Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

            The night air was cool but pleasant against her bare legs. The girl's skirt swished back and forth around her thighs as she drifted down the poorly lit sidewalk on her way back to the dorms. She tucked a long strand of brown hair back behind her ear, where it had fallen in her face and gotten in her mouth.

            Dead leaves crunched under her shoes and the wind sent them skittering across the empty street, giving her a start. She relaxed easily, slipping back into her drunken stupor and pulling her jacket closer around her shoulders. It was a little embarrassing to be walking home drunk in the wee hours of the morning just a week into the school year, and she was dreading going to class tomorrow hungover and tired.

            Maybe she could catch a few extra minutes of shut eye if she took a shortcut…

            She turned and meandered into the dark alleyways between apartment buildings and small shops that were long closed for the night. If she was in her right mind she would have thought twice before straying from the safety of the street lamps' soft glow. She might have even noticed the dark figure that had been stalking her for the last few blocks like a shadow.

            She stumbled a few times, weaving between dumpsters and abandoned bikes, but knew the edge of campus was just a few blocks away and would be in sight if she just turned this corner and went down this alley...

            Too late she noticed the footsteps behind her that quickened to close the distance between them. She spun around, watching as a black silhouette swallowed the precious light behind her. There was the glint of a blade as it was pulled from the sleeve of a coat and the figure rushed forward.

            A scream rose in her throat but came out a strangled yelp when the knife plunged into her side, cracking against a rib. Tears sprang into her eyes and she faltered for a moment, overwhelmed completely by the fierce pain that rushed through her. 

            Her attacker smiled serenely, pulling the small knife out with practiced ease and slamming a closed fist into her gut. She doubled over, falling onto all fours with a guttural scream. She clutched uselessly at her bleeding wound.

            "Why!? What the fuck!?" she sobbed.

            "Mmm," an amused hum rumbled in the throat of her attacker and they crouched down to regard her lazily. "That's a dumb question. You aren't going to run? That's no fun," a male voice mused.

            With blinding speed, the blade flicked out again and left a thin line of red across the girl's cheek, quickly blooming with blood and a new sting of pain. She sobbed and scrambled backwards in panic, tearing her knees and palms open on the concrete.

            "Please! Leave me alone! HELP! Someone!" Her voice cracked as she screamed desperately.

            Her attacker stood and watched, delighting in the dark spots of red decorating the ground and weapon. He made no move to follow as the girl gasped and choked on her pain, finally dragging herself onto her feet and started off in a lurching jog. She wailed and clutched her side with a white knuckled hand, trailing the other along the wall as she fled on unsteady legs.

            "My brother lives nearby, he'll f-fucking kill you!"

            He snickered. "Ooh, I'd love to see that!" He followed slowly behind, tapping the knife on the brick behind her to tease his prey. He got bored quickly and darted forward, the knife flashed out to leave a fresh gash across the back of her exposed thighs, eliciting a delightful shriek. He let out a loud laugh behind her and her stomach twisted in horror. She continued to scream, but the empty balconies and windows above her remained dark and quiet.

            In just a matter of moments she had found herself with three bleeding wounds and was profoundly delirious with pain. But there it was! The glowing lights of campus, just there in the distance. So close but impossibly far.

            "C'mon now!!" Her attacker kicked the back of her shoes, making her stumble and cry out. He grinned, his voice raised in sick, taunting encouragement. "You're so close!" 

            With a burst of adrenaline she lurched into a run, barely managing to stay on her feet.

            Her heart soared as she emerged from the alley and onto the open, lit street. The large area of meticulously cut lawn and trees in front of the campus stretched before her like a sea of dark green. She wanted to call out, but couldn't catch her breath. 

            Suddenly, from behind, there was an arm wrapping around her in a deadly embrace and a knife being driven into her back, right into a lung. She let out a soundless scream and went spinning onto the cold grass, droplets of crimson splaying out around her.

            Like a predator admiring it's work, her attacker circled her gasping and convulsing body, her blood leaving her in gushes with each beat of her heart.

            She tried to speak, useless pleadings in the throes of death he had heard so many times. Her voice was barely a whisper, her vision swam as she felt her consciousness slipping away. 

            He shushed her. "None of that today, not in the mood. Let's shut you up, ey?" 

            Her mind went blank as it was overloaded with white hot agony. She looked down to see her stomach sliced wide open as if she were an animal being butchered, her attacker's hand clutching her glistening intestines and pulling them out. Her vision flickered black for a moment, she struggled to stay awake. He stepped over her and wrapped the hot, wet, stinking organs around her neck and tugged. 

            She clutched desperately at her neck, gasping and choking for air, twitching and convulsing and dying. The last thing she saw was glittering amber eyes and a grin filled with pure manic delight hovering in her fading vision. She gurgled frothy blood and her heart finally stopped.

            Her killer stood over her body, feet planted on either side of her, admiring her lifeless, bloody face. He wiped his hand on his pants and pulled out his phone to snap a picture.

            His head snapped up at the distant sound of sirens. Silent as a shadow, he darted into the night, black coat trailing behind him, leaving the girl splayed out in a halo of her own blood upon the grass.

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            In a small apartment nearby, a boy woke in a cold sweat, shaking from dreams of his twin sister screaming in pain. He took a moment to bask in the comfortable silence and monochromatic darkness of his room and tossed the dark blue comforter aside. He pulled on an open button up that hung loosely off his frame and trudged down the hall into the living room, flicking a lamp on. Rubbing his eyes, he pulled open a set of sliding doors and stepped out into the refreshing chill of night air. 

            He leaned onto the railing of the tiny balcony and took a long, deep breath. The light from within cast a soft glow onto his pale skin, silhouetting him against the night. The boy shivered slightly as a cold gust of wind wrapped around his bare legs and ghosted over his stomach. 

            Then his eyes snapped open. There was a flash of movement below, in the alley. A person in a long coat had been standing there, watching him, and darted out of sight as soon as they were spotted. An unnerving chill went down the boy's spine and he quickly went back inside, locking the door behind him, leaning with his back against the cool glass of the door. He swallowed nervously, shaking his head and going to turn off the lamps, convincing himself he was just psyching himself out. He padded back to his room, laying back down to an uneasy sleep with the muffled sound of sirens getting closer and closer. 

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            Dipper Pines, college sophomore—journalism major with a minor in photography and media production—woke up around noon, groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes and rolling over in his bed. He slept like shit last night, thanks to the nightmares and police sirens. Thank goodness he had only an afternoon class today so he could sleep in. 

            He unplugged his phone from the charger and picked it up from his nightstand, narrowing his eyes in concern when he saw just about a million new messages, voicemails, and missed calls from Mabel. 

            He opted to just call her back rather than sift through the frantic messages to decipher what she was all worked up about. The line clicked almost instantly.

            "WHY WEREN'T YOU ANSWERING?! I THOUGHT YOU DIED TOO OR SOMETHING,  NUMBNUTS! DID YOU SEE MY MESSAGES, I—" 

            Dipper winced at the sudden assault of noise and he leaned away from the phone, "Jesus, Mabes! I just woke up, I'm still in bed, chill out!" He grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What the hell happened? I swear if it's something about that new boy band you like—"

            "NO! Someone died on campus last night, bro-bro! It's bonkers bananas, all over the news and everything!!"

            Dipper sat up quickly, fully alert. "What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, barely processing his sister’s words before fear twisted in his stomach. “Was it.. someone we know?"

            "No, I checked with everyone, phew! No idea who it was, but we all got emails from school about it.” She exhaled sharply. “Pretty big yikes. At least class is cancelled! Pretty sad though..." He could hear that Mabel sounded her usual cheerful, energized self despite the grim topic.

            Dipper, on the other hand, felt quite.. unsettled. The nightmares of screaming last night... Maybe they were real screams leaking through into his dreams. Campus was very close, after all. He lived in a small apartment complex mainly rented out to students nearby, but there's no way that could be the case, right? That someone died so close to all these living spaces? All these people? 

            He finished his call with Mabel and opened his email, quickly scanning through it. "We regret to inform you that all classes and clubs will be cancelled today due to the tragic passing of a student last night. If you need to talk to someone for grief counseling, please contact—"  Dipper sighed, that really did not give him anything to go on. He frowned, feeling that familiar itch in him to know more. He’d always had an insatiable curiosity, even as a kid. What kind of journalism major would he be without it, after all? After getting up and dressed, he sat at his desk and opened Google on his laptop to look through recent news articles. 

            Much of it was just as unhelpful as the email, the police refusing to comment, but then he found something that caught his gaze. 

            Student Falls Prey to Local Serial Killer! Read Insider Scoop On the Gruesome Details! 

            Dipper frowned. It seemed like sensationalist garbage, but the part about a local serial killer had him curious. Sure, he didn't watch the news, like, ever, but surely he would have heard about an apparent serial killer? 

            The article, posted on an independent website that seemed obsessed with reporting on murders and true crime, detailed how there have been several horrifying killings over the summer, each getting more and more violent; the body left displayed in public as if the killer was showing off their work. Now the killer had evidently moved towards campus. Dipper rolled his eyes when he read that police found the girl hanging from a noose made of her own intestine. 

            The shit these people make up to get a reaction was shameful. 

            But still... it concerned Dipper nonetheless. The victim was apparently a twenty-one year old girl—just a year older than he and Mabel—who had been out drinking.

            Mabel went to parties and clubs more often than Dipper would like, and in the back of his mind the fear that his sister could be targeted bloomed to life. Waking up to see an article like this about his twin...the thought was unbearable.

            He scrolled down to the end of the article and froze. There was a comment section, and someone had posted a link labeled 'crime photos, only works on desktop.' Against his better judgment he booted up his laptop and clicked onto it. 

            It was four pictures, taken on a grainy phone camera, anonymously posted onto one of those depraved gore sites Dipper was familiar with. 

            Dipper felt his mouth go dry. These were real. And taken right next to the bodies. 

            The first was of a man whose white shirt had turned red with countless stab wounds, his face frozen in a mask of pain. 

            The second, a woman with blood pooling in her open mouth, blue eyes blown wide open in shock. Her throat was sliced so deeply that her head was barely attached. 

            Dipper swallowed, his stomach churning. Where the fuck did these come from?

            The third was someone so mutilated they were unrecognizable, their face missing and their ribs torn open. Dipper swallowed and fought down a bad taste that rose in his throat.

            And the last one, a girl around his age with beautiful brown hair splayed about her. It was dark, like the other pictures, illuminated by a nearby streetlamp. Her mouth hung open, bloody froth clinging to her lips. Her eyes half lidded and vacant, her mascara running with tears. Her hands were at her neck, which was wrapped in something glistening and red... Hung by her intestines—Dipper slammed his laptop closed. He sat for what felt like an eternity, listening to nothing but his heart pounding in his ears.

            Thank fuck class was cancelled because all he wanted to do was take a burning hot shower and try not to be sick the rest of the day. He was still exhausted from last night and ended up falling back asleep after the shower, plagued with nightmares of the images burned into his mind. 

            When he opened his laptop back up hours later, the pictures had been taken down. Had they even been real? He wondered to himself, but the disturbed images of his dreams told him they probably were. He swallowed uncomfortably as he closed the tab and opened a google doc to try and start an essay that had been due a week ago.

            He didn’t get much done.

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            “Dipper!” 

            Dipper startled at the loud voice next to his ear, he whipped around to glare at Mabel. 

            “Jesus! What?!” Mabel was right up in his face, glaring back at him indignantly. She leaned back into her seat on the couch between Pacifica and Dipper. She folded her arms across her chest and huffed.

            “Oh, nothing, space case. Just trying to talk to you for the past five minutes!” She glowered, puffing her cheeks in anger. 

            “What the hell’s up with you lately?” Pacifica chimed in, looking up from her phone. Her catlike eyes were perfectly painted with makeup, as usual. “The past few days you’ve been totally out of it. You don’t even pay attention to your dumb crime documentaries, either.” 

            “They're not...whatever, I don't know. Just tired, I guess.” He stubbornly stared ahead at the television in front of them that illuminated the dark room, not at all focusing on what was actually happening on screen.

            After a long moment of the two girls silently staring at Dipper, Pacifica sighed loudly, tossing her blonde bob cut away from her face.

            “You're a real case, Dipper Pines.”

            Mabel giggled and elbowed her in the side. 

            “Oh, can it, rich girl.” Dipper cast a sly smile over at her and she flipped him off, a smirk on her face revealing that she was only playing with him.

            “Alright, everyone shut up! This is the best part.” Mabel’s eyes went wide with rapt attention, staring at the TV. Pacifica smiled softly and her eyes shifted from Mabel’s face to the screen after a moment. Dipper settled back into the couch and tried to watch, but the fog in his mind rapidly overtook him. His thoughts returned to his laptop sitting at home, filled with the research he had been conducting the last two weeks.

            There had been another murder in the time passed, in a shadier part of town. Whoever this killer was, they were picking off victims at an alarming rate compared to standard serial killings. And they were so gruesome and public, it was frankly embarrassing that the city’s police force obviously had no idea what to do. They played it vague to keep people’s rising fear pacified, but Dipper could tell. They were fucking useless.

            Dipper would never admit it openly, but he fancied himself a bit of a genius when it came to solving puzzles and unknowns. Finding a serial killer would be an interesting challenge, he had decided. Plus, it would do people some good, right? Maybe he would finally get some recognition for his skills. 

            Disturbing as the subject may be...his mind was already spinning with possible leads. He had compiled an entire folder on his laptop of articles and maps and interviews and everything he had found.

            Most obvious was that all victims had to be linked somehow. How was this guy picking them? There wasn't an obvious preference in gender or age, though all had been white thus far. There had to be something... 

            Later that day, after he said his goodbyes to Pacifica and his sister, he went back to his apartment and poured over all his notes, as he had been doing obsessively for over a week. The dark circles under his eyes were getting more and more obvious as he stayed awake into the early hours of the morning, sometimes not sleeping at all before going to class.

            Dipper had an unhealthy habit of letting a current project completely consume him. He couldn't focus on class, he couldn't focus on conversations with friends, his mind always wandered back to this mystery killer. His whole body burned to know the answers. To know who this person was, what made them choose a victim, what propelled them to kill. He wanted to have the satisfaction of finding them out, outsmarting them. He could think of nothing else.

            Mabel saw him spiraling, and she would comment on it and remind him to take it easy, but she knew it would eventually pass, as they always did. Just her silly obsessive twin.

            He snapped his laptop closed, holding his breath in exhilaration. He could hear his heart hammering in his ears within the absolute droning silence of his dark living room.

            He had it. He’d found it. 

            After talking with countless people online under a false guise, he had finally got it. He had sniffed out the fact that every victim had gone to some sort of underground club or rave, right here in town. It was tough work, but he managed to get the location from some creep he catfished. It was on the edge of town, a run down area not many people lived in anymore, in the basement of a seemingly abandoned old commercial building. 

            The hunting grounds of this killer.

            Every victim went to this place and was found horrifically murdered later. Every victim had gone here and caught the eye of a predator.  

            And Dipper was going there. Tonight. 

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            Of all the bad ideas Dipper had had in his life, this was probably top of the list. 

          What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck am I doing, what the fuck—

            He hurried past some intimidating looking men that were leaning against the cracked cement walls of the exterior. They eyed him the whole way and he pulled his flannel closer to his body, hunching over defensively. Oh my god, my body language probably looks so bad right now. Get it together!

            He tried to slow his nervous pace and stand up straighter, ignoring best he could the ragtag groups of people that lingered around in the ruined rooms with crumbling walls, smoking and laying tangled up together in the shadows. He made his way down a flight of stairs, the bass of the music below reverberated through the ground and up his legs. 

            The farther down he went, the warmer the air became, heated by the mass of living bodies that swelled and jumped at every beat drop. He shut his eyes for a moment, senses overwhelmed by the onslaught of sound and light and smell. Neon colors slashed through the crowd and across the ceiling, the smell of pungent smoke and body odor steeped into the walls, music pounded throughout his body and he took a deep breath, steeling himself. 

            This was it.

            He didn't know whether to hope the killer was here or not. 

            After weeks of searching, he finally found the spot and yet didn’t think through what exactly he would do upon finding this creep. He supposed it would be good enough to catch a glimpse of what they looked like, at the very least. 

            He wandered rather aimlessly for the next hour or so, mouth becoming dry with thirst but not wanting to take a chance on the drinks they were selling in the back corner. Getting roofied and sold into human trafficking was not on his to-do list tonight. 

            This was stupid. He was stupid. What the hell was he doing here? Fucking idiot trying to prove...what exactly? That he was smarter than the police? I mean, okay yeah, that’s kind of a satisfying thing to prove, and—

            A long dark coat flashed through the crowd a ways ahead of him and Dipper froze on instinct. When had he moved so far into the crowd? He had been so lost in his thoughts, he didn't even realize how he had been slowly moving into the center of the floor, surrounded by moving bodies on all sides that paid no attention to him. 

            He looked intently ahead, not able to discern anything through the ever shifting mass of people. Why did he react like that just now? Was it so strange that someone might be wearing a black coat in this place? Perhaps a little but not enough to stop him dead in his tracks like he had seen a ghost. He shivered despite the sweat beading on his forehead from the overpowering warmth of the room. This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t be here alone, he didn’t even tell anyone where he was going. Isn’t that like a number one rule of not getting kidnapped and murdered or something? Tell people where you are when you plan on going to a secret fucking club in the middle of nowhere to stalk a literal serial killer? Jesus fucking christ.

            A headache was starting to pound behind his eyes; he just wanted to leave. 

            A bright beam of red washed over the entire room and for a brief moment Dipper saw clearly across the crowd; a tall figure standing perfectly still amongst the tumultuous surroundings, like a bad omen. His blood went cold and, almost in slow motion, Dipper locked eyes with this figure. A boy around his age, with strange jet black hair and shining round glasses. He was definitely looking directly at him, and an eerie grin spread over his face when he noticed Dipper’s attention was on him. The boy waved at him playfully. Dipper stared, dumbstruck. 

            A glint of metal. Dipper’s eyes widened. 

            The boy pulled out a small knife and held it to his lips, smiling widely. His lidded eyes upturned in a joyfully sadistic expression. He was positively thrilled to see the recognition on Dipper’s face. The hunter had spotted its prey.

            Dipper took a step back and bumped into someone. In an instant the black haired boy darted sideways and out of his view, disappearing into the crowd. The red light shifted and changed back into flashing spotlights. Oh god, oh fuck. 

            Dipper turned and practically shoved his way out of the crowd.

            Would any of these people even notice if he screamed? Would they notice if he was stabbed right here in the middle of everyone? Panic thrummed through his body, propelling him forward. His eyes strained around him for that thin black figure stalking closer. He could see no sign of him. 

            Dipper breached the crowd and set off in a dead sprint towards the exit, bounding up the stairs and out, not looking back. He kept running like mad and didn't stop until it hurt to breathe. His legs burned. His lungs burned.

            He walked for another half hour, finally reaching someplace better lit where he could call a cab to drive him home. He didn’t feel like walking all the way back to the dark road his car was parked in. He only hoped that it was still there when he came back to get it tomorrow. 

            He laid numbly in the back seat, watching street lamps go by. He laid a hand over his heart and simply let himself feel the steady beat for a while. 

            He got away. He actually got away. He had seen the killer’s face, and actually survived. A shiver went down his spine.

            And now the killer had seen his face as well, and he probably wasn't eager to let Dipper slip out of his grasp so easily. 

          Fuck.

Chapter Text

            Dipper groggily opened his eyes as the horrible melody of the default iphone alarm dragged him from sleep, rolling over and blindly searching for his phone on the nightstand. Eventually his fingers met the vibrating device and he clumsily managed to tap the “stop” button, rolling back over and curling up under the warmth of his covers. 

            He was exhausted. His sleep had been fitful and shallow since the night he saw that...boy in the club. He assured himself he was being overly paranoid, but he couldn’t help the fact his hair stood on end when he turned off the lights, and he could feel something sinister in the inky blackness of the corners of his bedroom.  

            The alarm went off again, and Dipper reluctantly rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow before he mustered the strength to push himself off the mattress. Finally upright, he stopped his alarm again and reluctantly slipped out of the warmth of his bed to go pee. 

            Sleeping the extra fifteen minutes meant he needed to hurry to get to class on time. Grabbing his toothbrush to brush his teeth, he wandered into his bedroom trying to find some decent clothes to wear. The morning would no doubt be a little chilly, so Dipper decided to dig around for one of the sweaters Mabel had made for him, specifically the pale orange one with autumn leaves knitted along the bottom hem. 

            Searching through both his middle and bottom drawers was fruitless, and he knew he wouldn’t have put it in his underwear drawer. He furrowed his brow and pulled his toothbrush from his mouth. He went to spit while pondering to himself as to where it could be. Rinsing his mouth and tossing the toothbrush aside, he went back to hunt, kicking through his dirty clothes on the floor and even rooting through his hamper, despite the fact he swore he hadn’t worn it lately. Checking his phone, Dipper realized he didn’t exactly have time to be worrying about fashion, and grabbed a hoodie and threw on some relatively clean jeans, stopping to look at himself in the mirror as he grabbed his keys and bag. 

            Mabel would probably scold him for looking so unkempt. He patted the countertop for his hairbrush, raising his eyebrow when he found it wasn’t there. Looking away from his phone, he frowned to himself as he found the brush missing from its usual place as well. Was he really this absentminded and sleep deprived? Geez. He’d have to remember to clean his apartment soon and find all his missing stuff, assuming he’d misplaced things because of mornings like these when he’d have to book it out of the house to make it to class. Speaking of, he needed to get a move on. 

            It was chilly out, like he'd predicted, and Dipper was glad he’d had the foresight to wear a hoodie. Humming along to his music as the autumn leaves crunched beneath his feet, he managed to make it to class in time. 

