Wayfarer [Bill Cipher x Reader] [REVISED]

Chapter Nine: Don' Threaten Me with a Good Time

Bill cut the laugh off and grinned. "Perfected it on Sweeney Todd. Not bad, huh?"

They shared a quiet laugh together. "Yeah, that'll do it," Spencer remarked.

"So," you began, once the laughter had died down, "you guys seem pretty close. How long have you guys been friends?"

"Oh, us?" Spencer pointed at himself. "Only about a day."

"A day?" You balked. "What?"

Spencer nodded. "Yeah, really! We met this afternoon, actually. I was stopping by my friend's work to drop off her book, and I happened to bump into this guy." He grinned. "We started talking, and one thing led to another, and well..." He gestured to the party. "Now you guys are here."

"Jesus Christ, you guys became friends fast."

"Well, it wasn't hard. Turns out, we have a lot in common. Like, uh..."

He turned his head to look at Bill. For a few brief moments, they exchanged a glance. Bill's eyes pierced Spencer's, some unfathomable message hidden in his gaze.

Then, Bill stood up. "Well, hate to leave you two in the middle of such a fascinating conversation, but I gotta answer the call of nature." He paused. "And also text Ronnie. See you." Waving a hand, he walked away.

You petted Rufus as you watched Bill's back recede into the depths of Spencer's house. What the heck was that? You cleared your throat. "So, uh... Spencer. What were you going to say right before this?"

Spencer flinched. "Oh, that? Well, I was going to say... um... that we both really like the great outdoors! Yeah. We're both... real outdoorsy types."

"Oh, really? What do you like to do outside? Hiking? Fishing? Geocaching?"

"Mostly hiking with Rufus—" he turned to give Rufus a good ear rub "—although he tends to ruin it. He's always finding ways to get himself dirty." Spencer rolled his eyes. "The worst!"

You laughed.

"No, seriously! I swear to God, Rufus has some kind of magical mud-detector in him that lets him find the nearest mud puddle in a snap. He's so dumb. Like, by now he should know that every time he goes into the mud, that means he has to get a bath. He hates those. But does he ever stop going into the mud? Noooo." Spencer exhaled sharply. "This guy, I swear!"

"That must be such a pain!" you said. "I mean, my roommate has a pet pig and it has the exact same problem—although, to be fair, it's a pig. It's supposed to be in the mud."

"Well, I sure hope someone gets around to giving my dog and your... roommate's pig or whatever some common sense. This idiot keeps finding ways to make me scrub him down at 1 am on days when I have class at 8."

You sucked in a breath. "Oof. I know that feeling. 8 am classes are the worst! Where do you go to school?"

"Oh, UNLV. It's not too far from here."

"Cool! What are you studying there?"

"Psychology." He laughed. "I know, I know. Pretty basic of me, huh?"

"Hey, I don't think that! I mean, yeah, it's a pretty popular major, but that doesn't mean it's not worth studying. How are you finding it? Are your classes alright?"

He shrugged. "Eh, they're okay. Drugs are pretty hard, though."

"Drugs... ?" You stared at him.

His brows furrowed. Then, his eyes widened. "Oh, shit, that came out wrong, didn't it?" He laughed. "Yeah, no, a couple of my classes have had units on drugs and stuff, and they're always tough for me. Like, I always mix up those two, what are they called... oh, barbiturates and benzodiazepines. Pretty elementary stuff, I know, but still! It's hard."