#ssparapines

Dipper always made notes for every situation. Was Grunkle Stan paying Mabel more when they worked at the Shack during the summer? (Yes.) How did Ford manage to wear both a sweater and trench coat during the summer? (It was worth it to die a million deaths to look like Carl Sagan) Did Pacifica actually bleach her hair? (She almost murdered Dipper several times before Mabel stepped in)

This, however, was the biggest chart Mabel had ever seen. It was bigger than the one of string and photos that he made two summers ago, still trying to find the author of the journals. Photos and thread spilled out onto the floor, notepads were scattered over beds and Waddle’s head. The box of thinking pens was overflowing and Dipper’s mouth was stained black and blue from the ink. At the tippity-top of the corkboard were two different phrases, all capitalized and written in shaky scrawl:

PLACES NORMAN WOULD LIKE/DOES HE LIKE ME?

Dipper was pacing back and forth, stopping every once in a while, reaching for one of the threads that hung loosely from its pinned spot before shaking his head and pacing again. It was an interesting perspective from Mabel’s point of view, her legs sprawled on the mattress of their room in the Mystery Shack and looking at the world from an upside-down perspective. Of course she was forced to watch her brother’s pacing for the past half-an-hour. Mabel was afraid that if she sat up she’d end up puking her breakfast.

“We could go to that abandoned convenience store, but it was inhabited by ghosts. It could lead to another possession incident. No, out of the question, nothing could happen and it would get boring. The Arcade might be- no, wait. Rumble might challenge me to a fight and I’ll get my ass kicked in front of Norman and then he’ll think I’m not cool and then never want to hang out with me again and-“

“Breathe, Dip,” Mabel reminded him. He did and when Dipper looked back at her he was pale. “Again.” He did. “Norman’s not going to stop talking to you if you get your butt kicked. He didn’t friend dump you when you couldn’t fight off that Splintercat.”

“No, but-“

“No buts, mister!” Mabel attempted to sit up now, her stomach be damned, and ended up as a heap of long brown hair and wooly oversized sweater on the ground. “Norman loves all the crazy supernatural stuff we do! Remember finding the mercreatures by the waterfall?”

“The ones that almost ripped our faces off?”

“Yeah, Norman had a great time!”

“Did I mention we almost got our faces ripped off? Cause, I think I did.”

“Norman asked if we had other crazy places to go like that.”

Dipper didn’t have a comeback for that one. His eyes went wide in the dimly lit space of their room. “He did?”

“You were writing all sorts of stuff in your journal about them when he asked?” He didn’t answer. “You don’t remember? Seriously?”

“Well, I had to record everything! It’s kind of hard to write while fleeing enraged scaly monsters with sharp teeth,” Dipper went silent. Only for a beat. “Did- did he really enjoy that? We almost died.”

“Like every other flipping day in town, bro-bro, but it ain’t new news.” Mabel spat out a piece of hair that had fallen into her mouth and wrestled herself up until the girl had her legs folded beneath her and her sweater puffed around her jeans in a tent of neon green wool and a pink alien waving from the fabric. “Gravity Falls isn’t exactly Norman’s first walk of the weird near-death-experience either.”

“But-“ he bit his lip and glanced back at the chart. His eye fell to one picture. One of Norman’s hometown. The billboard for Blithe Hollow dressed in bright cracking orange paint and a horrible rendition of a witch painted half-hazardly over the wood.

It hadn’t been an easy experience, even after Norman had admitted to seeing ghosts during the last weeks of the previous summer. The “Witch Incident” could be found after a quick Google search, but the details remained with Norman. Details he had only admitted to two people, his dead grandmother, and his best friend from home. Not his sister knew. Not his parents knew. Only those two people had known who Agatha Prendergast was. Dipper and Mabel had known one week into this summer and the number increased to four.

Only Norman knew who Aggie was, and Dipper and Mabel knew that they would never know that side of the story.

“We’ve passed Death so many times we should start giving them high-fives,” Mabel said. A smile was offered, but it wasn’t completely humorous. It was an offer to lighten the mood and Dipper wasn’t taking it.

“Shouldn’t he be sick of it?” He groaned and sat on his bed. Papers crinkled beneath his weight and his head rested in the palms of his head. “Why can’t we just have normal things? Like going to a movie without a poltergeist coming out of a film? Or a blob monster taking over the swimming pool? Why can’t we just go on picnics? Or just have a nice walk and hold hands and-“

Mabel was grinning at the flush that overtook her brother’s face. “Oh my God!”

“I didn’t mean-“

“That is so stupid cute!” Mabel pressed her hands to her cheeks. “C’mon! Tell me more! Picnic? Do you have any other ideas? What kind of food? What about music? You know Norman’s tastes! C’mon bro, tell me more.”

Dipper’s face was still flushed and no force on Earth could change that. But slowly, he lowered his hands, wringing them together as he talked in a hushed tone. “I-well, maybe, but it’s stupid and Norman probably wouldn’t-“

“Dipper,” Mabel said.

He cracked.

@_@

Mabel did have faith in her brother. As much as he got in his own way, Dipper had gotten himself together a bit over the past couple years. He could talk to boys and girls without stumbling over himself most of the time and wasn’t nearly as self-conscious as before.

She had faith. But she had to make sure.

“Your brother’s going to choke.” Pacifica didn’t bother keeping her voice down and a hand was slapped across it at the last possible second.

“Shh! They’ll hear us!” Mabel whisper was a tad too loud and the girl held her breath.

“Okay, I know that time I heard something.” Mabel knew Dipper was looking over his shoulder and held her breath from the bush the girls were hidden behind. “If it’s a Hide-Behind we might need to go back and grab some mirrors.”

“We already packed a bunch in case a Gremloblin shows it’s ugly mug.” Norman patted his backpack for good measure. A small muffled sound reminded Mabel that her hand was still over Pacifica’s mouth. If she had done the same to Mabel the younger girl would have licked her hand. Pacifica had more class than that. At least that’s what she said every time she wiped saliva off of her hand. She removed her hand and Pacifica gave Mabel a pointed look. A small hand mirror that had fallen out of Norman’s bag was held in her hand. The boy was none the wiser yet and Mabel suppressed the giggle at the smug expression on Pacifica’s face. “Don’t Hide-Behind’s make that weird hissy and rattling noise?”

“Yeah, but what else could it be? If it was a Gremloblin it would have made a lot more noise.”

“Maybe it’s just a deer.”

“A Wendigo?

“No, a deer.” There was a beat of silence between them and their voices were further away now. “There’s got to be a few normal deer. You know, ones without the bugged out eyes that say that they’ve seen some messed up shit.”

The shuffle of feet stopped and Mabel’s heart stopped in her chest. Oh no. “Yeah, I guess the creatures here aren’t exactly normal. Even when they’re as normal as normal can get, they’re not.”

The silence lasted a moment, then the boys continued walking and the forest was too quiet. When their footsteps had faded Mabel rubbed her temples. “He did it again! Dang it, Dip.”

“Professor Paranoia strikes again,” Pacifica added. “I guess that means he really likes this guy, huh?” Mabel stared and shuffled a bit closer. The other girl sighed. “I mean, Dipper stumbles over words in every situation like a drunk elephant over land mines. But that wasn’t just stumbling. That was falling face-first on a nuke that wasn’t defused first.”

“He did that when he crushed on Wendy.”

“How existential did he get when he talked to her?”

Mabel bit her lip in thought. He admitted to staying awake and thinking about her, that wasn’t hard to figure out on the fly. “Well, Wendy asked if two astronauts were on the moon and if one killed the other with-“

“That doesn’t count.” Pacifica cut her off with her nose twisted in slight disgust. Not so much disgust as slight distaste, but for the phrase that was tumbling out of Mabel’s mouth. “I mean insecurities coming out and all that jazz.”

She couldn’t think of a time. The only one was when the Shape-Shifter had hurt Wendy. That was a confession in a life-or-death situation. Did that even count? Mabel frowned, then her eyes lit up. “Wow, I guess- I didn’t know how serious Dipper was about this.”

Pacifica smiled and elbowed her in the side. “Which is why we got to help dip-stick from messing up with someone he really likes.” She offered a hand to help Mabel off of the ground and didn’t brush away the dirt stains in her skirt. “I can see Norman’s flashlight on the ground over there, they went that way.” Pacifica still held Mabel’s hand and Mabel didn’t bother to bring it up or the flush on her cheeks and skip in her step.

