Good Little Follower (Bill Cipher X Reader)

C51: The Night Before

A/N: For anyone who doesn't pick up on it, each paragraph alternates between the morning after the fight and the night of the fight.

     A thin light shown through the dirty motel window.

You spent the slow Thursday morning cuddled up against your love on a bumpy motel mattress, recounting the events of the evening before. Now his arms were wrapped around your torso, his side flat on the matress with his face burried between your shoulder blades, but only hours ago he'd strung you from the floor and celing by tightning ropes.

You still found yourself rubbing your wrists and ankles from time to time. You weren't even sure it was right forgive him so soon, but with how rough he was hurting, you listened to the soft voice inside that wanted you to.

The thumb of your right hand brushed the bare wrist of your left, not a mark in sight. "It was only an illusion," you said, reminding yourself.

"It still hurt," Bill muttered into your back.

You pulled your arms back to your chest, to hold his against you. He tightened his hug.

     Last night was a different story. As much as you'd like to believe it, this sweetness didn't come at the snap of his fingers.

In silent distress for what felt like hours, Bill stared off into the same place where the wish had appeared. Even once it was safely back in your wristwatch, he continued glancing off into nothing. Truthfully, only minutes had passed, but as his eye found not a thing but the motel wall, your love frozen in place, the worry made each second tick slower than the last.

You remembered rubbing your ankle for the first time, the shock of not seeing a bruise, and the taste of the salty tear that fell from your eye to your mouth. Your hands were shaking, but even in fear, all you wanted to know was that your partner was alright.

     "It did," you replied to his earlier comment. "I still forgive you."

His legs entangled your waist, and he laid a small kiss where his eyelid was nestled.

     When it was still dark, the first thing your Bill did upon coming out of his trance was accuse you of faking. He asked if the wish you showed him was fake, even though he could tell it wasn't. He asked if you'd gone back to win a second time, though he knew you hadn't.

He often knew where you were and what you were doing there, and when you told the stressed creature, "I've got nothing to hide," and extended your hand to him, "you can look for yourself," it was clear you really hadn't wished his newfound love into existance.

But it didn't end there.

     You pulled up his hand from beneath the blanket to kiss it softly back.

"I love you, my... my..." he stopped himself.

"You can call me your puppet," you reminded him. "I think it's sweet, and I'd miss my favorite nickname if you stopped."

"I don't know," he told you.

"It doesn't have to mean what it used to," you said. "We can just say, I'm your puppet... I'm your silly, little guy." You smiled, and you could feel his smile against you too.