Sui Generis

Superstes Sum

Ford sighed through his nose as the bedroom door clicked shut, leaving him alone. The four walls of the shared room wrapped around him, making it seem like he existed in his own little bubble of solitude. His brother had just left for boxing lessons and wasn't due back for two hours. His parents were, oddly enough, on a date night down on the boardwalk. He thought it must be nice, having someone so invested in you that they'll be willing to spend that much time in your presence. He wouldn't know, of course, and figured he never would, not with the cards he'd been dealt. He'd be lucky if he got a word in at all with another person. They would take one look at him and immediately stay away. The few who stayed past that left after seeing his hands, calling him a mutant, a freak.

They're not wrong. Your flaws aren't something you can fix, but rather they're just you. Your flaw, Stanford, is existing.

He shook his head tiredly, running a hand through his hair. He sat at his desk, surrounded by papers and textbooks. Originally, he had been working on his physics homework, but that quickly transitioned into reading his textbook for fun- homework never kept him occupied for more than six minutes, anyway. He reopened the textbook and gave a legitimate attempt to read it. After he read the same line four times without gleaning any meaning from it, though, he huffed irritably and shut the book. He stood and relocated to his bed, located opposite from Stan's- as they grew older, that cheap bunk bed couldn't support them anymore. He laid haphazardly across the maroon comforter, one leg touching the floor and the other on the bed. He tried to relax and he briefly considered turning in early. Stanley had been drifting farther and farther away from him, anyway, so he doubted that it would matter if he came home to find him asleep. He stayed there in indecision, and eventually just settled for closing his eyes and trying to meditate. He'd had a hard day, and his focus was shot.

Of course, his focus was just too shot today for that practice, and so he laid there immersed in thought.

I have a physics test next Thursday, but I'm sure I've studied sufficiently to cover the material. I might just review some later anyway, it couldn't hurt. I wonder if Stanley's read up on and studied the material as well. It's highly probable that he hasn't, but he needs to. I need to talk to him about bringing his grades up more, otherwise, he won't pass this year. I'd probably have more time to convince him to study if he didn't actively seek Crampelter and his friends out after school to rough him up after they mess with me. I'll always patch him up afterward, though- how could I not? He's my twin. I just wish I had the nerve to tell him that they're right. I know he won't believe me if I bring it up, but I am a freak. I have intelligence, sure, but what else? My smarts are all I've got. They make me a little less useless, a little less worthless, and a little more valuable. Otherwise, I'm just some mutant, destined to be the twin of Charismatic Stanley. I don't do anything worthwhile other than that. I sit at home all the time unless Stan drags me somewhere- I'm a waste of space and money. I let down my parents and my brother every day that I'm alive. I'm weak, pathetic, and horrendously dependent, like some sort of parasite. Pa only keeps me around because of my financial potential and Ma never wanted me- she cherishes her 'free spirit Stanley' too much. I'm the unplanned one, the embarrassment. Stanley at least has the heart to be nice to me as if he doesn't resent me. I don't even have a personality. What use am I in the grand scheme of things?

Ford stared at the ceiling vacantly, his crystal blue eyes stinging. He was... empty, but at the same time, it felt as if his chest was weighed down by a train. His mind, usually going a mile a minute, was foggy yet hypersensitive to his own miserable thoughts.

He didn't know how long he laid there, but it was long enough that he fell back into his mind. When he emerged yet again, he realized that the droplets that stubbornly refused to fall had left, slipping silently out of the corners of his eyes and wetting his hair. An overwhelming urge struck him then, and his eyebrows furrowed just slightly as he contemplated his next actions. The brunet glanced at the clock. He'd have enough time- Stanley wasn't due back for a little over an hour. Should he, though, was the question.