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Memories of a Life Never Lived

A spark burst from the faulty wiring that hung down from the ceiling above Fiddleford’s head. He felt the bite of the spark on the nape of his neck.

He brushed it away, the sensation only breaking his focus momentarily.

He was too focused on recalibrating his memory device meant to erase and rearrange memories.

It didn’t quite work yet. He had tested it out on a few gnomes in the area. It turned the gnomes feral and initiated a hostile attack.

It had been four months since he’d left Palo Alto. He hadn’t seen his wife Emma-May or his son Tate in that span of time. He would call them daily, of course, but it wasn’t the same as seeing them in person.

He could always leave. The reason he was in that backwoods town was now a fleeting effort.

The portal wasn’t working. His lab partner Stanford was still in denial that it wasn’t. He begged Fiddleford to stay and help. But Fiddleford wasn’t sure if any of it was worth it.

And even worse - Fiddleford had found himself getting sentimental over Stanford. He hesitated to leave, but not because of the project. He would miss Stanford if he left.

It was conflicting. He wanted to see his family again, but he also didn’t want to disappoint Ford.

There was also a confusing sensation that rushed through him whenever Ford got too close. It was a magnetic force that wanted him to get closer. Fiddleford had never thought he would experience attraction to a man - but this wasn’t just emotional. It was a physical pull, much like the moon and the Earth’s tides.

Was it romantic? He was unsure. It could be a result from being stuck underground in a lab for nearly half a year. It could be from the desperate need to hold his wife again.

But whatever it was, he was sure that Ford didn’t feel the same way in return. He was odd. He didn’t seem to have any ability to feel anything but determination.

There were a lot of things Fiddleford despised about Ford. He had a tendency of making very poor decisions that put both of their lives at risk. He always attracted some sort of peril everywhere they went.

And lately, he had an obsession with the demonic. That was what made Fiddleford feel uneasy.

Despite everything, though, he stayed. He worked in that lab for hours and slept in a spare bedroom inside of Ford’s house. He was sure he had some form of radiation poisoning from the portal they had been constructing all those months. But if he were to finish it, he would be the most acclaimed genius for centuries. He’d be bigger than Einstein, Tesla, even Socrates.

He wanted to be a man that Tate could be proud of.

Once he had adjusted the dial on the memory gun, he made sure to reload the canister in the gauge so he could test it on the gnomes again.

But when he stood up to head into the woods, he heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

Usually Fiddleford could identify Ford’s footsteps. They were heavy, slow and had a consistent pace down each step.

But these sounded different. They were quicker and had no rhythm. It sounded as if he was jumping down each step.

But sure enough, Ford entered the lab with a smile on his face.

It was dark in the lab, so it was hard to tell exactly what he was feeling.

Fiddleford hid the ray behind his back. He didn’t want Ford to know he was working on it again.

“Ah, hello Stanford…I didn’t know you’d be back here so soon,” he said, referring to Ford claiming he would be exploring caves in the woods on his own.

Ford approached him, “It began to storm. I figured it would be safer down here, with you.” he replied. He was barely audible. His voice was soft and low.

Fiddleford tucked the memory ray into his waistband behind his back. He stepped away towards his desk.

“Oh, a storm? Then, yes, I suppose it is safer down here.” he said with a nervous chuckle.

Ford got even closer, “I bet you had a lot of severe storms growing up in Tennessee, huh? Like in Wizard of Oz. That was in Tennessee, right?” he asked, still hardly speaking above a whisper.

“Kansas, actually…” he felt Ford’s hands grab onto his waist and push him backwards into the desk. His breath escaped his lungs with his voice. The end of his vocals cracked into a high-pitched noise.

Fiddleford gasped, startled and worried Ford was going to find the memory ray. He reached behind him and tried to grab it, but Ford took his hand.

“I know what you’ve been hiding from me,” he said.

“Y-You…you do?” Fiddleford croaked. His forehead was covered in beads of sweat and his stomach turned. He wasn’t sure how Ford would react if he confessed.

“Yes…” Ford took a hold of his shirt collar and backed him into the wall.

He flinched, “Okay, I-I know I said I wasn’t going to work on it anymore, b-but you don’t understand! This could have a big impact on-“ Fiddleford’s running thoughts were cut short when Ford grabbed his face and pressed his lips against his own.

Fiddleford’s first instinct was to pull away, but he was frozen. He hummed in surprise against Ford’s mouth and couldn’t think of what to do.

The sensation was something he craved. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this.

He grabbed onto Ford’s shoulders and leaned into the kiss. Ford’s lips were cold and tasted of something wooden. They were dry, but it didn’t matter to Fiddleford.

His mind still raced, but with new thoughts.

