Please Don't Let Him In Again

The first time it felt tingly. That's all, just tingly, weird. He shrugged off the feeling, no need in bothering his brother with it. It probably only felt that way because it was his first time.
Second he was alone, no one was down there but him and Ford's little demon buddy. It was more forced and after he felt sick, "Ford, I don't feel good," he groaned softly clutching his head as it spun, his heart pounded, his stomach was tight.
"Timothy, please, not right now," Ford begged as he was getting over the loosing his closest friend. Timothy's eyes watered as he tugged on his brother's top, again, he was only shrugged away. He felt alone. Weird. But it didn't tingle as bad.
The third and final time he saw unforgettable things. He saw plans of word distruction. He saw his brothers in pain and suffering. He saw himself suffocating, drowning, in a little, tight space with no chance of leaving. He felt terrified, he wouldn't eat, speak, he refused to interact in anyway. He didn't want to. Ford lied to him, it hurt, it wasn't safe like he promised it was, it was far from.
"Timothy, aren't you going to eat?" Ford asked looking rather distracted. The younger boy didn't bother looking up.
"I already did...." he mumbled poking at the green beans on a plate. This made Ford look up with tiredly, narrowed eyes.
"Don't you lie to me."
Timothy's blood boiled, don't he lie? How dare Stanford lie to him, about safety above all else, for pity sake.
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are. Eat, now."
"I'm just not hungry Stanford, drop it!"
"Don't tell me to drop it. You'll either eat or go to sleep, your choice."
"Then I guess I'm going to bed then!!" he finally shouted getting up and stomping upstairs. Stanford blinked, where had that come from. He normally wouldn't want to go to bed, he'd want to spend all and any time he could with Ford. He debated to go check on him but decided to give it time so Timothy could calm himself down from all that.
About two hours and no sign of Timothy. He sighed going to his brother's room knocking gently, "Tim? It's Ford, can I come in?" he frowned not hearing a reply and pushed the door open.
He was worried at what he'd find expecting an empty room or something else but a relieved smile came to his lips seeing Timothy asleep. Though his cheeks were burnt up, red, and tearstained he breathed in and out peacefully, almost at ease.
He pet his little brother's frizzled hair back, "Sleep well Timothy, I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered before quietly going back down. He fell asleep at the table.
The next thing Ford hears is sobbing, he bolts up with great speed, "Timothy?" he asks shoving the door open. Ford had a weapon ready and cocked, this only seemed to make him cry harder. Stanford quickly put it away kneeling next to his bed, "Timothy, what's wrong?" he asks concerned.
Timothy threw himself at Ford sobbing into his chest. He rubbed his brother's back in soothing motions, "Ok, Tim, listen, I know I scared you but that isn't the only reason you're bawling. What happened to you?"
"F-Ford, I d-don't want him in control a-again, I'm scared, i-is this b-because of something I d-did?? I-I'll change it I swear!!!!!" he said though it was hard to hear as it was broken up and covered by sobs and hiccups.
Ford sighed slightly, "Timothy. You're working yourself up. Calm down then tell me. I can't hear you if you're crying."
Timothy tried explaining himself again not any more clear than the first attempt.
"Timothy. You aren't a baby, calm down and talk to me with your words," he sniffled wiping his eyes, heaving a few calming breaths in and out, he was unable to stop his shivering.
"F-Ford, I'm scared, please don't let him again, please!! He's scary, I don't want him back in me please don't let him in!" he begged. Ford was taken back and messed with his hair.
"Let who?"
"Bill, Bill Cipher, please don't let him back in again..."
Ford shook his head, "I won't Timmy, I'll protect you no matter what."
"Promise?"
"Absolutely, I won't let him touch you again."

Extra Part, 30 years later:

Color drained from Ford's face as a demonic laugh covered his little brother's. "Ford, Ford, Ford," Bill tsked shaking Timothy's head, "didn't you promise to always protect him? Never let me into his mind? Or did old age make it slip your mind?"
"Never, it never would," he mumbled.
"Was it because of how pathetic he looked? Here I'll even do an impression of him for you!" Bill covered the face making obviously fake cries and gave a mocking voice, "Oh big brother protect me, pwease!! Pwease!" he smirks dropping the tone, "And you said...?"
"Th-that I'd protect him.." Ford admitted shamefully. Bill smirked even wider.
"And did you?"
"No....."
"Now, I think you know what to do. I'm not leaving this body willingly," Bill smiled evilly and Ford pleadingly shook his head, "sometime today Sixer, show us what you got, c'mon!" Bill urged as Ford hesitantly raised his gun, his hand shook wildly. His finger hovered over the trigger, he pressed it aiming for his shoulder. Having what he wanted made Bill leave. Ford rushed to his brother who clutched the bleeding hole he craddled him close.
"Timothy, don't worry, we'll get you to a hospital.......... You'll be ok, I promise."
"D-don't you think you need to stop m-making promises?" Timothy asked torn between bitterness and playfulness, "Y-ya know, it k-kinda tingles b-big brother..."