Bill Cipher never believed in promises.

To him, they were fragile ornaments of human language, tools to manipulate, seduce, and destroy. Promises were meant to be broken. That’s what they were made for.

But since he fell from power and got trapped in a human body… those rules he despised started to hurt. His skin burned in winter. His throat dried up after talking too much. And for the first time, silence wasn’t a choice—it was a burden.

He didn’t have magic, influence, or control over dreams. But he still remembered.

He remembered your eyes. The way you looked at him without fear when everyone else ran. How you mocked his riddles, laughed when he claimed to be a god. You were the only one who believed in his lies without completely falling for them… the only one who, unknowingly, had touched something inside him that neither time nor chaos could destroy.

He searched for you all over Gravity Falls. In cafes, in stores, between the trees of the forest where anomalies used to hide. Not because he needed your help.

But because he needed you.

And when he finally saw you again, across the street, something inside him—something he’d never felt in his original form or in this cursed human body—broke. The anger, the arrogance, the disdain for humanity… all fell silent.

And only the fear of never being able to touch you again remained.

He approached.

The words trembled on his tongue, not out of insecurity… but because for the first time, he didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to lose you.

—“You were the only one who ever made me feel real. So promise me…” he said, his voice cracked and strangely human—“Promise me an eternity. Even if I no longer deserve it.”

And for the first time in his existence, a promise… didn’t feel like a trap.