Chapter Text
"Bill!" cried the weaker boy. "Bill, slow down! I- I can't-"
"Yes, you can," huffed the blond in front of him. Strong, callused fingers latched onto his skinny, bony wrist, pulling him roughly along until he almost face-planted into the ground. "Move it, Pines!"
Dipper gulped down air into his lungs, his chest aching so badly that it felt as if someone dropped a ten ton anvil on him.
Honestly, it didn't even matter. He let Bill pull him along, dragging him down the narrow streets of the abandoned town like he knew it from the back of his hand. They weaved through street lamps, jumped short fences, went through corners.
Each step they took was a death march, and they both knew it.
"Bill," the brunet sobbed out, "they're-" He wheezed, "-right behind-" Wheeze, "-us."
"I know," the blond gritted out in between his teeth. "I know."
Dipper tried to let out his words one last time, to speak to his only companion, to tell him what he was thinking. What Bill was thinking.
It was no use, to be running away from the mutants like this. They were going to die, slowly, carefully, chewed out by the people they all once knew. There was no coming out of this, and even with Bill's thick-headed skull, he knew it too. He just refused to believe it.
A few years ago, when Dipper Pines was only twelve, he was moved to Gravity Falls, Oregon to live with his Grunkles, Stan and Ford, with his own twin sister. He didn't know exactly why, of course, until he caught his Grunkles arguing downstairs in hushed whispers. He remembered feeling Mabel's nails dig into his bicep, both siblings coming closer and closer together the more they heard of the argument.
An apocalypse, known as Weirdmageddon, had already begun. It had taken over California and every state below it, manifesting over every single area slowly, manipulating bodies, turning families against each other. It manifested in brains, whispering things into peoples' minds until it turned them insane, turned them into thoughtless zombies with nothing in their minds but to kill, to eat other humans and family members like disgusting animals.
They were worst than the slow, groaning zombies portrayed on television. No, these mutants were one hundred times worst. They were agile, they were fast, they could detect a human easily like a predator looking for prey. And worst of all, they acted so, so much like their human counterparts. They could speak, act and talk like their old self, until they would turn on their friend and eat them until bones were the only thing left behind of the poor fool.
The lump in Dipper's throat grew. Stan, Ford, his parents, Mabel-
Nails dug into both of his shoulders, nails that were grimy and dirty, different from his human companion's. Dipper couldn't even let out a scream as one of those things pulled him backward, his wrist slipping away from Bill's grasp.
He felt the hot breath and saliva dripping on his exposed neck hungrily, like a vampire ready to bite in. He didn't dare turn his head to see who this person was, if he ever knew them at all anymore. Over the course of five years, the humans bodies rotted, the putrid smell of urine and puke the only thing left to show that they were ever alive.
Dipper closed his eyes, already accepting his fate that he was going to die. Everyone was eventually going to, and it was even a wonder to him how he survived this long. He was weak, significantly less strong than the ones who once walked with him.
There was a loud crunch, nails that dug into his shoulders leaving as the creature was smacked across the wall next to him.
Dipper turned around with widened eyes, scrambling backwards in a crab walk for his dropped hand gun. He felt cool metal touch his finger tips, and grabbed hold onto it like a life line as he blinked the red tint away from his eyes.
Bill raised his ax over his head, yelling a raw scream as he brought it down on the ghoul's skull. Then he brought it down again, and again, and again until the head was nothing but black choppy meat and liquid. It looked like a watermelon being squashed, although watermelons shouldn't bring that urine smell and black-inked color.
Dipper didn't even flinch looking down at the killed monster, watching the blood trail over to him in a small line, much like a river. He stayed down for God-knows-how-long, mouth slackened, eyes wide.
He looked up, and flinched.
Bill's eye- oh God, his eye. He only had one eye, the other covered by a white gauze soaked with blood through the middle, but that remaining eye was a scary sight, looking down at the body with nothing short of malice. His jaw clenched, his scar looking darker in the sunlight. He looked like a psychopath, with the way he was holding his ax to the side, and with the way his face was ready to kill another.