@_@

“I know I packed a mirror! It’s in here somewhere.” Norman had gone through his bag at least seven times now, dumping out everything and only finding more items missing. His flashlight, the mirror, a few snack bars. He sighed and stuck his hand through the new tear in the bottom of his bag. “I need a new bag.”

“Mabel could fix it.”

“And probably cover the rest of it in sparkly pink wool and stitch a ribcage onto it for good measure.” Norman paused, the corners of his mouth ticked up. That way where his lips curled back enough into a lopsided grin. “Actually, that sounds kind of cool.”

Dipper wanted to say that he could talk her down out of the pink at least. He wanted to make some kind of witty comeback. Some fun banter that would make Norman laugh. That laugh that turned into a slight cackle when something really cracked him up.

“I brought sandwiches!”

Norman turned and stared at Dipper. God, his eyes were so blue. He couldn’t help but flush and turn away and tore through his own bag. “I-I thought we might get hungry and who knows when we’d find the Axehandle Hound so I brought food. You like turkey, right? I also have, uh, some chips, and I think there’s some sodas-“

“Turkey sound great, actually.” Dipper tried to hide the flush in his face and the double beat his heart was on as he found the lunches he packed. Norman was sitting closer.

“H-here,” Dipper’s voice cracked on the word. Norman took the plastic wrapped sandwich and the boy’s throat caught on his breath. Norman’s hands were really warm. It felt like electricity even from just brushing his hand. He hid it with a cough and found his own food. Even through his own nervousness Dipper sat close to Norman. If he shifted just an inch he’d be leaning on the younger boy.

“Axehandle Hound?” Norman asked between a bite of his sandwich. “What are they exactly?”

Dipper nodded and took a swig of his soda. Anything to keep his voice from cracking. “It’s supposed to be this dog with an axe for a face.” Norman stared and Dipper couldn’t handle looking at him for long. He stared down at his food. “Some people say that they’re the spirits of abandoned or broken axes left in the woods, others say it’s the spirits of angry trees coming to haunt lumberjacks.”

“Maybe a dog tried to have sex with an axe and it worked?”

A loud, blaring laugh exploded from Dipper. The soda in his mouth was sprayed over the ground and he coughed a few times to recover while Norman laughed. There was that little cackle in his voice and he shook. Norman was really close.

“Holy-“ Coughing, “shit, Norm-“ Dipper felt like he was hacking up a lung around his laughing. “D-did you have to say that when-?”

Dipper turned to him and froze in place. He wasn’t sure what to call the expression on Norman’s face. His eyes were wide and blue. So blue. His face was dusted with red. Dipper’s heart was pounding in his chest. Was Norman sitting closer? “H-hey, Dipper?”

Dipper swallowed. He was frozen. His face was hot and his nerves shaking. “Wh-“ his voice cracked. “What’s up?”

Their shoulders brushed. Dipper could feel Norman’s body heat leeching through his sweater. Touching his arm. One of them swallowed and Dipper couldn’t be sure which of them it was. His hand felt warm and- yup. Yup. That was a hand on his. Dipper felt like he was going to pass out.

“Uh- hey, do you mind if- I mean, I thought-“

Norman’s face was close and each word fanned out across Dipper’s face. Dipper wasn’t conscious of his own body moving towards Norman. His eyes drifting closed. Norman had stopped talking. Just a little closer-

“AaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!” A scream broke the silence. It wasn’t stopping.

@_@

Mabel had to keep herself from screaming when she saw Norman’s face light up. Honestly, it was really cute. She knew Dipper’s laugh got to him. The weirdest little things like how Dipper would get excited about supernatural creatures or how Norman loved when he was caught off-guard by some stupid off-handed joke.

She had her phone ready to document her brother’s second kiss, her own internal squealing filling her ears and ignoring the sounds of the forest.

“Mabel!” Pacifica pulled on her arm as her camera went off and she pouted at the blonde.

“What’s the big-?”

Pacifica wasn’t looking at her. She was looking at nearby trees, all of them falling to the ground.

A dog was frantically barking.

Another tree was chopped in front of them and Mabel held her breath.

It wasn’t a dog, or something that resembled a dog. Big, fuzzy and brown with big dark spots over it’s back. But its head wasn’t normal. It was a huge axe-handle. Patches of fur covered the sides where two dark eyes stared out. The metal blade of it’s head split in two, a large slobbering tongue hung from the improvised thin mouth lined with steel teeth. The large head turned. Its tail began to wag, then it ran at them, barking.

“Move!” Pacifica already had a death grip on Mabel’s arm and dragged her through the trees. Mabel was already screaming.

They broke through the clearing and Dipper jumped up like a rocket with his face a red brighter than Norman’s jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“Run, Dip-shit!” Pacifica screamed. Her words were garbled by the barking of the hound.

It froze. Head turning to look at them all.

Norman scrambled to his feet.

The Axehandle Hound began to wag its tail and ran at him.

Mable was frozen. Dipper was frozen. Norman was frozen. His face reflected on the blade of the dog’s head.

Pacifica’s hand unlatched its death-grip from Mabel’s wrist and ran at the younger boy. Her body tackling him to the ground as the dog leaped at him, still barking and yipping when the two hit the dirt.

She scrambled up with his arm trapped in her grasp and dragged him away.

The dog’s head was embedded into the tree that had been behind Norman, whimpering and trying to free its head from the thick wood of a tree. It pulled, kicking at the ground and Norman’s eyes were glued to it’s metal nails that dug deep rivets into the earth.

“Norman!” Dipper ran over to help him to his feet. “Oh, no, no, oh man, are you okay?”

“I-“ he glanced to Pacifica. “I’m fine.”

“You’re lucky-“ Pacifica panted, leaning over to catch her breath, “-that you didn’t have a close shave.”

“Yikes, those scrapes aren’t pretty.” Mabel fussed over both of them, but her hand lingered over Pacifica’s and she flinched away when the other girl sucked a breath between her teeth at the contact. “We need to get some medical supplies.”

“I packed some. Did you manage to find where I dropped them.”

Dipper paused, looking to Norman, to Mabel, Norman, Pacifica, and back to Mabel. “Wait, you two were following us?” He looked back to Norman. “And you knew?”

“Wait, he knew?” Mabel parroted her brother.

“Of course I did, you guys weren’t exactly quiet.” Norman managed to laugh even while catching his breath.

Pacifica produced the kit and rifled through the supplies. Her nose twisted. “Hate to tell you, but this isn’t going to help much. We should get back to the Shack and patch up there. I’m sure it’ll be easier to comb out the bird’s nest your hair just turned into.”

Norman laughed and nodded. “Yeah.”

Mabel was still stunned, but dragged along by the other girl that was still bleeding from her knees.

Dipper wouldn’t move. He couldn’t. The dog was still trying to pull itself free, but he stared at Norman. He almost kissed Norman. He’d almost lost Norman.

“Dipper, you okay?” Norman’s hand pressed into his back, feeling the quick breaths.

The older boy blinked at him. “You almost died.”

“We almost die everyday, man.”

“I- I almost lost-“ Dipper choked. He had seen Norman’s face in the blade. Stunned. Terrified. All he did was stand there. That’s not what Dipper was supposed to do. He’d dealt with creatures before. Terrifying and horrible creatures. He stood there and almost lost Norman.

“Hey, I’m okay. Everyone’s okay.” All the reassurance in the world couldn’t stop Dipper’s heart from trying to push its way out of his chest. Norman sighed. “Look, we just need to go to the Shack and-“

“Everything went wrong.” His voice was a whisper. God, he was shaking. His eyes burned and Dipper tried to not let them overflow. “This was so stupid. Can’t something go right? Just once?”

Norman stared, his hand had stopped rubbing Dipper’s back. He sighed, and smiled. “I thought it was a pretty exciting date.”

The word sent Dipper’s head reeling with whiplash when he looked up at Norman. “D-date?”

“That’s what this was, right?”

“I-I- h-how, um-“ Did Norman know? He knew Pacifica and Mabel were following. Had he seen through Dipper’s plans too? It wasn’t like this was different from other adventures. Well, Dipper did pack them food. And he mapped out the clearing beforehand.