            “Yeesh, what bush did you sleep under?” Pacifica teased as Dipper sat next to her, making the boy roll his eyes. 

            “Good morning to you too.” He gave her a quick smile before glancing over at the professor, who was still getting ready to begin teaching. He looked back at his friend. “I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

            “Any reason why?” She asked with a head tilt, blue eyes becoming slightly more compassionate rather than teasing. 

            “I dunno. It’s freaky, I feel like I’m being watched or something.” He shook his head. “I mean, I’m always paranoid, but I guess it’s just flaring up for some reason.”

            “Well, classes are starting to pick up, so maybe that’s stressing you out? Though I don’t know why that would make you feel like you were being watched…weird.” Pacifica agreed, noticing the professor had opened the powerpoint and was calling roll. 

            Dipper nodded dismissively, grabbing his phone to check for any breaks in the case. He knew he shouldn't keep up with it, but having seen the face of the person committing the gruesome murders, he felt like he needed to for his own safety. He hadn’t returned to the club since, and the killer likely had just moved on, annoyed by the fact a potential victim escaped but ultimately unphased. Dipper shifted uncomfortably in his seat, picturing the face of the boy in the club for a moment before shuddering.

            It wouldn’t happen to him. It couldnt, and the fact his brain thought he was important enough to be targeted by some random murderer was rather egotistical. Dipper put his phone down, and began to pay attention to class. 

            His next destination for the day was the campus coffee shop. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, it was always the same: COMG 302 at nine-thirty, coffee shop after class at ten-thirty, and wait until noon for CHEM 110. It was a nice routine he'd gotten himself into, and as he wrapped his cold fingers around the warm cinnamon latte he’d ordered, he felt himself relax. He was sitting in the little area that overlooked the courtyard of campus center, beside the stairs that lead up to the second floor of the building and the coffee shop. He took a deep breath of crisp autumn air, and pulled up youtube to find something to watch. 

            “DIPPER!” Mabel’s voice interrupted his searching, and he looked up at his grinning sister, who was holding a coffee of her own. “Fancy seeing you here.”

            Dipper pulled off his headphones with a smile. “I know, what a surprise.” He said sarcastically as his bubbly twin sat down across from him, setting her numerous sketchbooks on the table beside her coffee. She was a fashion design major, and had three different classes that required her to keep sketchbooks for each of them. 

            “Decided to do my studies in this part of campus rather than over by the dining halls.” She elaborated as she pulled out her pencils and flipped open one of the sketchbooks, scanning the crowd of students sitting in the area to pick her first subject. Dipper returned to watching youtube, though his eyes occasionally flicked to watch his sister’s hands expertly flow across the page. A girl with short hair and glasses, a teacher with a mustache, a boy with black hair in a long coat. Dipper had no clue how she was so good at capturing likenesses in just a few strokes of a pencil, but Mabel had more talent in her pinky finger than most people did in their entire bodies. 

            The twins sipped at their lattes, occasionally exchanging words but mostly remaining silent, absorbed in their own activities. Eventually Dipper had to leave for his next class, and Mabel decided to go sit in another part of campus to draw. They parted ways, and Dipper headed to class. 

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            Frustration filled Dipper as he shook out his covers for what felt like the 10th time during a maddening search for his highlighters. He had no clue why he thought they might be there, he hadn’t studied in bed recently, but at this point he was looking anywhere and everywhere. He’d even checked the microwave. 

            He had lost so much stuff in the past week, and he was about to lose his marbles as well. Growling to himself, he resigned to using a couple different coloured gel pens to mark up his notes and call it a day as he slumped in his desk chair. He needed to get some decent sleep tonight, he couldn’t keep misplacing things. Not to mention, the sleep deprivation was making him overly emotional, leading him to get more distraught over lost highlighters than a person normally would.

            He quickly skimmed over the powerpoint slides the professor had uploaded, writing vocabulary words in green and important points in blue. He anxiously gnawed at his pen when he wasn’t using it to write, teeth clacking against the plastic and leaving divots in it, just like every other pen he owned. He absorbed none of it, eventually resigning to copying the questions into google and pasting the answers.

            Once he finished doing his homework, he decided the best course of action would be to get a good night’s rest. He chewed a couple melatonin gummies and opened youtube to watch videos until he fell asleep. Thankfully the melatonin and sheer exhaustion worked, and not long after he curled up in bed, he fell into a blackout sleep. 

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            God damn it. God damn it! The world was just against Dipper Pines this week, wasn't it? In his haste to get a decent night’s rest, he’d forgotten to set his alarm for the next morning, and was now embarrassingly emailing his teacher an apology for missing class that morning. He sighed to himself, rubbing his face when his phone buzzed beside him. 

            Paz: U want boba?

            Dipstick: will you pay for it lmfao

            Paz: Fiiiine. 

            Well, maybe the week didn’t suck too much. He pulled on a shirt and flannel and grabbed his backpack before heading downstairs. Pacifica texted him that she was driving to campus for her next class, and to meet her by Lee Hall. Dipper had plenty of time, she was still at the boba shop when he left his apartment. He leisurely made his way up the street, passing a group of students at the bus stop. 

            Dipper paid them no mind, but apparently one of the students did, because he could feel their eyes burning into his back as he continued walking. He adjusted his shirt, not wanting to look back and meet eyes with the person staring at him, and quickened his pace ever so slightly. He made it to campus, gaze drifting over to the large memorial of flowers, crosses, and gifts that covered the former crime scene out on the grass. His blood ran cold as he realized he was essentially walking along the same path the doomed girl had taken that night in her desperate attempts to escape, and so he veered off the main sidewalk to cut through the engineering building to get to Lee Hall. 

            He approached the steps of the building, sitting down with a sigh as he watched students amble by. There weren’t many people out, considering most students were in class, which is why his heart dropped into his stomach upon laying eyes on the same boy who had stared at him at the bus stop. Was he following him? Dipper furrowed his brow in worry as he watched the boy walk from across the street, but he disappeared down the path towards the art building and didn’t even look at Dipper. Now he felt like the weirdo staring at people for no reason. 

            Pacifica’s car pulled into the parking lot, the engine humming before it was cut and the blonde got out of the car, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she grabbed the two cups of boba and their straws.

            “Hey loser,” she said with a smile as she handed him the cool cup, the condensation wetting his palm as he jammed the straw into the plastic top, holding it tightly so it didn’t slip from his grip.

            “Hey bitch,” he replied, equally sassy as the straw popped through the top. “Thanks for the boba.”

            “Mmmn.” She hummed around her straw as she took a sip. “Don’t mention it. Anyways, I assume your sleeping hasn’t gotten any better. You look just as shit as you did yesterday.”

            Dipper blew air from his nose in a halfhearted laugh, and shook his head. “Thanks'” he replied, putting his cup down beside him on the concrete steps. “I mean, I got better sleep, but I missed my first class ‘cause I forgot to set my alarm.”

            “Ouch. Maybe you should go to student health services?” Pacifica suggested, “You could get insomnia or anxiety medication.”

            Dipper shrugged, leaning back and looking at the sky, watching the clouds crawl across the sky thanks to the autumn breeze.

            “I dunno. Hopefully it’ll just pass. Melatonin seemed to help last night.”

            “Well, at least that’s good.” His friend replied. “How’s Mabel?”

            “Good. She seems really into her classes this semester, unlike last year.” Dipper replied. At least one of them was having a good start to sophomore year. 

            “Wish that were me.” Pacifica rolled her eyes and leaned back, propping herself up with a hand. “I have to choose between pre-law or pre-med this semester and ughhhh.”

            “You’re good at arguing.” Dipper teased. “I couldn’t see you being a doctor, no offense.” 

            “Rude.” Pacifica let out a snort, but Dipper could see her considering it. “Whatever. I don’t have to decide until like, December.”

            They chatted about the class they shared, Pacifica saying she considered dropping it because she didn’t like the professor’s vibes, but Dipper assumed it was more likely because of the group project at the end of the semester. As smart as the girl was, she was fiercely independent, and she was not putting her grade in the hands of someone else.

            Pacifica looked at her phone to check the time and groaned. “Alright, well, I gotta get to my class, don’t miss your next one, yeah?”

            Dipper nodded, standing up and extending his hand to help the girl up. “I won’t. I’ve still got another hour.” Pacifica smiled, giving him a fistbump and a wave as she shrugged her backpack onto her shoulder and began walking towards the life sciences building.

            Dipper picked up his boba, swirling it with the thick straw as he wandered towards Webster Hall, where his Journalism 312 class was. He was honestly kind of bummed he missed his photography class earlier that morning, it was his favorite if he was being honest. He took another sip of his boba as he looked around at the changing leaves, a gust of wind swirling them around his feet. He gazed at the leaves, keeping his hair from blowing in his face before he caught sight of a black coat whipping in the wind. His head shot up, fear gripping his heart and making it pound. 

            He then noticed the blond hair atop the man’s head. 

            The stranger was walking away from him, and he couldn’t see his face. What if it was the guy from the club, disguised? Dipper thought, before blinking and realizing how irrational that was. You are not the main character, some psychopath isn’t going to take the time to kill you when he has plenty of prey at the club. Dipper shook his head, frowning at how paranoid he was being. He sat down under one of the trees in the courtyard, taking his phone out and deciding to distract himself and pass the time before his class began. He sipped his boba and pulled up netflix to mindlessly watch something and calm his nerves. He was fine. Everything was fine. 

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            Class had been decent, or at least as decent as you can get when you were running on four hours of paranoia stricken sleep. He mostly sat on his laptop in the back of class, messaging friends on Discord and intermittently scrolling through twitter. He barely realized it was time to leave before his professor approached him at his desk. 

            “Mason?” 

            Dipper jerked at being called his real name, having forgotten he never told Professor Schafer he used a nickname. At this point in the semester it was too awkward to ask. 

            “Yes?” Dipper awkwardly minimized his browser as his teacher approached. 

            “I just wanted to ask if you were alright. You didn’t email me the story you wanted to cover for your final, and you’ve seemed a little despondent these past few classes.”

            The final.

            It was perfect. This was an investigative journalism class, therefore you were to find a problem, investigate it, and write a story on it. Most were just on things you could google like climate change and corruption, but certain students before had managed to crack into local stories that ended up in arrests and restitution within the city. Maybe all his paranoia-inducing research could at least get him a good grade.

            “I’m investigating into the recent string of murders on campus.” Dipper blurted. So much for avoiding getting put on the killer’s shit list, idiot! “I-I’m sorry I forgot to email you, I’ve just been really scatterbrained and haven’t gotten much sleep.” He swallowed shakily, watching Mr. Schafer shift his weight. 

            “That’s a very intense case, are you sure?” He asked after a pause. 

            “I, um, yeah. I can handle it.” Dipper assured, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair, attempting to appear more relaxed. If he was going to potentially have to deal with this dude following him around, he might as well benefit from the paranoia. 

            “Alright, well you’re welcome to change your topic until the end of the month, so if it gets too much, you can come to me. The point of this project isn’t to put you in danger, it’s to get you familiar with the investigative process.” Dipper watched his professor clasp his slim fingers, his cuticles torn to shreds. 

            “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” Dipper shut his laptop, leaning down to grab his backpack. He watched Mr. Schafer’s shoes leave his line of sight, the scuffed nature of the leather making them almost appear to be two different colors. 

            Dipper heaved a sigh and left the classroom.

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            He was working on a quiz when he got a notification of an email from the school, his heart dropping as he read the subject line.

            Alert: Another Murder Reported Near Campus

            He felt his mouth go dry, this was the fourth killing this month. Against his better judgement, he opened a new tab, returning to the trashy tabloid website he had found the links to pictures from the last two murders. He had to admit, the killer was bold—that, or stupid. Sure enough, under an article tastefully titled “Murderer Stalking Campus now a Confirmed Serial Killer!”, there was a link posted by an account with an incomprehensible string of letters and numbers as the username. Steeling himself, Dipper clicked the link, the shady gore website taking a moment to load before the picture appeared on his screen.

            It wasn’t even as gorey as the others, but it filled Dipper with an awful sense of dread. The victim was most likely a college student, but what disturbed him more was what he looked like. Shaggy brown hair, tall, mildly lanky build, likely a college student—he looked like Dipper. However, the thing that made him sick to his stomach was the eyes, torn from their sockets and held in the victim’s hands. They looked like two small bloody masses but Dipper could take a guess at what color they might be. Whoever this killer was, he knew Dipper was watching him. He knew Dipper had seen him that night and this was a threat to get him to stop. See no evil, or something like that. Dipper closed the tab and ran his antivirus, hands shaking on the keys as he stared blankly at the assignment before him. There was no way he was going to sleep well tonight. 

            Getting up from his desk, he ran his fingers through his hair, glancing out the window and seeing his reflection. The killer knew who he was. He racked his brain, trying to figure out if he had ever seen them after that night, or if they had been stalking him from the shadows. Why wouldn’t they kill him if he was such an inconvenience? Were they toying with him? Dipper let out a frustrated growl, pacing in the small living area of his apartment. 

            Wait.

            The boy in the coat.

            Dipper stiffened, watching his eyes widen in his reflection. He’d seen him so many times over the past few weeks. How could he be so stupid? There was no way that was a coincidence, right? No, no, he shouldn’t simply accuse someone of being a fucking serial killer just because they’d happened to cross paths more than once. Still, the thought sent chills down his spine. The club, Holmes hall, the café, the bus stop…it was almost like he knew his next move before Dipper himself did. He turned to look at his door, taking three quick strides over to it and jiggling the handle, biting his lip as he peeked out the peephole for good measure. The door was locked, deadbolted even, and there was no one in the hall. He really needed to calm down, but his breathing had picked up and it seemed too late for that. He dove for his phone, grabbing it with shaky hands and managing to type out a message with his trembling fingers as his eyes blurred with tears.

            Dipndots: mmabel can youncome over please

            Dipndots: emergency 

            He desperately stared at the screen. He was about to call her, when her 3 dots popped up.

            Gaybel: you okay??

            Gaybel: i’m over at paz’s right now but i can totally get her to drive me over

            Dipper heard a whimper leave his mouth, and decided to call her. She picked up on the first ring, concern filling her voice as she answered. “Dipper?”

            “M-mabel I—” He whimpered as he tried to breathe, gasping for air.

            “Hey, bro-bro, breathe,” She soothed, listening to him hyperventilate. “Cmon, follow me, in,” She waited until she heard him inhale shakily, “Out.” She repeated this a few times until Dipper calmed, at least enough to speak.

            “I think I fucked up really bad.” He blurted out, voice unsteady. He felt his hands becoming cold and clammy with nerves. Mabel was silent for a beat.

            “Tell me what happened.” 

            “I... Well, I’ve... Fuck.” He rubbed his eyes in frustration. How do you tell someone you think you caught the attention of a fucking serial killer because you were cocky enough to hunt them down on your own? 

            “Good start.” He could hear her lighthearted sarcasm through the phone. “C’mon bro, lay it on me. I’m here for you always, you know that. Your big sis is here to get you out of any mess.”

            Dipper laughed weakly. “God, shut up.” He let out a deep breath and plopped down on his bed, running a hand through his hair. Just hearing her voice was starting to help him calm down. They were always there for eachother when needed, always.

            “I... I don’t know, its probably just me being paranoid. I’m freaked out by the murders around campus and I think someone has been stalking me for the last few weeks and I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind, I haven’t been sleeping and stuff has been going missing around my apartment and-”

            “Whoooah there mister! A lot of words.” Mabel chuckled but he could hear the underlying concern lacing her voice.

            “Sorry sorry, shit.” Dipper hissed under his breath. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have called freaking out on you like that. It's probably nothing honestly, forget it.”

            “What? No! Dude, it’s fine, I’ll come over! If you’re worried about something it’s not ‘nothing’. Me and Paz will literally come over right now.”

            “No! No, seriously forget it. You’ve already helped loads in calming me down.” Dipper pushed away a feeling of dread bubbling up in his gut, screaming at him to tell her! Tell her to come! He swallowed the words down and reassured her, and himself, in a way. It was probably nothing. He had bothered his sister enough with his paranoia in the past and he didn’t want to continue putting that burden on her. She was with Pacifica, he didn’t want to ruin her precious time with her. No, he was overreacting. Everything is fine.

            “Everything is fine now. Promise.” He forced a smile and hoped she would believe him. “I’m just freaked out over the murders, y’know?” 

            After a pause, she relented and insisted he call her if anything else happens. He felt a twinge at her words. What did he ever do to deserve family that would drop everything at a moment’s notice just for him? 

            “I will, Mabes. Have fun with Paz.” He said.

            She giggled. “I will. We’re baking cookies!” 

            “Destroying my kitchen, you mean!” He heard Paz’s distant voice come through the speaker and he laughed. The muscles in his cheek strained a little.

            “G’night.” He said warmly.

            “Go to bed, dummy! Sleep well~” 

            He heard the line click dead and his hand dropped onto the bed, sending the phone bouncing away. The silence was deafening. He felt his skin itch and he looked around his empty room nervously. It was the same small room as always, dresser to the right, window with the curtains drawn across from the bed, bookshelf in the corner... yet it felt hostile somehow.

            God, I’m stupid. He got up and fixed supper in the kitchen, checking the lock on his door three times before bed. No matter how much he reassured himself, he could not shake the skin crawling feeling of being watched, even as he pulled up the covers and closed his eyes. 

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            Dipper groaned and shifted restlessly. He could not stop having nightmares about a boy in a black coat killing him over and over. Chasing him down, slitting his throat, tearing into his guts. The feeling of intense heat as his blood poured from his body made him sick to his stomach. He threw his covers off to get some cool air and lay still for a long moment, eyes shut.

            “Fuck.” He muttered under his breath and got up, crossing the hall into the bathroom, not bothering to flick the lights on. He lifted the toilet lid and froze dead in his tracks. His blood turned to ice as fear gripped him and he just listened. Total silence. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. He swore he had heard the creak of the patio sliding doors, but...

            No, this is getting fucking ridiculous. I’m going to walk out there and see that the doors are closed, goddammit. Enough of this. He steeled himself and walked down the hallway, fighting the terror that clawed at the back of his mind. But Dipper was stubborn and he was going to be proven right—

            Whoosh. 

            Dipper got to the end of the hall and turned to his right to face out into the living room, the kitchen to his back. The room was dark, save for pale moonlight that filtered through the long curtain to cast a slice of light across the carpet. The curtain which was billowing ever so slightly as if pushed by a gentle wind... 

            Dipper sucked in a breath, eyes going wide. The glass sliding door was open just a crack, cold autumn air creeping into the room sending a chill over his skin. Before Dipper could react, his whole body set off alarm bells and he opened his mouth to scream as he felt a presence directly behind him, closing in. A hand clamped down over his mouth before he could scream.

            “Hi, beautiful,” a smooth voice purred in his ear, hot breath ghosted over his neck as the intruder leaned in close. 

            As fast as they had lunged, the intruder spun Dipper around roughly, sending him stumbling backwards and into the kitchen counter. Dipper caught himself on the edge, lower back aching from the impact. He opened his eyes to see his vision almost entirely swallowed up by a grinning face. Black hair with an odd, long stand on top, circular glasses, lidded amber eyes, pierced ears... and a long black coat. Dipper shivered. This was certainly the same person who had been following him around campus... and the same playfully dangerous expression as the person Dipper saw in the nightclub. The one that had a...

            A glint of metal flashed in the dim light as Dipper’s eyes flicked downwards and saw the boy brandish a small switchblade. Dipper felt his legs go weak and he put his hands behind him on the cold countertop to steady himself. He flinched as the knife was raised and the boy leaned in closer to Dipper, effectively pinning him in place. 

            “You're so pretty up close…” He breathed as he dragged the cold tip of his switchblade along Dipper’s jawline. Dipper stared back at him with hard green eyes, not daring to show any fear to the intruder in his kitchen. 

            “I know you’ve been watching me,” Dipper growled, trying not to swallow, lest the blade nick his throat. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

            The slightly taller boy giggled, pressing the flat side of the knife against one of Dipper’s plush cheeks.

            “So you got my message, then? Clever boy.” Dipper squirmed as amber eyes studied him intensely. He stared back into the face swathed by shadow, a crooked smile snaking across it. “You intrigue me,” he replied simply. “I mean, what kind of maniac wouldn’t be pissing themselves with fear in this situation?” he mused, though Dipper doubted he wanted an answer as he continued talking. His façade of bravery seemed to be fooling him, at least.

            “Anyways, I could ask the same to you, babe. You’ve been following me around too, and I couldn't have you stumbling across something you weren’t meant to see, now could I? Nosy, nosy,” he tutted. 

            Dipper narrowed his eyes. “So are you gonna kill me or not?” 

            This appeared to throw him off, a split second of shock glinted in his eyes in the dim light of the kitchen. He smiled.

            “I'd hate to kill someone so pretty,” he purred, pressing even closer so Dipper could feel the warmth of his body trapping him against the counter. Their faces were inches apart, eyes locked in some kind of battle of resolve, each daring the other to look away first. 

            “Then what are you doing here, if not to kill me?” Dipper said, maintaining his blunt tone. 

            “Well, I was here to replace one of the cameras in your place, but someone had to wake up to piss.” The black-haired boy's tone became playfully annoyed, a stark contrast to the overall tense atmosphere of the room. 

            It was Dipper’s turn to be shocked. “Cameras?!” He sputtered, resisting the urge to jerk back, but the cold blade pressed to his face reminded him moving was a bad idea. 

            The stranger smirked. “Aww, I finally got a reaction out of you!” He patted Dipper’s cheek with the knife. “Of course I've got cameras, baby, I gotta keep tabs on you!”

