Crimson Tears

Sketchybro wrote this you nerdy shits

THEY WROTE SO MUCH COMPARED TO MEEE

Ford laughed nervously, tiredness seeping into his voice. His eye was beginning to stop bleeding, but it still hurt like hell. "N-No, I'm af-f-fraid not. I shut i-it down, but..." he answered, his tears staining his face.

Stan hated seeing his brother like this. He had had heartbreaking moments with his brother before, when Ford was being called a freak, when the kids in class laughed at the two of them, when Ford was sick, when he was hurt by the words or punches and kicks of bullies.

When Ford closed the curtain on him, shutting Stan out of his life for years.

But this was..
/unbearable/. Ford's condition was like all of the bad times rolled into one horrific nightmare. That nacho looking freak was tormenting Ford, making him sleep deprived and depressed as hell. His eye was bleeding, and he seemed to have bruise marks on his face from who knows what. His shack was a mess, his mind was a mess, and everything right that Ford had done had gotten him /here/. It should've been Stan here, not Ford. After all, Stan was the screw-up, and Ford was the hero. It just wasn't right.

Ford snapped weakly, still gaining Stan's attention. "W-Well, are we going or not?" Ford asked, rubbing his good eye. Stan nodded, helping his brother up.

Ford led his twin through the shack to a metal door, inputting a code that Stan couldn't see. The door create open, and Ford quickly ushered Stan inside, turning a skeleton skull nearby to the side.

Stan went through the door and halfway down the stairs, jolting when Ford shut the door with a massive slam. "Ford, we're going down some steps, not trapping ourselves in a bunker."

Ford laughed weakly, being reminded of Fiddleford when he heard the word "bunker". The two descended, Ford letting a couple more years fall as he thought of his poor friend F.

Ford reached the elevator, inputting another code that Stan didn't quite see. Although Ford was happy that Stan would help him, he still don't trust his eyes. He honestly thought he'd have problems trusting someone ever again...

The elevator brought them down to the portal, it's metal machinery shut down. Ford hated the look of it, and yet he couldn't look away. He found it mesmerizing in a way, especially when turned on. But he also knew that it was dangerous, and Stan was right to bring up destroying it. Inter-dimensional travel would just have to wait a few more years.

Ford suddenly felt his eyes grow heavier. He shouldn't have come down here. This was a terrible idea. If he fell asleep, Bill could deactivate the portal.. or hurt Stan. Ford had just found someone the least bit trustworthy after this whole mess, hell, the mess was still happening, and he just couldn't afford to lose him. Not his brother.

"St-Stanley, lock me up..."

"WHAT?!"

"Lock me up, Stan! I'm tired, if I fall asleep he could take over! He could hurt you, or me again!"

Stan looked over his brother, who did honestly look like he was about to collapse. Even his yelling was quieter, not being able to stay awake much longer.

"H-How do I lock you up?" Stan asked, never thinking he'd ask /that/ question to anyone. Especially not his brother.

"Th-there's a crate somewhere over there.. Fiddleford made it for capturing large animals in the woods. I-it locks.. auto.. matically..."