@ 𝐁𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗬. 𓍯

Your friendship with Bill wasn't bad, or at least that's what you wanted to believe when people tried to talk some sense into you. Bill was too obvious about his feelings for you; even though he was awkward and brusque, he always tried to give you signs that you deliberately ignored, or maybe not, after all, he was just like a brother to you.

Tonight had been unusual. Bill had rudely insisted on driving you home, and during the drive he'd been more nervous than usual; you almost crashed because of how clumsy he was—he'd never admit it. During the trip, there was a slightly awkward conversation; after so long, it seemed your future plans couldn't possibly align. Bill wanted to stay stuck in his rut ​​of mediocrity, while you wanted to move forward, and that bothered him more than it should.

A short while later, you were already at your front gate. You were starting to suspect that all this attention from Bill meant a little interest, but you didn't even have time to process it further. The whole atmosphere became vivid in your vision; it was like the damn lighting of a romantic movie. Your heart began to pound, you might have a heart attack, but soon your mind began to cloud over with a single thought: Bill, oh your... beloved Bill? What was happening? It wasn't you. Your body was moving on its own; it seemed you could only watch in horror at what was happening to your body. You went back to Bill's car, which was still parked in front of your house. He was holding pieces of a branch, and in his lap was an empty "One Wish Willow" wrapper.