               Anyway, amortentia it is. He has to make it, and he has to make it right if he wants to pass. He’s got a reputation, even with his fellow Ravenclaws. Dipper Pines, overachiever extraordinaire. No subject can make him break a sweat. He wants to keep it that way, so they’ll never know the truth.

               When he’s done, his potion is shiny and vaporous and he risks a glance at the Hufflepuff side of the classroom to look for Norman. He’s easy enough to spot, and his potion doesn’t look half bad.

              He takes a whiff of his potion, making sure it's absolutely right and he can't place it for a second, he feels nervous, but he looks back across the room at Norman and it all clicks into place.

         Books, scrolls, ink and that awful exploding gum that only Norman likes. He looks away again.

              The fact that his amortentia smells like that brand of awful exploding gum Norman likes proves nothing. Maybe he does like that exploding gum too. Maybe…maybe. Maybe he should stop pretending that he doesn’t like Norman. That could be a step forward.

              No matter what his sister says about him, he does not have a silly boy crush.

               It’s scary, though. Even though he's already a seventh year, and this sort of embrassment should be behind him. So, for the time being, Dipper decides to try and pretend he hasn't noticed.

xXx

               His amortentia smells like grass and fresh laundry and smoke. Grass and fresh laundry are common enough, smoke not so much. Norman looks at Dipper, at the other side of the room, and smiles. They’ve been friends for a while, and Norman knows he's started crushing on him but he hasn't said anything yet. And this is pretty solid proof, as Dipper’s wand sometimes catches fire. Only his friends and Mabel know, he’s smart enough to hide it fast, but that makes him smell like smoke more often than not.

               Maybe he should tell Dipper. Knowing him, the worst that could happen would be Dipper running away for a few days. They’ve been friends for years, telling him wouldn’t destroy that.

              Right?

xXx

               Class is awful. Once he notices the smell he can't unnotice it. It’s not as simple as he first thought. If Mabel were there, they could’ve talked about it but she’d probably just tell him to buck up and be courageous or something. He’s not, obviously enough, and he needs to leave that classroom as soon as possible or he’s gonna start hyperventilating. Holy shit.

               They’re dismissed, at last, and he’s in such a hurry to leave that he doesn’t even take that flask he wanted. Whatever. He doesn’t need to be reminded of this every single day of his life, even if he already might be. Kind of.

               Norman stepping beside him doesn’t help, either.

               “So…” Norman says, and Dipper sighs. “What did your amortentia smell like?”

               “Books,” he says, and it’s not as much a lie as it’s an omission. “And ink. You know the deal.”

               Norman hums, but says nothing, and Dipper is too much of a baby mandrake to ask about his potion.

               “Mine smelled like grass and fresh laundry,” which doesn’t seem to stop him from talking about it. “And smoke.”

               Dipper doesn’t know why that information should be relevant to him, but Norman is looking at him as if it should. Why? Is he supposed to know who smells smoky around the castle or what? Many students make things explode, that’s not really a clue. Maybe Norman really likes dragons.

               “Err…okay?”

               Norman looks crestfallen, and Dipper’s hands are sweating. What is happening? This is not how they talk. They banter, and joke, and talk about all those ghosts that are invisible to others but that Norman can see. Ghosts with subtle unfinished business, not as great as to grant them visibility. They don’t miss pieces and bits of conversations and stare at each other looking sad.

               “I…gotta go…” Norman whispers, and it’s not ok and Dipper shouldn’t let him go but he leaves all the same and he’s left there, wondering.

               When Mabel finds him, moping around in front of the lake, she tries to push him into the water at the same time as she asks him what’s going on.

               “My amortentia smells like Norman,” she rolls her eyes and punches his arm.

               “Well, duh. Of course it does,” Dipper is not amused by this. He scowls, and Mabel snorts and adjusts her red and yellow tie. “Come on, Dipster, you know I knew you have a big crush on Dorklepuff McNerd.”

               True enough, and he can’t pretend anymore. Dipper sits on the grass, instead, and Mabel drops by his side with a little bounce. She’s smiling, and Dipper is mortified just thinking about what he’s going to say.

               “His doesn’t smell like me.”

               “Lies. What does it smell like, then?”

               He takes a deep breath, fiddles with some grass between his fingers. “Grass, fresh laundry and smoke.”

               Mabel starts laughing, all of a sudden, and Dipper frowns at her while she pats his back. Ouch. She’s always been strong but. Wow.

               “Oh Merlin’s pants Dipster. Oh boy. How can you be so dense?” He doesn’t get what’s going on, but she clearly does and so he waits until she calms down enough to look at him, grab the front of his cloak and lift it to his nose. “Smell this.”

               It smells like clothing, and smoke. What’s so funny about tha…ah. Oh. Ok. So. Maybe he does smell like smoke. Oh. Well. That changes things.

               Dipper flushes, hiding his face in his hands. Mabel is cackling by his side.

               “See? It is you. You both are hopeless. Aren’t you supposed to be the smart twin, cleverpants?”

               She doesn’t leave the topic alone while they go back into the castle, and she’s still laughing by the time they reach the Great Hall. Norman is sitting with Neil in the Gryffindor table, and Dipper follows Mabel there and sits by him.

               “Er. Hi!” Norman looks at him, waves, goes back to staring at the table. “So…I might be a bit dense.”

               Norman does look at him then, eyebrows raised in question.

               “What’s this about, Dipper?”

               Ok. It’s time to be brave. Not his forte, but. He can try. Dipper swallows, and toys with the hem of his cloak while talking.

               “About the smoke. I…didn’t realize and…” Norman shrugs and smiles, a very small smile.

               “Hey, it’s nothing. You don’t even like me,” he sounds sad, and Dipper’s heart is breaking. Shit. He messed up so bad.

               “I…didn’t tell you. The whole truth,” he breaths, deep. It’s now or never. “My amortentia also smelled like that explosive gum you like.”

               He says it all in one breath, so fast he’s not sure if Norman caught it at all. Norman seems to be processing his words, staring at him with his eyes wide open. His smile grows, and the silence is stretching way too much and Dipper is sweating and he feels like he’s about to start laughing nervously and never stop.

               “Say something. Please.”

               Norman says nothing. He hugs Dipper, and Dipper is lost on what to do for a second until Mabel yells at him to hug him back and then his arms are around Norman’s waist and he’s a bit dizzy.

               “Dork,” Norman whispers, right in his ear, and Dipper smiles.

               “No, you’re the dorklepuff here. I’m a ravennerd.”

               Norman snorts. “Shut up.”

++

This will be the very first time he has heard from Dipper after both of them left Gravity Falls. The letter is sealed in a blue envelope. It has been sitting in his study for a week. Today, as the red and yellow leaves start falling from all the trees, Norman decides to open it and read while he sits on his balcony.

“Dear Norman,

I’ll have you know that this stationery is gaudy and yellow because I swiped it from my sister. I did not go all the way to the bookstore to buy this. But all of that is irrelevant.

A lot’s happened during these months that we haven’t seen each other. I’ve moved in with Mabel in a new apartment just a month ago. Plus, I just found out my parents sold our old house. They’re retiring, apparently. They dropped off boxes full of my things and Mabel’s just the other day, right before they dropped the bombshell. I still can’t believe it.

I’ve gotten a job at a high school, teaching advanced physics. My students give me headaches every day, but I still think it’s really fun? I’m not exactly sure if I’m very well liked or anything, but it’s fun knowing that I’m bringing some good into the world, if that makes any sense.

Mabel thinks I should quit the job. She thinks it isn’t good for my sanity. But I don’t really see any problem. Do you? I wanna know what you think.

I’ve started writing again, too. Though I already know what you think about that. I just can’t leave my research just because of what happened. It’s not an option for me.

But please feel free to tell me whatever objection you have to anything I do. Tell me anything. It doesn’t even have to be about my job, or the writing. It’s just been too long since I’ve heard from you. I know it’s something we both decided on, but it’s driving me nuts, right.

I bet you’re angry with me right now for breaking the deal. But I just couldn’t help myself.

Talk to me, please.

Sincerely,

Dipper”

++

The past will forever nag him.

Norman stands in the middle of the town, as everyone retreated to the safety of their homes. The sky is pitch black, and then it isn’t. It turns into an electric blue. Norman stands and glares at the Dipper in front of him, a man dressed in the same color as the sky. The eyes of the Dipper in blue are green and menacing.