Dipper withered when Bill's eye flickered back over to him. But Bill's bloodcurdling gaze turned to one of worry, and he breathed, "Are you alright?"
The brunet nodded mutely, feeling his hands shake slightly as he stood up. Bill watched him carefully, one eye glinting with the mischief Dipper fell in love with unintentionally so many years back. For a moment, all he remembered was days on the roof top with Bill, looking down at the chaos with laughter and smiles, drinking wine despite their age.
He forgot, even for a moment, that those moments were gone forever. The apocalypse was a joke back then, but with everyone dead...
Dipper's body was pushed to side once more, but this time by someone saving his life instead of taking it. He was pushed through a narrow door, one that squeaked and groaned as Bill kicked it open.
Dipper stumbled inside, and before he could ask questions, the door was shut tight right behind them.
Not even a moment later, the door pounded heavily with a fist being thrown against it. Then another joined. Then another. Until, it was an orchestra of pounding and pummeling, groans and inhumane screams of frustration.
"Fucking pigs," Bill sneered, pounding against the door himself to taunt the creatures.
In return, the door groaned underneath its new weight, and Bill's eyebrow rose in challenge. "Wow, 'don't have to be rude," he chuckled, turning around on one heel as he put his black-stained ax against the wall.
Dipper watched in frozen shock as Bill brushed past him, looking around the abandoned area with a searching eye. He didn't know what his boyfriend was looking for, nor did he particularly care.
He didn't really care about anything, really.
You see, his heart was pounding with three hundred beats per minute. His breathing was labored, his head was pounding stronger than having eighteen tall glasses of alcohol. His vision, oh my, his vision. It was tinted red, and not the color you see when you were angry. It was the color of blood, the dark, dark blood that looked almost close to black.
It wasn't normal. Of course it wasn't normal, because it was all the signs of turning.
He was bit, two months ago, just a small graze on his first layer of skin against the front of his leg as he ran for his life for the third time that week with Bill.
Dipper never told him. How could he? How fucking could he?
His back slid against smooth wood (a dresser, he guessed), and buried his hands into his face. He felt the sobs break out through his chest before he heard them, his ears popping with his own, dead heart beat.
And when he looked up, when he had the strength to just so he could wipe his tears before Bill could yell at him for being a coward in the apocalypse yet again, Dipper saw what he was doing. Bill was chaining up the door, pressing the chains hard against the knob and the supports next to the door to make X's, to secure them inside the abandoned shelter.
Dipper looked around, sniffling as he tried to get an idea where the hell they could be this time. Of course, they were in an abandoned warehouse, filled with random furniture and pawn stuff abandoned at the time of Weirdmageddon. The place was dark, no electricity since the outage years ago, leaving dust everywhere and anywhere. It reminded him of his Great Uncle's Shack, a tourist trap with items much like the ones in this. And with remembering the Shack, he remembered Mabel, his Grunkles, the times they were alive and-
A sudden rip tore Dipper's eyes away from a broken bike in the corner of the vast dusty room, his neck snapping over to the sound. Bill had just found a matchbox, lighting up a single stick and bathing the room in a warm, ember glow.
He crouched down carefully, dipping the stick to the candle on the table right beside Dipper's sitting form. The candle immediately lit up, making the room seem larger with its much bigger light. But as it made it look larger, it also made the room look scarier. And lonely.
"There, that's better," Bill said proudly, putting his hands on his hips. He would have looked like a typical proud father after completing IKEA furniture, if it wasn't for the blood stained right across his extremely dirty white shirt, his ripped jeans matted with soot and dark red, his knees scraped and covered in his own blood. A proud father in the apocalypse then. The thought made Dipper genuinely happy.
Bill brushed past Dipper with two fingers over his chin in thought, eyebrow raised and other hand on hip. He looked like an art spectator, and Dipper had to stop himself from laughing. That was the only reason Dipper still chose to be here. Bill always got these looks on his face, or posed in ways that reminded Dipper of everyday, normal people. A salesman, a chef, a whiny spoiled rich kid. Everyday, Bill changed, and it gave Dipper the imagination and possibility that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay again.
Dipper brought his knees up to his chest, burying his face in them as he looked at the dirty ground. No. Nothing would be okay again. Nothing would be the same.