            Dipper’s thoughts raced to all the implications of that, most of them concluding this freak could definitely blackmail him with the contents of those recordings. He swallowed, trying to keep the embarrassment threatening to flood his body at bay. So there had been someone in his house for the past few weeks. Oh god...and that explains the feeling of being watched constantly. This was even worse than he had thought.

            “So, um, do you wanna go replace it, or..?” Dipper asked, reasoning that appeasing him would probably be the quickest way to get him out of his apartment and allow Dipper to tear his room apart trying to find all the cameras and then contact authorities.

            “It’s not fun if you’re expecting it.” The other boy pouted. “Besides, isn’t our little standoff so much more interesting?” He grinned, eyes shining behind his glasses. 

            “Not really. You've barely done anything.” Dipper frowned, attempting to move before pain slipped down his cheek in an icy line.

            “What the fuck?! OW!” Dipper tried to cringe in pain but was grabbed by the jaw, holding him steady as the intruder leaned forward and dragged his tongue up his cheek, the heat making Dipper shudder. He tried to steady his breathing, eyes wide in disgust and shock. 

            The strange boy pressed a kiss to the wound, patting Dipper’s unmarred cheek. “Your freckles are adorable.” He cooed, Dipper simply staring at him as he felt blood trickle down his face in a cold line.

            Dipper managed to collect his thoughts for half a second. “What was that for?!”

            The other boy leaned back with a smirk, and Dipper welcomed the cold air between them. “Marking you as mine, I suppose,” he replied smoothly, licking his blade clean before pocketing it. “I guess I’ll see you around.” 

            “Wh—I don’t—!” Dipper couldn’t form the words to defend himself, nor could he force his feet to move and give chase. He simply watched the boy in black go across the living room and slip out the sliding doors to the fire escape, disappearing into the inky blackness of the alleyway.

            Dipper stood, trying to catch his breath as he gripped the counter for dear life. I need to clean this cut, He thought to himself, grimacing at not only the blood on his face but the intruder's drying spit as well. His feet felt like cinder blocks as he forced himself to shuffle to the bathroom, flicking the light on and robotically wiping his small wound free of blood. His mind was simultaneously blank and a string of chaotic panic. 

            That was a serial killer. In my fucking apartment. 

            His body lit up with adrenaline and he spent the next few hours tearing apart every nook and cranny looking for hidden cameras. As the sky outside finally started to become a pale blue, he picked up his phone. He could call the police. He could give a description, he could give them info, they could catch this freak and Dipper would be safe in his own home again.

            The screen came to life.

            UNKNOWN: Hiya~! just checking in to make sure u dont call the pigs and ruin our fun lol

            Dipper clicked onto an attached image and his face fell. It was a shitty picture, taken through a window, but the subject was unmistakable. It was the sleeping figures of Mabel and Pacifica, passed out in the living room in a sea of blankets. 

            UNKNOWN: see u soon babe! <3 ;P  

            Dipper felt his head rush and he fell to his knees, staring blankly ahead of him. He looked around at his ruined apartment and the few cameras he managed to find, not knowing how many more there might be. Hell, that freak could be watching him right this very moment.

            I'm so fucking screwed.

Chapter Text

            Dipper Pines was stressed out of his goddamn mind.

            Within the last few weeks, he had somehow managed to put together clues and track down the culprit of some heinous and gruesome murders, which honestly was a pretty incredible accomplishment! Especially considering his investigative journalism major, it was a big boost to his ego, all things considered. The only issue is that this killer now had his eyes on Dipper. He was stalking him, breaking into his apartment, threatening him with a knife, and constantly fucking texting him.            

            Dipper sat on his living room sofa, staring at his own bloodshot reflection in the black surface of the screen. His phone was on the seat next to him, and he was trying so hard to ignore it. Every few minutes bzz, bzz, bzz, vibrations of notifications. Dipper just didn’t get it. Why was this psycho fucking talking to him so much? 

            Suddenly there was a BANG BANG BANG on Dipper's front door and he nearly jumped out of his own skin, trying and failing to stifle a shriek. His heart raced and he took a moment to hold his hand over his chest and breath. BANG BANG!

            “OKAY!” Dipper shouted to whoever was outside his apartment, rising to his feet and slowly unlocking the door. He left the chain on and peeked the door open a crack. 

            “W-what do you want?” Dipper nearly jumped away as the door was pushed and stopped abruptly as the little chain lock was pulled taut. “Jesus! Careful!” 

            “Open the door, dumbass!” A girl snapped at him from the other side and he heard another voice laugh good naturedly. Dipper’s heart leapt into his throat. 

            “R-right! Hold on.” He stammered and fumbled to close the door and undo the chain lock. He opened it as fast as he could and was immediately bombarded by his twin sister lunging into the room. 

            “G’MORNING SLEEPY HEAD!” She shouted as she swept past him, dumping a stack of orange and purple papers on his kitchen island. Pacifica stepped through the doorway after her, inclining her head towards Dipper in acknowledgement. 

            “It’s...not morning?” Dipper blinked, watching the two shove off their jackets; Mabel dropping hers onto the floor and Pacifica putting hers across a stool at the island. 

            “No shit.” Pacifica reached up and ruffled Dipper’s bedhead. He ducked away from her hand, swatting at her. “But you look like you just got up. Dirty PJs and all.”  Her eyes scanned him and he flushed pink. Ah, right. He was in a grey t-shirt and baggy pajama pants, the same ones he had been wearing for a few days in a row as he holed up in his room trying not to have constant panic attacks. 

            “Uh.” 

            “We missed you the last few days.” Mabel piped up, kicking off her pink sneakers. “You okay?”

            “Yeah. Yeah, just, you know...” Dipper stammered quickly, looking back and forth between their faces. “Wasn’t feeling the greatest. Uh. I’m gonna...” He motioned over his shoulder and took off down the hallway across the kitchen and down to his room on the left, shutting the door behind him. He dug around for some clean clothes and quickly changed, rubbing on some deodorant and smelling himself quickly. It would have to do. When he returned into the kitchen and looked sideways he saw the girls were already settling down in his living room, the curtains on his glass sliding doors had been pulled open to let the midday sun into the room. 

            He walked out slowly, taking in the sight. It was so pleasant and normal. He felt almost like a stranger, in a way, looking at them now. They had no idea how his life had changed. They had no idea about any of it. About how Dipper was entangled with something horrifying and they all were in danger. He remembered the image he had texted Dipper that night of the two girls sleeping in their living room, his sister and their childhood friend. A dark pit squirmed in Dipper’s stomach. It felt wrong not to tell them, to warn them, but how could he? Would that not put them at more risk? So he had been avoiding them as best he could, which included skipping some classes as of late. The immense lack of sleep also contributed to feeling like total shit and not wanting to walk all over campus. 

            He eased into the room, too afraid of a confession that might spill out of his mouth if he dared opened it. Mabel looked up from where she knelt on the floor when she noticed him, motioning for him to join her on the thin carpet. He cautiously obliged.

            Dipper cleared his throat. “Uh. So what’s all this then?” He looked around at the sea of colored papers spread out across the ground. Mabel shot a vicious ‘are you kidding me right now?’ look at him. Pacifica scoffed.

            “Told you.” She crossed and uncrossed her legs, not looking up from her phone screen as her nails clicked rapidly. Mabel punched Dipper in the arm.

            “Ow!”

            “Dummy! Did you seriously forget?” Mabel exclaimed. Dipper looked at her, bewildered, and Mabel heaved a great sigh. “Uuuugh, you are impossible! The Halloween party!”

            Dipper’s eyes flew wide open. “Oh. Oh shit-fuck.”

            “Indeed.” Pacifica said.

            “These are the flyers here, we got them all printed out, but,” Mabel gestured to the mix of orange and purple sheets of paper spread out before them, “...they need to be stickerfied!” With a manic grin, she whipped out a plastic grocery bag filled with sheets of Halloween stickers and Dipper groaned loudly. “Sorry, bud! You agreed to help us plan this months ago!”

            “Yeah.” Pacifica glanced up from her phone, nudging Dipper in the back with her foot. “Get to work, slave.” 

            Dipper flipped her off. “And what the hell are you contributing to by being here?” 

            “I’m the host so I get to judge your work and tell you if it’s acceptable.” She smirked as Dipper scowled. “Also, I’m texting people making plans for the catering and DJ and shit. Oh! I need to take this.” She stood up and walked to the far side of the room near Dipper’s messy desk and put the phone to her ear. Dipper turned back to Mabel.

            “Alright, then.” He sighed, running a hand through his unbrushed hair. ”Let’s do this.” Mabel squealed and greedily ripped open the first pack. They went to work and Dipper’s phone lay on the couch, forgotten.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            It was nearing four in the afternoon and Dipper leaned back against the sofa, stiff from hunching over to decorate flyers with various spooky stickers. He had to admit, they were pretty damn cute flyers. His eyes dragged lazily over the one he just finished. Black ink showing a cute Halloween graphic and big text declaring SPOOKY HALLOWEEN BASH!, the time and address, “no underage drinking allowed, costumes required, no sex in the pool”. Those were certainly written by Paz. “Drinks provided (in a cauldron!), spin the bottle!, spooky games oooo, Have fun! <3” . Mabel. Definitely Mabel. And down at the bottom in little letters “Not S&P approved :)”

            “Whew!” Mabel clapped her hands together and leaned back. “I think that's as good as we’re gonna get! We ought to get ready to leave, it’s getting close to time.”

            Pacifica glanced at her phone, having had put it down to help with the stickers near the end. “Oh, yep. We gotta get going soon if we wanna make it out of the city in time.”

            “Where are you going?” Dipper asked.

            “Seriously?” Pacifica squinted at him distastefully. “Corn maze is today, dumbfuck.”

            Dipper’s brain took a moment to process and he jumped onto his feet in a panic, suddenly remembering. “That's TODAY?!”

            “Why else do you think we’re HERE, idiot?” Mabel shoved him. “Go get ready! Oh my god.” Dipper took off running down the hall and right into the shower, his thoughts were a stream of swearing. 

             Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He violently rubbed his hair in a towel and dashed out of the bathroom, skin red from the heat of the water. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He dug around and found a suitable jacket, a red button up, and some jeans. He plucked his old trapper hat out of a drawer and shoved it over his head.

            “WE’RE GONNA BE LATE!” Pacifica screamed from the other room.

            “I’M COMING, FUCKER!” Dipper pulled on a pair of boots. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

            “HURRY UP, SLOW ASS!” 

             Oh my god, I’m gonna kill her, I’m gonna-

            “DIPPER!” Mabel shrieked.

            “I SAID I'M FUCKING COMING!” He ran out of the room, snatched up his phone, and out the front door, held open by a flushed Mabel and Pacifica. Dipper fumbled with his keys to lock it behind them and they went dashing down the hall and down the stairs, out to Pacifica’s car.

            Traffic was shit in the city, but once they got to the edges and out onto the highway they made pretty good time and ended up being only about five minutes late. The car slowed to a stop and went silent. Dipper stepped out of the car onto stiff legs and stretched, taking in the chill of the autumn air around him. This was he and Mabel’s favorite time of year. Halloween, pumpkin patches, corn mazes, haunted houses... He breathed deeply and smiled slightly, almost forgetting that the phone in his pocket was sitting with unread messages from a serial killer... Almost. 

            He heard other car doors slamming shut and Mabel calling out greetings, so he took a deep breath to try calming his nerves and headed off to join them. He was almost a little nervous, even though it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her a month ago. But this wasn’t just one on one hangout time, this was with the whole gang. They filtered off to the side of the makeshift parking lot, avoiding other families with small kids coming and going from the farm festivities.

            And there they were. Mabel and Paz took turns fist bumping her as she laughed, her fiery red hair poking out from under an old worn baseball cap with a blue pine tree on it. Around them were some familiar faces. Dipper spotted Thompson, who had filled out into his broad shoulders, Lee, still sporting the long blond mullet, and Tambry and Robbie, who were leaning up against a wooden wall next to each other on their phones. Nate was missing, but there were two new people in his place. Dipper spotted a tawny haired girl standing next to Thompson, smiling and leaning against his thick arm. And... Dipper smiled shyly as Wendy looked up and waved him over, her other arm wrapped around the waist of a stranger with her hand shoved snugly into their pocket. The pair were sitting up on a short cement wall.

            “Heyyyy, there’s my lil dude! What’s up!” Wendy grinned, holding her free hand out to grasp his and then fistbump it. They both laughed as they completed the handshake. 

            “Wendy! It feels like it’s been ages.” Dipper smiled warmly.

            She shook her head and gave the front of his trapper hat a flick. “You’ve gotta come over more often, dude. There’s always a spot on my couch.”

            “I know, I know.” Dipper stuffed his hands in his pockets awkwardly, tuning out other conversations and introductions happening around him. “It’s just been so busy with school, y’know?”

            “That’s what all the college kids say.” Wendy chuckled and bumped her fist against his chest.

            “Well, it’s true!” The person Wendy had her arm around spoke up, their voice a smooth tenor. “The only reason I can hang out with you as often as I do is because Professor Lindon loves me.” Wendy threw her head back and laughed loudly.  

            “Yeah, yeah. Oh! You two haven’t met.” Wendy retracted her hand and motioned with both to the person sitting next to her. “This is my partner, Ramona. Ramona, this is Dipper.” Ramona smiled, extending a hand to Dipper.

            “Heard lots about you.” They had rich dark skin and a mass of curly black hair with a shock of purple through it. They were just a bit shorter than Wendy, even in the chunky black boots they wore. Dipper wasn’t fashion savvy per say, but the clothing read as very punk goth to him; baggy black pants with dangling belts, a plaid crop top, loose black jacket, and fishnet arm gloves with beaded bracelets over top. They had several tattoos peaking out here and there and multiple piercings in their ears and face. Their makeup was flawless, with dark eyeshadow and purple lipstick. Wendy’s new partner.  

            “O-oh? Nice to meet you.” Dipper shook their hand. His phone buzzed in his pocket. “Where’s Nate? Is he coming?”

            Wendy scoffed and rolled her eyes. “He decided to hang out with his boyfriend instead of us. Could you imagine?” Ramona giggled and bumped shoulders with Wendy.

            “Guys!” Tambry called out, walking over by herself. “I think we ought to get the tickets for shit and get started. We’re losing daylight.” Wendy and Ramona stood.

            “Sure thing, Tambs.” Wendy saluted and waved her hand outwards. “Head out, troops!” 

            “Where’s Robbie?” Mabel asked.

            “He’s over in the parking lot doing a deal. He’ll be back.” Tambry said simply, her eyes returning to her phone as she turned and followed Wendy over to the stand set up across the way, surrounded by hay bales and a food truck. 

            “Deal?” Pacifica whispered to Mabel.

            “Drugs.” Lee answered her, walking up behind them with his hands in his pockets, his ripped sleeveless denim jacket exposing lean muscular arms to the chilly air. He didn’t seem bothered. 

            Pacifica pursed her lips and fell silent, following the group over to where the activities were happening. Dipper trailed behind, pulling out his phone for the first time in hours. He was out of the city and away from home, he would be safe for now. He took a breath and checked his texts. They all still showed as being from UNKNOWN, Dipper had refused to make a contact for this sicko. He scanned through them. 

            They seemed pretty typical for what he was getting the last week or so: “How was your day? Hunt down any more killers? ;)”, "haha jk, im the only one worth anything in the area anyway ;P", “Too scared to answer? Dont be babe, just having a little fun”, “When do you wanna meet up again? Id love to see how that cut is healing hehe”. Dipper subconsciously brushed his fingertips over the bandaid on his cheek, remembering the sting of the knife cutting through flesh. He frowned. 

            “Dipper! Get over here!” 

            Dipper shoved his phone back into his pocket and jogged to catch up. 

            “I want a caramel apple!” He heard Mabel announce as she sped off towards a building farther into the plot of land. Dipper looked around and saw kids playing on hay bales, a truck driving around with a trailer filled with hay and families, and a pumpkin patch in the distance. The huge expanse of dried out yellow corn stalks was the group’s goal today, though. The sky was turning orange and the light fading, lightbulbs on buildings and small flood lights being switched on.

            In an hour the sun would fully set, and the Fear Maze would begin. Dipper swallowed, trying to push down the nerves sitting as a pit in his stomach. He was fine. This would be a normal day with normal, wholesome friend activities. They did this stuff every year! There was no way that psycho would be out here on a farm in the middle of nowhere... right?

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            The sun had dipped behind the horizon and the families with small kids had all but left. The scare actors were out and the line for the Fear Maze had started to form. For the first time in his life, Dipper was actually not looking forward to this. He was bouncing his leg and wringing his hands nervously, jumping at every high pitched shriek that cut through the air. He was even beginning to sweat slightly in the cold air when Mabel suddenly leaned into his vision, frowning.

            "Dude, are you okay? What's going on?" She leaned in close to whisper, letting the raucous laughter of the others keep her from being overheard. 

            "Yeah!" Dipper said a bit too shrilly. He cleared his throat, pulling out his phone to avoid her penetrating gaze. "Just have some big project at school on my mind. I'm good."

            Mabel narrowed her eyes at him but retreated back over to Pacifica’s side. The group was about to enter the Maze, a worker was explaining some basic rules that Dipper tuned out as he stared at his phone. The cold air nipped at his fingertips as he scrolled through his text messages. 

            UNKNOWN: I think I'll come visit you today, since youre too busy to answer mu messages :( 

            UNKNOWN: we can play a game! I'm sure you'll love it :3

            UNKNOWN: my*

            Dipper clutched his phone hard in his hands. There was a selfie, sent only five minutes ago. It was dark, he was outside in front of some kind of wooden building with a faint yellow light illuminating his face slightly. A large hunting knife glinted in frame, held up with a wide grin on his face. 

            "Alright, folks! Have fun and stay safe in there!" The worker began ushering Dipper's friends into the dark maw of the corn maze. They whooped in excitement. Dipper stood rooted to the spot.

            The followup picture was dark as well, but it was of many people in jackets and hats. A line in front of a corn field. Dipper could see himself, staring at his phone, along with every one of his friends in the picture. His face paled.

            UNKNOWN: see you in the maze, babe ;) 

            Before he could look up and scan his surroundings in a hysterical panic, Mabel and Pacific were shoving him into the mouth of the maze, oblivious to any emergency.

            "C'mon slowpoke! We don't wanna get left behind already!" Mabel laughed, running off down the hard dirt path into the darkness to catch up with the others.

            Pacifica started to follow behind her, but paused to look sideways at Dipper. His eyes stung with the threat of tears, his hands were shaking, and he was pale as a ghost. Terror overtook his body watching Mabel run off into the dark, towards her potential death. That freak was out here. He was out here and he could be anywhere. He could pick off any of them and no one would notice. His breaths came heavy and fast.

            "Dipper." Pacifica put a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. He took a shaky gasp. What was he supposed to say? 'We are all in danger and need to leave right now.' How the fuck was he supposed to explain to them that a serial killer was texting him!? He couldn't. He had already threatened Mabel and Pacifica, and now every single one of his friends was in danger and they didn't even fucking know it.

            Dipper steeled himself under the warm weight of Pacifica’s hand. She looked at him, concern written all over her face but waiting for Dipper to speak first. He took a deep breath.

            "Let's catch up to the others," he said simply. She frowned and nodded after a moment, turning to follow the sound of the group's voices. 

            They caught up after a few minutes. Dipper was relieved to see them all still alive and teasing each other, but he was tense, scanning hopelessly around the dark swaying stalks of dried corn all around them. They were so tall, and the rustling so loud in the wind, it was impossible to spot anyone sneaking up on them. He glanced to and from his phone, but no new texts were coming in, even as response to Dipper’s hollow threats.

            He would just have to keep an eye on everyone. Keep them all together. There was no way one guy could attack a group of like ten people—

            Wendy shrieked gleefully and shoved Thompson into the cornstalks before turning and racing down a path with Ramona in tow. Thompson sputtered and struggled, taking the outstretched hand of the giggling mousy haired girl he came with. Lee laughed loudly and smacked Thompson on the ass when he finally got to his feet, before they too all went sprinting down the path after Wendy. Tambry groaned as Robbie pulled her into a run with them and in the blink of an eye they were all gone.

            Dipper thought he could literally feel his stress levels spiking. Pacifica grinned and let Mabel take her hand as they ran down the path to the right. Dipper followed close behind, head swiveling all around watching for a glinting blade in the darkness. He swiped his phone screen and turned on his flashlight. 

            "Guys! Stick together, please don't get separated!" Dipper shouted ahead, hoping the others could hear him over their own shouting. Dipper's heart hammered in his chest as they passed a large scary scarecrow prop, looming over the winding path. He could hear far off screams somewhere deeper in the maze every few moments. Every single one made his heart drop. Would he be able to tell a scream of delight from one of someone being killed?

            As if to answer his own question, screaming erupted from ahead of them on the path. One in particular rang out louder and longer than the rest. Terror. And it sounded like it was from their group of friends. 

            He darted past Mabel and Pacifica and took off down the path, his shoes smacking the hard dirt and his flashlight bobbing. He nearly tripped over a fallen stalk more than once, but he didn't stop. Adrenaline surged through him, the sound of his own blood rushed in his ears. He would fight that bastard if he had to, if he touched any of his friends he was gonna kill him—

            Dipper nearly crashed straight into Lee's back as he rounded a corner. 

            "Whoa there, lil dude," he said in his deep monotone drawl, before turning his attention back to the action in front of him. Dipper looked past his shoulder, bewildered at Lee's calm demeanor.

            Robbie was doubled over, clutching his stomach and shaking violently. But he was...? He was laughing. He was absolutely losing his shit laughing at Tambry, who was sprawled out on the ground at the feet of a person in a clown mask. She was swearing at the top of her lungs as Wendy helped her to her feet, also laughing so hard she was nearly in tears. She whirled on Robbie furiously as soon as she was up. The scare actor slunk back into the corn, free of her wrath for the moment.