The wind is in Norman’s eyes, but he is determined to focus. All around him, the ghosts start to appear and in front of him, the Dipper in blue glowers, fists clenched tight and glowing.

“You’re going to regret you ever came here,” Norman says. And the ghosts start making noise. The Dipper in blue is taken aback. Norman knows that he’s defeated him. Surely, he will fade.

++                    

The past, indeed, has a way of reaching into you and pulling out your heart, bloody and raw. Norman remembers: Dipper set a fire to the shack. Outside they both stand and Norman notices that Dipper has been staring at the fire in awe. Later, Norman cannot help his tears when he has to sit in the waiting room of a hospital, because Dipper lost consciousness as the house burned to its cinders. He waits and he waits, and when Dipper wakes up, there are only bits and pieces that have stayed in his memory.

They move into the shack when they are both twenty-three. Dipper wanted to finish a research on parallel worlds, which has been passed on to him by his Great Uncle Ford. Norman tags along in order to assist him.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” Dipper tells him once. They are at the basement of the shack. Norman reads through a number of Ford’s notebooks, trying to make sense of his ideas. Dipper is writing something down on a hardbound journal when he says this and he doesn’t meet Norman’s gaze. He continues to write as Norman brushes off the comment.

“C’mon, you’re my best friend,” Norman says, even though it’s more than just that.

When Dipper decides that he should rebuild the portal, Norman invokes the same thing.

“As your best friend, I’m reminding you yet again that this is a horrible idea,” Norman says. He holds on to the toolbox and pulls out a wagon of metal while Dipper works on the machine.

“Truly!” the ghost of a woodsman says, as he floats near Norman’s figure.

“Doesn’t he remember what happened the last time?” says another ghost, this time of a man in a lab coat.

“I know it is,” Dipper says, as he stands atop a ladder, putting together the upper half of the portal.

“Then why are you doing it?” Norman says.

“Indeed, why!” The man in the lab coat circles around Dipper and closely examines Dipper’s progress.

“Because I know now what went wrong before!” Dipper’s hands fly up to the air and the ladder shakes. He continues to speak as he handles a screw – “You know that Bill Cipher, Norman? Well, he won’t bother me anymore. I know that for a fact. This portal, Norman—This portal is going to lead to worlds very much like our own. Not like Bill’s. We won’t have another Armageddon.”

That is what Dipper says, but a month later, he burns down the house and Norman is sure that the portal has something to do with it.

+++

He only becomes sure, however, when he first meets the Dipper in blue.

One Sunday night, as Norman sits on a park bench outside the hospital to eat his sandwich in peace, he notices that the moon has turned bright blue. The ghost of the woodsman has followed Norman all the way here, so he’s the first one Norman gets to ask.

“What happened to the moon?” Norman’s eyebrows furrow and he puts down the sandwich.

“Something tells me this is the work of the beast of the woods!” the ghost exclaims.

Norman sighs. “I don’t know about that,” he says.

Dipper’s room is dark when Norman returns. It’s dark except for the blue light coursing through the window.

“Dipper?” Norman looks around the room and sees nothing.

“I’m right here,” a voice goes, and then suddenly, the light switch is turned up.

With the flash of light, Norman is confronted with the sudden appearance of Dipper a mere few inches away from him. The door slams to a close. Dipper smiles. The birthmark on his head is glowing bright blue. His clothes have also changed – no longer in the hospital clothes but in a blue coat and a white frilly shirt.

He cups Norman’s face. “Hm,” Dipper says. “What a nice face you have here. But I still don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“W—What—?”

Dipper sighs. “It’s a shame I’ll have to kill you soon enough.”

Norman pushes him away.

“Who the fuck are you? And—what did you do to Dipper?”

The Dipper in blue tries to slick his hair back, but fails. He sits on the hospital bed. Norman starts to feel cold. The air around this person is sinister, almost like an evil spirit. The way this Dipper crosses his legs, the way he pulls on his coat and runs his hands on his shirt to flatten it – All of it is prim and proper. But Norman can see the darkness shrouding this person, who is not the Dipper he knows.

“I’m not yet ready to explain every single thing,” he says, with a smirk. “And I’m disappearing in a few moments, so I’m guessing I won’t have time to.”

“Disappearing? What? You’re not making any sense.”

“I’ll be taking permanent residence in this body pretty soon. You just have to wait. I have to thank you, you know, for your painstaking efforts to bring me into this world. Even though your shit portal didn’t work, it helped me pull a few strings. But, oh—“ Dipper extends his arm forward, and Norman sees tattoos, all of which seem to be fading. “It’s starting. You’ll see your little friend soon enough.”

The tattoos, the clothes, the blue glow on Dipper’s forehead, the blue glow from the moon: It all disappears. A Dipper in a hospital gown replaces it all. Norman rushes to him before he collapses forward. He embraces Dipper tightly.

“Norman?” Dipper goes, the sound of his voice barely audible.

“Shh, there’s no need to talk,” Norman says. He hugs Dipper and plants his nose in Dipper’s hair. Norman’s eyes stay wide open.

Dipper is shivering. Norman caresses his back and tries to calm him down.

“So cold,” Dipper says.

Norman holds him even closer. This is the Dipper he knows, not that man shrouded in darkness. Dipper continues to shake, and Norman knows he should call a doctor. But just for a moment, he wants to try and be the one to fix everything.

++

The morning after, Norman asks Dipper to explain. Though he doesn’t expect Dipper to provide much explanation, it seems that Dipper knows more than he’s let on.

“You what?”

Dipper lowers his head and tries to hide his face. He’d just told Norman that he knew of this other Dipper, who had come from a parallel world. It had been weeks since this Dipper started trying to take over his body. As Dipper tells Norman the story, he bends his knees against his chest and sags against the wall.

“You’re probably going to ask why I didn’t tell you, right? Well I’ve been thinking of telling you Norm, but it just never felt right. And I didn’t want you to get involved.”

“But I could’ve done something!”

“No, you couldn’t have. The door was opened. All he needed to do was push. You couldn’t have stopped him, not with all the ghost magic in the fucking world.”

“I could’ve at least tried.”

The room is silent after this. The days that follow remain this way, as Norman knows not what he should do to stop anything from happening. But he does stay by Dipper’s side and he helps him when he’s finally allowed to leave the hospital. Since Dipper refuses to contact Mabel or his parents so they can pick him up, Norman and Dipper stay at a cheap motel. They do not speak to each other, except for Good morning’s and Good night’s. Dipper watches TV, looks out the window, reads, sleeps, and does nothing else. It hurts Norman’s heart to wait.

Nothing has happened so far, but he thinks there might be something occurring in Dipper’s head. Never has Dipper stared so much into space for all the time that Norman has known him. Norman can only hope that Dipper is trying to fight and that he will prevail in the end.

“I’m cold,” Dipper finally says, one day. It startles Norman and makes him fear for the worst. The last time Dipper complained about the cold, he’d just fallen out of a dark trance.

Dipper is trembling on his bed. After Norman gives him a glass of water and something to dull the pain, they lie down together, Norman holding Dipper from behind. “Hey, hey,” Norman says. “I’ll warm you up. Don’t worry.”

“I feel him taking over.” Dipper continues to shake in Norman’s arms.

“No he is not. I won’t let him.” Norman hugs Dipper tight and brushes Dipper’s hair with his fingers.

Dipper breathes heavily. “He’s always speaking to me,” Dipper says.

“Just listen to my voice,” Norman says. “I’ll tell you things.”

This is exactly what Norman does: He tells Dipper about his childhood, back in Blithe Hollow. He had a dead grandmother who was also his best friend. He had many adventures, all of which involved poltergeist. He tells Dipper of the time when zombies swarmed the town and about the little girl Aggie, whom Norman was able to reunite with her mother. He tells Dipper about high school and how everyone seemed to forget about all that had happened. He tells Dipper about getting into university, seeing Dipper for the first time, thinking Dipper was one of the cutest people he’s ever seen.

Norman hopes he’s drowned out the voice once Dipper stops trembling and falls asleep.

Perhaps, Norman thinks, he can actually fix this. Throughout the night, Dipper sleeps peacefully. Norman falls asleep much later, though he first plants a kiss on Dipper’s cheek, something he has never done before. It doesn’t please his heart to see Dipper like this at all, and if staying by Dipper’s side will help him in any way, Norman will do it.

