Uncertainty - Stanford Pines x Reader (female)

Chapter 47

I woke up to an emptiness beside me that felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest. The bed was too cold, too quiet. For a brief second, I let myself believe it was a dream—that the whirlwind of emotions, the desperate touches, the frantic kisses we'd shared earlier were just fragments of my mind playing tricks on me. But the weight in my chest told me otherwise. It had happened. We had nearly... crossed that line. Nearly surrendered to the storm that had been brewing between us for so long.

But as I sat up, running a hand through my tangled hair, trying to ground myself, the heaviness clung to me, reminding me of the rawness of everything that had unfolded.

My body still buzzed with the memory of how close we had come, how quickly things had spiraled out of control. We were both rushing, fueled by years of repressed feelings, unresolved tension. And it had almost consumed us. This wasn't a dream. This was real. Stanford wasn't in bed with me anymore.

But now he was gone. The bed felt too big, too empty without him in it.

"Ford?", I called out, my voice hoarse with sleep. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet touching the ground. No answer.

I reached for the bedside lamp, the light flickering on with a soft click. The room came to life in a haze of soft yellow light, but Ford was nowhere to be found.

I sat still, straining my ears, hoping for a sound, any sound, to tell me where he was. A creak in the floorboards or the rustle of papers. Nothing. Only the eerie stillness of the night, the walls of this place seeming to close in on me with every second that passed. The shack was dead silent, the kind of silence that suffocates. Was it too much for him? Had I scared him off? Maybe I'd pushed him too far. Maybe he needed space. Maybe...

No. No, that wasn't him. He wasn't the type to leave like that. At least, not anymore.

But still, that gnawing uncertainty wouldn't let go of me. I had to find him. I had to see him.

I threw the blankets off, the cool air hitting my bare legs, sending chills down my spine. The room was freezing without Ford by my side, his body heat gone, leaving only a cold void. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, its screen offering only the cold digital display that said 3:07 AM.

Where was he?

Quietly slipping out of bed, I moved downstairs and toward the door, my body on autopilot. The cool night air slapped me the moment I stepped outside, the kind of sharp, biting cold that cuts right through you. I wrapped my arms around myself and stepped out, my bare feet pressing into the damp earth. My skin prickled, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was the figure standing alone in the clearing, his head tipped back, staring at the sky like he was searching for something—answers, peace, maybe even a way out of his own mind.

For a second, I just watched him. It was like looking at a shadow of the Stanford I knew. He wasn't the confident, brilliant man who faced down the unknown. No, here, he was... small. Smaller than I'd ever seen him. He looked almost fragile, like the weight of everything—everything we'd said, everything we'd left unsaid—was crushing him. The man who, just hours ago, had been an overwhelming force of emotion, was now just... vulnerable.

I moved without thinking, my bare feet sinking into the wet grass as I walked up behind him. He didn't flinch, didn't even turn around, but I knew he heard me. He always knew when I was near. There was a long stretch of silence before I finally spoke, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"You couldn't sleep either?", I asked softly, my voice trembling slightly. Part of me was scared to even ask, scared of what his answer might be.

Ford didn't respond, not at first. Instead, he just stood there, his gaze still fixed on the stars above.
His response came, quiet and broken, like it took everything in him just to admit it. "No... too much on my mind."