            "THIS WAS A BRAND NEW FUCKING SKIRT, STOP LAUGHING!" Tambry shrieked at him, which made him laugh harder. The others noticed the large dark stain on the back of Tambrys burgundy skirt and burst out in a fit of howling laughter. Tambry looked like she was about to explode.

            "H-hey I'm sorry, okay!" Robbie fought to hold back his laughter under his girlfriend's death stare. "We'll get you a new one. Or, I don't know, wash it?"

            She huffed loudly and turned to storm off down a random path. 

            "Tams!" Robbie called and followed after her.

            Dipper jumped as Mabel and Pacifica came running up behind him, out of breath.

            "Jesus fuck, what's got you in a hurry?" Pacifica said between breaths, arching a brow at Dipper. Dipper sighed.

            "Tambry screamed." He rubbed his eyes, willing the headache that was starting to form to go away. He hadn't expected this night to be spent babysitting a bunch of people older than him so they don't get murdered. Fuck, what the hell has his life become?

            He turned his phone screen on, looking at his texts once more and tuning out the excited chatter around him. He swore under his breath.

            It was dark and grainy as shit, but the killer had sent him a picture that was unmistakably of him, Mabel, and Pacifica jogging through the maze. The picture was taken from within the corn stalks themselves, the edges of the long leaves poking into frame.

            "Son of a bitch." He actually was stalking them from in the fucking corn. Dipper whipped his light around, but only found the same shifting black shadows in the fields. 

            "Onward, troops!" Wendy called suddenly, waving her arm in the air and marching off. The others followed in a line and Dipper bit his lip. 

            "Where's Robbie and Tambry?" He leaned over and asked Thompson, who simply shrugged at him and turned his attention back to his girl buddy. Dipper groaned. Useless, helpless, clueless little shits-

            "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck." Dipper made a mental note of which path they were taking and ducked into a different one. "Robbie!" He called loudly, peering around corners with his phone light.

            "What!?" A voice snapped back at him from nearby. Dipper nearly gasped in relief. 

            "We're moving on! Get over here!" Dipper shouted back. He heard some grumbling and hushed voices and the couple pushed through some stalks nearby.

            "What, are you babysitting us or something?" Robbie sneered at Dipper.

            "Yes," Dipper said curtly and turned to lead them back to the path Wendy took. Robbie and Tambry exchanged glances and followed Dipper’s lead.

            They linked back up with the rest of the group quickly, who had stopped to have a 'corn fight'. Dipper had never been so happy to see his friends whacking the shit out of each other with downed corn stalks before. He sighed and stood back from the brawl, checking his phone obsessively. 

            UNKNOWN: ur friends seem like alot of fun

            UNKNOWN: especially that redhead

            Dipper scowled. He jammed his fingers over the screen furiously.

            DIPPER: if u yoh touch aNY of them ur fuckiign dead

            UNKNOWN: ooooo! hehe im shaking in my boots <3

            "Heya!" Wendy chirped in Dipper's ear suddenly. He nearly screamed at the sudden arm being draped over his shoulders. She looked down at his face, expression dropping. "You okay, man? You're more jumpy than usual. Something happen?"

            "Fffffffuck, ahah." Dipper laughed nervously. His heart hammered in his chest. He couldn't do this shit. How could he lie to her face like this? Her weight and warmth wrapped around his shoulder made his palms sweat. He felt so fucking guilty. "I dunno, nothing in particular. I'll be fine, really." He looked around at the group slowly branching away from each other again. "I just really don't want people to get lost out here tonight."

            Wendy hummed thoughtfully and nodded. 

            "We do have some dumbasses here who would do that, huh." She patted Dipper’s shoulder and ruffled the top of his hat, messing up his hair. "Don't worry, kid. I'll keep everyone in order. No one's dying out here on my watch!" she joked.

            Dipper nodded, readjusting his trapper hat. Wendy smiled at him and ran back over to where Ramona and Lee were calling her. If only she knew the very real chance of someone dying tonight. Dipper really didn't want to attend any of their funerals, knowing it would ultimately be his own fault. Even Robbie's. 

            He pulled his hat on tighter and brought up the rear as the group continued on. Dipper did his best to keep it together, but he flinched and stifled his flight or fight every time someone in the group screamed or jumped away from a scare actor hiding in the fields. How long until it wasn't just an actor that jumped out? How long until a scream was followed by blood spilling onto the dirt? Dipper checked his phone constantly in between trying to spot a familiar black coat among the shifting leaves.

            Then, everything went to shit.

            The group reached a big crossroads, with five different branching paths in the immediate vicinity. Three different scare actors in masks and covered with fake blood jumped out in all different directions, surrounding them. Dipper watched helplessly as his friends and sister shrieked and scattered to the winds. Dipper didn't even know who to chase after, they were all so split up, so he stood, frozen, paying no mind to the scare actors giving chase down different paths. Everyone was gone.

            Dipper felt his breaths become quick and uncontrollable, the blood rushed loudly in his ears. He felt lightheaded. No, no, no, no.  

            He heard screams all around him, all throughout the maze. Dipper gasped for breath, struggling for air that felt too heavy to swallow. His phone dinged. Please be Mabel, or Wendy, or—

            It was a picture of himself, standing alone with a stricken look of panic on his face. Dipper whipped his head to the right, from where the picture was taken. 

            The killer was here. He was here, and not off murdering his friends, picking them off one by one. But only for the moment. Dipper wouldn't let him. I won't let you! He charged into the cornfield at full speed.

            "Come out, motherfucker! I know you're here!" Dipper screamed, tearing through the field with no regard to how the sharp dry leaves cut at his hands. He was furious. He was terrified. He wouldn't let him get away.

            He heard loud crunching off to his left ahead of him and lunged after it, tripping and crashing out onto dirt paths and then right back into the corn. It was a mad chase, and Dipper couldn’t even see the person ahead of him. He was chasing ghosts through a cornfield. He breathed hard, panic and determination thrumming through his body. He had no idea what he was going to do when he caught up. He very well might just be killed, but that was infinitely better than that psycho finding one of his friends alone in the dark instead.

            The sounds of crashing footsteps ahead of Dipper kept changing direction and he followed it closely, pounding down curving maze paths and breaking through swaths of cornstalks. The sounds of screaming rang all around him, drowning him. 

            "Stop running, coward!" Dipper screamed in desperation. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he kept chasing. His legs burned and it was hard to breathe, but he kept chasing.

            Finally, he tripped and fell hard onto his face. He scrambled to get back up, ignoring the pain blooming in his ankle and hands, but he was so, so lost. His ears were assaulted with noise and he couldn't make anything out anymore. He had lost the trail. He clenched his hands into fists.

            And then suddenly someone was jumping out at him with a knife and Dipper screamed. He fell back onto the dirt path and cowered there, choking back sobs. His breathing became frantic. He was hyperventilating. He couldn't breathe. 

            Faintly he heard someone call his name and run over. He was pulled halfway up onto someone's lap, their arms wrapped around him.

            "Breathe, Dipper. C'mon." Wendy said soothingly, rubbing his arm as he choked on the air. His gasps were pathetic, wheezing things. Wendy rocked him gently. 

            "O-oh god, I'm so sorry. Is he okay?" Dipper faintly heard another voice above them.

            "I've got him." Wendy replied to the stranger, who had pulled their mask up and had a plastic butcher knife in hand. 

            Dipper squeezed his eyes shut. Why this? Why have a panic attack now? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tears fled down his cold cheeks. 

            "Hey, hey, hey. You're okay. Focus on breathing slow, deep breaths. C'mon, follow me." She started exaggerating her breaths, inhaling and exhaling slow and loud.

            Dipper leaned towards the comforting sound of her voice. He was glad it seemed like she was the only one seeing him like this. He tried to breathe with her, shaky, squeaky breaths. 

            "P-please," He sobbed between uneven breaths, "Don't tell th—o-others." He felt Wendy's hair brush against his face when she nodded.

            "I've got you. Don't worry about them. Breathe." 

            He kept his eyes shut and followed her lead.

            After a few more minutes, Dipper was able to concentrate and calm his breathing. He clutched Wendy's hand hard, distantly embarrassed that she had him in her lap. He sat up, wiping at his face with his jacket sleeve. He groaned when he saw the dirt stains all over his clothes.

            "You good?" Wendy asked from where she sat.

            Dipper nodded weakly, taking a few more deep, unsure breaths. He fought down a sensation of deep, burning shame that threatened to overflow into more tears. He felt fucking awful. What a fucking bumbling idiot he was. What a pathetic failure. He gritted his teeth. 

            "Hey." Wendy nudged him with her foot. "Let's get out of here." She stood up and offered Dipper a hand. He looked up at her and nodded, fighting back his tumultuous emotions. He took her hand and she pulled him to his feet easily. Sometimes he forgot how strong Wendy was. Stronger than him, at least. And more confident. More capable. 

            Would she have been able to catch whoever Dipper had been chasing? Probably. She'd fucking murder anyone who threatened her friends. And here Dipper was, falling on his face and crying and keeping it a fucking secret from all of them. Goddammit, he was the worst.

            He followed Wendy silently as she led them through the maze, cutting off the path on occasion. She collected the scattered group along the way: finding Lee standing with Ramona, smoking something Dipper suspected was weed, collecting Mabel and Paz from a loop they were stuck in, linking up with Robbie and Tambry, and, finally, interrupting Thompson in what looked like a tender moment with the girl he brought. Dipper was starting to feel better already and smiled while the group teased Thompson for his red face. Everyone was okay. Everyone was alive.

            "Alright, motherfuckers!" Wendy shouted over the chatter. "Time to get the hell out of here without getting separated. Link hands, kids!" 

            Robbie curled his lip and protests broke out amongst the boys and Pacifica. Wendy grabbed Ramona's hand, who laughed and forcefully grabbed Tambry's in turn. 

            "I said LINK!" Wendy commanded and reluctantly the rest of the line filled out. Dipper grabbed Mabel's hand after taking Lee's. Mabel giggled and snatched up Pacifica’s hand to drag her along behind. She scowled.

            "We look ridiculous." She watched the people ahead of them disapprovingly as they shuffled along in a big train of handholding. They kind of did, Dipper would admit, but the weight constricting his chest was getting lighter and lighter and a smile glowed on his face. They were gonna be okay.

            Finally, Wendy managed to lead them to the marked exit. Cheers rang out as the line dismantled itself and they all went running out into free air. Dipper's eyes moved between the rosy faces of his friends, as if checking off each one on an inventory list. They were all perfectly fine. They were okay. 

            Dipper loudly let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His legs felt like putty suddenly as all the adrenaline from earlier washed out of him. He was so fucking exhausted. And covered in dried mud. 

            He walked over to where Mabel was gleefully bouncing on the grass, telling the others about Paz nearly decking a scare actor to protect her. Dipper tapped her shoulder lightly. She turned, eyes wide and glittering in the string lights hanging from the nearby buildings.

            "I'm gonna go wash up a bit." He leaned in to say quietly. Her eyes darted across his front, seeing the streaks of dirt. She let out a laugh.

            "Did you pull a Tambry too, bro?" Mabel giggled. The corner of Pacifica’s mouth quirked upwards in amusement. 

            "We are not making that a fucking thing!" Tambry snapped from where she stood a ways off with the others in a ring. Dipper saw the fiery streak of Wendy's hair and nodded in her direction before he turned away. 

            His boots carried him easily over the soft grassy turf. It was a welcome change to the uneven, packed dirt of the field. He exhaled deeply and watched his breath swirl through the chilly air like smoke. They're all alive. Dipper kept reminding himself. It's over.

            He reluctantly went into one of two vacant porta potties behind the gift shop and used the toilet paper to rub as much dirt off of him as he could manage. It was on his face, his hands, his jeans, his shirt, god. He hated that Wendy had to see him blubbering and hyperventilating like that over a plastic knife prop, but he was so fucking glad she didn't also witness him eat shit when he tripped. As he scrubbed, his nerves and fear gave way to simply being pissed. 

            This fucking sicko... what was his deal? He shows up at Dipper’s damn apartment, cuts his face, licks him, and leaves. He planted cameras, he somehow got Dipper's phone number, and he's been texting him as playfully as an obnoxious acquaintance might, not a fucking serial killer. Dipper's mind was confused as hell trying to keep up with everything. He was terrified for his life, but then this guy would text him a stupid meme. Dipper would become annoyed, and then he would bust out the very real threats on his and his family's lives. No wonder the cops are having such a hard time finding him, Dipper thought. He's insane. He's impossible to read.

            Dipper stepped out of the porta potty and was relieved to breathe clean, fresh air once more. It was quiet and dimly lit back here. Peaceful. 

            "HIYA!!" 

            Dipper screamed and nearly fell over at the loud voice right next to his ear. He whirled around, there was no one back here, what—? His eyes widened and he froze.

            Playfully upturned eyes behind circular frames met his gaze. You idiot. A long black coat draped over his thin frame, the same coat he wore that night in the kitchen. Why did you go off alone? His hands were shoved firmly in his pockets. His fingers were probably curled around a knife. He took a step forward, a grin spreading over his face. Dipper's eyes watched one of his hands slink out of his pockets. RUN!

            Dipper’s boot immediately slipped on a patch of wet grass and he fell onto his face. 

            The killer looming over him barked out a laugh. Dipper couldn’t help feeling a twinge of annoyance at the sound. He gritted his teeth and pushed up off the ground to face him. His face twisted up in anger.

            "Now you show your face, huh?" Dipper spat and the dark haired boy in front of him blinked, a smile plastered to his face. His head cocked to the side. 

            "Maze get the better of ya?" He giggled at the sight of Dipper’s stained clothes.

            "Fuck you!" Dipper snarled and surged forward. The boy opposite of him danced out of the way with ease that infuriated Dipper further. "Kill me if you like, freak, but don't go after my fucking friends and then run from me like a coward!" Dipper’s blood boiled at how the other boy seemed so utterly unfazed. This is someone who has gutted innocent people, of course he isn't scared of you, dumbass.  

            "You have such a potty mouth." The boy in black tutted, shaking his head in mock disapproval. His eyes locked back onto Dipper with renewed intensity and a chill went down his spine. "You've certainly got a bark on you, but do you have any bite?"  

            Dipper yelped and stumbled backwards as the taller boy rushed him suddenly. He's fast! Dipper thought in a panic as he saw those circular glasses close in inches from his face. Dipper felt like he was falling back in slow motion. The boy rushed in and, instead of stabbing him, audibly snapped his bared teeth together right in Dipper's face. He danced back as quickly as he had approached, laughing loudly as he went. Dipper barely managed to save himself from falling on his ass. He heaved a breath and pointed his glare back towards the boy in the trenchcoat.

            "Are you scared to fight me, now that I know you're a threat? Unlike the people you usually target," Dipper growled, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "Is that why you wouldn't come to me in the maze? Why you ran?" It was foolish to bait a practiced murderer like this into a fight, Dipper knew that, but he was toying with the lives of his loved ones now. Dipper couldn't sit back and be a coward. He would rather die.

            The taller boys' eyebrows furrowed. He paced silently over the grass, circling Dipper thoughtfully. Dipper stood his ground, but couldn't help swiveling his head to keep his eyes on the predator seemingly sizing him up. 

            "Ran from you?" He muttered after a long pause. "When did I run from you?

            "In the maze." Dipper glared. "I was yelling."

            "Well, if you had screamed my name I would've come running!" The boy laughed and winked. Dipper crinkled his freckled nose in distaste.

            "I don't know your name, asshole!" he snapped. The other boy blinked in surprise and stopped pacing.

            "You don't? Didn't I tell you?"

            "No."

            "I must've. I've been texting you for days."

            "You didn't!" Dipper was getting impatient. How can he always act so fucking casual?! 

            "Hmm." He pursed his lips and shrugged. "My bad! You can call me Dib." He bowed slightly with mock theatricality, the strange long strand of black hair on the crest of his forehead bounced perfectly back into place. 

            He—Dib—smirked at the expression on Dipper's face and he stepped forward, slipping a cold hand into Dipper’s and pulling it upwards. He leaned in close enough to Dipper’s face he could feel the warm breath ghosting over his lips. Dipper froze, swallowed by the intensity of Dib’s lidded amber eyes. 

            "Pleasure to meet you, Dipper Pines." Dipper shuddered at the way Dib practically purred his name. Dipper gritted his teeth and yanked his hand out of Dib’s icy grasp, eliciting only a laugh from him as he backed away a few steps with his hands up in mock surrender. 

            "Okay, Dib," Dipper snarled. "Stop playing around. You almost killed my friends tonight, I'm not just gonna let that go, motherfucker."

            "No, no, no, babe." Dib's lips quirked up in a smile as he held back laughter. "I was never actually gonna do that! I was just playing with you. It's very cute how you scramble around in a panic." He giggled at the way Dipper’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. All of the previous fight left his body. He was...playing with him?

            "You... wha...?" Dipper searched for words. He had never had such a hard time reading someone as he did with Dib. This boy, this killer, was completely unpredictable. Playing? He frowned. 

            "Oh, the hat's cute, too, by the way." Dib smirked.

            "I'm not cute." Dipper glowered.

            "I beg to differ." 

            Dipper’s face contorted in annoyance once more and he opened his mouth to tell him off when another voice cut him off. Dipper whipped around.

            "Hey, bud!" Wendy called, stepping out from behind the corner of the gift shop with a wave. "How you holdin' up? Feeling better?"

            Dipper spun back around, wild eyed and expecting to see Dib there, but...the patch of grass was empty. Dipper's eyes darted to every shadowy corner in sight but found nothing. He had slipped away once more, quiet as a ghost. Gone.

            "Uhhh, Dipper?" Wendy questioned, glancing to him and to their surroundings. 

            "Sorry, I just..." Dipper scanned the area once more. "Nevermind. Yeah. Yeah, I'm better now. Thank you, you really saved me back there."

            Wendy laughed and ruffled the trapper hat on his head, messing up his hair and pushing it down over his eyes. He pulled it back up and huffed.

            "Don't worry about it, dude. Happens to the best of us."

             Not really. Dipper thought glumly, but he stayed quiet and followed Wendy back to the parking lot to regroup with the others. Lee had Robbie in a headlock as the others whooped and cheered.

            "Bastard, with your longass arms, gah!" Robbie spat as he struggled against Lee's iron grip, who stood straight and expressionless as ever. Tambry snickered and pointed her phone at the scene.

            "Alright, pack it in. We're rollin' out!" Wendy clapped and Lee released Robbie, sending him tripping into the dirt. 

            "You kids gonna join us for the afterparty?" Ramona slid up to where Dipper, Mabel, and Pacifica stood. They grinned. "We have boooooze." 

            "Uh." Dipper's eyes flicked over to Mabel. He really wasn't feeling up to it, but he was the driver. He didn't want to make the decision for the girls. Mabel glanced sideways at him before returning her attention back to Wendy's partner.

            "I think we'll have to pass on that, sorry!" Mabel chuckled apologetically as Ramona gave her a pout. "Me and Paz have a thing."

            "We do—? Oof!" Pacifica started to ask as Mabel kicked her foot, hard. "Er, yeah. We have more things to get in order for my Halloween party. You'll be there, right?"

            "Ah." Ramona twirled a purple strand of hair with their finger. "I'm actually not sure what our plans for Halloween are yet. Maybe we can swing by!"

             Our plans. They were referring to Wendy. A sudden pang lit up in Dipper's chest that made him feel utterly pathetic. Loneliness. He didn't have an our, aside from maybe Mabel, but that wasn't the same. He hadn't really dated much, partly due to his teen years being spent crushing on Wendy one-sidedly, but... Damn.

            He shook his head, willing such thoughts away. They were silly and useless, after all. So what if his last kiss was from a few years ago? So what if the girl it was with was drunk and literally never saw him again? Goddammit, Dipper needed a drink.

            "Let's head out." He said to Mabel, who nodded and gave him a long look. 

            "Sure." She nudged Pacifica and they started hugging people goodbye before heading to the car. Dipper gave Wendy a fistbump and a tiny smile as they parted ways.

            He was relieved to be driving home, and even moreso with knowing that none of his friends were butchered tonight because of him. Tonight was a success, but he didn't know how much more of this his heart could take.

            Halloween was so soon. Would... Dib—was still odd having a name for his tormentor now—try something like this again? Dipper fell onto his bed, finally, like a sack of potatoes. He was exhausted. 

            He fell into unconsciousness with thoughts of an unnerving dark haired boy swimming through his mind, and he dreamed of amber eyes gleaming from dark spaces between corn stalks.

Chapter Text

            The next two days passed without much issue, if you didn't count the nightmares. Dipper mostly ignored Dib's texting. After the effect he had on Dipper with the corn maze stunt, his enthusiasm for pushing Dipper’s buttons seemed to be at an all time high. He was emboldened by their second meeting face to face, and Dipper dreaded what would come of it. Dib was acting far too familiar with him.

            He was glad, at least, that Dib actually didn't hurt any of his friends. 'Just playing' he had said. As if threatening people's lives was a game. Dipper’s favorite holiday was coming up, and all he felt was a growing pit of dread in his stomach. 

            He could have died the other day. He wasn't thinking straight when he ran off into the dark with the goal of fighting Dib. He thought his friends were in danger, but it turned out they weren't and Dipper... He was lucky Dib didn't get pissed that he was trying to fight him. Dipper didn't want to think about how that would have ended. He shivered.

            Chilly autumn wind ruffled his dark hair as he walked back from campus. He was entirely lost in thought. His mind was a conspiracy board of different ideas for how to navigate his little serial killer predicament. He felt a headache coming on.

