Red Hands | BillDip

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"This is stupid."

"I think it's relaxing."

"There are rarely any monsters in California!"

Bill puffed out a breath and watched it dissolve into the cold air. Mabel and Pacifica shoved them out the door with their coats and told them to catch a monster for them because they were planning something "special" for when they get back or something. "You're not even looking!" Bill asserted.

Dipper crossed his arms. "Ever since Mabel and I came back from Gravity Falls that first time, we faced only like, eight monsters here. There's no way we'll find one, especially in this weather during the day."

Bill nudged him. "Maybe you can tell me more stories about your time in Gravity Falls. I've been living there for only half a year, so."

The brunet felt the cold seep into his bones and he shivered. "Nah, man," he shook his head, "it's too cold."

"Well, I know a way that can make you warm," Bill indicated, pausing for effect.

And it worked... a lot. Dipper's face and neck flushed. "Ha—yeah, wait—" Dipper started as Bill stole Journal 3 and ran from him. He caught his taunting smirk just as he escaped from his sight. Dipper closed his mouth from when it had been gaping and started into a run. "That little shit, I'm going to kill him!"

He started off into a sprint, dodging random roots and tree branches that were trying to jab him. All he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, the crunching of leaves, and the wind whipping past him.

After a couple of minutes, he stopped in a clearing to catch his breath. He braced his hands on his knees. Where did Bill go? No one was supposed to look in that journal. What if he was reading it?

A little deeper into the forest, Bill was leaning against a root of a very old tree. He looked at the journal in his hands. He always saw Dipper with this old, beaten up book. Why did he hoard it so much? He'd never seen him look into it once on the break so far.

Once he caught his breath, he examined the cover. It was leathery, and it was dyed a burgundy color. It had metal hinges on the sides and corners. But what caught Bill's eye the most was the dirty, scratched six-fingered hand-shaped golden metallic material with the number 3 written on it in ink in the middle.

He flipped the book to its back and saw multiple places where the leather was ripped off, some of it hanging off. There were multiple symbols on it as well written in bright red ink. He knew what those four symbols meant—two of them meant fire, one water, and the last meant smoke.

He opened the old book to a random page. A scribbled black-ink page screamed at him. There were eyes with slit pupils drawn in random places and the words in red ink read, "MY MUSE WAS A MONSTER. INTERDIMENSIONAL CHESS ISN'T FUN WHEN YOU'RE A PAWN. I WAS A PUPPET. THE DEVIL HAS A SILVER TONGUE. SIX EIGHTEEN. F WAS RIGHT."

Bill blanched. What the hell was this?

"Bill!" Bill jumped and shut the book closed.

He put on a smirk as if he was just waiting for him the whole time and hadn't read anything that genuinely frightened him.

Dipper panted as he whacked away the branches in his way and stomped up to Bill. "Dude, don't leave me in the forest like that." He snatched the journal out of Bill's hands and put it inside his coat.

Bill hid the nervous laugh that was trying to escape his throat. "So... you warm now?" Ugh, that was stupid, Bill.

Dipper's paler face reddened from where he stood in the snow. "Y-yeah, because you made me chase you all the way right here. Now, let's just find the monster for Mabel so we can go back inside." He opened it to make sure Bill didn't mess anything up. Satisfied, he gestured at Bill to follow him when he walked further into the forest.