yeah im pun trash
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Summary
Bill Cipher was supposed to be dead. Or at least gone. Or at least still a triangle. But nope, the universe just loved fucking with him, and now, somehow, Bill was rooming with his brother and his friend in the basement of his old shack. He needed to be dealt with.
To be fair, though, he hadn’t started a second armageddon, or rearranged anyone’s facial features, or done much more than be a pissbaby as far as he knew. Still, he shouldn’t leave it to his twin to deal with him. Sure, that’s what Ford wanted-- but it wasn’t what he needed. He would get all caught up in his scientific fantasies (which were harmless and amusing at best), he would get distracted. But going back would require the two to have a conversation, and Stan wasn’t sure he was ready for that.
Over the past few days he’d come to the conclusion that he wasn't ever going to be ready, and he might as well take himself to the shack and get it over with. Rip it off quick, like a band-aid.
Just as soon as he finished this soda.