Why was Ford doing this? And why did he like it? Was he really so desperate for affection that he’d kiss his own colleague?

Then, there was something more. Another layer that sent a rush of nerves and excitement through Fiddleford.

As they’d kept their lips together, Ford yanked at Fiddleford’s trench coat and pulled it off. Underneath was his polo. Ford undid the buttons on it.

Fiddleford didn’t resist. He inhaled sharply with each touch. He became lost and dazed in his feelings and forgot who he had been married to. He forgot at that moment that this was not his wife. It didn’t register that this was his professional work partner…a former classmate. All he wanted was to be touched by someone. He needed it.

But something in the back of his mind told him that something felt wrong.

Ford’s skin was very hot to the touch. His face, his arms, his chest. It felt like he had a very high fever.

Then, there was the fact that his voice was off. His whispers sounded strained and raspy. It was not as he sounded that morning.

Then, the realization struck him and his heart immediately skipped a beat.

Oh…oh, God!!!

Immediately he tore himself away from Ford’s face and looked into his eyes. They were shielded beneath his glasses, which had a tint in the lenses.

Fiddleford took them off and his fears were confirmed.

The whites of Ford’s eyes were a neon yellow color. The waterline was irritated and red. His pupils were stretched into thin, cat-like slits.

He knew what was wrong.

The demonic “muse” Ford had been conspiring with had taken over his body.

Fiddleford exclaimed in surprise and pushed the body away from him. It was heavier than usual.

“No! No! Oh, my god!” Fiddleford cried, clutching his chest and trying not to faint from terror. He grabbed the nearest sharp object and started swinging at the demon.

“Don’t come near me! Stay away! Y-you goddamn…hellspawn!”

They let out a harsh, high-pitched cackle. They laughed so loud and so forcefully that they began to foam at the mouth.

“Wow! You really are desperate for your wife, huh? I’ve never kissed anyone so needy before!” the demon said boastfully.

Fiddleford growled in anger and tossed a book at them. It hit them in the nose, but they hardly reacted.

“H-How dare you come to me and violate me like this?! You’re sick!” Fiddleford cried.

“Oh, please! You were so into it! We would have gotten to third base if your senses hadn’t finally kicked in. It took you exactly 17.6 seconds to realize! That’s how much you enjoyed it!” the demon claimed.

Fiddleford sputtered. His face was hot. His body trembled. He was full of so many emotions and didn’t know what to do.

“This was me trying to get rid of you! I thought if I made a move on you, you’d be out of here before Sixer could even wake up! But oh, man! That was just pitiful! You’re so horny that you’d go down on your work partner? Stanford Pines? The guy’s barely a functioning person!” said the demon.

His voice was shrill and echoed off the walls, “Let’s be real, Eyeglasses! You never should have come here in the first place. You should have just stayed back in Palo Alto with your little domestic housewife and nuclear family dynamic. I mean, that little display alone proves it! So why don’t you run along and leave me and Stanford to do this on our own, huh? Come on…”

Fiddleford gritted his teeth, balled up his fists, and sighed, “You’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I guess Stanford doesn’t need me anymore…” he slowly reached into his waistband and grabbed onto the memory ray, “I guess then I should just…pack up and-“ he cocked the gun and aimed it right at the demon, “Get out of his body! Get out! Or I’ll make you!”

The demon scoffed, “I’m not scared of that thing. It doesn’t even work!”

Fiddleford pulled the trigger and a beam of energy went right towards him. The demon yelped and ducked, the beam grazing the top of their head and leaving the ends of their hair seared off.

“Geez! Alright, alright! So dramatic…” the demon finally relented.

Then, with the light whoosh of a triangular shadow, Ford’s body slumped over and collapsed to the ground.

Fiddleford still couldn’t catch a full breath. He panted heavily and set the gun down, the feeling to sob too strong to ignore.

You let him manipulate you like that?!

Imagine if your mama found out!

Adulterer! You’re doomed to hellfire!

Emma is gonna find out and she’ll leave you!

You’d better pray for forgiveness.

But a man who commits adultery has no sense; whoever does so destroys himself. Proverbs 6:32

His own internal voice chided at him in his head.

Tears streamed down his face as he stormed up the staircase into the upper floors of the house, then went to his bedroom and slammed the door. He buried his face in his sheets and cried himself to sleep.

Part 2

The next morning, Stanford awoke with a pounding headache and terrible nausea. This was typical after Bill took over his body.

He sat up and tried to swallow down the contents of his stomach, at least until he could make it to a toilet.

When he got to the top of the staircase, the light coming through the windows caused him to wince. Another wave of nausea passed through him.

He made a dash to the bathroom and vomited. His temples pulsed as he coughed and hacked.