"Oh look!" Bill exclaimed, making Dipper's head swivel over to him.
Bill pointed at a monkey and fish hybrid, snorting and picking up the tiny figure and pointing at it to show Dipper. "It's like your Grunkle Stan's old baits, amirite or amirite?"
Dipper couldn't help but snort himself, shaking his head and burying his nose back into his knees in thought. Bill was childish, extremely childish at that. Even in the worst possible time, he found ways to find humor.
Of course, that was only if Dipper was safe. If Dipper was up on a tree, safe and sound, and he was being chewed up alive, he would have looked up at Dipper and grinned, "Top of the morning to ya, Pine Tree!"
Dipper closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose then exhaling. His chest went up, then down. Everything was okay. He was okay. He was fine. Bill's fine. At least, for now. That's all that matters.
"Whoa!" Bill said, accompanied by a chortle of laughter as he wound up a clapping monkey toy and set it down on the desk it was on. It began clapping its little instrument, and Bill laughed louder, his hooting laugh filling the musky air.
Outside, the monsters were quiet. Dipper didn't know if that was a good sign or not.
"Pine Tree," snorted the blond. Dipper almost groaned out loud, looking up. Bill was holding up a pair of underwear, tightened lips that told him that the boy was trying his best not to laugh. "Put this on your Grunkle Stan and he'll be the Sascrotch."
Bill laughed at his own pun, rubbing away a fake tear and tossing the underwear away on the ground carelessly. He kept walking around, his footsteps echoing around the enormous warehouse. He was getting farther and farther away from Dipper, and each step away from the boy was making Dipper's heart pound more and more heavier.
Don't- he almost said out loud, don't leave me alone here.
The words sounded ridiculous in his head, and he bit them back. He was already too clingy towards his only friend, and he didn't want to sound more like a five year old kid than he already was. And besides, Bill was just exploring the area out of boredom so they could wait out the crowd outside of the building.
Nothing bad was going to happen to Bill. Right? Right?
Oh God. What if there was a monster hiding somewhere in the back and Dipper wouldn't be there to warn him? Oh no, no, no- his ax. Shit, his ax! What if Bill was attacked, what was Bill going to use? No, no, no, no, no-
"Hey Pine Tree!" chirped a cheery voice.
Dipper felt his worries wash away at his happy tone, and squinted as he looked up, looking for the source of the voice. "What?" he asked, forcing his voice to sound disinterested and bored, as if he wasn't just worrying for the safety of his boyfriend just a moment ago.
"Do you prefer black or navy?"
"Uh- wha-?" Dipper asked in confusion, furrowing his brow. What kind of question was that? Well, it was Bill he was dealing with, anyway. Supreme Overlord of Randomness, as Bill Cipher called himself. The self-centered bastard always had a knack for pretending he was the ruler of everything on Earth and beyond, and it was a game they always played on the road.
"If I ruled this particular area, we're rebuilding the roads," Bill had told him with a wrinkled nose as they walked down a deserted highway to Washington all those months ago. They had such high hopes for help back then.
"Every road is like this now, Bill," Dipper had scoffed at him. Bill grinned at him, turning his head to look at Dipper with his hands gripping the ax gripping harder.
"If I ruled the world," Bill had asked him right after, tilting his head at Dipper, "would you rule beside me?"
"Of course you dumb idiot," Dipper huffed. "I'm your only partner now, you know. But there's- there's technically nothing to rule over anymore."
"Then we'll repopulate the Earth!" Bill had excitedly told him. There was that hope in his eyes, the excitement of living a full life with the love of his entire galaxy. "We'll bring orphans in, Pine Tree, we'll teach them how to fend for themselves and survive on their own like the greatest parents we'll ever be! Hell, we can tell them about the life we used to live, tell them all about it so they could rebuild it with us."
Bill's eyes softened, his face smiling softly at his only happiness and sanity left. Dipper watched him out of the corner of his eye, refusing to meet Bill's gaze lest he turned into a blushing idiot. Bill's eyes never left his that day, watching him carefully, closely with a look that made Dipper's heart skip two beats. He thought Bill wouldn't say anything, since he technically didn't for longer than the blond had probably originally intended.