            Dipper unlocked the door to his apartment, sighing to himself as he slumped his backpack off his shoulder and threw it to the side. Dib hadn’t texted him in about three hours, a new record as of late. Looking up, Dipper nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the subject of his thoughts sitting on his couch, nonchalant as ever, gazing over at him with his weirdly empty amber eyes.

            “What the fuck!?" Dipper yelped and then cleared his throat. "Uh…what are you doing here?” Dipper tried to keep his voice from shaking as he froze. Dib laughed, moving to lie down on his stomach and kick his feet out behind him. Dipper noted the alien patterned socks on his feet.

            “Just wanted to hang out.” He smirked, resting his chin on his palm. “I noticed you don’t have anything to eat, you want take out?”

            “What?” Dipper’s shoulders relaxed a little as confusion overtook the fear in his body. “I—” He thought for a moment. Was this really happening? He couldn’t say no, could he? Dib was a violent serial killer, he didn’t want to anger him! “Uh, I don’t have any money.”

            “Clearly.” Dib snorted. “The only thing in your fridge is some cheese sticks and fucking Starbucks doubleshot energy drinks, seriously? I’m gonna have to stick a case of Monster in there for when I come over.” He teased, mischievously poking his tongue out from between his lips.

            “For when you come over?” The color drained from Dipper's face.

            “Well, yeah, babe. I like hanging out here. I'd like to start doing it more with you around.” Dib hopped up off the couch and sauntered over, eyes glittering as if he were staring at an entertaining piece of prey. “And I fucking hate those Starbucks energy drinks, they’re nasty.” 

            “Uh,” Dipper stepped back, hitting the door and pressing against it, trying to keep as much distance between him and Dib as possible, though the other boy was making that a challenge as he crept closer. He could practically feel Dib’s body heat, though that was likely a paranoid delusion as he knew what Dib felt like when he touched him, and he was always cold as dead. His head swirled in confusion—why were they talking about energy drinks again?

            “I wanna hang out with you! Wasn’t it fun at the corn maze? You look awfully cute when you’re frantically scrambling around like a paranoid lunatic.” Dib grinned menacingly. “You care about your friends a lot, huh?”

            Dipper’s eyes widened. “Don’t—don’t bring them into this!”

            “Your sister seems fun.” Dib pushed at Dipper’s buttons, and that one finally struck a nerve. Dipper mustered all the courage in his body and shoved Dib, making the boy stumble back.

            “You touch my sister and I’ll kill you,” he growled, eyes narrowing as he bristled.

            Dib let out an amused snort. “Ohh, feeling brave? Gonna kill me? I thought you were the goody-two-shoes who was all against murder and trying to stop me?” His voice became mocking as he straightened up. “I’d like to see you try. It’d be hilarious. Cute, even!”

            Dipper growled in response. “I’m serious!” He realized he didn’t sound threatening at all, but he couldn’t afford to back down now.

            “C’mon, babe, this is just pathetic.” Dib giggled. “How about this: I won’t hurt Mabel as long as you don’t go running your mouth to the pigs, yeah?” He raised a thin eyebrow.

            Dipper couldn’t just say no, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he knew he was the reason his sister got hurt. “I-I—”

            “You wanna protect her, don’t you?” Dib pushed, voice dropping to a menacing growl. “You wouldn’t wanna see her all slashed up, screaming for mercy while I tell her this is all your fault because you didn’t wanna keep her safe?”

            Dipper felt sick to his stomach as Dib continued talking. “Stop. St-stop. I won’t tell. I promise, I won’t.” He whimpered, feeling his hands begin to tremble at the mere thought of Mabel dying alone, blaming him as her last thoughts. His grandiose ideas of fighting Dib were just delusions, after all. He was no match for a fucking serial killer.

            “Aww, you’re so cute.” Dipper flinched as Dib cupped his face, making Dib smirk deviously.

            “Please, just leave them alone.” Dipper’s voice was barely a whisper.

            “Will do, as long as you pay attention to me, cutie.” Dipper’s glassy, green eyes reminded Dib of a deer. A skittish, paranoid deer, and he was the wolf. Dipper nodded, relaxing slightly when Dib finally pulled his cold hand away from his cheek. “Anyways, there’s a good udon place down the street that’s open till midnight, want me to order something from there? I’ll pay.”

            Dipper didn’t want to linger on where Dib got money from, probably by selling bones on the black market or something horrifying like that, and just nodded. “Sure.” Be compliant. Be compliant, don’t piss him off, and hopefully he’ll just leave.

            Dib did not just leave. After Dipper tensely choked down half the soup he’d ordered, Dib put on a movie, leaving Dipper frozen on the couch a few inches away from him. It got even worse when Dib scooted closer and put his arm around his shoulders. What was he doing?! Dipper’s thoughts raced as Dib continued to watch the movie. He desperately counted the minutes until it ended, Dib finally moving away from him to grab the remote.

            “Um, Dib…” Dipper squeaked, catching his attention.

            “Yeah, babe?”

            “I uh, have homework to do, and it’s kinda late…” he lied. He didn’t have homework.

            “Are you tired, babe? I’m sorry, I should have picked a shorter movie.” He pouted out his lower lip. “What subject?” He pressed. Dipper realized Dib knew his every move at this point and knew he didn’t have homework.

            “Uh, my uh, journalism class. I need to get ahead in writing for my final, um, you know, being proactive.” Dipper gave the fakest innocent-smile possible. Thankfully, whether Dib truly believed him or not, he stopped asking questions.

            “Oh, so studious.” He teased, standing up and stretching. “Well, then, I guess you should go do that, hmm?” He looked back down at Dipper.

            “Yeah, um… don’t you need to go home, or something?” Dipper stared at his hands, unable to meet Dib’s eyes. He felt like he was being examined, scrutinized, as Dib already knew he was lying and was just waiting for him to break and confess from the weight of his gaze.

            “Oh, right, of course.” Dib giggled. Dipper could see Dib’s alien socks move from his field of vision, and looked up to see him pulling his coat on. “Have fun with your homework, babe.” He leaned over and grabbed Dipper’s face. Dipper squeaked in surprise, flinching away as he expected Dib to fucking lick him again, though Dib released him a second later. He let out an amused hum. “You’re so fun to mess with.”

            Dipper blinked, dumbfounded by the comment as Dib simply gave him a smug grin and stood up. When Dipper looked over, Dib was just a swish of black fabric as he watched him jump over the railing of the fire escape, his boots making a bang as he landed on the metal.

            He didn’t even shut the fucking door.

            Dipper got up, sliding it shut with a shudder as he cut off the rush of cold autumn air from outside. He stood at the window, staring at his reflection for a moment before grabbing the curtains and drawing them. He picked up the leftover soup and threw it in the fridge before meandering down the hallway, mildly despondent as he flicked off the light behind him. He flopped on his bed with a groan, his entire body melting into the mattress as he finally relaxed, no longer strung up by the anxiety of a serial killer sitting next to him. 

            He rolled over, and stared up at the ceiling, rubbing his eyes. He really should sleep, but he couldn’t help but feel his skin prickling at the knowledge there were cameras watching him, and that Dib would probably see he wasn’t doing his homework like he said. Placate him, don’t piss him off, and you’ll be good.

            Sitting up, Dipper dragged himself over to his desk and opened his laptop, collapsing in his chair and staring at the screen. He decided to just do one of his online assignments a few days early, at least then he wouldn’t have to deal with it later. It only took him about twenty minutes, but he decided Dib would probably have seen him working by now and believed him. He pushed away from the desk, rolling his chair across the floor and crawling into bed. He kicked off his jeans, threw off his shirt, and curled up under his covers, hiding from the prying eyes of Dib’s cameras.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Dipper woke up the next morning to his alarm, along with a barrage of texts from Dib that he had sent overnight.

            [2:15am] Dib: that wasn’t much studying, babe

            [2:16am] Dib: too tired?

            [3:32am] Dib: did you know that you snore? its cute :)

            [5:45am] Dib: im goin to bed now, watching you sleep makes me sleepy

            Dipper glared at the notifications, tossing his phone on the bed and going to go shower. He only had one class today, so he could actually take his time getting ready rather than scrambling like he normally had to. He stepped into the stream of hot water, before frowning. Dib was watching. Ugh. He quickly got himself clean, not wanting to give Dib any more footage than he needed to. He wrapped a towel around himself protectively, eyes defensively flicking to the corners of the bathroom. Dib was probably relishing in his discomfort. Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. 

            Dib: lol you’re so cute 

            Dib: i love your pouty face

            Dib: <3

            Dipper threw his phone back into his covers, going to rummage around in the pile of clean laundry he had neglected to put away for a week. Throwing on a shirt, he frowned at how loose it was, pulling at the fabric in confusion, maybe it got stretched out in the wash. He then narrowed his eyes as he pulled on his jeans. Okay, nevermind, he thought. The stress really was getting to him. 

            Grabbing a belt and deciding to deal with that later, Dipper went to his kitchen and grabbed some fruit loops, dumping them in a bowl before realizing he was out of milk. He sighed, going to sit on the couch with his dry cereal. Whatever. 

            He began meandering in the direction of campus about thirty minutes before class, showing up just in time. He tossed his phone in his bag as it kept buzzing, and opened his laptop to just text his friends through discord in order to ignore the annoying spam from Dib. He could still just barely hear the buzzing from the bottom of his backpack, and it was grating his nerves. Dib was quickly going from threatening to fucking annoying. 

            After class, he walked home, focusing on the fact the Halloween party was tonight. He studied decorations put out on people's front yards and storefronts as he walked. Closer to his house, some other college kids had some fake skeletons propped up on their balconies. Dipper frowned. 

            He was supposed to have fun tonight, partying with his sister and her crush. He and Mabel were going as a cat and dog, as cliche as that was. Mabel wanted to have a “hot Halloween costume for Pacifica”. Dipper was just dreading Dib catching sight of him in the stupid dog ears and never letting him live it down. At least it was a simple costume, he supposed. 

            Getting home, he rifled through his closet for a brown shirt, tossing it on the bed along with the ears and gloves Mabel had gotten him. He refused to wear a fucking tail. He tossed it into a bag and went down to his car, he was going over to Pacifica’s to help set up for the night. 

            Mabel was already in costume when Dipper arrived, greeting him with a hug and a squeal, before backing away and posing. She was in a black leotard with a patch of white she had sewn onto the stomach. A black tulle skirt puffed from her hips and a tail was sewn to the waistband. 

            “Don’t I look great? Me-WOW!” She pretended to claw at Dipper, who just rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t tell me you forgot your costume!”

            “Nope.” Dipper held up the bag. Mabel beamed, the cat whiskers painted on her round cheeks stretching across her face. 

            “I gotta draw your nose!” She grinned, running to her bag and grabbing a stick of eyeliner. Before Dipper could run, she grabbed his face and coloured the round tip of his nose black.

            “Aw, come on—!” Dipper protested through squished cheeks. 

            “Come on, Dipper! Where’s your Halloween spirit?” Pacifica teased as she emerged from the other room, before shoving a list in his hands along with a credit card. “Go get this for me.”

            “With this on my face?!” Dipper gestured. 

            “Sure. Wear the dog ears and you’ll look even less weird, people will know you’re in costume instead of just a weirdo with eyeliner on his face.” She snickered. Dipper groaned, stuffing the list and card into his wallet. 

            “You’re lucky I like you guys,” Dipper grumbled before going out to his car. Pacifica had requested more fruit punch, more vodka, tape, two sharpies, purple and orange paper plates, and more decorations, to which Pacifica had scribbled “MAKE THEM TASTEFUL, IDIOT”, though Dipper had to ask what a tasteful Halloween decoration actually entailed. 

            He ended up getting some jack-o-lantern string lights and streamers, along with the rest of the things Pacifica asked for. He avoided eye contact with the cashier as he checked out, grabbing the bags and thanking him quickly before rushing to his car. 

            They spent the remainder of the afternoon setting everything up and getting the workers in their places. The DJ equipment was set up in Pacifica’s large main hall, cleared out as a dance floor, which opened into the kitchen on the right and a hall that led to a dining room. A table was set up near the kitchen with bowls of punch and Halloween themed snacks Mabel had made. The two exterior walls of the large main room were nearly floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a glimmering pool. Rich people, Dipper scoffed to himself, but he had to admit her place was extremely nice.

            The sun sank below the horizon, and the colored lights were flicked on. Colorful plastic of dark blues and purples and hot pink were taped over all the ceiling lights, casting a neon glow over all the spooky decor. The orange jack o lantern string lights glowed in contrast along the walls. Mabel squealed in delight at the way the blacklight they installed in the center of the room made her accessories glow.

            Eight p.m. finally arrived, and the group had just finished the last touches when the first couple of people arrived. Some he recognized, but many were strangers from college and friends of friends. Soon the main hall and front steps were crowded with people in costume. Dipper was on high alert, looking for the unfortunately familiar mess of black hair or dark coat, anxiety creeping through his veins as he held a neglected red solo cup of soda. But it was proving vastly more difficult than he had anticipated with all of the gruesome masks and fake wings and blood and fangs and shitty wigs everyone wore.

            “BOO!” Wendy suddenly grabbed his shoulders from behind, and Dipper let out a shriek, dropping his soda and spilling it on his shoes. “Oh, shit, dude, sorry.”

            “It’s fine, it’s my fault.” Dipper grabbed some napkins from the table and half heartedly dropped them on the spill. 

            “What’s got you so jumpy?” Wendy asked. She was dressed as a werewolf, and beamed at him with sharp, fake teeth. “Are you sca-aared? ”

            Dipper quickly shook his head. “Huh? No! If you sneak up on someone, they’re going to get startled!” 

            Wendy laughed, leaning against the punch table and grabbing a cup of the red liquid, which Mabel had labeled with a sign that said “Virgin Blood Punch” in swirly red ink. The music reverberated in Dipper’s chest as he scanned the crowd again.

            "You made it!" A voice squealed loudly over the music. Dipper turned to see Mabel running at them, arms open wide and skirt bouncing. 

            Wendy grinned and brought Mabel into a big hug, lifting her off her feet with a shriek of delight. 

            "Hey kiddo! Sorry we're late, me and Ramona were pre-gaming a bit." Wendy slouched down slightly to talk to her. 

            "No worries! The night is just starting!" Mabel eyed her ripped up flannel and the scruffy wolf ears pinned on Wendy's head and giggled, batting at her own ears. "I like your costume."

            The two fist bumped and laughed. Dipper almost forgot about Dib for a moment watching the scene before him. It was so... normal. Pleasant. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a smile, before he remembered that the person threatening their lives could be lurking in the crowd coming and going all around him. His face fell and he went back to scanning the room.

            "Where's Queen Bitch herself?" Wendy asked Mabel, pouring herself some more punch. She pulled a metal flask from her pocket and poured liquid from that into her cup as well, swirling it around and winking at Mabel slyly.

            "She was getting into costume, but she's down here now." Mabel pointed over to the mouth of the Dining room hall, where Pacifica was greeting a group of people. Mabel giggled bashfully and covered her grin with a hand. "She looks so fucking good."

            She did. Dipper spotted her easily all the way across the room. Her platinum blonde bobcut was straightened to perfection and shining in the light, and the rest of her outfit was the brightest fucking red in the room. She was wearing a skin tight, vibrant red latex leotard with horns, wings, and a tail to match. Her lips and eyeliner were painted blood red, and red fishnets criss crossed over her long otherwise bare legs, glittering with rhinestones. She'd made an overdone sexy devil outfit look somehow classy. Dipper was honestly impressed.

            Someone whistled from behind Mabel, following their gazes over to Pacifica. The three of them turned to look at the newcomer. They had dark skin that shimmered with glitter and curly black hair that spilled out from beneath a pointed black witch hat. A simple short black witches gown with long draping sleeves hung over their lithe body, accessorized with many necklaces.

            "Ramona!" Mabel and Wendy cheered in unison. They grinned and moved to Wendy's side, going up on tiptoes in their combat boots to plant a kiss on her cheek, leaving a purple lipstick smear. 

            "I'm gonna go say hello to our stunning hostess." Ramona held out their elbow to Mabel. "Care to join?"

            Mabel giggled and linked arms with them, waving goodbye to Wendy and Dipper as the pair headed off into the crowd. Dipper fidgeted with his cup and watched them go. His eyes darted over the crowd in agitation. The more of his friends were here, the more potential targets. He knew Dib said they would be safe, so long as Dipper behaved, but...

            "You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself much. Where’s your Halloween spirit?” Wendy elbowed him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

            “Oh, um, I dunno. Not feeling it, ya know?” He tilted his head slightly. 

            “You wanna get trashed?” she offered. Dipper shook his head. He needed to be sober to make sure Dib didn’t show up and hurt anyone. 

            Wendy patted his shoulder. “Wanna go dance with me?” 

            Dipper weighed his options. Being on the dance floor would probably make it harder to keep an eye out for Dib, but he was already acting weird enough. To keep up at least a semi-normal appearance, he nodded, and Wendy grabbed his hand and dragged him along to the dance floor after downing her drink and chucking it. He saw a shock of platinum blonde, relieved that Pacifica and Mabel were still safe. And through the throngs of fake monsters, Dipper could see two figures that appeared to be Grenda and Candy, Mabel’s best friends and roommates, who were tearing up the dance floor. He didn’t know why he was so worried, he hadn’t even seen Dib, maybe the freak had just taken the day off. 

            Relaxing a little, he half heartedly danced with Wendy, because even if he wasn’t on edge, he still didn’t exactly like dancing in public. Wendy grabbed his hands and moved them with hers, grinning and showing off her fangs. They gleamed in the glow of the blacklight. 

             No. 

            Beyond the red of Wendy’s hair, Dipper could have sworn he saw Dib slink by. Dropping her hands as he paled, he frantically looked around the dance floor. 

            “Whoa, dude, you okay?”

            Wendy’s voice was far away as Dipper pushed through groups of people, dread filling him as he looked desperately. His heart pounded, eyes peeled for the ends of his ragged black coat, a flash of movement, anything, but he’d lost him. Sweat dripped down his forehead, though it was exacerbated by the heat of the people dancing around him. He pushed past a few more partygoers, ignoring their annoyed gasps as he knocked into bodies, unable to even say sorry as he fruitlessly searched for Dib. Was he going insane? Just psyching himself out? 

            His eyes widened as he saw the ends of a black coat, weaving through the crowd frantically as he spilled someone’s drink to catch up with the tall, black-haired man. 

            “You!” Dipper grabbed his shoulder, regret instantly filling him as a bewildered man in a vampire costume turned around, meeting his gaze. The silence between them felt like it lasted for eons.

            “Do I know you?” The vampire asked awkwardly.

            “Oh, um, sorry… I thought you were a... friend.” He nearly cringed saying the word. He whipped around to go check on Mabel and Pacifica and his heart dropped into his stomach. 

            There he was.

            He wasn't wearing black at all. In the blacklight overhead, the stunning white costume looked practically luminescent.

            It felt almost like the crowd parted for Dib, making way for him as he stalked forward in a ragged white dress, adorned with tattered black lace. A large black bow cinched his waist, and white gloves covered most of his arms, leaving his shoulders bare. A little tiara sparkled in his hair, catching in the light as he came closer and closer. A grim and dreamlike visage, streaked with dark red. Blue and pink lights glinted off of his circular glasses. Dipper was frozen until Dib grabbed him by the waist, yanking him close with a smile. 

            The blood that ran down the front of his dress was still fresh, Dipper could feel it seeping into his shirt. The feeling of it seemed to snap him back into reality, as he finally managed to speak. 

            "You... you're wearing a dress," he said, dumbfounded.

            "Yes. I am," Dib responded simply, smirking slightly at the reaction.

            “What are you doing here?!” Dipper’s voice shook as he tried to struggle out of Dib’s grasp. The boy’s bloody arm only tightened around him as he squirmed. 

            “Are you a fucking puppy?” Dib giggled, reaching up to ruffle his hair, to which Dipper grabbed his wrist, trying not to shake. 

            “Answer me. Why are you here?!”

            “Wanted to party, and you just so happen to be here as well, so that sweetened the deal. Happy Halloween, babe.” Dib squeezed his waist, and Dipper shuddered as he felt the blood soak through his own shirt in spots. 

            “Whose blood is that?” Dipper’s heart pounded. He knew it was real, the metallic stench made him dizzy. 

            “No one important.” Dib’s eyes shone gleefully. “For all you know, it’s fake. It is a costume, after all.”

            “Of what?” Dipper asked. To him, Dib just looked like a murderous psychopath, except now he was wearing a strange dress.

            “Jennifer from Jennifer’s Body, duh.” Dib rolled his eyes. “It’s a good movie. We should watch it sometime.” His smile widened, making Dipper shrink back. 

            “Okay…” Dipper said noncommittally. Just don’t piss him off. Seems like he's in a good mood. 

            Dipper was caught off guard by Dib forcefully pulling him onto the dance floor, the lights dizzying as Dipper tried to reorient himself and find Mabel and Pacifica. He stumbled along with Dib until they settled in a small open space, Dib grabbing his hands to dance. Dipper shuddered, feeling blood smear against his skin as Dib rocked them to the beat of the song.

            “You know, I was thinking it would be fun to choose one of these idiots to kill,” Dib purred in his ear, the heat of his breath making Dipper shudder. “Halloween night, perfect time for a gruesome murder, don't you think? Atmospheric.”

            “Wh—we had a deal! I-I’m paying attention to you, right?!” Dipper felt Dib’s arms tighten around his waist.

            “Yeah, but that was about your friends, I said nothing about not killing strangers,” he said playfully, pulling away from Dipper and watching panic flash through his green eyes.

            “Well, what if these are all my friends?” Dipper defended weakly.

            “Oh, sure, because you sure seem like Mr. Popular over here.” Dib snorted. “You’re the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met, aren’t you supposed to be the smart guy?” He watched in amusement as Dipper glared at him.

