Chapter Twenty-Two
Bill's uncensored grief - no, distraught - was absolutely impossible to choke down. He clutched one of Dipper's hands in both of his own and sobbed pathetically. It was all he could do anymore. Never, in all of the time he'd lived, had Bill Cipher ever felt so powerless. Literally and figuratively. Not only was he entirely helpless to his circumstances, but he couldn't hear a single thing coming from Dipper's mind either. The only sound was that of his own sniveling drowning out the silence.
Worse, the horrible pain in his eyes had increased to an almost unbearable point, but he didn't let go of Dipper's hand. As long as he was still warm, Bill could pretend a small breath of life still existed in him. And the brunette didn't actually seem to be growing colder at all, but Bill couldn't really know for sure. He was probably just going crazy, in all honesty. Or it could always be the fact that he clutched Dipper's hand like a vice, as if refusing to give into the horrible truth. Bill grit his teeth and let his head fall against the edge of the couch. His body shook, and he just wanted it to go away. He wanted everything to go away. If he ceased to exist right then, it wouldn't matter.
Nothing would matter.
Bill choked out a strained groan, finally pulling his hand from Dipper's to cover his eyes. He'd always known pain was enough to knock someone out, even kill them, and this was the worst experience he'd ever had with it. So why didn't he just fall unconscious until it went away, like always? Or hell, why didn't it just end him already? It wasn't like he cared anymore. He resisted the urge to dig his nails into his eyes until they stopped being a nuisance to him at all. He ground his teeth together so hard he feared he may just chip a couple of them, body curled over on the floor. His breath was panting and shallow. He couldn't see straight. His nerve endings were electrified. He could have screamed from the anguish. And then, in one quick, almost overwhelming moment, it was gone. Like a string snapping in two.
Bill shot upwards once again. He blinked a couple times until his vision cleared up, wiping the sweat gathering on his brow away with a sleeve.
Dipper gasped.
He took a few labored breaths, moving his hand - the one Bill had held until only a few moments prior - to press against his chest. His wide eyes searched the ceiling until it became apparent to him where he was. He sat up with a hiss, running his fingers over the large red scratches on his neck gingerly. When he turned his head to the side, Bill had already pushed himself up onto the couch and wrapped his arms around the brunette's slightly thinner frame without even a moment's questioning. He pulled the brunette close to him, though he was careful to mind the fact that Dipper seemed to be in a bit of pain. A loud cry escaped his lips as he buried his tear-stained face into Dipper's shirt. "I'm so sorry. I love you. Never do this again. Never leave me again," Bill begged, sobbing once again.
Dipper felt sympathy tug at his chest. It was his fault Bill was such a mess. It was always his fault Bill was a mess. No one else affected him the way Dipper did. He smiled softly, using a hand to rub his back soothingly. "I know.. Shh, I love you too," he whispered, pressing his nose into tousled blonde hair and taking a relaxed breath. Bill still smelled faintly of vanilla and mint, as always, which Dipper found incredibly calming about him. "I won't leave you. It's okay now. We're okay now." It was all he could think to say, leaning back and placing his hands on Bill's face to tip it upwards.
His eyes no longer held any color within them. They'd darkened from a cloudy, almost silver hue to a deep gray. Dipper pressed a kiss to his lips, and Bill seemed to calm down a bit more. His shoulders weren't quite as tense. He looked broken, everything about him, but somehow everything suddenly felt right again. He placed a hand against one of the brunette's own, his other still holding the other by his waist. He was silent, taking everything in. As if this were his last chance to look Dipper in the eyes.
And maybe it was.
Bill decided he should probably start treating every look like it was the last, or at least when it came to Dipper. "How?" he managed. No other words seemed to find their way from his mouth.
Dipper's gaze flicked away from the intent stare of his boyfriend. "It doesn't matter," he replied, resting his head on the other's shoulder. The two of them deserved to relax for once. They deserved to be at ease. There would be time for explanation later. Dipper would tell Bill the things Elizabeth had revealed to him one of these days. He'd go into detail about all the little secrets eventually.
He'd tell Bill that the Mindscape was held together by its strongest occupant, and without him it had begun to fall apart faster than ever.
Bill wasn't losing power because he couldn't handle being in a human form. He was losing power because his connection to the Nightmare Realm had been severed, and the decaying dimension could no longer reach him. Dipper had been right to compare the process of it to withdrawal, because that's precisely what had been happening.
Bill had been the timer throughout all of this. Once he was entirely human, the Mindscape would no longer work as a bridge between the two dimensions, and their world would be completely cut off from the Nightmare Realm, which would die on its own soon anyway. If of course, it hadn't already. Of course, Elizabeth had wanted them to believe otherwise, and every step she took she lead them towards opposing theories. In the end though, it had hardly mattered.
But Dipper remained silent. He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to close his eyes and take a deep breath for the first time in what felt like years. It was better if for a short while, Bill believed both of their lives right then were miracles.
"How much of what I said did you hear?" Bill asked quietly, letting his hold on Dipper loosen a bit. The brunette hummed, lifting his head from off his boyfriend's shoulder.