"We can rebuild a world where you could be safe and smiling," Bill told to him after a long moment, voice suddenly quiet. If Dipper didn't know Bill personally, he would have never caught the shakiness that accompanied the blond's voice. "I can sleep at night knowing that you were okay and you were happy."
"Black it is!" cried out a familiar voice, jarring Dipper back to reality. "It matches with mine, anyway!"
And then Bill emerged, wearing a white long-sleeved dress shirt and new black slacks as he adjusted the obsidian colored tie around his collar. New polished shoes too, matching his clean-cut appearance. Over his shoulder was a black suit jacket, a simple white shirt, and black slacks. How Bill could balance all those over one shoulder, Dipper didn't know. Or, how he found them all clean and fresh.
Bill licked his hand, slicking back his hair in a messy fashion. And while Dipper thought it was absolutely, crazily dorky, his heart leaped in his chest.
Sadly, the apocalypse did nothing to dampen young-adult hormones.
His boyfriend, after messing up his blond hair as best as he could in the most stylish way as he could, looked over to Dipper with that smug half-smile of his. Shit, Dipper thought, feeling his cheeks heat up as he kept staring at his lover, he has dimples.
Okay, why did the world giving him a cute ass companion with dimples?
Fuck, he was screwed over.
Bill went over to him, striding with a feline's gracefulness. He tossed the suit jacket, slacks, and white shirt at Dipper. "I'm going to change into a blazer," Bill told him casually, "dress up, Pine Tree. Or I'll do it myself."
"I told you to stop calling me Pine Tree," Dipper groaned at him, "I lost my hat two years ago."
"I don't care," Bill shrugged, "a pine tree doesn't stop being a pine tree when it says so, you know."
Dipper glared at him, who in return, gave him a mocking grin. Bill turned on a heel, away to the darkness the candle couldn't reach so he could change into whatever it was he wanted.
Dipper rolled his eyes, putting the clothes by his side. He crossed his arms, staying put and doing absolutely nothing as he waited for Bill to come back. So Bill wanted to play that game, huh? Yeah, well, he can too. He was as stubborn as Bill was, maybe even more.
And so Bill came back, sporting a sharp blazer that broaden his shoulders and made him look more over all...hot.
Dipper almost coughed into a fist, his face threatening to flame up in embarrassment. But he forced the heat down, his stomach knotting as he gritted his teeth. He forced himself to look at Bill in the eye, as blankly and challenging as he could.
Bill's eyebrow arched in question, and his single eye flickered over to the pile Dipper messily made beside him. He frowned, and Dipper fought back a smirk of his own.
The dressed-up man didn't speak, mutely going over to Dipper with an aura that told the brunet, you seriously shouldn't have done that and disrespected my wishes.
The man on the floor with his arms crossed almost withered at his suitor's, but stayed sitting tall with his back straight. Finally, finally, a corner of his lips quirked up in amusement when Bill stopped in front of him, breathing heavily with fire in his eye.
And that was all it took for Bill to snap.
He reacted so fast that Dipper didn't even have time to yelp as his dirty collar was clumped up in a fist, forcing his body to get up from the floor as Bill basically dragged him up.
Dipper's hands flew to the hand grabbing him, but the fingers left, leaving him to stand there with a slackened jaw.
Then lips met with his and a hand grabbed at the hem of his shirt.
Dipper yelped this time, feeling his dampen and dirty shirt being pulled over his head. "Wait, B- Bill, I'm sorry, I was-"
Bill bit down on his bottom lip, shutting him up as he threw Dipper's sweat-soaked shirt to the ground. Dipper tried to pull away, of course he did, but his forearms were braced against the top of the short dresser, nails digging into his skin. Not enough to break it, but enough to tell Dipper that he didn't have a problem doing exactly that if Dipper kept squirming.
So Dipper did his best to relax, opening his eyes to glare at the boy making out with him in the middle of the apocalypse. Ugh, this was a nightmare. Or not. Damn it, it depended on how he viewed it, really.
