dipper x reader | one-shots ✓

Depression

Song: Damage/ Fit For Rival

WARNING⚠️: Mention of suicidal thoughts and actions

You and Dipper's Age: 16

~•~3rd POV~•~

Wednesday, February 25th. That was the day you were sent to a therapy hospital. Many things were on your mind before then, thoughts about certain things...

Your family became concerned for you. Your sister had found you on the bathroom floor, drowning in your own puddle of blood. You were rushed to a hospital after. Everything was a blur up until now. You remember your eyes fluttering open to bright hospital lights.

Since the day you woke up from the hospital, you had stayed there a few nights, resting. You were eventually sent to Falls Therapy Hospital. The first day there was rough, having to abandon your family and friends for a few weeks. Apparently only your parents were allowed to visit you. Siblings over the age of 16 were able to visit too, but your little sister wasn't old enough. She's only 14. You hated yourself for making her be the one that found you that night. It probably was a terrible sight to see.

Some other kids that were sent by their parents to the therapy hospital were talking among each other. Smiling, laughing, sharing their stories. They all seemed so happy. How can they be? They're in a fucking hospital. You sat in a chair far away from the groups of kids. Your hoodie was pulled over your head, covering your pale face.

While sulking to yourself, you felt someone sit down next to you. Your head snapped up, looking over to your left. A boy around your age was sitting next to you. He had the same expression on his face as you did. He was wearing a dark blue sweater with the Big Dipper on it. He had a brown mop of hair on his head, his eyes also the same shade.

He noticed you looking at him, so he turned his head to the right. You two met each other's eyes, causing both your cheeks to go red and quickly look away from one another; Even if you two did keep stealing glances at each other.

To break the awkward silence, you spoke up, "So... what brings you here?" You asked awkwardly, looking over at him again.

He looked over at you again, "Oh, you know. Anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, the usual." He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I get it. I have those too." You said, giving him a sad smile.

He tilted his head slightly at you, a curious look on his face, "Really?"

"Well, yeah. I'm pretty sure most of us here do too."

"So you'd say you also have athazagoraphobia, autophobia, and atychipobia like me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You didn't respond, looking away from him. From the corner of your eye you can see the ping of guilt that hit him for sounding kind of rude.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that. I... also have an anger issue called petrified anger, which causes me to sound rude sometimes." He sighed again.

"You don't have to apologize. I understand." You said, "What are those phobias that you have anyways?"

"Athazagoraphobia is when you have the fear of being forgotten.  Autophobia is the fear of being alone. Atychipobia is to fear failure. And the petrified anger is when someone has a hard time forgiving and forgetting..." He said, sounding like he knows it by heart, "Most of my phobias and issues started after a tragic event three years ago."