Zigzag Logic (Bill Cipher X Reader)

Hospital

Bill had neglected to mention, however, that one tiny detail. One month was the deal. And one month was coming to a close. That one instance that had shaken (Y/N) to her core. That one instance when Bill learned how much of a terrible person this... ex was. That one instance that had sparked the revolutionary conflict between Bill and his emotions; it was going to come again. But more... permanent.

(Y/N) knew nothing of this.

~Your POV~

You let go of Bill and looked him down, seeing the twisted ankle that was beginning to swell. "We need to get you to a hospital," you observed, having him lean on you.

"But... I'm fine," Bill chuckled weakly, wincing again when he put too much pressure on his ankle. "That's really starting to hurt..."

"That's why. Sprained ankles hurt a lot more than a couple of stabs or punches. Come on, we need to get you fixed," you responded, dragging Bill with you as he limped along, trying to stay quiet.

You helped Bill into the truck and reminded him to buckle again. Bill complied without even the slightest of his usual complaining. You sighed, knowing that this had to hurt him immensely for such a quick change in attitude. You wondered why you ever decided to doubt him in the first place. All because of some old guys and people about the same age as you said so? Said that Bill was a bad guy? Bill was so much sweeter than that. He had just proved it too. He loved you, he really did. You could see it in those strange, cat-like eyes of his. You decided from that point on to believe Bill's story of the man called Ford. Bill would never lie, of course.

You began to drive, heading down the mountain to the nearest hospital all the way in Gresham, a long, thirty minute drive away. Bill was becoming less quiet as the pain began to creep in and the adrenaline drained away. You heard him mutter low under his breath, but were barely able to catch any of it, "... I don't understand... I've done worse back when... Why does it hurt so much now...?"

You wondered what Bill meant with "back when," but you decided not to ask him. He was in too much pain anyway. Relating on your previous experiences with that jerk you called a fiancé, you knew it was likely Bill might snap at you due to the amount of pain he was in. Although your fiancé did it even with a minor injury. A small paper cut apparently gave him the right to mentally abuse you, constantly blaming you. "It's your fault this happened! If you hadn't have given me my damn coffee while I was reading my book, I wouldn't have gotten this paper cut!" was one thing he said. According to that man, you couldn't get anything right. In fact, the more you thought about it, the more you realized he wasn't just a cheat, but an abuser as well.

It baffled you how you had managed to stay with him to the point of saying "Yes!" to that cheap, fifty cent ring you eventually ended up seeing at the dollar store. You had heard stories of men not being able to afford a ring and were forced to get a cheap one until they could afford the expensive diamond. But they always told their soon-to-be wives, and the wives accepted it regardless. So it wouldn't have been bad, if the man you were with hadn't insisted it was made of "the finest white gold on the market, with a twenty karat diamond cut so perfectly, that no other ring could match its beauty." Did that man have a way with words or what?

You shook your head of the thought and looked over to Bill again. He was drumming his fingers on the dashboard of the car and biting the bottom of his lip, not used to actual pain. He was holding up rather well, as you remembered the time you broke your arm two years back, just after you had kicked your ex out of the house. You were screaming, lying on the floor, full out sobbing. That was the one instance you wish you had not broke up with your ex. It was never repeated again.