Zigzag Logic (Bill Cipher X Reader)

Snow Cold

You trudged through the snow, journal in hand and pen in pocket. You were tracking down a particularly rare and extremely elusive white stag you had seen only a week after winter began. It was a large stag, its body structure muscular. But you expected it to begin to get thinner as the food supply plummeted. Despite your better judgement of what a stag's diet consisted of, you wondered if it would eat the pine needles from one of the many pine trees in the Mt. Hood forest.

Perhaps if it were desperate enough... you thought to yourself. But you knew Oregon's flora well. There would be a decent amount to survive, but only to survive.

A slight noise resonated in the bushes, making you jump slightly. You pulled your white hood over your head, hoping to scare or confuse whatever predator might be lurking beyond your vision.

The noise maker stepped out of the bushes, its full, white coat shining from the bleached sunlight. Its small black eyes scanned the area, mistaking you and your white attire for snow. You slowly began to pull your phone out of your pocket to snap a picture of this perfect opportunity. The stag didn't notice you, and instead focused its vision on a seemingly more threatening sight not too far from your direction. Its thick muscular structure twitched, ready to run from whatever was approaching.

You, on the other hand, were too preoccupied getting your camera at the perfect angle to capture the stag's pure magnificent beauty.

Suddenly, almost as quickly as it entered, the stag had bolted just before you could snap a picture of it. You stared at the spot the stag had once stood, its hoof prints embedded in the thick mountain snow.

Getting over your initial shock, you turned toward the spot the stag had eyed, fear washing over you. The bushes shuddered violently as something came through the forest.

In a bright yellow suit and yellow hair, a man fell out of the bushes, landing with a muffled thwump into the soft snow. He let out a groan, struggling to upright himself and failing. He lay there on the snow, his chest moving rapidly as if he was being chased.

You walked up to the brightly colored, but sharply dressed man. He didn't notice you until your shadow passed over his face. He looked over at you.

You froze.

"A-are you o-okay...?" you managed to stammer, gripping your phone in your cold hands tightly.

The man's expression was bored, but his body language revealed extreme exhaustion. "You don't happen to have any of that hot chocolate stuff you people always talk about, do you? I'm freezing right now and I think that might help," he responded, not even sounding the least bit phased.

You stood quiet for a second, but soon regained your composure. "A-as of right now... no... B-but I-I do have some at my house... Y-you can walk, right?"

The man gave a slight nod and pulled himself up with the nearest branch he could find. Which happened to be a thorn branch. You looked at the blood that was seeping from his hand and onto the now stained snow. When he got himself up, he wrenched his hand free of the branch and looked at his mutilated hand with a slight chuckle. He didn't seem too bothered by his still-bleeding hand and he walked over to you.

"The name's Bill Cipher, kid," he said with a- what you would assume to be- friendly smile and held out the reddened hand.

You gulped. "I-I'm (Y/N)... (Y/N) (L/N)..." you responded, grabbing his lowered hand instead and shaking that one.

"That's a little rude," Bill commented, shoving both of his hands in his black pants pockets.

"A-and shaking a bloody hand with unknown diseases is a bit disgusting..." you retorted, keeping a quiet demeanor.

"Ha! I like your style, kid," Bill laughed. "So about that hot chocolate stuff?"

You snapped out of your thoughts. "Oh! Yeah! S-sorry! I-it'll be a while before we get to my house..."

"And why is that?" Bill asked, tilting his head slightly.

"I-I've been tracking a stag since early this morning..."

"But it's the afternoon."

"That's the point. J-just follow me and we'll be there..." you trailed off.

"In a few hours?"

You nodded and began to walk, keeping a slow pace so Bill wouldn't be left behind.

Bill was stumbling constantly. Cursing at the snow for "impairing his walking" as he struggled to pull his feet out of the white fluff. You giggled a little and waited for him to realize he could follow in your footsteps, literally.

***

Finally you had reached your house. You yourself were freezing because you had given your coat to Bill halfway through the trip, to hopefully keep him from falling mid-step due to a violent shiver. You always wore layers so you weren't deathly cold, but the snow and wind had punctured through the two thin jackets not too long after Bill had taken your jacket.

You stopped in front of your porch and looked back to Bill, who was about thirty feet behind you, still cursing at the snow. Your coat was just above where Bill's belly button would be if it weren't covered with a dress shirt, yet the sleeves were still puffy enough to keep Bill's thin arms from resting on his sides. So he waddled through the snow like a penguin, trying to match your small stride with his long legs.

You laughed at the way he looked and Bill shot a glare back at you, finally managing to waddle onto the porch with soaked pants and dress shoes. You smiled back and unlocked the door, allowing Bill inside the warm home.

Bill didn't hesitate to stumble in there, his now free-from-snow pants beginning to slowly freeze solid the longer he waited out in the cold. You followed after Bill and took off all of your snow gear, leaving you in a skin tight striped shirt and jeans. You put on some slippers and walked into the kitchen, where Bill was struggling trying to take off your coat.

You walked over and unzipped it for him, letting Bill fumble with getting his lengthy arms out of the sleeves.

You grabbed a pot and filled it with water, putting it on the stove to boil. You looked over to Bill, who had successfully taken off the coat, but was still soaking wet and dripping water all over your floor.

You sighed. "Come on, Bill. I've got some extra clothes upstairs so you don't get my floor moldy," you said and began to head up the small spiral staircase leading to the second floor of your small cabin.

"Coming, Quill!" Bill called after you, scrambling up the stair case on all fours.

Quill? you asked yourself. Where did he pick that up from?