Operation: Matchmaking Bill Cipher [MaBill]

→ eleven. (2 of 2)

i'm going for first person's pov hehe idk :D

aggghggghhhh what can distract me

from starco

in order to write this bc i'm having trouble

bc of starco

curse u star crew

Mabel.

Once I was inside our room, I laid my back against the wooden door and let out my emotions. Tears streamed down my face as my heart went wild. I was having trouble breathing. My lungs ache, but that didn't seem to be the matter. The problem was my heart. It was aching.

Why? Why was it aching? Because of what Bill said?

No, one part of me chided, not Bill. If Bill could make you feel anything it'd be anger or disgust... But not heart break.

But what am I feeling right now? What... Why... How...?

Frustrated, I sat on the floor and let it all out. I ran my fingers through my brown, uncombed and frizzy hair. I continued crying, not minding the fact that he could see me right now. Not minding that he could bust into my room like superman, since he has superpowers. Extraordinary ones. And I'm just a girl without almost everything.

Even... Even—

A knock pulled me out of the drowning thoughts. I furiously wiped my face and forced a smile as I opened it, seeing Dipper with concern evident all over his face. I didn't have time for interrogation, I needed personal space, but I also didn't want to reject a family.

Before he could say a word, I heard footsteps coming from downstairs. It seemed to be going up so I pulled my brother into the room and locked the door. The loud footsteps were then followed by, "Mabel, pumpkin? Are you there? You wanna talk?"

A lump felt heavy on my throat and I was sure that any moment now, I could've cried when I tried to talk to Grunkle Stan. I've been hiding so much from him and Great Uncle Ford. Yes, I've said the deals and consequences, but it felt like I wasn't opening much to them. It felt horrible.

"Shh, Mabel," Dipper comforted, giving me a sly smile. "I'll go talk to him and then I'll be back with some ice cream. Would you stay here?"

I did my best to answer without breaking down. "O–Of course. I–I'll just be in sweater town if you need me."

"Just don't stay in there too long."

"Agreed," I replied, giving him two-thumbs up as he went outside. I heard a hushed conversation and some footsteps. With that, I knew I was alone. I crawled to the edge of my bed, letting my bed rest on the wall, pulling the collar of my shirt over my head and its hem to my knees, covering half of my skirt.

Sweater town. Just like the good old days; needed to escape reality, I ended up here. This town was a sort of medication for me. It's... I don't even know. The fact that when I'm in this "town" of mine, I know that it's only fit for myself. I know it's only meant for me, and there's no one else I can consult but me.

And sometimes, I just love being with myself. I know hundreds—no, thousands—of people can relate. If you've got a problem, create your own sweater town.