[ The girl who lost her lover goes to the mountain to confide in the Master about the pains of her heart.

…the Master engraves a tattoo on the girl. After that day, the girl dreams of the man.

But then she falls in love with someone else. The tattooed dream soon becomes a nightmare and the tattoo aches severely. ]

-North Eastern Japanese folktale.


He's 14, and at the police station. He'd snuck out the house after befriending one of the men's kids who'd loiter outside the mansion often – Jamie was it? He's a little too drunk to recall.

They'd been drinking, got rowdy – the usual. First time it happens, first time for everything, they say.

"Oh Sir Giordano! Wow, I—I can't believe you're here in person! Honour to meet you, sir!" (he thinks the officer sounds like a green brown-nosing jackass)

-Shit, that guy's here already.

He can hear them talk about adult shit, 'boys will be boys but he expected more from a Giordano, from one of his own'. The man's Italian accent is thick, he wonders if the officer can even understand what the man's saying.

The man greets him, clearly not happy. Says he will be punished severely at home.

"Gonna spank me?" he snickers. (god, can he ever just shut up?)

The man's eyes, with wrinkles fanning out, harden and the lines become more prominent.

He'd disrespected the man in public, on top of humiliating the family name.

The man was going to kill him. The man was going to kill him.

No…

The man was going to—

He was going to…

He'd probably say it's what happens to cute boys in jail. but it happens to boys in general doesn't it?

He's already sweating. He can smell it through his ruined alcohol-spattered thousand dollar suit.

Will he finally cry this time? Is this the time it happens? He never cries, has never cried. It bothers him because where does it go? where does it all go?

But he's not scared. He's not scared he's not scared

No one scares him. Because no one scares Gaspard Giordano.

Not even—

himself?

There's a hand around his neck, a hand down his pants stroking him.

He's being berated and

it feels good? The man's hands feel so good

Is he even angry?

Does he even hate this?

He does he does he does.

He definitely does.

The man is so deep in him, figuratively, literally, and he doesn't

feel much of anything anymore. (when had he ever, anyway?)


He dreams his mother is giving him the talk about the Birds and the Bees while Ford stares at him over her shoulder.

There's hands around his waist, demonstrating her words.

Hands in his pants, demonstrating her words.

Hands in his mouth, hands hands and they're branded with markings of dead people.

and

Ford isn't happy.

and

He doesn't really feel much of anything.

and Ford says, Ford says (in his mind)

"You were so young, Bill. You were so young. You couldn't feel it, you'd have died, Bill. You'd have died."

And Bill thinks,

So what?

Ford is giving him The Talk while his daddy looks on from behind, disappointed.

Ford still tells him he's too young and Bill just doesn't fucking get it.

He leans in to kiss Ford. Ford says he's too young then
that he's too old.

His hands are around Ford's throat and he says come to me come to me come to me. I'm not finished with you yet. come to me. only you can only you can—

Xanthar is giving him the Talk with hands choking Ford to death.

He tells Papa he likes Ford. His daddy just smiles.

He tells his father what a failure dear papa has been through out his life and that he knew he knew—

Papa knew what Ford was doing to him.


you knew didnt you Papa? you always knew


He's dreaming dreaming dreaming, and he's at dinner with that Ford guy.

Your glass is looking a little on the slender side. Want a refill?

I don't drink, Bill.

What? What the hell are you saying, old timer? You always have a drink before we fuck

Ford is confused. Ford's hands are not tattooed.

…?

But I don't drink, Bill. Did you forget?

What?

I don't drink.

No, I mean—why are you calling me that?

Bill? It's your name?

My name?

Bill. Bill Cipher.

What? My name is—

You're Bill Cipher, aren't you?

He stares at Ford, says you're crazy crazy you're crazy. Says

I missed you. I've missed you so much. Where are your tattoos?

Bill, you're confusing me with someone else.

No, I'm not. Are you angry? At me? I won't run away again…

Bill, where's Fiddleford?

The two of us are enough

Bill—

I'll kill him if he tries to take you

Bill—

Ford's hands are tattooed.

Do you want me to fuck you?

Oh yes, please. I thought you'd never ask. Please hurt me like you used to

I
missed you so much
so much.


He barely makes it to the bathroom this time, his stomach rigorously purging itself, thinking if it heaves hard enough, something else will come out too.

He hardly sounds like himself in his dreams.

When will Ford hurt him like he used to?

Ahaha, oh, the human mind was such a strange thing.

It's intriguing but such a…

messy inconvenience.