Bill pulled back from his lips, pulling the long-sleeved shirt over Dipper's head before planting a lingering kiss on Dipper's neck. The shirt was a little scratchy, but he couldn't care less at the moment.
Dipper shivered, his hands shooting out to Bill's thighs for support. His legs felt like jelly underneath him as Bill trailed wet and hot kisses down his neck, nipping softly at the skin there to tease him. Dipper bit back a whimper, his own nails digging into his teasing lover's skin.
Bill chuckled deeply at his reaction, a low sound that caused Dipper to shiver even more. The blond trailed a hand underneath his new shirt, the other going down his behind. Dipper tried to bat his traveling hand away with a whine, but Bill cut him off with a deep kiss, his tongue darting into Dipper's territory with expertise.
Then Dipper was brought up with a single strong arm, being propped onto the short dresser with the wood groaning underneath them.
A cold hand went underneath Dipper's waistband, pulling it down in one swift motion, leaving Dipper exposed in his dirty boxers. The brunet's face turned to one of deep red, embarrassed by the sudden violation.
Bill made a throaty sound, approving of Dipper's body as he pulled away from Dipper's mouth. His eye twinkled in amusement at Dipper's flusteredness.
"Aw, don't be so embarrassed by me, Pine Tree," purred Bill, his voice rumbling and low with lust.
He leaned over, planting a kiss on the spot where Dipper's shoulder and neck met. Dipper's hands tightened on Bill's thighs as Bill deepened his own kiss, nipping with his teeth and sucking lightly. Dipper panted, his breaths coming in labored and heavy.
His legs were pulled up by Bill's hands, slipping on the slacks onto Dipper's body. Bill made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through his chest. Dipper's hands left his thigh to roam Bill's broad chest, feeling the muscle there despite the fabric layered on top.
And before anything could get anymore heated, Bill leaned back away from Dipper's new hickey, grinning down at him with his eye alive with that fire of his. "You're dressed." A statement.
"Wha-" Dipper looked down at himself, dropping his hands away from Bill's body to inspect himself. It was true. Bill dressed him up in his white shirt and slacks. All that was missing left was the jacket, but it was left on the floor, abandoned and completely untouched.
"What, no shoes?" he asked sarcastically.
Bill grinned at him, bopping his nose with his. "Nope," he said, popping the 'p'. "Your running shoes are much more important than those tight ass ones."
"Wha-?"
"Also," Bill interrupted, laughing to himself, "I'm a little too caught up right now to try and find them."
Before Dipper could open his mouth and say something regretful, Bill tilted his chin upwards to him, looking into his eyes with his lips gaping slightly in wonder.
Dipper gulped back his witty response, watching Bill's face change as he looked down at Dipper. It caused butterflies to appear in his stomach, and caused his ears to tingle. Years of being close, of being the only ones alive (as far as they knew), and Bill knew how to do things to him that made him forget.
Bill's eyelids quickly hooded, his thumb tracing over Dipper's bottom lip with a tenderness that was only reserved for him. Dipper shifted his weight, the dresser creaking in response. He looked back at Bill, waiting for him to speak. Bill was unpredictable, and times like these were times that confirmed that.
"I'm so happy I met you," Bill whispered, "I- I don't think I would've carried on without you."
Dipper felt his chest feel tingly to the touch, and he gulped down the lump forming in his throat. He reached up with both hands, taking Bill's face in them. His mouth formed a small 'o' as his eyes searched Bill's face carefully, drinking everything in.
Back then, Bill's two eyes were lit with hope and happiness, unconditional love only showing for Dipper. But now, Bill only had one, single eye- an eye that bore burdens that a person shouldn't carry. A sadness to them, even when he was smiling.
Bill smiled at him when Dipper's eyes flickered to his lips, the corners turned down. He tried so hard to act like everything was okay for Dipper. He tried so damn hard to make a world that had a happy and safe Dipper Pines. But his effort would go out in flames, as Dipper Pines was going to die eventually.
Bill's eye flickered over beside Dipper, and his fake smile brightened into a genuine grin.
He got off Dipper, letting Dipper comfortably sit down on the dresser as he shifted over to his right, looking at whatever it was he found on the dresser beside Dipper.
