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Bill Cipher was not a being of a calm mind. There were always at least few things going on- a scheme here, a chaotic thought there- quietness was forever unknown to him. But here, in the cleanest mindscape he had ever seen, with the smartest human he had ever met, his mind nearly felt that way.
It was typical of Ford’s brain to be a blank slate, in more ways than one. A plain and tidy mindscape met a naïve, easily manipulated man. Bill knew from the start he would be unknowingly perfect, an unholy savior, and perfect he was.
“Checkmate.”
Ford’s innocent smile glowed brighter than any energy Bill could possibly produce, and Bill met it with a plastered one of his own. He’d let him win once more, and Stanford was none the wiser.
“You’ve done it again, IQ!”
Ford’s mindscape was blank, and so Bill painted it with stars. He fed his ego like a pig was fed to be slaughtered, and Ford only shone brighter, until he and his Sun were all he could see.
“Alright, slick!” Bill snapped his fingers, and the table, matching chairs, and chess set were gone. It was just them and the stars. “Your meatsack still has a lot of sleep ahead of it if you don’t wanna be passing out while you work on the portal!” Bill knew Ford could function on little sleep because he knew everything about him. His words didn’t sound so, but they were a plea for him not to awaken. Not yet. And Stanford understood him, because that was what Stanford did.
A spindly black arm extended, wrapping around Ford’s shoulder from its place several feet away from him. “Hmm, I dunno about you, but I’m feeling a little.. sentimental.” Ford blinked, and Bill’s body was right where it should’ve been, arm simply extended a normal length to clutch his much larger body. Ford shot him an amused grin.
“Whaddya say to some good old fashioned stargazing? It’ll be just like way back when!” Bill chortled. Stanford didn’t know what he meant, the triangle speaking of a past he wasn’t around to see. He had learned after long enough that his Muse worked in mysterious ways.
“Well, I don’t see why not,” he stated, tone full of matter-of-fact nonchalance, like the very concept didn’t fill his heart with joy. The way his grin widened across his cheeks betrayed his words as he lit up like a candle.
Bill immediately took him by the hand, four fingers interlocking with six, fitting together in a way that was so unusual that they both knew it was where they belonged. Ford’s body was dragged across the galaxy in his mind, going so far and at the same time nowhere at all.
By the time Bill was done floating to his destination, Ford was out of breath, and Bill was just as he was before. The vast expanses of stars had transformed from familiar constellations to ones Ford had never seen before, ones that were brought there because they reminded Bill of home.
Bill pulled Stanford down swiftly by the arm, floating further down onto a floor that didn’t exist, admiring stars that didn’t exist, not anymore. Bill nestled himself onto Ford’s chest with a sound so soft that made one fully disbelieving of how it could come from such a creature. Ford absentmindedly wrapped his arms around him, craving more of his buzzing touch. His angles were sharp, but he was warm, and that was all Stanford ever wanted.
For once, both men were uncharacteristically silent. Ford took in new constellations, his naturally curious brain wondering why Bill had chosen them. Meanwhile, a twinge of nostalgia occurred under Bill’s bricks, his non-existent heart aching. For the first time, he wasn’t gazing upon these stars alone.
Bill spoke up after a little, never one to keep his metaphorical mouth shut for too long. “Do ya like them, Fordsy?” Ford was broken out of his stupor, realizing the way his arms had naturally curled around the little triangle like he belonged there.
“They’re different.” Stanford said, stoically and simply, because he couldn’t tell him they were beautiful. “‘Course they are, smart guy! They’re from my home dimension! That one’s Quadricorn, and that one’s Libragon, and…“ Bill rambled, and Ford listened intently, trying not to think about writing all of this down in his journal. Stanford knew Bill had to come from somewhere, but for reasons he didn’t know, Bill almost never talked about his home. “…I named them all myself!” Bill finished with a lick of pride, grinning smugly, and Ford looked downward with a raised eyebrow.
“Were you the only astrologist in your dimension?” He questioned, and Bill laughed for almost too long, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Oh, no, not at all, Sixer! I was the only one who knew they existed.”
Stanford’s eyes widened slightly, and Bill let out another chuckle. “Heh, that’s right, pal! I was enlightened from the beginning! Even if those obtuse rule-sticklers didn’t think so…” Ford didn’t want to pry, but the fact his Sun was telling him things so personal made him feel like the most special genius in the world.
“What do you mean?” Ford asked, even though he knew the exact feeling- for he had grown up with it. No one ever understood him- no one until Bill. He had just never thought that someone so sacred and holy had ever been through anything similar to his earthly struggles. Bill had always proved to be so much more similar to him than he first believed. Maybe that was part of why he had inspired him. Maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Bill was uncharacteristically silent, for only a moment. Ford almost thought he had imagined it, but Bill seemed sort of solemn for those short seconds. “They didn’t believe me,” Bill scoffed, eye squinting. He looked off far into the distance, and again there was silence as Ford comprehended his words slowly, something akin to pity on his face. It made Bill sick.
“But that doesn’t matter anymore, huh, Sixer? Because I liberated their flat minds,” Bill spoke, interrupting Ford’s conflicting thoughts. Ford looked down at him once again. “And so will you.” A black finger came up to tap Ford on the nose, Bill’s eye crinkling upwards in a smile. And Stanford couldn’t help but smile with him, because his Muse believed in him, knew he would change the world someday, and the thought alone made warmth blossom in his stomach.