He chuckled, pushing back Bill's bangs to notice the fact that the third eye had disappeared, presumably for good. Dipper placed a kiss against his forehead, which the blonde found both comforting and slightly embarrassing. The gesture seemed a bit too sweet for them, but at this point he didn't care much. All he wanted to do anymore was hold Dipper's hand and hug him and never let him out of his sight again anyway. What did Bill have to be embarrassed about at the end of the day? He'd just sobbed uncontrollably for a good ten minutes and poured out his heart to the love of his life. Nothing was too sweet anymore. "A lot, if not all of it," Dipper admitted with a small smile, shifting to get off of Bill and stand up.
Bill did as well, giving a slight nod. He decided not to continue with that conversation at all. Everything that had needed to be said had already been said earlier. "Hey, Blondie's out there. I think you should go see her now," he said, wiping the remnants of his tears away. Dipper agreed, stepping towards the door and pulling it open with Bill directly behind him.
Outside, Stan's car had only just pulled into the driveway, probably mere seconds prior. Mabel opened the door and practically burst out of it, darting for her brother before Pacifica could say anything from where she sat on the step in front of the door. Mabel's arms wrapped tightly, almost too tightly, around Dipper's torso and he stumbled backwards a bit. "Oh my gosh I thought you were- Pacifica called and said- I was so scared!" Mabel was crying, and her words came out almost hysterical. Dipper hugged her back and reassured her that he most certainly was alive, despite how things may have seemed. Stan and Ford had gotten out of the car, too. Relief washed over Stan, who walked over and placed a hand on Dipper's shoulder. He didn't say anything, but Dipper could read his expression just fine.
Ford let out a breath like he'd been holding it in for way too long. He also stayed quiet, but exchanged a seemingly meaningful glance with Bill, relaxing the hand that had been ready to pull a handgun from his belt. Pacifica had gotten her tears out already it appeared, and she was attempting to comfort Mabel while still keeping most of her attention on Dipper, who laughed and made jokes to lighten their moods. Beth hung back a bit, smiling politely and staring down at her hands quietly. In the heat of the moment, she'd left her coat beside the statue in the woods. It felt strange and uncomfortable to be near so many people without covering the burns all over her body. If they even noticed her presence then she'd probably lose any semblence of a friendship she'd made with them.
She jumped a bit when something was held out towards her. Beth's eyes flicked up a bit to see Bill with only a white button-up on now, and the light blue sweater he'd been wearing a moment ago was in his hand. He frowned, and his gaze wouldn't meet hers, but he'd clearly been crying. "If you really need to cover up so bad then take it. Consider it an apology for accusing you of being an evil demon hell bent on destruction or whatever," he grumbled, pocketing his free hand. Beth reached out hesitantly and accepted his offer. She opened her mouth to thank him, but he'd already turned away from her once again. Giving a sigh, Beth put it on and laughed quietly to herself about how small she was in comparison. But it would do until she got her coat back.
"Thanks," she whispered, almost to herself.
But he heard her just fine.
Bill snorted watching Dipper fiddle with the tie around his neck. "This is bullshit," he muttered angrily. "Getting all dressed up for a wedding I don't even wanna go to. This thing's too damn tight. Bill, fix it." He quite clearly gave up on trying, turning his head towards the blonde, who raised an eyebrow in response.
"Demanding, are we?" Bill chuckled, taking Dipper's tie into his hands and loosening it a bit. "You know, the whole point is to look formal."
Dipper huffed, giving him the slightest glare. "I don't give a damn. A; I hate wearing suits. And B; I never even wanted to see this guy, let alone attend his wedding," he hissed, casting the groom a rather nasty look. "Why should I have to look nice when I don't even want to be here?" He was pouting. Bill rolled his eyes, which had remained their now permanant gray.
"Because Shooting Star's sitting at the bar contemplating another drink, and I feel like maybe you should tough it out for her. Blondie doesn't wanna do this any more than you wanna see it," he rationalized, tipping his head towards the lone woman at the bar with her head down on the counter. "Just be polite and try not to get into a fist fight with the guy before we leave. Now go get your sister; she's supposed to be standing at the altar right about now." Mabel was the maid of honor, and the wedding was about to begin. Pacifica would probably feel even worse walking out there just to see Mabel wasn't even waiting for her.
Dipper sighed, standing up. "Since when are you polite?" he muttered.
"I'm pretty damn good at pretending." Bill shrugged.
From the seat beside him, they could clearly hear Ford scoff, as if in agreement. That earned a faint smile from Dipper, who strode off to usher his sister back to the place she needed to be. Albeit neither of them looked too happy about it. The groom wrinkled his nose at the twins, eyeing the purple in Mabel's hair, which had recently been redone. "Must you look so unprofessional?" he questioned to himself, and Dipper spun on his heels to face him, smiling in as friendly a manner as he could pull off.
"Must you be such a pretentious asshole?" Dipper narrowed his eyes. "Raise your voice a little louder if you have something to say. It's not lady-like to mumble," he snarled, and Bill stood up to stop him with an exasperated expression. But it seemed he didn't need to intervene. Mabel pressed a hand to her brother's shoulder and pushed him in the other direction with a reassuring look. He sighed, but made his way back to his seat silently.
