Bill x Dipper x reader

Ahhh I haven't updated in so long. Don't worry I am not deleting the story. This year is really chaotic for me I've just been super busy. Imma try and make a schedule for the book but it might not happen. Oh yeah and little celebration for me. I recently got published! It's really weird seeing your work in a book. Xb. Any way here's the next chapter sorry if its short.

---(y/n) pov---
I wanted to die. Not like I don't already but now? My depression has always been my secret. My hidden companion. The shoulder I lean on. It hides when others are around and comes back to haunt me when they leave. It's why I'm never alone. I keep it a secret so I don't feel like I'm gonna get ripped apart by society.
My gaze was trapped on the ground as the triangle floated in front of me.

"When did it start?"
The anger he held is his voice was almost intimidating yet comfort was found in the crippled edges of his words as they passed through my ears.
" Too long ago for me to remember."
I tried not to think back to my past. It hurt enough having to look back five minutes ago.

"D-"
He stumbled over his own words as the situation slowly sunk under his skin. I took a moment to identify his human like features. He kept his feet above the ground and remained classy in the sense that his top hat never moved from his head and his cane stayed by his side like a loyal pet.

The awkward silence blended in with the colorless world I was trapped in. I was ready to hear his harsh words of rejection for what was on my skin. For what was still buried beneath it even. The rejection for being so down to earth I had dug my own grave. The rejection of a lack of innocence in the sense that my mind was tainted with hate. I squeezed my eyes shut,waiting for the bitter sting and foul stench of neglect to fall upon my senses. The curiosity of why I cared so much about his opinion of me clung to every thought that passes through my head.

"You're not allowed to do it again."

My (e/c) widened at the sound. Silence was slit like paper cut with scissors. His words echoed in the emptiness of lack of color. Tears tried to slip past my water line, dancing as they made there way down my cheeks.

"I won't let you do it again. I won't leave you. I don't care why you feel you must or why you did! Just don't!"

My knees collapsed under me, leaving me shocked and on the ground. Strong arms held me in a warm embrace as I slowly let myself loose. Tears fell into the abyss of Greys and whites. Why does he care? Why do I care? What The hell is happening to me?

I wanted to believe it was real. Hell it was, but I couldn't let myself be that foolish. As much as I hate to admit it,

It's not that easy to love a person with scars.

A/n. disclaimer
I did not say you can't love a person with scars. Hell I believe you can. I think, if you are someone who self harms, we share the common doubt most often that because we have scars people won't love us. That's why (y/n) said that. I write (y/n) from my perspective. I use my knowledge and experience to create this persona. It might not be you, but when is a fanfic persona ever accurate for who you are. I struggle with believing I can be loved because I still cut, I have scars. I'm not an optimist or an extrovert. I have major social anxiety and anxiety in general. I have these issues with viewing myself because of it, however, I don't believe it's impossible for someone to love a person with scars. I believe it's impossible for someone to love me. That's what I am trying to say.
(This made like no sense Xb)
Anyway. Ill try to update soon promise.