That damn triangle… he thought.

He finally cleaned himself up and got changed into different clothes that weren’t three days old, then headed into the kitchen. After expelling everything in his stomach, he was left feeling famished.

In the kitchen brewing coffee was Fiddleford. Once Ford had entered the room, his face turned white.

“Morning, McGucket. Are you okay?” Ford questioned, noticing his change in demeanor.

McGucket couldn’t speak. He quickly nodded his head and swallowed. His throat was dry.

He averted his gaze. Something that did give him relief was seeing that Ford looked normal.

He kept his head down and focused on stirring his coffee.

Ford cleared his throat and poured his own cup of coffee. The both of them stood facing opposite sides of the kitchen.

Fiddleford stared into his cup and watched the liquid slosh around inside of it. He drummed his fingers on the countertop anxiously. He didn’t know if Stanford was playing dumb, or if he genuinely didn’t remember what had happened.

“Why’d you let Cipher do what he did?” Fiddleford blurted out. He regretted it instantly.

“Do what? Oh, God, what is it now???” Ford questioned. He sounded alarmed and fearful.

“I was in the lab. You came downstairs. You got closer and closer and then…suddenly we were kissing.” Fiddleford recounted the confusing swirl of events that left him full of questions.

Ford grimaced and slammed his cup on the countertop. Fiddleford noticed the coffee in his cup ripple in waves against the vibrations.

“Dammit! Really?” Ford exclaimed.

“Yes. Really.” McGucket confirmed.

Ford wasn’t just mad. He wasn’t just ashamed. He was appalled and enraged. He wanted to do something to let go of his anger but wasn’t sure how.

“God, F. I am so sorry. I really am so sorry.” Ford said, still fuming. He started to walk out of the kitchen with his coffee cup, “I’ll leave you be. You probably can’t look at me right now.”

“No,” Fiddleford stated, “Stay. I want to talk about it.”

Ford paused and turned back around.

The two of them sat at the kitchen table with their coffees.

Fiddleford drummed on the table anxiously.

“So, Bill Cipher kissed me. But…before I realized it was him, I thought it was you. And, well…I sort of liked it. I don’t know if it’s homesickness, or cabin fever…but I just accepted the fact I was being kissed.” Fiddleford explained

Ford glanced back at him, his eyebrows raised.

“You liked it…” he repeated, breathless, “Never would have expected that…”

Fiddleford’s face turned hot, his cheeks flushing pink.

“I-I just…missed the feeling, I guess. I was utterly confused, of course, and I was wondering what was wrong with you. I knew you’d never do something like that. So…finding out it was Cipher made a lot more sense. It was just a lot for me to take in. It made me feel like a fool.” said McGucket, stirring his coffee into a whirlpool. He watched the liquid spin in a winding pattern against the teaspoon.

He glanced up at Ford slightly, and there was a light smirk on his face. Fiddleford couldn’t tell if it was teasing or bashful. But neither of them said anything for several seconds.

“Why feel like a fool? It’s not your fault. Bill’s an asshole. He just wanted to freak you out to make you leave. But it didn’t. It only made you want to stay longer, huh?” Ford said.

“I-I…I guess so. Um, but, I really do miss my family. But I would feel guilty leaving you behind.” he stood up to put his saucer in the kitchen sink.

“We’ve been doing this project for so long, I just thought leaving in the midst of it would be wrong. But you’ve been spending so much time with that demon lately…sometimes I just feel sort of tossed aside. So I have considered going back. But since last night I’m not sure what to do.” he said.

Fiddleford turned from the sink to see Ford standing before him.

“Then, why not try it for real?” he mumbled, grabbing McGucket’s hand, “And see how you feel after that?”

Fiddleford felt the telltale warmth in his face again, the touch of Ford’s six fingers against his five making his stomach flutter. It was a strange sensation, but comforting.

McGucket grabbed the back of Ford’s head and brought his face into his.

Ford leaned up against Fiddleford on the countertop. They gazed into each other’s eyes briefly and knew they both had the same idea.

Fiddleford closed his eyes and locked lips with Ford. The real Stanford’s lips were so much softer and warm than the demon’s. His lips tasted of coffee. He felt the man sigh and his entire body relaxed, practically melting into the kiss. His body smelled of parchment and ink.

They continued to kiss for several seconds, their hands caressing each other’s hair and shoulders, until finally, they both let go.

Ford glanced back at him, nearly starry-eyed. He was awestruck.

“So, um…” Ford said quietly, his voice wavering, “How did that feel?

Fiddleford licked the lingering taste of Ford from his lips and smiled, “Still the same…I want to stay here with you.” he replied.

Ford smiled back, “I’m glad,” he replied.