+++

The next day, Norman wakes up to Dipper shaking him awake. When he opens his eyes, he sees Dipper dressed to go to the woods – a cap, a windbreaker, jeans.

“C’mon, dude, we’re going exploring,” Dipper says. “For old time’s sake.”

Norman raises his eyebrow, but who is he to disagree. He immediately washes up, takes his flannel button-up, a jacket, and jeans, before he goes off to wherever Dipper takes him.

Get a fairy to speak with them: That is the random mission for the day. Although, one must admit that fairies are difficult to come by, so getting one to speak might be extra challenging.

Norman has yet to figure out how exactly to trigger a fairy to make an appearance. Dipper says they are everywhere, just not visible to the naked human eye. Dipper has theories: That you had to have a certain level of concentration in order to see them; that there might be certain words that they enjoy hearing. Nothing is confirmed.

When Norman asks the ghosts in the woods about the fairies, they say that they see the little creatures every day, floating about in groups. Dipper surmises that fairy appearances may have something to do with death and decay, though he is very much stumped as to how that might be so.

They later decide to split up. It is four in the afternoon and the sun is faint, so Norman holds a flashlight in order to see. He is not exactly sure of what he’s supposed to look for, though Dipper did tell him, with much exclamation: “Keep an eye on the trees.”

So Norman moves around looking for any tree that might have anything odd. After some time, Norman runs into Elizabeth, the old ghost woman always lying on the forest ground, arms stretched, eyes forever transfixed. She tells him to scram and if he wants to see a fairy, he should look for the tree with the yellow flowers and the red trunk.

It is a good enough lead for him to try and look for Dipper again.

The sound of the woods in the afternoon is just as eerie as it would be at any time of day. The chirps of the birds are faint; Norman feels as if every crack of a twig means he’s actually being followed.

“Dipper!” Norman goes, hands in his jacket pockets as he maneuvers through the trees. “Dipper, hey! I think I’ve got something!”

“Over here!” Dipper says.

Norman shifts his head around until he sees a small, circular light, eastward. He follows it, and hears Dipper humming a tune that Norman cannot place.

From where Norman stands, Dipper’s figure appears to be all black, though Norman can tell that his head is down and his gaze is fixed on something in his hands – perhaps the notebook he’d brought to the woods.

Norman hears something, apart from the continuing hum. It’s a drumming noise. With every step he takes, each and every time his shoe lands on the ground, the beat reverberates in his ears. Norman stops in his tracks and grabs his chest. The noise, he realizes, is his heart.

“Norman! I think I’ve got something! There’s some writing on this tree!” someone goes, but Norman looks at the figure in the darkness and sees that it has not moved an inch.

When he turns, it is almost as if time has gone slower. Towards another direction, he sees another flickering light.

He turns again, back to the figure standing still.

The beating intensifies. The hum grows louder. Norman has to close his eyes and concentrate.

This is nothing. Just a ghost. Messing with you. You’ve dealt with worse, Norman Babcock. You’ve dealt with worse.

Once Norman opens his eyes, he is taken aback.

“Who—”

He asks who, but he does not actually mean it. It is obvious who it is. The Dipper in blue stands before him, face blank, only staring.

But from behind him, from afar, Norman still hears: “Dude, where have you gone?”

That is something he would like to know himself. Norman feels as if he’s floating, though at the same time, he cannot move.

The face of the Dipper in front of him contorts into a sinister smile.

“Hello,” Dipper goes, and yes, it’s Dipper’s voice, but Norman knows quite well that this is not Dipper at all.

Norman still cannot move, no matter how much he wants to. His heartbeat has only become louder and faster.

“I’m sorry for what I have to do now,” the Dipper in blue says, and lifts up his hand, grabs Norman’s face.

The hand shakes. It stings. It burns him. Norman is certain that this is how he dies: in the hands of a Dipper he does not know, one whose arms are inscribed with letters he cannot read, one whose grip is literal fire, glowing blue.

Norman is certain that this is how he dies, because as soon as the blue light shrouds him, everything disappears. Everything is darkness.

There is nothing but black. He is nothing but a soul, floating in the void. His own death has never been something he constantly feared, but as Norman floats, regret floats along with him, and so does sadness, along with images of Dipper with that gleam in his eye as he writes down something new on his journal; of his mother, his father, and sister back home, living their lives in constant normality; of Dipper again, with a faint smile, a light flush on his cheeks.

Suddenly, Norman feels like he can breathe again.

And suddenly, he does. He breathes as if he has just been electrified.

Norman is sitting on his bed in the shack, alone, the world around him quiet. He pants.

A dream?

I’m not—The house isn’t—

The attic has not been burned to its cinders. Norman’s parents smile at him through the picture on his bedside table. The bookshelf is there, and so are all his books and DVDs. His laptop is by his feet, and he remembers that is the last place he put it before the fire erupted.

Norman gets on his feet, trying to make sure that all his body parts do actually work. He stares at his feet, his fingers, his palms, his hands. “I’m not dead…”

“No, you are not. Unfortunately.”

The voice, undoubtedly, is Dipper’s, but when Norman sees whom the words actually come from, the fear that has built inside him starts to overflow. The Dipper in blue is in Norman’s room. He stands by the door, arms crossed, face in a dark expression.

“But you will be.” There’s a smile that comes to Dipper’s face when he says this. “I only have to work a little harder to get into your world and I’m sure I can arrange your death very, very quickly.”

“Who are you?” Norman says, and a gulp follows.

“You know exactly who I am. I’m Dipper. You know, the guy you dote on every single day. We make a very cute—uh—couple? Well I guess we’re not on that level yet, aren’t we?” He chuckles, draws himself nearer and nearer to Norman. “Time’s a-ticking Norman Babcock. I can give you a few days, you know, since our love story still hasn’t come to sweet, sweet fruition.”

“I—I won’t let you do this.” Norman takes a step back.

Again, he chuckles. He stands very close, and in a familiar gesture, he lifts up one hand.

“I’m giving you a few days, alright? Nothing more.”

Norman knows what’s coming: the burning on his skin, the hand that feels like a flame.

When Norman opens his eyes once again, he’s lying on the forest ground.

“Norman!” He hears the quick footsteps of Dipper coming to get him and it’s music to Norman’s ears.

He tries to sit up, but his muscles betray him. Dipper kneels down beside him.

“Can’t—stand—“ Norman’s voice has turned hoarse.

“Jesus—what happened to you?” Dipper puts a hand at the back of Norman’s head and places another on Norman’s arm. Norman looks up to see Dipper’s same old face and same old arms without the language of demons. He has never thought that Dipper’s brown curls and the curve of Dipper’s lips have ever looked as beautiful as they do now.

“Was it some sort of monster?” Dipper asks. “A fairy? Please tell me you didn’t faint at the sight of a fairy.”

Norman shakes his head, closes his eyes, and thinks of the appropriate thing to say.

“Had a nightmare,” Norman says, and breathes. “But it felt very, very real.”

+++

Nothing could have stopped what was about to come.

But Norman sees that Dipper is trying his best to do something about it.

When they go to the shack, they discover that things in the basement have been left unharmed, as Uncle Ford built it to be fireproof. The structure of the portal is still intact, until Dipper grabs a hammer and smashes dent after dent into the metal.

Dipper searches all his notes, hoping to find something on how to close rifts in time and space. He ends up ripping out page after page, not caring about the mess he is creating.

He searches through an old journal, where spells and incantations are written. Norman has never seen the book before and advises Dipper against it. Still, Dipper persists and screams out any lines that he deems useful.

Norman stands by him the whole time, feeling utterly useless.

Dipper ends up curling up in a corner, knees bent to his chest. He sobs, tears like waterfalls.

“C’mon, Dipper. We have to go.” Norman squats down and holds Dipper’s shoulder, calm. “Let’s not waste our time.”

+++

They are at the motel and Norman knows Dipper cannot be alone. “I’ll go to bed with you,” Norman says as he helps Dipper remove his windbreaker and shoes. At that moment, he is sure that Dipper wants the same thing, because he takes Norman’s hands and caresses them.

“I’m thinking you should,” Dipper says.

They walk to the bed and Dipper lies down first, pushing his back against the pillows. He stares at Norman with his tear-stricken eyes and nibbles his lip.