"Look," he told his lover, hands going around a small box that had a small ballerina on it. "A music box."
Dipper frowned. He forgot those things existed. In fact, he forgot many things existed. He touched the tip of the ballerina with a fingertip, pulling away with dust. He rubbed it away in between his fingers, looking over to Bill. "Bill, I don't even think it works anymore."
"You kiddin' me?" Bill grinned. "These things would work in the apocalypse better than radios, Pine Tree! They don't even run on batteries or power."
"Bill-" Dipper sighed.
The man didn't pay Dipper any mind, reaching over with his hands to keep the music box in place as he spun it around three times, then five, then eight. He let go of the music box, stepping backward.
The ballerina moved but not a sound came out. Only clicks and groans.
Dipper shook his head, the words I told you so at the tip of his tongue.
But then Bill put a hand out towards Dipper, and Dipper looked down at it in curiosity. His eyes glanced back up to Bill, who smiled at him. His eyes were pleading, wide with...hope. The music wasn't working yet, but Dipper had a feeling it wouldn't matter.
Outside, the monsters began to groan and scream, pounding on the chained door.
Dipper took his hand, letting Bill grasp his hand softly to pull him to the open space. The candle soaked them in the warm glow of the fire, their shadows dancing and flickering beside them like they were dancing by themselves.
Dipper looked down at their twin shadows, and Bill pulled him to his chest, making Dipper squeak out in protest. Bill laughed at his sudden outburst, lifting a hand and forcing Dipper to rest his head on his chest carefully.
The brunet tensed, and Bill whispered in his ear to relax. Because, after all, this might be their last dance they would ever take.
So Dipper did, his shoulders relaxing and his breathing calming down as Bill entwined his fingers with his, setting them in a slow dance position. His lover rocked them slowly from side to side- a move to calm down Dipper than anything else.
The candle, the rocking, their soft breaths- Dipper didn't feel more at home with leaning against Bill, his ear pressed against his chest. The ba-bump of Bill's own heart, the steady beating that rocked Dipper to close his eyes and enjoy the moment.
Then quietly, the music began to play a soft melody. Quietly and broken at first, but bold the next moment. It was too slow for the original song, but the dust and the time being left alone here to rot was the thing to blame.
Bill moved them from side to side, placing his chin over Dipper's head comfortably. He hummed the song, the humming sounding through his chest for Dipper to hear.
(X)
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy, when skies are gray.
You'll never know, dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.
The inhumane screaming got louder, the pounding more agitated and crazed. It sounded like more people were gathering, attracted by something within the walls. The music box, perhaps. The two of them refused to turn it off nevertheless.
They both knew what was going to happen after this.
Dipper's own heart leaped in his throat, taking over every sense of his body, pulling him under. His calm state was slipping, and he himself was slipping as well. His heart pounded, his hands shook, his ears rang painfully, his vision blurred- from tears or from the transformation that was going to turn him, he didn't know. He didn't care. He never cared.
I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, Oh god- I'm already dying, Ohnonononono-
His little breakdown vanished, his senses clearing up, the moment Bill pulled away from him slightly to look into his eyes. He tilted his head to the side, looking at Dipper questioningly. They were still rocking. The music was slowing down, and did nothing to drown out the sounds of the creatures outside their door.
The candle let Dipper see every scar on his face. The one down his cheek- caused because of Dipper. His eye patch- his eye got gouged out because of Dipper. The dark bruise on his forearm- all Dipper's fault. The frown, the worry playing on his lips- Dipper.
Seeing the sadness in Dipper's eyes, Bill leaned over and kissed him.
But the kiss was different. Way too different for Dipper not to notice. Bill tipped his head back in between his own thumb and fingers, deepening their kiss and taking possession. Strong, ferocious, a deeper need that wasn't there before. It left Dipper a little breathless as Bill pulled away from him.
A beautiful storm passing by, and Dipper wasn't out there to see it.
"Everything is going to be alright. You're going to be alright. I swear it on my life," Bill whispered, pressing his forehead against Dipper's. His hands held onto Dipper's face, forcing the brunet to look at him. There was something about the way Bill said it. Something weird, and not the kind Dipper wanted.