            “I—”

            “I know you’re a fuckin' loser,” Dib teased, suddenly grabbing his chin with a bloody glove. “The only reason you’re here is because of your sister. Without her, you’d probably rarely leave the house.” Dipper felt disgust creep down his spine, the blood on Dib’s hand hadn’t fully dried and would likely leave sticky red fingerprints on his cheeks. “You can’t even argue with me.”

            Dipper squirmed, much to Dib’s satisfaction. He released Dipper’s face, the boy almost immediately jerking back. 

            “Fear looks so good on you,” Dib purred. 

            Dipper felt his cheeks heat up. What the fuck? What the hell was that even supposed to mean?! Dipper felt like he was being jerked around like a puppet on a string by Dib, like he was nothing but a toy to be played with. Dib dragged him along, refusing to let even a centimeter of space come between them as he danced. Dipper tried to keep an eye on the crowd, scanning the room for his sister. 

            “You’re not paying attention to me…” Dib cooed in a sing-song voice, fingers digging into his back and making Dipper squirm. 

            “S-sorry, sorry…” He brought his gaze back to Dib.

            “What are you even looking for? I’m right here. Your sister and all your friends are safe, right?” He smiled at Dipper, a bit too wide for it to look natural. 

            “I, uh…” Dipper shrugged noncommittally. “Nothing.”

            “Why do I always fall for the paranoid lunatics?” Dib sighed wistfully, making Dipper stiffen. Fall for?! What the hell—

            A shrill scream pierced through the air, shattering the tension between him and Dib for a brief second. Dipper's eyes widened and his blood turned to ice. A few people around them craned their heads curiously at the noise. Did someone just find a dead fucking body somewhere—?!

            Dipper tried to turn and dart off in the direction it came from, but Dib caught him, forcibly whipping him back around to face him. Dipper’s head spun, and he didn’t even realize Dib had grabbed him by the jaw until he was pressing a firm kiss to his lips. Dipper briefly froze, then struggled, before Dib pushed him away. The sickening warmth of blood on his shirt became a cold, wet stain now that Dib wasn’t pressed against him. 

            “Guess that’s my cue to leave. See ya, puppy!” He giggled, wiggling his fingers and slipping away into the crowd before Dipper could catch his bearings. He stood as people rushed past him, jostling him a little as everyone went to find the source of the blood curdling shrieks, which sounded far away in Dipper’s ears. 

            Dib kissed him. 

            Dipper felt his stomach churn. 

            Dib kissed him!

            His lips felt numb. 

            Dib—

            Dipper was forced back into reality as someone knocked into him rather harshly, throwing him off balance and causing him to stumble. Shit, what happened?! Where were Mabel and Pacifica?! Dipper started running in the direction of the screams, nearly tripping as he pushed past people who were gathered around a closet in one of the bedrooms.

            He could smell the blood before he saw it, the stench making him dizzy as he got to the front. His eyes followed the trail of blood as he braced himself for the worst. 

            It was the mangled body of a pig, brutally slaughtered and oozing blood onto the expensive mahogany floor. Dipper looked up, unable to stare at the gruesome scene before him, eyes landing on Mabel and Pacifica. He felt relief flow through him, at least they were safe. His sister’s face was buried in Pacifica’s chest as she looked away in horror, and Dipper felt a pang of pity in his chest, he knew the sight was all the more horrifying for his sister.

             Fucking Dib, he thought, anger flaring in his chest as he weaved his way over to his sister and friend, pulling them away from the carnage. Ruining our party, making Mabel cry, fucking... fucking kissing me! What the fuck was his problem?! He tried not to let his frustration seep through to his face as he consoled his sister.

            “What an awful prank.” He patted her shoulder, doing his best to dampen the venom in his voice. 

            “Yeah, it’s awful! Do you know how expensive that flooring is?! Ugh!” Pacifica gestured wildly in her rage. “God, the party is ruined! We worked so hard on this!” Mabel hiccuped a sob.

            Dipper sighed, looking at Pacifica sympathetically. He couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of guilt for this, technically he was the reason Dib had shown up in the first place. He pulled off the puppy ears headband, glaring at it before tossing it on the table. 

            “C’mon, Mabel, let’s get some water.” He pulled her away from Pacifica, who went to calm the guests. He led Mabel to the kitchen, the red plastic taped over the lights in the room feeling less festive and more mocking given the circumstances. He got a glass of water for her before gently placing an arm around her shoulder. He could feel his sibling trembling beneath his touch, guilt feeling like rocks in his stomach. “I’m sorry.” He sighed.

            “It’s not your fault.” Mabel hiccuped as Dipper handed her the water. She took a sip, and Dipper grabbed a napkin off the counter to dry her tears. He almost wanted to argue that yes, it was his fault, but he couldn’t risk dragging Mabel into this. “I just don’t get why someone would do something like this!”

            “I know…it’s terrible.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Did…did you have a good time with Pacifica at least?” he asked, trying to get her mind off the gruesome scene she’d just witnessed. Mabel played with the tulle of her tutu. 

            “Yeah…” She lowered her voice, glancing at the doorway to make sure Pacifica wasn’t eavesdropping. “She looked so pretty, and she put her hands on my hips when we were dancing.” Her cheeks darkened in the red light, and Dipper gave her a smile.

            “Oooh, leave room for Jesus!” Dipper teased, making a smile quirk at her lips as she sniffled. She leaned against the counter and put her water down, letting out a shaky breath.

            “I just hope she doesn’t hate me after this.”

            “What? No! C’mon, Mabes, Paz isn’t an asshole.” Dipper tensed, looking at her with concern. “I mean, she is, but not like that.”

            “Hey!” Mabel whined, shoving his shoulder and lifting the water to her lips again. She wiped her eyes with the napkin and frowned at the makeup smeared on it. Dipper felt another wave of guilt, her smeared mascara a painful reminder of what Dib had done. 

            He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, making annoyance irritate his already frayed nerves. Dib was proving to be a much bigger problem than he initially expected. 

            He brushed his fingertips over his lips and frowned. A much bigger fucking problem indeed.

Chapter Text

            Dib pulled the glass sliding doors open with perfect silence that came with practiced ease. He slid through the gap and into the dark apartment like a shadow, and shut the doors behind him. Dipper’s apartment, quiet and still. The boy was asleep and tucked into bed, Dib knew, making this as easy as always, but...

            For the first time, Dib felt... uneasy, being in this space. The air felt heavy, almost, though the familiar dark living room remained the same as it always was. The saggy couch and television to his immediate right, the messy desk on the far left of the room, and the open kitchen straight ahead. It was all empty, but he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick with the odd feeling that he was being watched.

            He frowned. This was not right. He wasn't the one who was supposed to feel nervous. He was the stalker, the killer, the one in control. He narrowed his eyes and ran his fingers over the cold handle of his switchblade that nestled in his coat pocket. 

            Silent as a ghost, he moved into the kitchen and disappeared into the hallway to the left. The bathroom door on the right was open, as was the door to Dipper’s bedroom directly across from it. The curtains on Dipper's bedroom window were open, casting pale white moonlight through the doorway and into the hall. He peeked his head in the bathroom, using the dim glow to scan the small room for Dipper’s familiar shape. He saw nothing but his own shadow stretching across the floor and shower curtains.

            He moved back to Dipper’s bedroom doorway and peered inside, expecting to see the dark haired boy curled up in his blankets, sound asleep, as he had seen many times before.

            The bed was empty.

            Dib's eyes widened in shock. He was definitely supposed to be here. He saw him on the cameras before he came over...didn't he? His memory seemed strangely fuzzy.

            "Fuck. What the fuck." Dib swore under his breath, stepping into the room and giving it another once over. Where is he?

            He whipped around and sped back down the hallway, mind reeling. He definitely didn't see him anywhere in the rest of the house, there was no way he could've missed him! Did he leave? I should go down and check if his car is still parked—

            Dib froze.

            Dipper sat calmly at the kitchen island, watching Dib. He was in his typical baggy t-shirt Dib knew he wore to sleep, and his pale, freckled forearms that rested on the counter shone in the dim light cast through the glass doors across the living room. His face was strangely expressionless. Dib frowned and met his gaze, saying nothing.

            Dipper stood and rounded the island, coming to stand a few feet in front of Dib, his face cast in shadow. Dib stepped back farther into the kitchen, distantly aware that this was the exact way he had pinned Dipper that first night they spoke, though the positions were now reversed.

            Dib stood his ground and hardened his expression. He put on a smirk and placed a hand on his hip.

            "Look who's awake! It's way past your bedtime," he said dryly. Dipper didn't respond. He didn't react at all, in fact. The lack of fear coming off the boy was making Dib more uneasy than he had felt in a long time. He shifted and stared back into the dark green of Dipper’s eyes. 

            "Tell me something, Dib," Dipper said slowly after a long, tense silence. Dib furrowed his brow at the neutral curiosity in his voice and cleared his throat.

            "Um, yeah? What you wanna know, babe?" he responded uncertainly.

            "You want to kill me.” Dipper’s head slightly tilted to the side, his dark glittering eyes unreadable as he passed his tongue over his lips. “Why don’t you?”

            Dib swallowed, the creak of floorboards alerting him to the fact Dipper had taken a step closer. 

            “Is it because you’re not done?” The boy leaned forward, studying Dib intently. Dib curled his lip in a sneer, opening his mouth, but he was cut off. Dipper snapped to stand back upright, pressing his index fingers and thumbs together. “You want me to be your last, don’t you? The finale?” 

            “So what if I do?” Dib narrowed his eyes at Dipper in the dim kitchen. He leaned back against the counter, attempting to look nonchalant, though he could feel his shoulders tightening as Dipper spoke. Dipper’s eyes raked up and down his form, pinning him in place with his gaze as he stepped closer and closer to Dib.

            “Show me.” His voice dropped, laced with what sounded like a perverse form of excitement, akin almost to lust. “What’s your grand plan for me, Dib? What does your best kill look like?” Dib could see how disheveled Dipper looked, the green in his eyes complimented the dark purple beneath them from lack of sleep—his doing. 

            “It’s a… long term plan,” Dib replied, his voice much smaller than he had intended. Dipper leaned back.

            “Okay then, show me what the end of that plan looks like.” The glint of a blade nearly startled Dib, as Dipper held out one of his kitchen knives for him to take. He glanced back at the knife block behind him, noticing the boy had grabbed it while he had leaned close, frowning as he realized how easily Dipper could have caught him off guard then and possibly killed him. Redirecting his eyes back to the knife, he shakily took the handle, feeling its weight as Dipper let go of the blade. “Pretend I’ve finally snapped. You’ve driven me off the deep end, I’m so sleep deprived I can’t fight back. I’m all yours.” His voice became a purr. 

            “I can’t pretend,” Dib growled, clutching the knife, “I’m not going to rush any part of this. It’s no fun if I don’t get to watch it all happen.” Dipper let out an annoyed sigh. 

            “Fine then. I guess I’ll have to give you no choice,” he said, and before Dib had a chance to react, he surged forward, making Dib gasp as he was shoved into the counter behind him. He let out a grunt of pain, his boney hips were crushed against the countertop as Dipper pressed his full weight into him. 

            Dib pushed the boy away, a growl leaving his throat while he grabbed Dipper by the shirt and yanked him, throwing him over the counter. The knife block rattled, and Dipper shot his hand out to grab one. Without thinking, Dib slammed the knife in his grip down, the blade stabbing straight through Dipper’s hand and sinking into the cheap wood beneath it.

            “You’re ruining it!” Dib exclaimed, the statement coming out more as a petulant whine than a threat. He watched Dipper’s pale fingers twitch, though strangely, no sound escaped his mouth. 

            “Then give me what I want,” Dipper replied after a moment, his voice steady. “Show me the grand kill you think I’m worthy of.” 

            Dib hesitated for a moment and Dipper laughed, sending irritation through his body, fingers twitching around the handle of the knife.

            “Why do you suddenly want me to kill you?!” he spat. “It’s no fun if you don’t fight! That’s why I chose you! You—there’s something in you.” He leaned back, ripping the knife from Dipper’s hand with a twisted crunch of bones and sinew. “Play along with my vision and you’ll get to see the finale—when I say it’s ready.”

            Dipper lifted himself from the countertop, supporting himself with his uninjured hand as he turned around to face Dib. His expression was the same as it was before, reflecting none of the agony Dib expected. Slowly, shakily, he lifted his hand to cup Dib’s cheek, the stench of the blood gushing from the wound making Dib’s head spin. It was hot and slick against his skin, and he shivered as blood began to drip down his face in streams, gathering at his jaw and collarbones. 

            “You chose me, Dib,” Dipper murmured. “But the reasons you chose me are the same reasons I’m going to make this very, very difficult.”

            “I like a challenge.”

            “I know. You’re so painfully bored, aren’t you?” His voice was dripping with saccharine fake pity, and he tilted his head before clicking his tongue. The slight movement made Dib aware of the stickiness of the blood against his skin. 

            “I’m making my own entertainment.”

            “Mmh,” Dipper hummed. Dib expected him to drop his hand from his face, but instead, he was pulled, their lips colliding in a messy kiss. Dib certainly didn’t mind, pressing closer to the boy and pushing his tongue past his chapped lips, fighting for control—before he tasted blood. 

            “Huh—?” He was cut off by a wave of it flooding his mouth as he pulled away, coughing from the harsh metallic taste and drooling blood all over himself. 

            “Wh—what the fuck?” He lifted his head to look at Dipper, eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. 

            Dark blood poured from the boy’s mouth, running over his lips and down his chin like a waterfall. Dipper’s stomach sliced open before his eyes and he slid down the cupboards to the ground. His guts spilled out and made a wet noise as he hit the floor, squirming and pulsing in his lap and staining his jeans. Dipper coughed, wiping his mouth before lifting his head, locking his gaze with Dib’s. His lips quirked into a smile, and Dib was once again overwhelmed with blood filling his own mouth. A surprised noise escaped him as he doubled over and watched the dark, almost black, fluid spill to the floor beneath him, spattering all over his shoes.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Dib choked as he woke up, disgust filling him when he felt the drool soaked into his pillowcase below his cheek. He brought a shaky hand to his face as he sat up, trying to calm his breathing while he looked around his large, dim room.

             Dipper Pines has really gotten in your head, huh? He thought to himself as he wiped his cheek. Of course he has, how couldn’t he? Dib sighed dreamily as he thought of the boy, before clearing his throat and perking up. Glancing at the clock, an idea formed in his head when he saw the time. He hummed to himself, pleased, throwing the covers to the side and getting up, going to go shower and brush his teeth. He’d decided he had a date, he needed to look good. Especially when that date was Dipper Pines.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Dipper picked up his backpack, letting out a sigh as the weight landed on his already knotted and stressed shoulders. He had an essay due tomorrow and a twenty page reading to do, maybe he could get away with doing the essay tomorrow night…it was due the minute before midnight. He shuffled out of the lecture hall, still trying to organize how to do his homework in his head, before an (unfortunately) familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts. 

            “Hey, cutie, how was class?” Dib asked as he appeared by his side, seemingly from nowhere. Dipper tried to hide the flinch of surprise that jolted through him. 

            “Um, fine…what are you doing here?” he asked, hoping he didn’t come off as accusatory. How Dib even had the guts to show his face on campus—where he had committed a fucking murder—was beyond Dipper, maybe he was just stupid, or insane. Glancing at Dib’s face for a split second, Dipper concluded insanity. 

            “Well, I remember I said we should watch Jennifer’s Body sometime, and today seemed like a great day, since I'm not doing anything and you get out of class so early,” Dib replied, excitement glimmering in his amber eyes.

            Dipper felt a chill go down his spine, Dib knew his class schedule already?

            “I have a lot of homework…” he mumbled, stomach twisting. He just wanted Dib to leave him alone. 

            “Aww, but you can do the essay tomorrow night! Plus, you’re a speed reader, it’ll be fine.” He waved his hand dismissively, and Dipper’s eyes widened. What the fuck.

            “Um, I’m not really in the mood for horror…” Dipper said, which wasn’t even a lie, the image of the dead pig at Pacifica’s party was still quite fresh in his mind. 

            “We can watch something else then!” Dib suggested, clasping his hands behind his back innocently. Dipper adjusted his bag on his shoulders, clearly Dib wasn’t going to let this go. 

            He uncomfortably slowed his pace as he approached the crosswalk that led off-campus, gaze landing on the memorial honoring the student who had died there a few weeks back. The slowly rotting flowers and crosses were stacked up a couple hundred feet away, and here he was standing next to the murderer who had killed her. It felt like Dib might be gloating, though he paid no mind to the crime scene he’d left behind, his attention glued to Dipper. 

            “I guess we could watch something like…quick…” Dipper caved to Dib’s persistence, the very real possibility that he could get violent dawning on him. The clicking of the crosswalk sign alerted him they should move, and he and Dib started crossing the street. He could feel sweat soaking into his shirt against his back, and he wished he had taken his jacket off before walking home. 

            “So, chemistry? How’s that going?” Dib asked as he put his hands in his pockets. 

            “Fine…”

            “Do you not like it or something?” He tilted his head. “You seem like the kinda nerd who would like that sorta thing,” he teased. The worst part about this was that Dib sounded genuinely curious, which made Dipper’s skin prickle.

            “I-I mean, it’s like, a required course…It doesn’t have anything to really do with my major so, um, I mean…” He shrugged awkwardly. 

            “You didn’t meet with your sister this morning for coffee,” Dib said. “What’s wrong?”

            Anger flared in Dipper’s chest, and before he could think twice, he stopped and turned to look at Dib.

            “What do you think is wrong, asshole?! You ruined my sister’s Halloween party with your stupid stunt, and you really upset Mabel! Pigs are her favorite animal, and you probably already knew that, considering you’re fucking stalking me!” he snapped, wishing looks could kill. Dib actually looked surprised at Dipper’s outburst for a moment, before pouting. 

            “Well, I didn’t wanna kill a person for the blood on my costume! I knew that would make you mad!” he said, and Dipper couldn’t tell if he was mocking him or not. “I thought I was being nice, babe.” 

             Babe. There it was again. 

            “Why do you keep calling me that?”

            "What?" Dib blinked.

            "Why," Dipper said slowly through gritted teeth, "-do you keep calling me that?"

            “Because you’re cute!” Dib grinned at him. “And you intrigue me, babe.” That time he said it was just to annoy the other boy. 

            “Wh—but why?!”  

            Dib paused for a moment before snorting, holding back a laugh. “Are you seriously this dense?”

            Dipper just stared at him, confused. 

            “Babe, come on, you’re smarter than this. Can you seriously not tell I like you? Why the hell would I follow you around and ask you to watch movies with me and go to dances with you?” He pulled his hands from his pockets, and Dipper winced for just a moment, expecting a knife, before his jaw dropped. 

            “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dipper watched as Dib shifted his weight, rolling his eyes. 

            “Why would I put so much effort into you if I was just going to kill you? I would have done that already! I wouldn’t waste camera equipment and time and effort that I could use having more fun killing people if I didn’t like you, idiot!” 

            Dipper swallowed, staring at him in disbelief. “You’re fucking insane.”

            “Yeah, and?” He grinned, stepping closer to Dipper, who backed up instinctively and hit a chain link fence, stopping him in place. Dib closed the distance and put a hand up onto the fence next to Dipper's head, effectively trapping him there with his body. The extra height from Dib’s boots made Dipper feel even smaller under his intense gaze; he was so close he had to look up to meet it.

            “Why would you think I’d ever wanna date you?!” Dipper tried to hide the tremor in his voice. 

            “You said it yourself. I’m insane.” He giggled, unsettling Dipper even more. “I’ll get you to like me, don’t worry. I can tell you’re a freak.”

            “Calling me a freak is not going to make me like you.” He crossed his arms. “You’re really shit at flirting.”

            “Then it looks like I need to practice, huh?” 

            “Go to hell,” Dipper snapped impulsively. He knew he shouldn’t risk pissing Dib off, but the fact Dib had the audacity to think he’d like him was overriding his common sense. 

            “Glady, as long as you’re there to keep me company!” He smirked, before grabbing Dipper’s wrist, who instinctively yelped and tried to pull away. “C’mon babe, we have a movie to watch. You have lots of homework, don’t you?”

            Dipper’s heart slammed against his ribs as Dib pulled him along the sidewalk, the autumn leaves crunching beneath his feet. Dib’s hands were cold, colder than the air around them, which just added to Dipper’s discomfort as they walked under the underpass on the way to his apartment. God, he wished Dib had never found out where he lived. 

            They arrived at his place a few minutes later, Dib was a fast walker and practically dragged Dipper behind him. Dipper put his backpack down next to the door while Dib walked into his apartment like he owned the place. He watched him rummage around in the cupboard until he found a box of popcorn with a single pack left in it, dumping it on the table with a smile.

            "Wow, you actually have food for once.”

            “I think that’s expired,” Dipper said sheepishly. 

            “Microwave popcorn expires? News to me,” he said as he tossed it in the microwave and hit the popcorn button. “Guess we’ll find out.” 

            Dipper watched Dib walk over to the couch, lingering near the door as if this wasn’t his own apartment. The boy grabbed his laptop, and to his horror, entered his password and unlocked it. This knocked Dipper out of his slight stupor, as he walked over. 

            “Hey! How the fuck do you know my password?!”

            Dib gave him a look. 

            “Why wouldn’t I know it?” He snickered. Dipper sighed as Dib pulled up a movie pirating website, and Dipper decided he might as well help get this over with faster by plugging in the HDMI cable to his laptop. The popcorn was slowing down its popping, so he went to grab it before it burned.

            “So, what do you wanna watch? I know you aren’t in the mood for horror. So unfortunate.”

