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“Wow, Sixer! For all your years of dimension hopping, you still don’t know how to take a hit! I’ve had to bring you back how many times?”
Ford shuddered, his mind rejecting the last two minutes of his existence in favor of a dizzying golden eye. His arms were still chained behind his back, his body pulled to the ground into a kneeling pose, knees bruising against the fearamid floor. “Fuck you.”
“Now, now Fordsy. That’s no way to talk to your demon overlord and king.”
He tilted Ford’s head to meet his gaze. “That's no way to speak to your muse.”
Ford spat in his eye. Unflinching, Bill wiped a tongue over it and laughed.
“Oh! Oh wow. I didn’t know you were still like that, IQ! I’d figured you’d gotten too old for such theatrics.”
“I’m full of surprises,” Ford laughed bitterly, clinging to conversation like a lifeboat.
“Not anymore, Sixer! I’ve got you cracked!” Bill’s eye wiped to show a white figure outlined by black void. “Mr. Lone Wolf, Mr. Know It All! Has it all figured out, and doesn’t need anyone else.”
He blinked and Ford could once again see his own broken reflection in Bill’s iris. “Look where that’s gotten you, buddy! I wouldn’t exactly call this a winning situation!”
No. It wasn’t an ideal situation at all. Far from his brother, his grand-niece, his grand-nephew, his only true friend, and every other damned person in Gravity Falls- Ford had been made the laughing stock once more. Only this time, the mental pain of being an outcast had the bonus of having physical manifestations of abuse. He wasn’t just the town weirdo, he was the freak in a band of freaks. Jheselbraum was right. He was a plaything.
Bill tutted. “Oh, I know you. I’ve been you, Brainiac. And I remember how good you had it when we were a team. You could fuel that adorable curiosity of yours to your heart’s content, with an all-seeing, all-knowing god to fill in the gaps in exchange for a bit of company. Those were the days!”
Bill slipped a finger under Ford’s turtleneck, pulling the high collar down, exposing a line of black text on his shoulder blades.
“I see you miss them, too, Wise One.”
Ford tried to buck him off. “I don’t miss shit- get off of me!”
Bill dug his fingers underneath the branded skin, deep into his flesh. Ford screamed, his back aflame with pain.
“Then why do you still have this?” He asked, his voice calm against Ford’s anguished cries. “Why, it looks nearly as good as the day you got it! If you really didn’t miss the days we shared, you would’ve found some way to remove it with that big brain of yours. Burns, more ink, a bit of skin grafting. These are easy solutions, Brainiac! Those are all just the first ways to get rid of a tattoo that come to mind. You could have found a solution, if you wanted it gone as bad as you claim. Unless- of course- you’re lying.”
Bill released his grip on Ford’s back, the cold feeling of air against the open wounds sadistically keeping Ford conscious.
“I’d like to think we’ve both matured!” the demon said, his eye creasing into a smile. “I gained enough power to overthrow your pitiful excuse of a reality, and you finally grew to accept hard truths.”
Ford’s head spun. He’d seen the tiles of the fearamid floor over and over again. If he thought hard enough, he could pretend his face was pressed up against them now, the hard lines indenting into his flesh as he melted into the floor. Rest. He could rest, then. And not have to deal with the guilt that wracked his brain as cold wind brushed up against his newly flayed skin.
The demon released the grip on Ford’s chain, sending Ford careening towards the ground, bowing as he caught his breath. “Aw. I won’t tell the others, promise. It’ll be just you and me again, Stanford Pines.”
Bill tilted Ford’s head up with his hand, gently. His voice dropped to a whisper, voice both honey sweet and foul as sin. “Between muses: admit it- you missed me.”
Ford gritted his teeth, his breaths raspy and uneven. “You don’t control me anymore.”
Bill’s iris contracted for a moment, becoming a pinprick in his eye.
“Oh, Ford,” Bill laughed, conjuring flames into his fist, the heat tickling Ford’s ear in a sickening blue glow. Knowing what would happen next, Ford leaned away, desperate to spare himself the pain he knew was coming, would always be coming, would never stop hurting.
Despite himself, despite everything, a panicked whisper escaped his lips. “Please-”
Lightly, tenderly, Bill caressed Ford’s cheek with the blaze. When Ford’s face began to bubble and burn, tearing another scream out of Ford’s raw throat, Bill let out another shrill, hysterical laugh. “Oh Fordsy. I think we both know how wrong you are.”