Dipper, being the idiot who spoke too much at the worst times, blurted, "And how about you? Will you promise me to be okay too?"
Bill didn't respond.
"Bill?"
Bill swallowed visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing hardly. He blinked once, then twice. There was a glassy look in them that made Dipper's heart sink.
"Bill?" The name was called more urgently, more broken like the owner to the name.
The boy didn't respond to the other, holding onto Dipper harder, stronger- like he was going to lose Dipper if he didn't grip him strong enough. "BILL?"
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," the blond sang in a broken, watery voice. "You make me happy when skies are gray."
Dipper watched him with a clenched jaw, gritting it as Bill kept his forehead pressed against Dipper's. "You never know, dear, how much I love you."
Bill blinked, his watery eye threatening to spill tears. But Bill Cipher didn't do tears. He didn't do much of anything, and now- now was no exception.
"Please don't take my sunshine away."
He didn't know what happened.
He was slammed against the floor, the back of his head hitting against a pole. A burst of light showered in his vision, and he squeezed his eyes shut in pain. A groan managed to escape his lips.
His senses was blurred for a moment, feeling not much of anything until he opened his eyes. There was a click, and a sound of something rotating.
He tried to move his left hand. It stayed locked.
Dipper's eyes widened, anxiety and adrenaline pumping through his every pore. His heart pounded, his mind frying with the sudden overwhelming situation.
Bill tightened his handcuff more, but not enough to make him uncomfortable. Bill held up a key up to Dipper's face, letting the boy see it, before throwing it fifteen feet away- it would take Dipper at least an hour to get to it, but at least he would get to it at all. Sadly, he was also attached to a stair railing.
Then Bill planted a soft kiss on Dipper's forehead, standing up and walking over to the chained door. He began to take off the chains, ever so slowly.
"BILL!" Dipper screamed, his throat raw and begging. He pleaded, he screamed for Bill to stop.
"BILL, STOP IT! STOP!" Dipper sobbed out, fighting against his restraints. He tried to pull his left hand away, to somehow get his way out of this stupid handcuff and stop his lover from doing what he was trying to do.
His lover, of course, didn't respond to him.
"BILL! BILL! PLEASE!" Dipper screamed, angry tears welling up in his eyes. "STOP IT! STOP IT! YOU'RE SCARING ME!"
Bill's shoulders tensed up, his hands stopping on the chain. And right when Dipper thought he would stop this hell, he kicked his foot back.
A pistol went sliding over to Dipper, stopping right at his feet. "Bill," Dipper begged, sobs breaking through his chest, "don't. Please. Bill, you don't understand-"
He rolled up his pant leg, stretching it out for Bill to see. There was a rotten mark, scratched down from his knee to ankle. A bite, ripped of the top layer of his flesh. "I'm bit, Bill! I'm bit! It doesn't matter if you fucking kill every single one of them, I'm going to die anyway!"
Bill turned his head to see his scar. He did not flinch. He did not look surprised.
Instead, Bill turned his whole body to face Dipper and shrugged off his blazer, pulling his shirt over his head. He let the fabric drop to the floor, basically floating down to his feet and pooling there.
There was a giant hole in Bill's stomach. It was like someone stuck their hand in and dug into his flesh, taking a huge chunk out of him. It was green and black- at least five months old.
It took six months for a person to turn.
Dipper couldn't speak. He couldn't. He tried.
But Bill didn't wait for an answer as he turned around, grabbing the ax beside the door and raising it above his head.
He cut the last chain, and opened it a crack.
He slipped out, closing the door shut behind him.
There was a scream- of rage, of anger, of the monster Bill Cipher was secretly hiding from him all those months ago.
The screams went on, and Dipper kept crying, tugging and pulling on his handcuff desperately to get out and find him, to save him despite knowing what had happened. His wrist was bloody, red and raw like skinned meat.
But he didn't care. Dipper Pines never cared.
Outside, the screams turned into gurgles. The gurgles turned into wet sounds of a distorted throat.
And then silence.
The music box ended abruptly, much like poor Bill Cipher's life.