            Dipper brought the bag over carefully, dropping it on the glass coffee table before stiffly sitting next to Dib on the couch. He frowned and dropped a hoodie laying over the armrest onto the floor. He really needed to do laundry soon.

            “We can just watch Jennifer’s Body, I don’t care.” He didn’t want to waste time picking a different movie. The sooner this was over, the better.

            “You’re sure?” Dib tilted his head, and it made Dipper sick that he seemed to actually care. 

            “Yeah.” He leaned back on the couch, tugging at his hair. 

            “Alright. It’s super good, you’re gonna love it.” Dib grinned and grabbed the popcorn, settling next to Dipper, who stiffened when he leaned against him. 

            Nearly two hours later, Dipper had never been more relieved to see credits roll. Dib was right, it was a good movie, if a little goofy, but the gore had made Dipper wince more than usual. Dib stretched, falling in Dipper’s lap and grinning up at him.

            “Told you it was a good movie.”

            “Yeah…” Dipper shifted, praying Dib would sit back up and get his head out of his lap. 

            “Well, I guess I need to go, huh? I don’t wanna distract you from your homework,” he said with a pout. Dipper swallowed and nodded. 

            “Yeah, haha…” Dipper bit at his lip, pulling some of the dry skin off, a metallic tinge of blood hitting his tongue after a second. 

            “Well, good luck with that, babe.” Dib grinned, sitting up and pressing his lips against Dipper’s before the boy could react or move. He let out a startled mmph!, jerking away and narrowing his eyes. 

            “You’re cute when you’re mad.” Dib grinned, booping his nose before getting up, adjusting his coat and running a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” He waved, before going for the fire escape, making Dipper groan in annoyance. Why the fuck couldn’t he just use the fucking door?!

            Dipper shut the glass door to the balcony, staring blankly at his empty apartment for a moment as he leaned against the glass. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he realized Dib was probably going to be watching him over the cameras, and his eyes darted to the corners of the room. 

            He grabbed his laptop, changing every password he could think of before opening his school portal and downloading the reading he had to do, grimacing when he realized it was thirty pages rather than twenty. He glanced at the clock, it was only half past six, so it wasn’t like he was on a time crunch, but still. Dib had wasted quite a bit of his time. He sat down, skimming the article to judge how dense it was, when a Discord notification popped up in the corner of his screen. He welcomed the distraction, telling himself he would just reply and get back to work.

            Gaybel: hey bro bro, u doin okay?

            Dip: I could ask the same to you :(

            Gaybel: hey, dont change the subject, i asked first

            Dipper sighed, staring at his screen.

            Dip: idk. im fine. lots of homework, sorry i couldn’t meet u this morning

            Gaybel: don’t worry, i understand!! 

            Gaybel: just wanted 2 make sure u were feelin okay

            Dip: yeah, just stressed yk

            Dip: wbu?

            He wanted the conversation off of him. He didn’t know how to explain his situation to Mabel right now.

            Gaybel: i’m missin my brother, damn it!

            Dipper smiled softly. Despite the stress, Mabel was always there for him, even if he wasn’t being the most cooperative.

            Dip: we can meet tomorrow, i promise!

            Gaybel: you better >:[

            Dip: i have a lot of reading to do to do though

            Dip: ttyl?

            Dipper leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes and switching the tab back to his reading. He briefly considered just giving up and waking up early to read, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to drag himself out of bed to do that. He pulled out his notebook, flipped to a blank page, and clicked his mechanical pencil to start writing down notes, though he didn’t process much of it. Hopefully it wouldn’t end up being very important in class tomorrow. 

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            Dipper sat down in front of Mabel, setting her frappuccino (with three extra shots of espresso) down in front of her as she looked up from her sketchbook. 

            “Hey!” Mabel said excitedly, putting her pencil down as she grabbed the drink. Dipper sat down across from her, wrapping his hands around his own drink, warming them in the chilly fall air. It was almost too cold to sit outside today, they would probably have to start meeting inside the café soon.

            “Hey.” Dipper smiled at her as he pulled his jacket from his bag and put it on.

            “I missed you so much on Wednesday—I had to pay for my own coffee!" she said dramatically, placing a hand to her forehead. 

            “Oh, poor you.” Dipper laughed as he took a sip of his latte. Mabel shut her sketchbook, leaning forward and holding her face in her chin as she stared at him with sparkling green eyes.

            “Sooooo…” She giggled. Oh no, Dipper recognized that look on her face. “Who was that boy at the Halloween party?”

            Dipper stiffened, biting the inside of his lip. She saw them together?  

            “Uhhh, no one. He just came up to me and we danced or whatever.” Dipper shrugged, trying to act natural. Wasn’t that something that just happened at parties? Drunk people dancing together for a night and then never seeing each other again?

            “Did you get his number or anything?” Mabel asked, clearly not willing to let this go. She had been hell bent on getting her little brother a boyfriend pretty much since they came out…five years ago. Dipper sipped on his drink as he realized he hadn’t had a partner—boyfriend or otherwise—in a long fucking time, and—oh hell no. He stopped that train of thought immediately, Dib didn’t count, despite being the closest thing to a partner he had right now.

            “No. We just danced for a bit. I don’t even think I got the guy’s name,” he replied, hoping she would drop it.

            “Did you think he’s cute, at least?” She pressed, a giddy smile on her face. “Maybe I could ask Pacifica for the guest list and we could find him!” Dipper could practically see the gears turning in her head, coming up with ridiculous ways to wingman for him.

            “No!” Dipper exclaimed, before clearing his throat. “No, it’s fine dude. That’d be creepy and weird! Stalking people is not the answer!” He crossed his arms, the irony of this situation grating at his nerves. Maybe Dib did deserve a taste of his own medicine, but knowing him he’d just rub it in Dipper’s face, taking it as evidence that Dipper really did like him, which he did not. He also couldn’t risk Mabel getting anywhere near Dib. Ever. 

            “Ugh, fine. But if I see him on campus I am so going to bug him about you,” Mabel declared. Dipper could feel his shoulders start to tense, he needed to get the topic off of Dib, and fast, lest he accidentally spill something he shouldn’t.

            “That’s still creepy and weird.” Dipper huffed.

            “I’m creepy and weird.” Mabel stuck her tongue out at him. Dipper almost scoffed, like she knew what creepy and weird really meant. His eyes flicked to her sketchbook, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table..

            “What were you drawing?” Dipper asked, sitting up a bit. 

            “Don’t change the subject!” Mabel gave him a pout before opening her sketchbook to show off the sketch she was working on. Dipper smiled at her.

            “And you think I need a boyfriend?” He snorted, pointing at the concept art Mabel was making for her fashion design class, all of which had a familiar blonde as the model. “You’re down atrocious, Mabel.”

            Mabel flushed, covering the page with her hand defensively. “What! She’s a good model, okay?”

            “Oh, I’m sure you think that.” Dipper laughed. “Those are really nice outfits, though. Are you planning on making one?”

            Mabel’s eyes suddenly widened. “Ohmygosh, Dipper, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that!” She squealed. 

            “Think of what?”

            “Making her something to wear!” Mabel pointed at her sketches. “I could give it to her as a gift, I’m a genius!”

            “Hey, don’t I get credit for this wonderful idea?” Dipper whined playfully.

            “Nope! It’s a Mabel original now!” She hugged her sketchbook to her chest, a big smile on her face.

            “Maybe this’ll give you an opportunity to actually confess, dorkus.” Dipper snorted, making Mabel glare at him. Her freckles were obscured by her blush, and she looked back down at the paper, muttering something.

            “What was that?” Dipper teased. “C’mon, the master matchmaker can’t matchmake herself?” He put his chin in his hand as he watched Mabel fluster. His sister grabbed her frappuccino, averting her eyes as she took a huge gulp of the drink.

            “OW! Brain freeze!” She whined, putting the drink down and rubbing her head. Dipper laughed, leaning back in his chair, no longer tense from the conversation. Mabel glanced at her phone, frowning when she saw the time.

            “Gotta go?” Dipper asked, noticing her face.

            “Unfortunately. My next class kinda sucks.” She sighed.

            “Which one?”

            “It’s one of my fundamentals of drawing classes, the professor is so mean! And not in like, a constructive criticism way, she makes comments that are just plain rude!” She put her sketchbook into her backpack.

            “Hey, there’s only a month and a half left of that class. You can do it.” Dipper reassured her.

            “Don’t remind me of the passage of time.” She laughed, giving him a smile. “See ya later.” She gently punched his shoulder as she walked past him, heading in the direction of the art building. Dipper watched her long, curly hair blow in the autumn wind, shivering a bit before turning back to his latte for warmth. He considered pulling out his laptop and getting some work done himself, but felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

            Dib: u don’t think im cute :((((((( u r so mean 2 me </3

            Dipper gritted his teeth in annoyance, whipping his head around to try and spot Dib’s lanky figure somewhere on the terrace. Turning back to his phone, he typed his reply, aggressively tapping the screen.

            Dipper: fuck you. where the fuck are you.

            Dib: :-) wouldnt u like 2 kno

            Dipper let out an annoyed growl, putting his phone down and grabbing his jacket to leave. He could only hope that Dib didn’t follow him home, he actually had homework tonight, and for once it wasn’t a lie to get Dib away from him. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he took one last glance behind his back before beginning to descend the stairs.

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            "Yes, Pacifica, I'm literally looking at it. It's still—" Dipper snapped into his phone. His head was bent sideways to hold it against his shoulder as his hands moved over his laptop keyboard.

            "Don't get bitchy with me, bitch " she snapped back, her voice crackling on the other line. "You're the one who called me because you couldn't figure your shit out. I told you which tab you need to go through. Click that first then scroll to the bottom."

            "Yeah, well, it's not my fault the Professor fucked this up so bad. They really need to give older professors lessons on how to use the damn class programs," Dipper grumbled. He heard Pacifica huff in agreement. He clicked a few buttons with his touchpad and exhaled. "Okay I think I've got it."

            "Great," Pacifica deadpanned. "Anyway, d'you need anything else, Dipstick? I have a nail appointment soon."

            "Course you do," Dipper mumbled.

            "What's that supposed to mean?" He could practically see the indignant hand on her hip. 

            "I'm good. Thanks, Paz." He chuckled.

            "Whatever. See you later, nerd," she said with no edge to her voice, before the line clicked dead. Dipper sighed and leaned back, setting his phone on the carpeted ground next to him. He sat criss crossed on a bean bag in his room, next to his overloaded bookshelf. 

            Normally he would do schoolwork at the desk out in his living room, but he didn't want to sit out there with his back to the room in case a certain someone came through the doors on his balcony. He groaned and rubbed his temples with a hand.

            He looked up from his monitor and screamed.

            Dib's liquid amber eyes stared directly at him from behind his circular frames from where he was crouched just a few feet from Dipper, just watching him. His elbows were propped on his knees and his neck craned forward to lay his chin in his hands. He blinked and smiled as Dipper yelled and nearly sent his laptop flying.

            "Hey, babe!" he said cheerfully, perking up at finally being acknowledged. "You'd think at some point you'd stop getting so surprised to see me." He laughed and Dipper glowered.

            "I am not in the mood for this today!" Dipper snapped at him, gathering his laptop back into his lap. 

            "College troubles?" Dib cooed sympathetically. Dipper glared at him. 

            "Something like that. I need to get this done."

            "That's fine!" Dib stood up suddenly, causing Dipper to flinch. "I just wanted to see you, anyway."

            "So..." Dipper eyed him warily. "You'll just be leaving then?" 

            "No, no!" Dib laughed and hopped backwards, falling onto Dipper’s bed with a whump. "Don't mind me, I'll just hang out for a bit!" 

            Dipper grimaced and watched Dib sit back up and stare at him expectantly. He... seemed like he really was just gonna stay away from him and watch. Creepy and annoying as it was, his grade couldn't afford the blow of turning this assignment in late. So he turned his attention back to his computer and the silence was broken by the clicking of his fingers moving across the keys.

            Dib eventually stretched out on Dipper's bed like a cat, his long limbs splaying out. His arms went under his chin and his feet in the air, criss crossing at the ankles. He watched Dipper intently where he sat with the laptop in his lap, slightly more tense and sunk into the beanbag than before.

            "You two hang out with that blonde girl a lot, huh?" Dib tilted his head and kicked his feet in the air. "Even one on one." 

            "Yeah," Dipper replied dryly, his eyes fixed on where his hands were flicking through emails. He couldn't fucking focus with this... guy in his fucking apartment. Dib pursed his lips, seemingly bored from the lack of response. He rolled onto his back, looking at Dipper upside down.

            "You two dated?" he asked matter-of-factly. Dipper blinked in momentary surprise and then scoffed. 

            "I don't really date people," he said pointedly, turning to fix a glare at Dib and then returning to his screen.

            "Hmm. I don't believe you." The bed squeaked as Dib sat up quickly and scooted to lean back against the headboard. 

            "I don't care if you do or not." 

            "You're too close," Dib continued, ignoring Dipper. "Too friendly, while still being bitchy with each other. It's weird. I don't like it." 

            Dipper rolled his eyes and closed his computer with a clack. 

            "We're childhood friends. It's not that weird." Dipper moved to exit the bedroom and Dib scrambled up to follow him, much to Dipper’s annoyance. "We've known Paz since we were like twelve when we visited Oregon for the summer." 

            Dib hummed thoughtfully, his interest seemingly piqued for the moment.

            "Oregon, eh? Portland or Salem?" 

            Dipper quirked a brow.

            "Neither," he replied, sitting down at a stool by his kitchen island and pulling out some notebooks from their haphazard stack. "It was a small, weird town in the middle of the woods. It's nice there."

            "That seems like your kind of place." Dib snickered and tugged on the sleeve of Dipper’s red flannel. Dipper gave him a sidelong glare.

            "I grew up in California, actually." His eyes returned to the open notebook page in front of him. 

            "Shit, me too! Funny how that works!" Dib grinned.

            "Funny," Dipper deadpanned. "I am going to work on homework now, kay?"

            Dib just hummed and began to stare around at the many cupboards in Dipper’s kitchen like any one of them could hold some fascinating prize.

            Dipper felt a headache coming on.

            Later, Dipper ran a hand roughly through his hair. He stared hard at the blank paper in front of him, biting the pen he held in his hand. It was supremely hard to concentrate on an assignment with a literal maniac digging through your kitchen cupboards directly behind you. For like fifteen minutes.

            "Seriously what the fuck are you doing?" Dipper finally snapped, slamming his hands down on the cold countertop of the kitchen island he sat at. He spun sideways on his stool to glare at Dib who looked innocently back at him.

            "Lookin' for a snack, I already said that. You really need to go shopping. Seriously, what the hell is this?" He held up a box with a single shitty crunch bar in it and shook it. "This is sad. Is this what college student food is? I thought it usually involved more ramen." 

            Dipper's hand shot out and snatched the box, setting it on the island. "Fuck off then. Go back to your own house, bastard."

            Dib smirked, pretending to consider it. "Hmmmm... nah." He turned and went over to the fridge, his heavy black boots thudding on the linoleum. Dipper openly groaned when Dib began to peer around inside his refrigerator. "Wow, pretty barren in here, still. No wonder you're so noodle-y." 

            "Wha—noodle—?" Dipper whipped his head to fix a glare at him. "Piss off. Like you're one to talk, you lanky creep." Dipper flipped him off and turned stubbornly back to the empty notebook page, putting the pen on the paper and not moving it. Dib snickered.

            "Ooh!" Dib exclaimed after a moment. Dipper ignored him. Dib pulled out a lone cheesestick that had been pushed to the back of a drawer. "Ta-da! A morsel of food. I think this was here earlier this week, though." He brandished it to Dipper, who did not respond. 

            Dib pouted and pulled out the stool next to Dipper, sitting down and loudly opening the wrapper. He began to peel off strips of the cheese and stick them in his mouth, watching Dipper slowly write a few sentences. 

            Dipper stuck his pen back in his mouth, forehead propped up on his other hand. Dib watched him relentlessly, Dipper could feel his eyes burning into the side of his head and it was driving him mad. It felt like it had been an eternity of this silence. He was now grinding his teeth on the plastic so hard it was clearly audible. 

            "Hey, y'know that's a really bad habit you—" Dib was cut off when Dipper spat out the pen suddenly, ink leaking out onto the page. 

            "This is the SECOND pen I've broken today!" Dipper snapped, clenching his fists in anger. He pointed directly in front of him to where the couch in the living room was. "If you're going to insist on just lurking in my house, do it somewhere that's not right fucking next to me. I need to focus." 

            Dib opened his mouth to say something.

            "NOW!" Dipper yelled. Dib snorted and relented, smirking as he slid off the stool and strode casually over to the couch. "And take your shoes off." Dipper grumbled while he searched in his bag for a new pen.

            "As you wish." Dib bowed and laughed at the glare it got him in return. He kicked his boots off and plopped onto the couch, stretching across it with his back leaned on the far armrest. In this position he was now directly facing Dipper, stretching his legs out comfortably across the length of the old couch in front of him.

            He folded his hands over his stomach and simply watched Dipper work on his paper for a while. His grumpy expression relaxed slightly as he worked, turning into one of determined focus. Dib cocked his head, memorizing every inch of his face. He really was pretty.

            Dib reached inside his trenchcoat and pulled out a small sketchpad and pencil. He leisurely began to draw, glancing up at Dipper frequently. He wanted to capture the tilt of his head as he worked, the way his soft brown hair hung over his forehead and cheek, the slight pout of his lips, the collarbone peeking out from beneath his shirt...all of it. He could capture him in this moment and keep it neatly tucked away. Too bad he couldn't do the same to the real thing. He chuckled at the thought. 

            "Now what?" Dipper looked up from his work, staring suspiciously at the book in Dib's hands. 

            "Hm?" Dib smiled brightly. "Nothing, don't mind me. Just admiring how pretty you are, babe." 

            Dipper frowned but was at a loss for how to respond so he muttered an insult under his breath and went back to work, visibly more self conscious of being watched so closely. 

            Dib contented himself in sketching the boy across the room from him multiple times, since he wasn't complaining. Finally, both boys were getting sore from their respective sitting positions and the sun was getting low in the sky, washing everything in a warm orange glow. Dipper set his pen down and stretched, groaning when he saw Dib watching him expectantly. 

            "You don't get bored, do you?" he grumbled. Dib shrugged. Dipper sighed and stood up. "Whatever, I'm running to the bathroom, don't fuck with anything." He glared and then padded off down the hall and into the door on the right. Dib watched him go. He tapped his pencil on his sketchpad absently for a moment before scribbling out a quick message and tearing out the page. He rolled off the couch and pulled his boots on, leaving the page on the countertop and disappearing out the back from his balcony, climbing down with practiced ease.

            Dipper washed his hands quickly and wiped the water on his face. He was feeling extremely uneasy. Dib was usually...more actively bothersome when he was here. He hadn't touched or threatened Dipper a single time today. He even casually called him 'pretty'. Dipper grimaced and dried his hands. He spoke loudly as he was coming back out from the hall. 

            "Ok, creep! I don't know what is up with you today but you need to get—" He stopped abruptly when he saw the couch empty. He glanced around. Dib was gone? No, he was probably still fucking with him. Dipper hurried backwards and into his room, whipping his closet door open and looking under his bed. 

            "What the fuck... Hey asshole, you better not still be here!" 

            He was met with silence.

            He cautiously made his way back out into the kitchen and checked his front door. Locked... and the patio sliding doors were closed. He looked sideways and noticed the small paper sitting next to his notebook. Dipper narrowed his eyes and picked it up.

            It was... a sketchy pencil drawing of himself, leaned over his notebook, his tongue slightly peeking out of his mouth like it did when he was concentrating. It honestly was a pretty decent drawing, he'd only ever seen drawings of himself from Mabel before. Dipper felt himself involuntarily flush with embarrassment that Dib had been drawing him looking like that. 

            There was a scratchy message next to the picture: Thanks for being a cute model for me, see you soon babe xoxo 

            Dipper grimaced and crushed the drawing in his fist, shoving it into his pocket. Fucking creep.

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            A few days later, Dipper was about to do laundry in the morning when he found the crumpled paper shoved into the pocket of a pair of jeans. After a moment of consideration, he unfolded it and tossed it into a drawer to be forgotten, but kept.

            That afternoon, after getting home from class, Dipper threw his backpack onto the floor and stretched his arms. He was hungry and tired, but relieved to see his apartment empty and quiet. Dib was in a... weird place in his mind, both an annoyance and a threat simultaneously. One moment he was acting almost normal, though stalker-ish and weirdly... affectionate, ugh. But then Dipper had to remind himself that this was someone who mutilated people while they were still alive, just for the fun of it. Dib was a threat to him and everyone he cared about, and he definitely didn't have the capacity to actually like Dipper as anything but a victim, despite his claims otherwise.

            Dipper took a shaky breath and shook his head to clear his thoughts. He dug through his cupboards aimlessly and was pleasantly surprised when he actually found... decent food? Food he really liked, in fact. He frowned, he definitely didn't remember buying any of it. He pulled out his phone and texted Mabel.

            Dipper: hey how much should I pay u back for these groceries? 

            Mabel: ??????  

            Dipper: just tell me how much  

            After a moment, two more messages from Mabel came in. 

            Mabel: I mean if u wanna pay me I wont say no ;p but I didnt get u anything bro bro 

            Mabel: r u finally losing ur marbles lmao  

            Dipper frowned at his screen. She didn't buy these? Then who the hell... Oh, son of bitch. His fingers flew furiously over his phone's keyboard.

            Dipper: bastard stop breaking into my fucking house  

            Dib: hehe ;3 u like the stuff I got u babe?   

            The message came back instantly. Dipper glowered. 

