Not On The Wheel (Bill Cipher x Reader)

Chapter Twelve: Fire Pokers and Fire Places

Y/n hadn't been to a lot of funerals.
   
But even then, she still found it weird how it always seemed to be raining during one. The cliche had always proven as truth to her.
   
It was as if Mother Nature herself recognized the mood in the shack and strove to match it. The sky cried in buckets, pelting the shingles of the roof like bullets and setting the somber tone inside the house. The clouds weeped alongside Stan and Soos— the latter crying a lot more than he probably should have.
   
It had taken Mabel and Y/n nearly the entire dreary morning to move all the wax figures into place, mostly because a very emotionally devastated Stan wanted to make sure every single thing was done correctly, even down to the figure placement and order. He had created name cards to help guide the girls to set up the rest of the inanimate mourning party.
   
Dipper and Soos were in charge of refreshments and decoration. Well, Dipper mostly. Soos was a little too distraught to actually help. He has just managed to finish setting up the chairs for the girls before he resigned himself in the corner to mourn. The most the boy could do alone was set up a small table with light up candles, coffee, a couple of utensils, and paper cups.
   
Stan himself was in charge of the body. He dragged in the coffin as gently as he could, propping it up in the middle of the room. Hanging behind the coffin and a podium was a framed picture of the conman and his doppelgänger; Mabel had taken it before they had started setting up for the Wax Museum announcement all those days ago.
   
By the time the five living people thought it was best to start the service, it was a little past noon.
   
Grunkle Stan took his place at the podium, folding his hands and adjusting his composure. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the crowd in front of him rather than his beheaded wax double in the casket. He was terrified that just glancing at it would bring about a storm of emotions. He kept mentally replacing it with the dead body of his missing brother.
   
The kids and Soos remained silent as they waited for Stan to start the service. The twins were upset, but for a much different reason: they were still bitter about not being able to pin the murderer like they had promised.

Soos was still sniffling into a tissue, hunched over in his chair.

Y/n was trying her best not to fall asleep. She wasn't as attentive as she wanted to be. It wasn't as if she was in the same position as Stan and Soos emotionally, but she at least knew where Stan was coming from: he was stuck viewing the service as an ode to his dead brother.

She had to keep reminding herself of that in order to keep herself awake; while the twins were rather perplexed by their Grunkle's seemingly misplaced sadness, Y/n knew the truth, and she didn't want to seem rude or uncaring.

The uncomfortable silence settled in the room with a smothering intensity. Even the small fire Y/n had started in the heath sensed the atmosphere; it crackled softly, accenting the silence with small and sad noises, casting it's dull light across the room.

Finally, Stan commenced, motioning to the waiting parties. "Kids, Soos, lifeless wax figures, thank you all for coming."

Tears had started to prick at Stan's eyes, but he fought them back as he continued. "Some people—" he paused for a moment, clearing his throat. "Some people might say that it's wrong for a man to love an inanimate wax figure."

"THEN THEY'RE WRONG!" Soos shouted, launching himself from his chair. Tears dribbled down his cheeks, falling onto the floor as he wiped his face with the tissue yet again. The kids looked between each other, all feeling incredibly awkward.

Even Stan seemed surprised with the handyman's outburst. "Easy Soos," he said, trying to calm him.

Stan took another labored breath, summoning any and all courage he had before turning to face the wax figure laying in the coffin. The figure laid still, lifeless and cold. Even it's once bright glittery glow was long since diminished to a dying gleam.