Norman leans down to kiss him, body hovering over Dipper’s. This very first kiss makes Norman feel stronger than he has very felt. The bed then creaks as Norman moves to kiss Dipper’s neck. Arms circle around Norman’s back; soft whimpers escape Dipper’s mouth. The light in the room is as good as gone because everything around Norman blurs and Dipper is the only one visible.

As Dipper slips off his wrinkled shirt, Norman starts to unbutton his own, eyes continuing to brood. Dipper is exposed and he starts to look flushed because of it. Norman sits upright and looks at him. He runs a hand against Dipper’s stomach.

“You’re amazing,” Norman says.

When his shirt is finally off, Norman leans back down to plant kisses on Dipper’s cheek, stormy kisses on Dipper’s lips.

They go through the night like this, with Norman willing himself to breathe as Dipper trembles underneath him, with Norman unrelenting as he hopes to make Dipper melt in his touch.

He wants to feel that Dipper will always be here. He will never let this go, he resolves, ultimately. No matter what forces are trying to break this apart, Norman is positive that he will be able to crush them all and beat them to dust.

++

Which is exactly what he does on the day that Dipper’s body is taken over.

It happens very suddenly, one morning. Dipper is nowhere to be seen in their room and Norman wakes up very, very cold.

Almost simultaneously, all of Norman’s friends appear in the bedroom.

“You guys are willing to help me right?” he asks all the ghosts floating around him, who are asking him what had happened, because they also feel unnerved, as if their souls are being torn apart.

Norman knows now that this is the reason he had to be killed. No one else would be able to match the Dipper in blue. No one else would be able to tear apart a soul in this world and hurl them into another.

“This is dangerous, don’t you think?” the ghost of the man in a lab coat says.

“I don’t really know what is happening, but all I know is that I am up for it,” says another ghost, Elizabeth from the woods. “But I do hope you know what you’re doing, my dear.”

“You’re helping me get a guy to burn in hell. I’m sure you’ll all be able to manage.”

Norman sees the blue fireworks above. From where he stands, he can tell that it is coming from the house of the Gleefuls.

“Gravity Falls!”

The voice resounds throughout the town. People who still remain in the streets look around to check where the voice comes from, but they are unable to locate it.

“The Dipper Gleeful magic show is about to begin! Everyone grab on to their seats!”

Everyone murmurs, “What seats? What seats is he talking about?”

Norman cocks up an eyebrow, “Dipper Gleeful?”

“I need everyone to look west! Yes, there! All of you look! Do you see it? Yes, it is the office of Mayor Northwest!”

The townspeople, gullible as they are, all turn to look at the direction pointed out to them.

In one fell swoop, the black metal fences to city hall levitate; the leaves from the trees swerve around the building; fire engulfs the structure. In one fell swoop, it all disappears.

This is only the beginning, as Dipper Gleeful’s magic ransacks the town: breaks the glasses of shop windows, pulls roofs off into the sky, and sends people into screams and mania. Norman shouts and tells everyone to go into their houses, leave, or just flat out run, because no one is safe.

The sky has turned pitch black. Norman shouts and calls for him. The ghosts are still, for now.

“I’m going to end you!” Norman screams, beckoning.

Norman stands in the middle of the town, as everyone retreated to the safety of their homes. The sky is pitch black, and then it isn’t. It turns into an electric blue. Norman stands and glares at the Dipper in front of him, a man dressed in the same color as the sky. The eyes of the Dipper in blue are green and menacing.

At that moment, Norman is more than ready to tear a soul apart.

It is all a blur in his memory. Norman remembers being overcome with power. His eyes burn and his blood boils. Dipper Gleeful is grabbed by the neck as the ghosts circle around him in a tornado of green. He puts up a fight by hurling thunder down from the sky, but Norman has ensured his failure. Gleeful’s eyes have turned blue and Norman’s have turned green. Looking back, Norman thinks he’s probably been wasting a bit of Dipper’s time, because Norman recognizes now that he has held a key to parallel worlds all this time. It’s all been in his eyes. He just never wanted to acknowledge it.

“I have to put in all this work just for you,” Norman says, when it all ends. He is down on his knees, dizzy, as he looks at Dipper Gleeful’s body, barely breathing but still alive.

“Oh, Dipper,” goes the voice of a woman. Norman cannot tell if the person who utters the words is near or far, because his senses have gone weak.

There are footsteps. Someone walks past him. He sees a woman with the same brown hair as Dipper’s, but longer. She also wears a blue coat, a frilly white shirt, along with a skirt that swings as she takes each step. When she draws near enough to the unconscious body, she kneels down and holds Dipper’s face by the cheeks. Norman’s body starts to feel colder than it already does.

“…Mabel?” Norman goes, when it finally clicks. He hears a chuckle from the woman.

“Sorry for the mess,” she says, without meeting Norman’s gaze, before she disappears, along with Dipper Gleeful.

This is when everything turns dark and Norman’s body gives in.

When he does wake up, it is still dark, but he no longer feels cold. He notices that the ghosts are all around him, walking along to the steps of a man who carries Norman through the empty road. The smell of his hair isn’t ideal at all, but at least, Norman thinks, his back is warmer than anything he has ever felt.

Dipper is back in this world, but Norman sees this only for a moment. No matter how much Norman wants to speak, he cannot. Norman falls out of consciousness yet again.

++

Days go by before Norman finds the heart to reply to the letter. At first he starts with Dipper and places a colon at the end of the word, but Norman feels that it is too impersonal. To whom this may concern? But that ends up sounding all the more impersonal. Dear Dipper doesn’t seem right at all. Hey Dipper? Yo Dipper? Norman finds himself sitting in his study, thinking about this more than he should be. He only settles for something after more than two hours of thinking.

++

Norman writes the letter and feels his blood pumping by the end of it.

“Dearest:

I used to think we’d both be happier if we never heard from each other ever again. But here I am, writing this, because I want to and you asked me to.

I remember what I told you the last day we saw each other. I told you that it’s dangerous for you and I to be together, given the things that might happen, given that I’m pretty much a key to a door we never want to open again. I told you we’re better off as far away from each other as possible. You looked very sad when I said this. Please know that I took no pleasure in seeing you sad. I like you too much to want that.

I’ve thought of emailing you or giving you a call, from time to time, but I know it would breach the deal I made myself. Though now it looks like I’m talking to you through a handwritten letter, and really, dude, what got into you? You know handwritten letters are things of the past, right? Sorry. But it’s true!  

The reason I’m writing this letter, other than as a reply, is to explain the decision I’ve recently made.

I’ll be ironing out a few things at work. It might take a few weeks, but I think it’ll be fine. Then, as soon as possible, I’ll be buying tickets for a plane to California.

If you think you’re the only who’s been driven nuts by this whole thing, you are very wrong. And if you think I have any objections to the things you are doing, well, yeah, that is totally true, but keep on doing them, so we’ll have something to talk about when we see each other.

I really can’t wait to see you, Dipper. Please wait for me. I’ll be there soon!

With love,

Norman

P.S. I tried my best to find the very same stationery you used at Barnes and Noble. I kind of like it. I don’t know why you wouldn’t admit to buying it. You’re nothing but a dork, Dipper Pines. Please do not change.”

|

for me love’s like the wind unseen, unknown I see the trees are bending where it’s been I know that it leaves wreckage where it’s blown I really don’t know what I love you means I think it means don’t leave me here alone

(Dark Sonnet, by Neil Gaiman)

|

“Norman.” Dipper’s voice is getting more and more desperate in his ear with each blow. “Norman, fight back!”

He’s not sure quite why these punches hurt so much worse but he’s between two, many three ideas.

The next crash of knuckles against his cheek sends him to the floor. The force is enough to send his teeth clattering into the inside of his cheek, opening up yet another cut in his mouth. The whole left side of his face is on fire. He spits some blood from his matching pair of split lips.

“Norman, fight back!”

The first idea is that the man throwing the punches isn’t holding back in the slightest. That his one and only objective in this moment is to beat Norman to a nice, squishy, medium pulp.

A violent kick to his side throws him onto his back. He feels something snap and hopes that nothing broke as a moan escapes him. White hot agony shoots up and down his side.

“Norman! Norman, please!” The voice echoes around the room frantically.

The second idea is that maybe possessed people are stronger somehow if the ghost controlling them is particularly angry. Oh, that’s actually not a bad idea. He could write about that for one of his parapsychology classes. “The Poltergeist Effect in Possession.” There’s even a little alliteration in there. Professor Scott’s always been a sucker for alliteration in essay titles.

