Turning the tables

Chapter 10 - And they were roommates

As soon as we arrived home, we began working on the mural, although we soon discovered that painting was not Bill's strong suit. Sure, he could cook like Gordan Ramsey, but it seemed painting was not something he could do very well. "FUCK!" Bill screamed for the thousandth time today as he threw down his paintbrush. "Bill! Please be careful!" I said, exasperated. He shot me a withering glare, "Why? This stupid thing is never gonna look good!" He huffed whinily, pouting. "Relax, Bill. We'll get it done." I promised. He nodded, looking down at his feet before picking his paintbrush back up. "Alright..." He muttered. We were currently working on the sky, which means I was currently doing most of the painting since Bill was having a hard time blending the colours. I had tried to show him, but... well, let's say he's no DaVinci. We continued to paint until we had the sky done, but by then Bill was bored. "I don't wanna do this anymore, pine tree... I'm no good at it, anyway." Bill whined. I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Fine, go find something to do, then..." I muttered, too concentrated on the mural to pay very much attention to him leaving. It was only around 1 pm, so if I worked hard enough I could most likely finish this mural by this time tomorrow. I did just that. I worked for hours painting the trees and such, putting little yellow flowers around the pine tree in the clearing and adding details to the leaves and sky. By the time I circled back to the sky to do the stars and moon, I remembered something that would make the mural even better. I rushed back to my room and dug through all the boxes again until I found a bottle of white, glow-in-the-dark paint. I would paint the stars and moon with it, and hopefully, make Bill happy.

By the time I was done with the large painting, it was 2 pm the next day. I hadn't gotten a single wink of sleep, and Bill hadn't come to see my progress even once... selfish brute. I stretched, putting down my paintbrush and went downstairs. "Mural's done..." I muttered as I walked past the living room. "What? I thought you were still asleep?" Bill said as he followed me into the kitchen. "Nope. I live on coffee, Dorito dust." I hummed, grabbing a mug and starting the coffee machine. "Dorito dust?" Bill humoured, chuckling lightly as he repeated it. "That's a new one." "Yeah, now move so I can get to the fridge," I replied, the demon moving obediently out of the way. "Thanks," I muttered as I grabbed the milk from the fridge, moving to add some of it to my coffee along with some sugar. Bill frowned disapprovingly, sighing, "You need a nap, Dipper, not coffee." He huffed, and I rolled my eyes. "You're not my dad, you can't tell me what to do," I growled, making Bill frown. However, I suddenly heard him laugh from beside me, and I turned to glare at him. "What? What's so funny?" I hissed, earning me a shake of the head. "Nothing, nothing... but you have paint all over your face." Bill laughed, lifting his hand to gently scrub the dried paint away from my cheek. I tapped his hand, "No touchy. I'm a prickly pine tree, remember?" I huffed, Bill, rolling his eyes fondly. "Okay, okay. My bad, pine tree." He apologized. "Oh, by the way!" He said, capturing my attention. "Boop!" He cheered, booping my nose before taking off upstairs. "Like owning a damn puppy..." I muttered, sipping my coffee as I slowly followed him upstairs, walking around the many boxes of furniture. When I arrived, Bill was looking at the mural with his mouth agape, tears in his eyes.

"Bill? Are you okay?" I questioned, walking closer. He didn't answer as he continued to stare at the wall, moving a little closer and pressing a hand to the wall. "Erm... Bill? Why are you doing that? Are you okay?" I asked, setting my mug down on the plastic-covered floor and walking closer. Upon closer inspection, I could see that Bill was already crying, tears dripping down his tan, freckle-dusted cheeks. I hesitantly placed my hand on his shoulder, and he flinched but relaxed after my hand had been there for a few moments. He slowly turned his head to look at me, a pained expression on his face. "William liked to paint," he whispered, looking back at the wall. He then smiled, whipping away his tears. "Well! Let's get to dragging in all the furniture!" He cheered, though his expression and tone were slightly faltered to his prior sadness. I frowned, knowing that this time that his happiness was a façade. I wanted to say something about it but decided against it as I picked my mug back up and chugged the rest of my caffeinated drink. I put my cup down in a corner behind the door and joined Bill in the hallway. We chatted quickly about how Bill wanted to place everything before we removed the painting things and plastic from the room before starting to move things in. We started with setting up the yellow curtains and moving in the light wood desk, placing it against the wall in front of the window so that Bill would still be able to look out of it. The desk was long enough to be up against the wall but still have the window centred, and had plenty of storage space thanks to the 3 drawers on either side id the desk and the little shelf built under and towards the back of the desk, or in other words closer to the window wall. We added the yellow cushioned rolly chair and moved on. We put a yellow carpet in the corner to the right of the desk, setting up Bill's black caged and yellow cushioned egg chair and some bookshelves along the walls. Two beside the desk, and two along the mural wall.