A Tale of Two Fords

Chapter 4

    "I hope that she likes it..."
    "It'll be fine..."
    "Man I can't believe it's already been three months!"
    "Time sure does fly..."
    "Oh... Oh she deserves this so much..."
    "Yes... She sure does..."
    You could hear the sound of Fiddleford McGucket's heart snapping to pieces if you listened hard enough.
    "Do you think she'll like the flowers?"
Force a smile.
    "I'm sure she'll love 'em, Stanford..."
    "What about my outfit? Do I look okay..?"
You look perfect. As always.
    "Dashing. Now get your butt out there, Ford! Your lady's 'a waitin'!"
    In the few seconds Ford was being pushed by his roommate out the door, he looked back and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to tag along..?"
I'd give anything— you wouldn't even know the start of it...
    "Nonsense! This is your date after all! Don't want'ta intrude!"
    "Alright..."
Is that hesitation...?
    The elevator bell dinged and Ford straightened his posture, holding the flowers and box of chocolates tightly in his hands.
    "Oh! Hello Connie-"
Slam.
    "God freakin' damn it, Fiddles..."
He slid down the door and sat on the carpeted ground. Fiddleford ran a hand through his hair and cursed again.
"How could you let yourself... Get so... So stupid...?!" He hissed and his 'stupid' emotions came back in a flood.
In the past three months since Connie and Ford's first date, Fiddleford learned that he had fallen into something even more dangerous than that well he got stuck in as a kid.
He had fallen in love.
With Stanford Pines, nonetheless. It seemed pathetic to him... At first Fiddleford thought it was a simple "oh wow he's good looking". And it was, honestly. But then Ford and Connie started dating and whenever they were around him, he would begin to feel some kind of pang in his chest as he wondered if being held in Ford's arms was as loving and inviting as it seemed. As he wondered if anyone would ever kiss him as gently as Ford seemed to kiss Connie... If the taller man was simply that cuddly or if the sweaters really did make a difference... If those smiles they shared were strictly for his eyes or if that was the man's natural amount of joy...
If anyone in the world would make Fiddleford feel as passionate as he did when it came to Ford Pines.
He had let his mind wander; and cursed himself for it. He hated to think that he had eyes for a man in a perfectly healthy relationship (even if his significant other was a real bitch) but he honestly could not help it—
He had fallen hopelessly in love with this man.
It terrified him to no end.
"Get a grip, Fiddleford!" He tugged at his hair this time. "You can't keep this up! He'll hate ya if he were to ever figure it out..!"
    And at that well over-used line he had to let out a choked laugh.
    Memories of being a seven year old, visiting his grandparent's small farm in Tennessee with his siblings, flooded his head.
    If he were to ever figure it out.
    He felt like he was a kid again. He felt like he was back at that farm, hiding with his brother.
    "Dad'll have our heads if he were to ever figure out it was us!"
    "If she were to ever figure it out... Well I don't think we'd be allowed to cook as often..."
    Fiddleford laughed. Not his usual laugh, which was almost always shared with Ford. No, it was a dry laugh and if you didn't listen close enough, you might've thought he was crying once again.
    "Look'it what you've done now, you stupid southern hick..." He hissed to himself and laughed hoarsely. "Ya fell in love with the best thing that ever happened to you... Ahaha!"
    Hearing his laugh almost hurt.
    He glanced at the picture of Ford's family that rest on the brunette's desk and ran a hand through his damned hair again.
    "I love you, Stanford Pines...." he murmured, unaware of the ears listening in from the other side of the door as he shakily stood with a sigh.
    "And God damn does it hurt..."