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The end of Stanford's sorry life, as it turns out, is multicolored.
The void that Bill comes from is a mess of bluepurpleyellowpink. Before the portal was built, Stanford would dream of these colors. They are bright, now, unlike his dreams - it takes a while for Stanford's eyes to adjust. When his eyes finally focus, Stanford realizes that he doesn't remember a thing. He knows where he is, for some reason. He knows that he is with Bill, and he can feel Bill's presence in every color. Bill spent a very long time here. It's like the marks that animals make to signify a place that is theirs.
Bill doesn't notice him coming around. Bill is too busy screaming. Stanford has always hated the sound of Bill's screams.
"Um," he says softly. "Bill. What happened?"
"Oh, I see you're finally back with us," Bill says. "Great. Lovely."
"You didn't answer my question."
"What happened," Bill growls - a low, rumbling sound which Stanford has heard only once before, and never wants to hear again, it is too familiar, too much like old times, too painful, "is your fucking nephew. Pine Tree is smarter than I initially thought."
A smile creeps across Stanford's face, but it fades as quickly as it comes. "Dipper did it?" It all falls together in Stanford's mind, like a building being demolished and rebuilt. Dipper sent Bill away. Back, back, back to where he came from. But. Oh. If Stanford is with Bill, then he is stuck. Trapped, again. Stanford only knows trapped.
"It's not over yet," is all that Bill says.
"It looks like it's over to me," Stanford laughs. A sad laugh, barely a laugh. And then: "Bill, why am I here?"
"Because I couldn't let you go."
"What does that -"
It starts to come back. Destruction, destruction, destruction. Disfigurement, death. And the last thing that Stanford remembers, is being touched by Bill. It's ironic, he thinks, how things like that are never-ending, how he is being touched by Bill in every memory he has. Before the portal, after the portal, before the end of the world. Bill touches him, and taints his mind.
"- mean," he finishes. "You did something to me, didn't you?"
"I turned you to gold," Bill admits. "Because you're golden, Stanford."
"Don't," Stanford snaps, but for a second he thinks back to genius and IQ and smart guy and misses it, like a knife in a chest. "I really hate you, Bill. I hate you."
"I know," Bill says. "But it looks like we'll be stuck with each other for a while. Until you inevitably die, of course."
"Can you just kill me right now?"
"Oh, come on, what's the fun in that?"
"I'd rather die than be stuck with you," Stanford spits. It's not entirely true - Stanford once loved him, loved and loved and loved and loved, and things like that never go away. Being stuck with Bill Cipher - who has a new form, now - is something that Stanford fantasized about in the past. He'd think about touching Bill in something other than a dream as he worked on ideas and plans, but: now he knows the truth.
Stanford sits down on something - there is a ground beneath him, apparently, one not visible - and buries his head in his knees. "I never even... I never got to tell Stanley that I -"
"Doesn't matter," Bill tells him. "Stanley's dead."
"What?"
Bill throws his hands up. "Don't look at me, I didn't kill him."
"Of course you did. There's no way you didn't."
"He died protecting them, you know. It's respectable, really. He died for a cause, unlike the way you humans are just killing yourselves for fun."
"Bill."
"But I can tell you this: deep down, he always knew that you loved him."
"Really?"
Bill bursts out into deep laughter. "No, not really! I have no idea. I just wanted to see your reaction."
"You're a real asshole, you know that?"
"I do know that, actually." Bill turns to him, rests a hand on his shoulder. "I love it when you call me names," he says, voice lowering. "Call me something else. Go on. It makes me all tingly."
"You disgust me," Stanford says. Laughs, again.
"Oh, I like that," Bill says. "Keep 'em coming."
Stanford takes Bill's hand. It's cold, freezing. He grips it until his fingernails sink into Bill's darkness. "I hate you," he says. "I hate you so much. You ruined my life. You ruined everything. You hurt me. And I can't believe I let you. All those times you told me that I was special, you lied, and I - I - I believed them because I -"
Stanford stops and brings his other hand to his mouth.
"What?" Bill taunts. "Because you what?"
"Loved you," Stanford says. The words are weak and muffled.
"Isn't that interesting?" Bill says. He turns Stanford's hand over and holds it against his chest. "You felt it, in there. In your stupid little heart. I don't know much about love, but I know that it's something that never goes away."
"It's something that goes away when the person you're in love with turns out to be a demon who wants to bring forth an apocalypse."
"Yeah, but is it?" His feelings, Stanford thinks, were deep. Deep, deep, deep. Deep enough for Bill to fall inside of and fall and fall and fall and fall and never be seen again, and maybe that's how he will defeat Bill and get out of this place: drown him in emotion.
"Yes, it is," Stanford says, and swallows. He turns to look away, but Bill's hand moves quickly and forces him back.
"I know you still love me," Bill says. "I know that something deep inside of you wanted to join me when I asked you to. I know it. You know it."
This is when Stanford realizes, fully, that he will never be able to escape. He pictures it: the rest of his life with Bill Cipher, with his first love, with the person who caused the apocalypse. It's scary, but something about it doesn't seem horrible.
If he's going to be stuck with Bill Cipher for eternity, then they have to get along.
Stanford sighs, and says: "Maybe you're right."