            Dipper: fuck you  

            Dib replied with a string of heart emojis. Dipper slammed the cupboard shut and swore to himself... and then opened it back up. He couldn't afford to replace all this himself and it was his favorites, after all... It was just food, even if it was bought by a psycho. 

            He sat down to eat in his living room and stared glumly at the TV. He was too fucking tired for this. He checked the time on his phone and decided he would go take a nap after eating, and hoped that he wouldn't wake up to Dib in his room. He frowned at the thought.

            Christ, what the fuck was his life becoming?

            He typed out a quick reminder on his phone to ask his landlord about fixing the lock on his balcony doors and walked back to his bedroom.

Chapter Text

            Dib watched from afar as the young man readjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder and shoved some papers farther inside. He had just left one of the dorm buildings on campus Dib had come to familiarize himself with, and knew that the man not much older than himself was now beginning the trek back to his own dorm, about a ten minute walk.

            Dib slipped out from the dark corner of the wall he was leaned against and darted silently under the light of a streetlamp. The sky was nearly dark, with just a touch of faded yellow on the horizon. Perfect for his hunt.

            He followed about a block or more behind his target, expertly keeping out of sight. People were sometimes more cautious around campus at night now that he had claimed some victims here, but men always seemed less bothered by a moonlit walk than women. They thought they had nothing to fear, after all. How wrong they were.

            Dib watched the young tawny haired man swipe his keycard and slip into the main entrance of Holmes Hall. Dib paused, but luck was with him as a girl in a hoodie approached the door soon after, shoving a pack of smokes into her pocket. Dib walked forward casually, as if he was simply approaching the door as well. He smiled and thanked her as she held it open for him. He heard it click shut and lock behind him and he grinned. 

            It was just too easy sometimes.

            He turned right and went up the elevator to the third floor, where he had overheard this man's room was. Dib also knew that his roommate would be out drinking tonight, as he did every Friday. And, conveniently, the dorm halls all required name tags to decorate each door. 

             Robert and Zeus. There you are.

            Dib cleared his throat and knocked. After a moment, the man opened the door a crack and peered out, hesitant.

            "Robert! You're Robert, right?" Dib grinned cheerily. The door opened wider and he watched confusion swim in the other man's eyes, behind his box frame glasses; the look someone makes when trying to recall if they know you from somewhere. "From Journalism with Mr. Schafer?" Dib offered.

            Recognition lit up in his eyes and he visibly relaxed. "Oh! Yes, uh, I'm sorry I don't seem to recognize you," he said.

            Dib chuckled, feigning embarrassment. "Oh! Sorry, not with me! I'm here on behalf of Dipper, trying to get notes for the last class." The man looked confused. "Dipper Pines?" Dib said.

            "Pines? Do you mean Mason?" 

            Dib's eyes lit up. Mason? Interesting. "Yup, that one! Can I come in?" 

            The man nodded and stepped aside, closing the door behind them. "Let me grab it real quick, sorry for the mess." 

            Dib took a step into the small room and looked around at the leftover pizza boxes stacked on top of a mini fridge, next to a pile of ashes. This place was even tinier and sadder than Dipper’s apartment. The man came back and Dib looked over his dress. Iron pressed brown slacks and a button up. Very academia. Dib smirked.

            "Here—" The man moved to hold out a notebook to Dib, but was cut off.

            "I think your outfit could use a little something, don't you think?" Dib said.

            "I...I'm sorry?" The man's brows furrowed and his hand dropped. Dib stepped up to him and looked him in the eyes, cocking his head to the side. He stood about the same height, but was broader in the shoulders and hips.

            "I know just the thing!" Dib grinned and, without warning, buried his switchblade hilt deep into Robert's throat. The man's eyes bulged wide in shock and a raspy choking sound escaped his mouth. Blood dribbled over his lips from where it was surely pooling and suffocating him. 

            Dib let go of the knife and calmly watched Robert stumble backwards, grasping weakly at the knife in his throat. Dib rolled up his sleeve and snapped a rubber glove over his hand. 

            Time to get to work.

            After his new project was done and displayed, Dib washed the blood off of his hands and knife, watching the red swirl down the drain with a satisfied smile. He adjusted his coat, twisted the doorknob open with his sleeve, and walked back to the elevator to go downstairs. He looked up at the camera and gave a wink, knowing that soon all of the footage would be 'mysteriously' corrupted. 

            It really was too easy.

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            Dipper rubbed at his eyes sleepily, trying to focus his vision on his laptop screen and notebook. It was near the end of class and he had not gotten much sleep last night, as was usual nowadays. Gentle chatter and the sound of keyboards filled the room as the students used the last of their allotted work time. 

            Dipper's mind was drifting. How could he focus on something as mundane as homework when there was this boy—this killer—basically courting him? Ugh, courting, Dipper frowned in disgust. Why couldn't he have been normal? Sure, he was kind of attractive, in a weird way, but... He was a fucking serial killer. Dipper still almost couldn't wrap his head around the fact. A serial killer in his life, in his home, texting him, watching movies with him, and kissing him, and—

            Dipper snapped out of his thoughts and focused in on a hushed conversation a few rows behind him.

            "Yeah, she was there when the police were cutting him down!" Dipper heard a girl say, eagerly telling a story to her friends. Dipper’s stomach dropped. "She told me she thought at first it was a suicide or something, but—"

            "Out of a third story window?" Another girl interrupted. "Who the hell would hang themselves out of a dorm window like that?"

            "I don't know, Clarissa, plenty of sickos I'm sure!" The original girl snapped back. "Anyway, that was when she noticed his shirt wasn't actually red, because the sleeves were white!" 

            A chorus of disgusted squeals erupted and the grip Dipper had on his pencil tightened. Red with blood, he thought.

            "That's not even the worst part!" she continued, "Then she saw this fleshy thing sticking out of his throat, like hanging onto his chest, and she didn't know what it was but someone next to her threw up and said it was his tongue! Hanging out of his neck!" 

            Her audience shrieked and recoiled, causing heads around the room to turn towards the commotion. 

            "Girls!" The professor raised his voice. "Your classmates are trying to work; something you should be doing." 

            "Sorry professor!" 

            "Sorry!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "God, that's fucking disgusting." 

            "I know, right?"

            Dipper snapped his laptop shut and gathered his things up into his backpack. He didn't want to hear another word. He walked home with his hands clenched around the straps over his shoulders, praying Dib wouldn't pop out of nowhere and join him. He didn't know what he'd do if he saw him right now.

            It had to have been him. There was no way it wasn't. Dib had killed someone on campus again, in a fucking dorm, no less. How the fuck was he getting away with it? Dipper had found him in, what, a few weeks? Surely there were cameras, witnesses, anything.

            And here he was. He knew everything. He had so many text messages, surely the police could do something with that, but... He was a coward. He couldn't ever put Mabel at risk like that. Dib knew her face, knew her name, and probably knew where the dorm she shared with Candy and Grenda was.

            He locked his apartment door behind him and threw his backpack to the ground. He looked around at his empty apartment, washed in the orange glow of late afternoon. He could see Dib everywhere, now. At the patio doors, in the kitchen, laying on his couch... This was too much for him, it was eating him alive, and he was so, so tired. Dipper shuffled into his room and flopped down onto his bed. 

            How long until Dib grew bored of him and made him a mutilated corpse for college girls to gossip over?

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            Dipper woke up in a dark room, tangled in blankets and uncomfortably warm. Sweat beaded on his skin and his breathing came heavy and quick. His eyes darted around the room in a panic, but it was only his bedroom, dark and dead silent. He sat up in bed, adrenaline and fear thrumming through his body, tightening his chest in an iron grip. Did I have a nightmare again? he thought. Why can't I remember it?

            The air felt suffocating. Something was wrong. He clamped a hand over his mouth to quiet his breathing and listened. The silence was deafening and only grew the pit of fear in his gut. His mind was running a million miles a minute, seeing movement in shadows where there were none. He didn't know if he was even awake. Could this still be a dream? A nightmare of that night he met Dib face to face, perhaps.

            His apartment felt like a hostile thing, watching him to see what he would do. He wasn't safe. He was exposed and in the dark, and something was here. He choked down a terrified whimper and froze completely rigid on his bed, slowly scanning the shifting darkness of his room. Was Dib here now? Dressed in all black and watching him from a dark corner? Or... from the slightly ajar door of his closet. He stared at the pitch black of the closet opening, like it might swallow him at any moment. Terror rooted him in place for a long few minutes.

             Is tonight the night I finally die?

            Dipper's heartbeat pounded in his ears as he forced his legs to move, though his mind screamed at him to not make any noise. He slid off the bed, ever so slowly and quietly, his eyes locked unblinking on the closet door. He shuddered and felt tears prick at his eyes. A trembling hand rested on the small doorknob and eased it open quietly.

            Nothing but clothes and boxes.

            He didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief, knowing the rest of the apartment was still dark and deadly. A tiny, barely audible creak sounded from out in the hallway and Dipper’s blood turned to ice. He waited, a clammy hand clamped over his mouth and eyes fixed to the open bedroom doorway. He trembled, imagining Dib hiding in the dark of his open bathroom across the way, watching him and waiting. Why did I leave that fucking door open again!? He cursed.

            Nothing rounded the corner. Nothing moved out from the inky blackness to seize him. He crept forward and scanned the bathroom from a distance before peeking down the hallway that led to his kitchen. He inched forward, into the hall, but never turning his back on it. The invisible eyes in the walls of his apartment followed him as he moved, watching. He wondered how ridiculous he must look to them, trembling like a terrified little rabbit.

            He snuck into the yawning doorway of his bathroom. His bare feet shifted over the linoleum and rug and he held his breath as he checked behind the door. Clear.

            He moved further in, creeping silently towards the bathtub and its half drawn curtain. Dread creeped up into his throat, but he gently nudged the curtain to peek into the shadows of the tub. He cringed at the shifting of plastic in the dead silent air, waiting with baited breath to see eyes staring back at him. The bath was empty. He went back, avoiding the reflection in his mirror for fear of what he might see standing behind him, and checked behind his bedroom door as well. Clear.

            He wished Mabel was here to reassure him of being awake and safe. He wished she was here to calm him down and turn on all the lights, before leading him through the house to check for intruders. They never found any, but Dipper still worried. He worried.

            He picked up a knife from his windowsill and moved down the hallway towards the pale shapes of the kitchen, inching along at a snail's pace to avoid creaky floorboards underfoot. Holding the blade made him feel a bit better, safer. It offered comfort, but Dipper didn't know if it would really help him in any real way, should it come to a fight. False security, like the lock on his front door when his balcony doors were busted. 

            His eyes were adjusting to the darkness better, now. He saw the grainy shape of his kitchen island ahead of him, and the counters and fridge to the left. He peered out the right side, his eyes dragging over the dark shape of his living room couch and the sliding doors. They were shut, with the curtains drawn. He huddled against the wall, trying to work up the courage to leave the supposed safety of the hall. 

             Creak.

            Dipper stopped breathing, his eyes going wide. That was on the other side of the wall, by my desk. He thought. Someone is there. He gripped his knife so tight it was beginning to hurt his hand and he crept forward, barely managing to keep his panicked breathing silent. He wanted to cry, he wanted to go running and screaming out the front door, he wanted to curl back up in bed and pretend it was all in his head. 

            He stepped out into the living room and looked towards his desk. Tears ran down his cheeks, hot like fire. 

            Someone was standing there, in the near pitch darkness. The shapes of his desk were vague, but just in front of it was the unmistakable block of darkness shaped like a person and a head, stopping over his papers. The hand with the knife shook and, to his horror, a terrified sob slipped out of his mouth. He clapped a hand over his mouth and stumbled backwards in shock, away from the figure. 

            He let out a scream as the back of his heel hit something and he fell to the floor. No, no, no, no, please! He screamed and scrambled back to his feet, whirling around with the small knife held out in front of him.

            The... the person had not moved. Not an inch. 

            Dipper stared at it for what felt like ages, before, trembling and near-hyperventilating, he shuffled sideways and clicked on the overhead light. He fell to his knees and dropped the knife, where it bounced harmlessly across the carpet.

            "FUCK!" Dipper let out a broken scream, clenching his hands in fists and punching the ground. Idiot, idiot... 

            A dark jacket hung over the chair in front of his desk, with his old trapper hat balanced on top. No one was actually there, no one at all. He folded forward and rested his head on the floor, crying softly. He was so tired of this. He was constantly having nightmares now, usually involving the familiar black shape of Dib chasing either him or Mabel through empty streets before catching up and sinking a cold blade into their bodies. 

             Ah. He remembered the dream he was having before waking up from his shitty nap. He was on his back with Dib on top of him, his glasses shining in the moonlight so much that Dipper couldn’t see his eyes. Dipper was trying and failing to push him off as a thin switchblade plunged into his stomach and chest over and over and over again. Thankfully, he couldn't feel pain in the dream, but there was an odd sensation of heat flowing out from his body. He felt sick to his stomach as he realized it was his blood, his life, spilling out of him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wondered if this helplessness was how Dib's real victims felt as they bled to death. Dipper's stomach flipped over uneasily.

            Eventually, Dipper retreated back into his room, turning all the lights on as he went. He checked his phone. It was only a few hours past sundown. He groaned unhappily and ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. He clicked open unread message notifications from an hour ago and flopped onto his bed.

            Gaybel: hey brobro! Me n paz going drinking u shld get out with us, ya hermit!

            Gaybel: you cant hide in ur room from me forever! >:)

            Paz: get out of bed loser

Dipper frowned and stared blankly at the messages for a few minutes, before typing out a reply. Fuck it.

            Dip: you guys still up for me joining? I wanna get wasted

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            Roughly an hour after arriving, Dipper was slumped over the bar counter with his hand wrapped around a fourth drink, half empty. He closed his eyes, letting the dizzying floaty feeling wash over him. He felt good- better, this way, when the world felt distant. 

            He raised his head as he felt someone pull his glass out of his hand. He opened his mouth to curse the someone out, but it died on his tongue when he saw his twin, gussied up with glitter on her cheeks, tipping her head back as she downed his drink. His anger turned into a pout.

            "Hey!" he snapped half-heartedly. Mabel laughed and set the glass down on the dark shiny counter.

            "You look like you passed out!" She grinned and leaned in to wrap an arm around his shoulders, giving them a squeeze. "I think you're done for the night, bud." She went silent for a moment, her face falling briefly, before twisting back up into a smile. "Hey mister, you're feeling especially boney! Have you been eating?" 

            Dipper scoffed. "Of- f'course I am," he slurred.

            "Mhm," Mabel hummed sarcastically. "When was the last time you ate an actual meal? That wasn't takeout." She added as Dipper opened his mouth to answer. He closed it and stayed silent for a beat.

            "Uhh." 

            "Yeah, that's what I thought." She sighed loudly and plopped down on the stool next to him, propping her elbow on the cold bar top. "What are we gonna do with you, little bro?"

            "M' fine Mabel." Dipper rolled his eyes. "I'm eating...stuff. I've got groceries now, because—" Through the haze in his brain, he remembered that he absolutely didn't want Mabel to know the 'because' was a certain menace buying it for him. That would raise far too many questions Dipper did not want to deal with. He sighed and shrugged instead.

            "Well, hey!" Mabel perked up, thankfully not picking up on Dipper's abrupt pause. "Tell ya what, I'll stop by tomorrow and cook you something! A homemade Mabel special." She clapped him on the back and he groaned. 

            "Mabel, really you don't need to—" 

            "Too late! The plans are made!" She jumped up from her stool. "I'll go get Paz to help get you home, buddy. You need to get some rest, ya raccoon!" Mabel playfully poked his cheek, motioning to his under eye bags. He rubbed at his eyes as she bounced away, thinking Damn, is it really that noticeable? He hadn't realized how much the stress of Dib being around was affecting him. 

            Dipper groaned and let his head fall painfully back onto the bar. He did not want to think about that bastard, that was the whole fucking point of coming out to drink. Dammit...

            Hopefully he'd get some sleep this time.

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            Dipper rolled onto his side and let out a loud groan. Bright sunlight streamed through his window and into his eyes. I think I had too much to drink last night, he thought to himself as pain throbbed in his skull. 

            He forced himself to sit up and silently cursed at himself. At least he chose a day he didn't have classes to get a goddamn hangover. He just needed to rest today and not worry about anything for a while. Unfortunately, his peace and quiet was short lived as he heard a loud sneeze from the other room. His headache pounded as anger filled him and he quickly pulled on some pants and went charging down the hall.

            "Motherfucker!" He shouted loudly as he rounded the corner. He saw Dib, shutting the patio door behind him, freeze and his eyes went wide like saucers, having been caught in the act. He saw Dipper’s scowl and bed head and a grin split over his face.

            "Oops." Dib said, rubbing at his nose. "Dusty in here! Do you ever clean?"

            "Get the fuck out, I am not in the mood for this shit today!" Dipper snapped. Dib eyed the extremely disheveled boy across the room.

            "Hangover? Figured as much." He smirked and reached to a small end table nearby and picked two to-go coffees up off of it. He stepped towards Dipper and held them out. "I bring gifts."

            Dipper narrowed his eyes at Dib's smug face and snatched one out of his hand. Dib chuckled to himself as Dipper pushed past him and plopped onto the couch, ignoring Dib. He blew into the lid and took a sip. The pleasant sugary taste hit his tongue and he groaned.

            "Why do you know how I take my coffee?"

            "Please." Dib scoffed and fell onto the couch next to him. "Of course I do. How could you expect anything else?"

            Dipper grumbled in resentful agreement. Yeah, he thought to himself as he sipped from the warm container in his hands, of course he would, he literally stalks me. As much as Dipper hated it, he almost felt glad for Dib's intrusion. It had saved him a long walk to he and Mabel’s regular spot to get coffee. He looked over at Dib. He was drinking his own coffee and scrolling his phone, quietly letting Dipper drink in peace. It was a comfortable presence, almost. Nearly normal.

            Then Dipper shook the thoughts from his mind angrily. No. This was a murderer and a stalker and a psycho who was obsessed with him. This guy butchered someone just the other day. Someone, Dipper had realized, who had been in one of his classes. Dib obviously must have known this.

            "You fucking killed one of my classmates. Are you doing this shit on purpose?" Dipper growled at Dib, breaking the silence. Dib clicked his phone off and met Dipper’s gaze.

            "Doing what?" Dib replied.

            "You know what." Dipper glared at him, before turning away to angrily take a drink. "Fucking with my life every chance you get."

            Dib laughed at that. "Oh! Someone is killed and it's all about how your life is fucked with? Kinda self centered of you, babe." His voice practically dripped with smug delight. 

            "Fuck you!" Dipper whirled on him. "You know what I mean! Fucking sicko—you mutilated him. Where the fuck do you even come up with shit like that!?"

            Dib shrugged and pulled a switchblade from his black coat. He twirled the knife in his hand.

            "I saw it on a show. It's called a Columbian necktie. Gross, right?" He grinned.

            "Ugh." Dipper groaned and stood up. His head throbbed, but it was much more bearable than before. "Just leave me alone."

            "Heyyy!" Dib whined. "You keep being so bitchy; what happened to 'keep me entertained so no one gets hurt'?"

            "People have still gotten hurt," Dipper snapped. Dib rolled his eyes.

            "No one you actually care about, though." He stood up and followed Dipper, pocketing the knife and squaring his shoulders as he approached him at the kitchen island. He got uncomfortably close to Dipper, who backed away. "I can easily make that change. Is that what you want?"

            Dipper paled. "N-no, I—"

            BANG BANG BANG. Someone pounded at Dipper’s door suddenly, making him jump. From the other side he heard a muffled but familiar voice.

            "DIPPER!" Mabel yelled from the other side of the door. "Wakey wakey! Time to eat real person food with your favorite sister!"

            Dipper’s eyes widened. He completely forgot. Fuck fuck fuck. He shoved Dib's chest, who looked at him in surprise. 

            "You need to leave," Dipper hissed.

            A mischievous smile stretched across Dib's face. "Why? Don't want me to meet your darling sister?"

            "Get out!" Dipper tried to drag him back towards the balcony, but Dib twisted in his grip and darted away.

            "DIPPER, I WILL KEEP YELLING AND MAKING ALL YOUR NEIGHBORS HATE YOU UNTIL YOU OPEN THIS DOOR~!" Mabel continued to yell. Dipper’s eyes darted back and forth between the locked door and Dib's stupid smirk.

            "I think I'll just..." Dib said and slid onto a stool at the island. Dipper wanted to tear his hair out of his skull. No no no, this is bad! I can't let Mabel know about him, I can't— "Hmm, actually!" Dib jumped up and took a few strides towards the door.

            "Don't you fucking dare!" Dipper lunged towards the door, but Dib undid the latch and swung it open, beaming as Mabel's eyes landed on him and confusion spread over her face.

            "Hello?" Mabel said uncertaintly. The girl had several plastic bags hanging from her arms and was wearing a cute pink skirt under her jacket. Her long brown waves of hair looked freshly washed and shiny under the light and her nose was pink from the cold.

            "You must be Mabel!" Dib exclaimed delightedly. "Lemme help you with those." He reached down to take some of the bags from the shorter girl.

            "Oh!" Mabel's brain caught up with her and she sprung back to her energetic self. "Thanks!" 

            "Come on in." Dib held the door with his foot and Mabel bounced over the threshold, dumping the bags onto Dipper's counters. Dipper watched the interaction in silent horror. He wished the ground would swallow him up, or that he was just having another nightmare. This cannot be fucking happening.

            "Dipper! There you are, dummy," Mabel said when she noticed Dipper standing dejectedly behind them. "Sheesh, looks like someone had a rough night. Told you ya drank too much!" She laughed and walked over to ruffle his already messy brown hair. Dipper dodged away from her hand.

            "What...what are you doing here?" