Chapter Text
At the age of five, Bill Cipher developed an extremely strange habit.
Rather than simply flashing a smile at passerby, he stared at them, face split by a toothy grin. For the first few seconds it was ‘cute’ or ‘endearing’, but after a while it got really unnerving, and nothing could convince him to stop. It wasn’t even just directed at strangers, he greeted his classmates and teachers with the same perturbing grin.
He didn’t mean to be frightening, really, he just had no other example to go off. His mother had told him once that people liked you more if you smiled, so he put every effort into always smiling- people had to like him then.
But his well-thought out plan, seemingly foolproof to the boy just stumbling out of toddler years into school, failed miserably.
Parents shooed their children away from him, whispering behind their hands and shooting him dirty looks. Sometimes, the words drifted over to Bill’s ears, though he never understood them.
“Ugh, it’s that psycho Cipher kid, don’t let Annie play with him. He’ll probably kill her or something, look at that face.” And not a single mother in the circle disagreed. Bill’s mother was out of town again, she wasn’t a part of their group, she couldn’t defend her eccentric son from across the country or wherever she was now.
Eventually, the name caught on, once the kids could pronounce it anyway. By third grade it was all anyone ever called him, really, almost like a nickname. That was how he justified it to himself and it fell off him like droplets of water. Cipher was his name, if they wanted to make something out of it, that was their choice. He didn’t have to respond to it.
He was better than whatever words they threw at him. He would be someone someday. All on his own.
It was a little harder when the words turned to actions, of course. He couldn’t just ignore the hands that pushed him into walls or down the shorter flights of stairs, couldn’t will away the pain from scraped knees and bruised elbows. For months, violence was the best answer for his abusers, sixth graders shoving him up against lockers to hear the yelps of pain, to see the tears stinging at the edges of his eyes. But eventually he stopped reacting even to that.
They could never win if he didn’t take part in the fight. They were beneath him, they were nothing. He would leave them all behind and be someone.
By the time seventh year rolled around, he had decided to embrace his age-old nickname. Psycho Cipher indeed, a push into the lockers earnt his tormentors only a flash of the old grin that earned him the name to begin with. A trip down the stairs- a high pitched cackle that echoed through the hallways. Pain didn’t hurt as much if you made it funny instead.
All but the largest bullies stayed away from him after that, looking down and avoiding eye contact. He’d come full circle, the sheep avoided Psycho Cipher now, not because their parents told them to, but because it was the safest choice.
At age twelve, Bill Cipher still hadn’t quite hit his growth spurt yet, but he didn’t let that stop him from grinning at himself in the mirror each morning. He’d seen pictures of his father, and his mother came home often enough for him to know her face. They were both beautiful people, and that meant he would be beautiful too. He just had to wait for the right day.
There was a fine line between self-confidence and vanity, and at the age of twelve, Bill Cipher walked it. Better to hold himself with an over-confident pride than let his ‘peers’ words get to him. He didn’t need them, he didn’t need friends or acquaintances. He was making it all by himself, just like he promised he would, and nothing they said could change that.
Of course, there were occasional periods of reprieve. New students were more fun to torment than the small blonde psychopath, apparently, at least for a time. They reacted with anger or with fear and drew laughs from the tormentors, and Bill offered them a hand up without explanation. He couldn’t afford to make friends with them, but he could help them up, it didn’t cost him anything.
Friendship, though, was a risk he was done trying for. Because inevitably, the new students realised that he was an outcast and that siding against him was for the better. There was strength in numbers, and numbers didn’t generally include him. But he was used to it, and it was better this way. It was easier to be better than the rest of them when he was separate from them.
News traveled fast in Gravity Falls, no one could move here without the whole town knowing within four hours, and that was especially true in the school system. With so few students, new faces stuck out like sore thumbs. And this time, they were twins, double the bait for the student body’s collective abuse. Bill almost felt bad for them, almost.
Their suffering would end soon.
Even so, when a group of eighth graders threw one of the twins in the hall trash can, Bill was there to tug him out, his trademark grin not present on his face for once. Whoever this boy was, he hadn’t earnt that just yet, but Bill was sure he would some day. His job done, he turned on a heel, leather soles sliding nearly soundlessly across the linoleum as he began to walk off.
“Hey, wait! Slow down, why don’t you?” The squeaking of rubber told him that the boy was running after him but Bill didn’t stop, continuing down the stage as if he hadn’t heard. Of course, the difference in pace had the boy coming up to stop in front of him, blocking his way, “Hello? Can you hear me? Why did you help me and just walk away?”
“Because that’s what I do. And I have books to return to the library, so if you’ll excuse me,” and Bill made a move to attempt to get around the dark haired boy, but the boy put his arms out, effectively stopping all movement. “Really, I have to return these. They’re due today.”
But his deadpan reasoning was met with a harsh, determined stare, “Not so fast. You can’t just help someone and walk away without giving a name, it’s rude. And don’t you at least want a thank you?”
“Not really, no. Thank yous mean nothing in the long run, and I don’t care much what others think of me. Maybe it’s rude, but it’s not as rude as leaving you to get out of that trash can yourself, right? Now, since you got your answers, can I please go? The library closes at five,” Bill started forward again, but the other boy stopped him, arms crossed over his chest and the blond sighed, “What is it?”
“Can’t you at least tell me your name? I don’t want to just see you around and think ‘oh it’s the boy who pulled me out of the trash can’, though that’s not the worst thing to think of someone. But, I like to call people by their names, makes making friends a lot easier,” and the boy flashed a smile, looking almost shy.
Rolling his eyes, Bill pushed past the other boy one final time, making it around him and quickening his pace. He called over his shoulder, though, never one to leave a question unanswered, “The name’s Bill Cipher, Pine Tree. And we’re not gonna be friends.”
“Pine Tree? H-hey, my name’s Dipper! And… what do you mean?”
But Bill was already out the front doors of the school, whistling to himself.