That thought is cut off by another blow, a foot coming down on his chest, knocking the air from his lungs.

“Norman!” Dipper’s voice is near sobs now, begging. “Fight back, tie me up, do anything! Please!” The spirit of his boyfriend is floating eye-level with Norman’s head, flattening himself to the floor to beg right into his face. Those brown eyes - once-brown eyes - are currently glowing green like the rest of him, the ghostly aura so unfamiliar and so horrible on the face Norman loves so much.

A hand jerks him up and pulls him roughly to his feet, forcing him to stare into the pitch-black eye sockets of the thing possessing Dipper.

That’s his third idea. That all this hurts so much solely because all this pain is being inflicted by those hands that previously had only provided gentle touches, comfort, love. Dipper’s hands, which he had always loved so much, were now being used for pain.

“Please, please, don’t let him- me- whatever hurt you anymore. Norman, are you even listening to me? Norman, please!”

His whole body aches, but he stares forcefully into those shiny black eyes. That stupid smirk.

He spits more blood out of his mouth and attempts to speak for what must be the dozenth time. “You d-don’t have to… to do this.”

And for what must be the dozenth time, there’s no verbal response. But this time instead of another blow, the bloody-knuckled hand closes around his windpipe. That seems extreme. He could have just told Norman to shut up.

He can hear Dipper’s voice - Dipper’s spirit - screaming, now. Until he can’t hear it anymore. Until his hearing starts to go as blank as his vision as the little oxygen left in his lungs drains away.

Fades away.

Like everything else.

~

Dipper knew from the second the angry spirit pushed him out of his body. He knew exactly what the thing wanted. Something about sharing a conscious mind for the .2 seconds it took for him to shove Dipper out gave him clarity in that area. The spirit - nameless as far as Dipper was concerned - wanted to hurt. So it delved right down into the depths of Dipper’s mind and pulled out his most terrifying memories, his worst nightmares, and used them to piece together how to bring about Dipper’s worst fear.

So he watched, completely powerless. It made him watch. Just watch as his fragile Norman was beaten within an inch of his life.

And then...

Norman wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as his head lolled to one side.

Dipper screamed to nothingness as the thing in his body dropped his boyfriend to the floor like he was nothing.

And he continued to scream as he hurled himself towards his body, towards that complete asshole in his body. He wanted to hurt him back, he wanted to destroy him. He wanted the thing to hurt as bad as it’d hurt Norman.

(A tiny voice reminded him that revenge isn’t what Norman would want, is never what Norman would want, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care!)

All at once he fell to his knees in his own body, spitting ectoplasm from his mouth and wiping it away. It was too easy, no fight whatsoever.

And no satisfaction.

The only reason Dipper was back in his own body was because the spirit had decided it was done beating and wailing on Dipper’s everything.

He wanted to sob. Wanted to punch something. Wanted to fight back after what that fucker did to-

“Norman!” He scrambled up and sprinted to his boyfriend’s side, sinking to his knees as he delicately lifted Norman’s bruised head from the ground where he’d been tossed. “Norman? Norman, t-talk to me, tell me you’re okay…”

No response. Not even a twitch. And he looked just wretched, his left eye swollen shut already and blood leaking from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Was he…? No. No, he… He couldn’t be. Dipper’s vision blurred with tears as he pulled the limp, bloody body to his chest, trying to be careful but in his distress not as careful as he usually might’ve been. There was so much blood. Everywhere. Dipper felt sick.

“N-no. No, you-you’re okay. You’ve gotta be okay, please, just… Please, Norman…”

Suddenly, as if he was heard, Norman coughed. Dipper had never heard a more beautiful cough in his life. He held Norman close as a pained moan escaped his bloodied lips.

“Oh my god… Norman, I- I’m so sorry!” The tears spilled over, dripping down Dipper’s face to land against the bloody mess that is Norman’s face. “Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay…”

“D-Dip…” Norman’s voice was raw and painful-sounding, and the word quickly gave way to more coughs. Coughs that - to Dipper’s horror - sent a splatter of blood down the medium’s chin.

He pulled him upright to cough up against Dipper’s chest, the sound no longer beautiful as it wracked through Norman’s lungs. “Oh god. Oh my god, oh no, no no no, I- We have to get you to a hospital, h-have to get you help! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, I-” His voice broke.

Norman’s voice came out weakly between coughs and wretched-sounding breaths. “N-no hospital…”

Dipper felt like sobbing. “You’re hurt!” One of his hands trailed over Norman’s bruised side with a feather-light touch. “Wha-What if I broke your rib or- or punctured your lung?!”

“Y-your knuckles…” The words are barely audible. “Th-they’ll think it was you.” More coughs. More blood. Dipper felt more tears stream down his face. How much blood could he lose?

“I don’t care!” He couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore. “You need help!”

“You could get arrested…” Those blue eyes, staring up at him so full of pain, desperation. Dipper couldn’t take those eyes. He never could, let alone now, with Norman so bloodied and bruised and fragile. “Please, don’t…”

He shook his head, frantically, his hands trembling as they held Norman close. “If you’re bleeding internally you’ll- You’ll die. I n-need to- Y-you need to- Please, let me help you, let me fix this!”

“Shhh…” Dipper stared dumbstruck as Norman’s thumb trailed back and forth over his hand, as if he was trying to comfort Dipper. “S’okay… S’gonna be…” Horror shot through Dipper’s heart as Norman’s head dipped to one side, exhausted.

“No!” He cradled Norman’s head in one hand and pulled him close so their faces were inches apart. God, his face was just wrecked. It crushed Dipper’s heart. “St-stay with me, please, you're gonna be okay, just let me…” He could see the consciousness - the life - draining from those blue eyes as Norman tried desperately to stay awake.

“S’okay…”

“No, it’s not!” Dipper sobed. “It’s all my fault.” His head dropped so he was crying right up against Norman’s face. Close enough that he could see him fading fast. “I-I have to get you out of here. I have to get you help...” But he couldn’t make his legs move. If he couldn’t do it soon he’d have to call an ambulance. He’d get him help whether or not Norman wanted it. He refused to be responsible for his death.

Norman’s hand found its way to the top of Dipper’s but almost immediately went limp, slipping away. “S’not your fault… D-don’t blame yourself.” Dipper could feel him starting to collapse and shifted him closer to support the rest of his weight.

“Shhh… Don’t talk, just… Just breathe, okay? B-breathe for me…” He managed to relax slightly when Norman compiled, and Dipper ran a so-gentle hand over his face, trying to wipe away some of the blood. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the skin beneath all that blood. Purple and mangled and raw. It made him sick. It was the worst Dipper had seen Norman. Worse than that time he fell down the stairs. Worse than when Bill had tormented him. And Dipper could still feel his knuckles throb from having done it to him. His hands fumbled for his phone and he started to dial when Norman’s hand reached up again, stilling his fingers over the screen.

“D-Dipper…” Dipper looked back to that mangled face. “W-we were attacked. N’you p-punched the guy who hurt me. Okay?”

His face crumbled. Even hurt so bad, Norman was still trying to protect him. It made his whole heart shatter, and sobbed as he gave the operator Norman’s lie. An ambulance was coming. He was going to be okay. He had to be okay.

“Dipper, y-you… you couldn’a stopped it…”

Dipper just held him close, babbling softly into his ear. “Shhh. Help will be here s-soon, just- just hold on. Save your strength.”

Blood dribbled out the corner of Norman’s mouth as he spoke again. “D-Dip, m’sorry…”

“Norman, no. D-don’t you dare apologize. Just… Just be okay. Please.”

He watched, feeling just as powerless as he did a few minutes ago, as his boyfriend tried to speak again and was rewarded with a bloody cough. A sob escaped Dipper’s mouth and he couldn’t even manage to hush him.

A too-weak, trembling hand found Dipper’s again, as if the touch could stop his tears. Dipper sobbed out his name once more, clinging to that hand. Norman’s lips parted again.

“S… sorry.” And his eyes closed, his hand went slack. Dipper was watching - that seemed to be a recurring theme tonight - as he faded away.

Quickly, before Norman couldn’t hear him, he whispered. “Don’t be…”

Just before he went utterly limp, Norman murmured something that Dipper didn’t hear. But he had a few guesses as to what it was.

Dipper hunched over his slack form, managing to mumble between sobs and screams. “I love you, too.”

