable talking about his feelings with any of them. He also couldn't go somewhere else, as during their adventures, Stanley managed to get him banned from a few states; Besides, Ford never quite enjoyed the idea of therapy.

     "Sorry Stanford, I know it's a touchy subject still, and I know you probably don't know anyone you'd be comfortable talking to about this." Soos continued after the silence. "Since I don't actually expect you to talk to anyone anytime soon, at least promise me you'll at least go outside for a walk or something a few times."

     Ford was hesitant in responding but eventually managed to get an answer out. "Alright fine. I promise to take at least 3 walks outdoors before you come back." Ford couldn't see him but he knew Soos was definitely fist pumping hearing that.

     "Thank you Ford!" Soos enthusiastically replied. "Before I hang up, I'm letting you know I'm going to call 2 more times to make sure you went on at least 1."

     Ford was irritated, but also extremely grateful for Soos's pushy trait. "Alright, I was kind of on my way to do something soooo..." This 'something' was just watching TV and drinking coffee(which was practically all he had been doing all week).

     "Oh! Alright, see you Stanford! I hope you have a good time."

     "Thank you Soos, goodbye."

     Ford set the phone down and went to return to being lazy. As he made his way through the door, and grabbed his coffee, he suddenly stopped. As he thought back on the last week, no, the last few years since Stanley's death, he realized he had lost all his routines. Frankly, he stopped doing anything. His entire life the past few years was just a blur of coffee with some sleep and tears here and there. He mentally face palmed as he heard his brother's voice echoing witty puns and laughs through his mind. He stopped and looked down at his cup of coffee while he thought about what Stanley would say seeing him now. Suddenly a memory popped into Ford's head.

     Only a few days out on sea, and Ford, after waking from a horrible nightmare, was leaning on the side of the boat drinking some coffee not wanting to go back to sleep in fear of returning to that horrible dream.

     "The hell are you doing up? It's like..." Stanley yawned as he appeared next to Ford. "... 2 in the morning."

     "Sorry Stanley, did I wake you?" Ford asked a slight guilt added to his voice.

     "Nah, just happened to wake and saw you weren't in bed." He replied. This was a complete lie, but knowing something was wrong and hearing the guilt in his twins voice, Stanley decided lying was for the best.

     The two stood in silence for awhile. Ford was leaning over the wall of the boat clutching his cup, while Stanley was leaning his back on the wall, stretching and yawning. Stanley, finishing his stretch, looked over to Ford to see his cup tightly clutched in his hands. Ford had quite the addiction to drinking coffee. Stanley knew it was mostly due to Bill, while, only lasting a few months, his torture had driven Ford to near insanity. It was, of course, also due to his travels through the multiverse.

     The first few nights after Stanford's return to the shack, he had a habit of suddenly waking in the night with clear panic, almost as though he thought he was going to die. Without Ford's knowledge, Stanley started slipping sleeping pills into Ford's drinks; Stanley says it was because Ford was constantly waking him in the middle of the night, but everyone knows it's because he wanted Ford to know he was safe and could sleep well without much worry.

     As Stanley looked away from the cup to meet Ford's gaze, all he saw was his twin seemingly shamefully looking away from him.

     "What happened this time?" Stanley asked, getting straight to the point.

     "What?" Ford quickly looked to lock eyes with Stan.

     "Listen pointdexter, I get things have been really hard for you, hell they were hard for me too." Stanley shifted to rest his hand on Ford's shoulder and continued. "But you're safe now. They're just dreams." Ford seemed to be getting slightly teary eyed, Stan, not wanting to it to go that far resorted to joking(like always). "Besides, I need you well rested when I get whisked away by a siren or whatever the hell else is out here." Ford slightly chuckled and relaxed his grip on the cup. Stanley, noticing this, suddenly snatched it from his hands and dumped it into the ocean.

     "Stanley! What the hell?!" Ford loudly replied.

     "Look, you're never gonna get any good sleep drinking this. ESPECIALLY when you're drinking it at 2 in the fucking morning Stanford." Stanley responded. Ford seemed a little shocked, then sighed.

     "Alright fine, if I go to bed right now, will you promise to not throw my favorite cup overboard?"

     "I GUESS I can do that; But I'LL be putting it away." Stanley sassily replied. Ford rolled his eyes. "Now get your ass to bed."

     "Alright fine geez, goodnight Stanley." Ford turned and started walking to the cabin.

     "Sleep well sixeuuuuhhhhh Ford." Ford turned around to see an awkward smile from Stanley. After the many times Ford had gotten uncomfortable being called this nickname, Stanley confronted him and Ford decided to come clean about why it bothered him so much now.

     Ford chuckled and continued to bed.

     "Goodnight Stanley."

     "Night Ford."

     Looking down at his cup and remembering that night, Ford made his way back to the kitchen and dumped the entire cup down the drain. He set the cup in the sink, and felt rather proud of himself, but more so thankful to Stanley for looking out for him. He took a deep breath and made his way upstairs to his room. He found some nice warm clothes so he could go on that walk he promised Soos. He decided on his nice red turtleneck sweater(for obvious reasons), a nice puffy snow jacket with warm fuzz lining the inside, a scarf Mabel had knitted him for Christmas a year or two ago, he found some earmuffs(that most likely belong to Melody or Mabel), a pair of surprisingly comfortable and warm jeans, his(as Mabel calls them) 'iconic' boots, and some nice fuzzy socks Mabel had made to go along with his scarf the Christmas after.

He headed to the door, not really as ready as he hoped he would be, but regardless, he opened the door and took his first few steps outside, closing the door behind him.