Bill watched him sit down, then did the same himself. "What did I say?" he whispered, and Dipper frowned.
"To be polite," he responded in frustration, tapping his fingers against his knee.
"Completely disregard me, why don't you?" Bill smirked, eyes on the altar. "That was pretty good though," he said with a sneer, raising his hand for a high five. Dipper let a laugh slip, smacking his palm against Bill's. He was about to make another comment, but music started to play, and he knew what that meant. The two of them forced themselves to look as serious as possible, but it was hard when Bill kept whispering rude things about the groom - Henry, if he remembered correctly - under his breath. Dipper tried to keep a straight face.
Even Bill had to stop making an ass of himself when Pacifica appeared, eyes facing straight ahead. Her lips were curved upwards into a soft smile and her hair was styled, bangs swept neatly to one side. Most people wouldn't be able to guess how unhappy she was. She walked in calculated, perfect strides, and her dress trailed neatly behind her. She was gorgeous, as always, and if anyone said otherwise Mabel would throw a fit. Still, her smile was forced, not that most would be able to tell. She stepped up to the altar and faced Henry, who seemed unbearably aloof. But she said nothing. It wasn't like she could. The ceremony began, and each moment being there felt more agonizing than the last. And that could be said for Pacifica along with all of her friends. Frankly, nobody even wanted to be there but her parents, who apparently thought this was like true love or something.
"And do you, Pacifica Northwest, take Henry to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Pacifica opened her mouth, but glanced away. Her gaze searched Dipper's and Bill's, as if silently asking them what she should do. Dipper shook his head, practically begging her not to go through with this. Bill just cocked a brow at her, chin propped up on one of his hands. His other was resting on Dipper's knee in as inconspicuous a manner he could pull off sitting right next to Ford. Though he appeared to be aware of it. He just didn't seem to care much, which was almost unexpected. She let her eyes dart back towards Henry, who was grimacing at the fact that she hadn't answered. Oh, who was she kidding?
She didn't want that asshole as a husband.
She wanted the kind of relationship Bill and Dipper had, minus the almost dying all the time.
But she could practically hear that horrible bell ringing in her ears.
Pacifica inhaled, closing her eyes for a moment and steeling her nerve. "No. No, I don't," she said firmly, and a shocked gasp erupted from her mother. Henry narrowed his eyes.
"I'm sorry?" He didn't sound particularly amused with her antics.
But Pacifica didn't budge. "No, I'm sorry to have wasted your time. But I really don't want to marry you. And I'd give you the whole 'you're a nice guy and all' speech, but honestly, you don't even have that going for you," she ribbed, pulling the veil off her head. "This dress is tacky, and you're the biggest jerk I've ever had the displeasure of speaking with. So what I'm gonna do now is I'm gonna leave here with people that actually care about me so I can properly apologize to the person I really want to be with. And then do you wanna know what I'm gonna do?" She pressed a finger to his chest, and he looked thoroughly offended. But before he could reply she'd already continued. "I'm gonna go dye my hair. Pink. All of it. And nobody is going to tell me I can't."
He was stunned. Just about everyone was. Her mother's mouth hung open, and her father was seething. But neither said a word before Pacifica spun around to face Mabel. She dropped the veil and took her hands. "If that's okay with you, I mean..." She smiled sheepishly, looking down. Seconds passed. Mabel's eyes glittered, and her cheeks were even rosier than usual.
The feeling of being on cloud nine was impossible to keep hidden, though, and she bounced up and down excitedly. She grinned from ear to ear. "Bill, how do I say yes in every dead language you know?" she asked, earning a laugh from Pacifica.
Bill just rolled his eyes playfully, standing up. "Who cares? Just kiss so we can leave already," he called back, happy this entire nightmare was finally being put behind them. Mabel just nodded, craning her neck down to brush her lips against Pacifica's.
"Fantastic. Now can we all get in the damn car and go home?" Ford questioned, standing as well. Dipper did the same, elated this had gone so well. Pacifica nodded slowly, starstruck. She'd just been kissed by Mabel Pines, whom she'd been hopelessly in love with for years. Mabel giggled, pulling her by her hands towards the exit, and neither looked back when the blonde's parents called for her to stop immediately or never bother showing her face in front of them again. Who the hell cared? She'd pick up her things later, and they could be rid of her. It wasn't like she was happy living with them anyway. Satisfied by this outcome, Dipper and Bill followed after the girls.
Ford waved for Stan to come along as well. "There's enough whiskey at the house. Hurry up," he grumbled, though a small smile tugged at his lips. Stan responded gruffly from his place at the bar, sauntering towards Henry.
"Tough luck," he commented, and the other seemed incapable of coherency. A few long seconds passed, and Stan shrugged. He poured the shot glass in his hand out on Henry's shoes, then threw down a small black capsule. It burst and smoke puffed out, enveloping the area around them. "SUCKER!" Stan yelled, running off towards the exit.
Little did Henry know, Stan had even gone to the trouble of taking his wallet.
But come on. The guy practically had it coming. What kind of asshole brings a wallet to their own wedding?
Henry, apparently.