~

Dipper thanked just about every deity he knew of that it wasn’t quite as bad as it looked. That said, it was still pretty bad. A cracked rib and a very cut-up mouth. And a whole slew of bruises up and down his body. But all things considered, he was immensely grateful. (Especially because they let him take Norman home. A night in the hospital would’ve only made everything worse for his poor medium boyfriend.) But that didn’t quite quench the crippling guilt that weighed on his heart like a cinderblock.

Norman was awake when they left the hospital, but given the incredibly strong pain medication the doctor had him on, Dipper was not surprised that it didn’t last. By the time they pulled up to their apartment he was out like a light in the passenger seat.

Dipper had carried him cautiously inside and bundled him up securely in their bed before ordering some non-hospital food and settling in to run a hand through that spiky hair and watch Norman’s thin chest rise and fall. (He knew the rib was only cracked and his lung wasn’t punctured, but he just had to be sure he was breathing okay.)

The food arrived quickly and a little more time passed before those blue eyes start to flutter open.

Dipper breathed a soft sigh and kissed his bruised cheek with a feather-light brush of lips. “Hey. Got you noodles.”

Norman’s voice was still scratchy from all the coughing. “Noodles?” He rubbed at his good eye and glanced around. “When did we get home?”

“You fell asleep in the car, those drugs are pretty strong.” He slid a gentle hand beneath Norman’s spine. “Hold on, I’m gonna sit you up, okay?” Norman nodded and he helped him into sitting position, very slowly to make sure the movement wouldn’t irritate his hurt rib.

“You didn’t have to carry me, Dip.” Norman murmured as Dipper retrieved the delivery. “Could’ve woken me up.”

He just handed Norman the carton and a fork. “You needed the rest.”

Norman gratefully took the food and slurped up some noodles, looking at Dipper with those big blue eyes. He knew something was up, Dipper could tell. Did he have to be so goddamn smart? “Are you okay?”

Dipper paused. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay, I promise.”

“But you’re not…” Because of my hands, he thought.

“But I will be…” That same searching look. “Dipper… It isn’t your fault.”

It was like a broken dam. “I- I could’ve done something! Anything to stop it! To protect you! I could’ve…”

“We both know that’s not true.”

Dipper did know that. The only reason Norman was ever able to force a possessing ghost out was because it was one of the perks of being a medium. Dipper knew he was human. It didn’t make him feel any better. He sighed heavily. “At least it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been… I was so afraid you were bleeding internally, but it was mostly from your mouth.”

Norman nodded. “Kept dripping down my throat.”

“I… I know… They had to suck some out of your lungs at the emergency room.” Dipper had watched that part. It was an image would haunt him for a while.

Norman looked so sympathetic, like Dipper was the one who’d had a tube stuck down his throat. “I’m sorry you had to, um…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, okay?” He reached over to run a hand down his cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

Norman’s eyes darted to the side and he gasped and took the hand on his cheek in both of his own, the noodles sitting forgotten in his lap. “Your hand!”

What about it? Dipper glanced at the hand caught between Norman’s thin fingers. It was mildly bruised and the knuckles were scabbed over. It did nothing to ease his guilt. “It’s fine. It doesn't hurt that bad.”

“That bad?!”

“Norman, you cracked a rib. Don’t worry about my hand.”

Norman didn’t release his hand from that tender grasp, instead bringing it to his lips to give each of the scabbed knuckles a tiny, feather-light kiss. “It looks so bruised.”

His expression softens a little with those kisses. He can’t help it, Norman is so good. “Yeah, but… so do you.”

Norman locked eyes with him and offered a small smile. “I guess… we’ll both have to heal?”

Dipper couldn’t help but to smile back. “...I guess we do.” He used his other hand to lift the noodles from Normans lap and offer them to him again. “Now please eat?”

He watched as Norman took the noodles and slurped up another bite, giving him this little lopsided smile - even under all those bruises it was still cute enough to make his heart flip-flop. “I love you, Dip.”

And Dipper thought that, maybe, sometimes, just watching wasn’t all that bad.

Maybe it was bad idea to have their first date on the roof of the Shack. Dipper contemplated scrapping this (stupid, ridiculous) plan and improvising – Norman would probably (possibly) believe him if he said that he had actually planned something else for the date. Maybe Greasy’s was still open at this hour?

No, he couldn’t take Norman there! First dates were supposed to be great and not awkward or causing you to worry that you’re doing everything wrong.

“Are you okay?” Dipper quickly snapped out of his thoughts and glanced at the dark-haired teen beside him, the latter’s brow furrowed slightly. Oh, man. How long had he been consumed in his inner thoughts? Did Norman think he was being weird or didn’t know what to do? (Well, it wasn’t like the latter wasn’t true…)

“Uh, yeah! I’m cool, how about you?” He flinched inwardly at his words. How about you? Seriously? This is going nowhere!

To his luck, Norman didn’t appear to be annoyed by the question. The concern faded a little from his blue eyes and he looked up at the stars. If he stared a bit harder, the brunette would have noticed that Norman was blushing. “I’m doing well.”

“Oh. That’s…good.”

Dipper wanted to hit himself in the forehead. This wasn’t how he had planned the night at all. Once they had gone out on the roof he had begun to question whether this was the best plan considering this was their first date (first date, oh god, they were actually finally dating), and now he had turned into a stuttering red mess. It would be a miracle if Norman (his boyfriend, his actual real boyfriend!) didn’t notice his uncertainty.

“The stars are out tonight.” Dipper drew himself back to the conversation again. Norman was staring up at the stars still, a soft expression forming on his pale face. It was utterly breathtaking (both the stars and the boy sitting so close beside him). “It’s weird – in Blithe Hollow we don’t always see them. Probably because of pollution.”

“That stinks.”

Norman snorted. The ghost of a smile flickered on his lips. The brunette wished it would grow to become a real smile (those were always the best coming from Norman).

“Yeah, I guess. It’s…nice to get away from there. Not that home is bad or something but, well – ” His cheeks reddened a little. “You know…”

“It’s easier to escape in Gravity Falls,” Dipper blurted out before he could stop himself.  He could feel his own cheeks turning red as Norman turned to him in surprise. He looked away, his hands clutching tightly at the roof shingles.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

The way the other’s voice softened, just like his expression had, sent something warm fluttering through the brunette’s stomach. He could practically hear his twin sister’s eager voice cheering him on in his brain, telling him to just go for it.

(No, he couldn’t, it wasn’t the right time, it was probably way too soon for that sort of thing and who knew if Norman even would like it?)

There was a small sigh from the teen beside Dipper. “You know, before we met the only friends I had were Neil and Salma. Not that they aren’t great but…sometimes they didn’t always understand. And then you and Mabel and everyone here was so accepting about – well, I don’t know why – ”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Dipper found himself turning to Norman again. He knew bullies, yes, but the thought of hurting Norman (good, kind, caring Norman) sent a physical wave of sadness through him. “Norman, just because you’re special doesn’t mean anyone should treat you different.”

Norman studied him for a moment. “Would you still…care about me the same even without me being able to see ghosts?”

Dipper did a double take, seeing the seriousness in the teen’s eyes. He wondered how many people would have said yes to that question and the very idea made him seethe internally.

“No. Never. I… I like you because you’re my best friend, next to Mabel, and you’re not afraid of going on adventures with us or to just do normal things like watch TV or throw water balloons and – MMMPH!” Dipper’s rambling was cut off swiftly when the dark-haired teen gripped his vest and pressed his lips against his.

The closest thing he had felt resembling a first kiss was giving Mermando “reverse CPR” (which he shuddered to remember). This kiss (they were kissing, Norman was kissing him, oh god it was happening) was nothing like that. It was softer and Norman’s lips were hesitant, as if he were afraid that Dipper was going to shove him away. His brown eyes fluttered shut as a hand gently ran through his hair.

It felt like an eternity before Norman hurriedly pulled away with scarlet cheeks and a slight smile on his lips. Dipper stared at Norman (his boyfriend, his boyfriend who had kissed him), out of breath.

“Good.” Norman’s voice was small, but not weak. If anything, it was the strongest he had ever heard the medium sound. “Because I like you a lot, if it – if it wasn’t obvious.”

“Y – Yeah.” Dipper cursed his stutter and quickly cleared his throat when he heard a soft chuckle from the other. “I… I like you too.”