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"Dipper, this merchandise isn't going to stock itself! Hop to it!" Stan called.
Dipper appeared at the doorway and rushed to obey. "So sorry, Grunkle Stan. I forgot."
Stan rolled his eyes, arms crossed sternly. "Yeah, I'll bet. Just like you forget all the time."
Dipper froze for a second, though thankfully he didn't drop the box he was carrying. "Uh... I think I remember most of the time. Maybe I forget sometimes, but..."
"But nothing! You need to get on top of things. Yeesh, kid."
"But I..." He trailed off, then turned back to his chore, moving a bit slower than he had a moment before. He finished quickly enough and ducked out of the room without another word.
Everyone in the shop watched with varying degrees of confusion and concern.
"What's with him?" Wendy asked. "Not that that was the nicest thing to say - seriously, Mr. Pines, not cool - but it wasn't anything worth getting that angry about."
Mabel frowned. "He's not mad. I can tell that for sure. But I can't really tell why he's upset." She frowned harder. "Also, what Wendy said. Grunkle Stan, why would you say that? You know Dipper tries really hard!"
"He's a teenager," Stan said with a shrug. "Whatever it is, he'll get over it. He just needs to toughen up and not let dumb things bother him." He turned to focus on the cash register, effectively concealing his worried expression from the others.
Wendy and Mabel shared a look, then reluctantly returned to their work.
Upstairs, Dipper laid in his bed and held a blanket over his head to block out noise and light. His face stayed buried in his pillow as he tried not to get any more upset. It was a stupid little thing, not worth getting upset over, he really needed to get a grip. Just stop himself from doing something embarrassing like - oh great now he was actually crying. Ugh. He couldn't seem to even get this right.
Of course not, a little voice in the back of his head whispered. After all, you're just a big failure. Not like anything you do ever goes right.
He told it to be quiet. It ignored him and continued with a list of all the stupid little things he'd done wrong lately, including his occasional forgetting daily tasks. No mention of the many times he actually got things done, despite having to work to remember.
Stan never mentioned those things either. Not even a thanks, usually. Just a brief glance and then moving on, unless he'd done something wrong. In those cases, he'd get a thorough chewing out and be sent to somehow fix the mistake.
Would it kill Stan to give a little acknowledgement of the things he did get right?
He barely even noticed the weird windy whistling noise playing nearby. "Hey, Pine Tree, what's got you so gloomy? Must be pretty good if you're looking this pathetic."
Oh, great. "Go away, Bill. I'm not dealing with you right now. Stupid Dorito."
"Hmmm... how about nah. I feel like hanging around."
Dipper yelped as gravity suddenly flipped, dropping him onto the ceiling, though oddly enough all the furniture stayed in place. A moment later gravity righted itself and dropped him back on his bed. He glared briefly at the floating pyramid, then grabbed his blanked and pulled it over his head without acknowledging his upside down state. "I said go away. Now go away."
A moment passed, and Dipper began to wonder if Bill had actually done what he'd asked. That hope was squashed when his blanket was pulled off his head. Dipper found himself face to face with Bill's eye. He shrieked in surprise and attempted to pull back, but Bill just grabbed his face and held him in place. "Tell me or I won't let you go."
"What the- since when are you in preschool?"
"Since however long you think!"
"I just- ugh, whatever. Let go." He tried shoving the demon away, but to no avail. Bill's noodle arms were surprisingly strong.
The triangle smirked with his eye. "Tell meeeee~"
"I don't- why won't you- okay, I'm annoyed because I'm not doing the stuff I should be able to do! Happy?" He shoved Bill away and folded his arms aggressively, pointedly glaring at a wall.
Bill didn't speak for several seconds. When Dipper began to wonder what he was doing, he swerved over in front of the human yet again. "Happy, maybe. Satisfied, no. Why does your frail human psyche go that way? Shouldn't you be mad at Fez?"
Dipper adjusted his position a little so he could rest his chin on his knees. "Maybe, I guess. Not really. Grunkle Stan isn't really wrong to expect us to do our work. It's just... hard sometimes. And I'm mad at myself for not doing what I need to do, making it harder to earn any sort of praise for doing something right for once."
Bill hovered thoughtfully for a moment, then moved to sit on Dipper's head – after shrinking a bit, of course. "Makes some sense. But y'know kid, you don't really have a bad enough win-loss ratio to be sulking like this over such a stupid-"
"Did I SAY you could comment?" Dipper scowled darkly, then turned away. He could have sworn he heard snickering from behind himself. He didn't look, but the demon almost certainly knew what was going on in his head.
"Nope. But most people don't." He tilted his head a little. "Also, you need to sleep for real. Otherwise you won't be much fun tomorrow."
"But it's not even-" Dipper's protest was cut off when he dropped like a rock into the deeper realms of dreams.
Bill stared at his sleeping body a moment, eye curved in an amused smile.
"You’re obviously important, Pine Tree. Human self esteem is brilliantly insane."
The only response was a mindless snore.