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The day he realises the nature and the strength of his feelings for Bill, Ford is overwhelmed by the impression everything led him here.
He doesn't believe in destiny, he ponders. It's more like slivers of his past echoing with his present, which now stand out like stars on a black sky. But his heart can only see teleological evidence.
He had to meet Bill, he had to come here, he had to be denied the college of his dreams, he had to...
And now he has to live with a burning affection for a creature probably not human enough to offer him anything in return for his devotion - but Bill doesn't owe him anything: he gave him too much already.
Yet Ford can't express how this situation gives more meaning and joy to his life than never having met him.
Ford remembers vividly his first encounter with the occult, when his mother explained her job. Stan was enthusiastic about inventing a stranger's life, possibly getting it right. Ford was spreading out the cards in front of him, thinking about their complex network of symbols, about their number of combinations, huge but finite, as was the multitude of human existence.
"You have to know the card meanings, in case the client does too," she explained. "He doesn't have to know we work on pure intuition, does he, my dears?"
She probably saw Ford's disappointed face, since she took his hands as they spread out the cards and said. "But it's different for everyone. Tell me what you see."
"They say there will be a love story," Ford grumpily said, "and that it won't end well."
His mother looked at the draw, smiled. "No, no. It will certainly be difficult, but look at the Justice, all will go well at the end. Listen to me, it's my job."
The concept seemed fascinating then. This particular draw, not so much. Ford was not interested in romance anyway, only in discovering the mysteries of the universe.
It starts with reading cards. It ends up with falling in love with an occult being.
When Ford was nine, he dressed up as Dr Frankenstein for Halloween. Stan was the monster. The usual jokes about Ford-the-real-monster came back, but Stan confronted them, smiling, and showed them who was the most frightening on that Halloween night.
They only knew the movie then. Later Ford read the book, and felt so much empathy, for Victor and for the creature, that he wanted them to reconcile on the icy wilderness, but it was too late. There had been too much harm done.
In those days, where Stan had already stopped reading, Ford briefly deserted science books to read supernatural romance, classics or even shameful literature 'for little girls', where monsters and other fantastic creatures were accepted and loved.
He never predicted he would be one day on the human side of the equation.
Ford loved hieroglyphs, pyramids and Egyptian gods once. He and Stan played pretend the explorers are confronted with the mummy's curse. Fillbrick Pines, pater familias, did not support this interest.
"You used to love science," he pointed out with a disapproving eyebrow.
Ford still loved science! That was the point, he explained; he wondered even more how the pyramids were constructed, how the mummies were preserved, and what for.
"Studying the past has no future!" Fillbrick exclaimed, not laughing at his own joke but clearly wanting it noticed. "Science has so much more interest and applications! Instead of studying an old heap of stones, wouldn't you rather, one day, make and sell flying pyramids?"
Ford approved. It was not easy to contradict his father, and science was his real passion.
If he had studied history, he probably would have never learned why - to honor whom - the pyramids were built.
"You're awfully quiet today, genius!" Bill Cipher exclaims. "Let me guess, a monster got your tongue? I should go defy him and get it back, we could have uses for it."
Ford laughs faintly. He feels good in the mindscape. As good as in his own thoughts, except he's not alone.
"Do you want me to tell you a story from the beginning of time to lift your spirits?" the triangle asks, flitting around him. "You just have to ask nicely. Or maybe you have something to say to me? Are you tired of tea, would you prefer unicorn blood with cookies? These pests deserve it, don't they?"
Ford knows Bill could easily read his mind, but doesn't, probably out of courtesy. The triangle still whirls. "If it's a girl problem, though, I don't provide that kind of help."
Ford blushes violently, this time. It's an opportunity to admit the truth - or maybe it's the worst moment for it. In his panic, his tongue can no longer form words, but other parts of his body don't share this paralysis. He takes Bill's hand, brings his lips to it, fervently kisses it. He silently prays to no god in particular, except maybe the one in front of him. The touch on his lips is fascinating, electrifying.
Bill softly laughs, and for a seemingly never-ending time, Ford can't say whether it's joy or mockery. Nothing can make him let go of his hand. Bill will take it back soon enough.
"It's wonderful, Sixer." Bill finally says. "I didn't imagine... do you know it's the first time that's happened to me?"
Ford's heart is suddenly very light, flying to the stars. "I would never have guessed," he says, completely honest.
"Oh, Fordsy - can I call you Fordsy?" Bill's fingers now graze his lips, and Ford thinks he never felt something so soft and overwhelming at the same time. "You should value yourself more. Do you think a lot of humans can show leanings NOT subject to their animal instincts, limited to their kingdom? No, you're exceptional."
His other hand ruffles Ford's hair. It makes him shiver to the depths of his soul, refrain from moaning in bliss.
"You'll change the world, Fordsy. I always knew it. But maybe your destiny doesn't stop here."
It's not a promise, but it sounds like one.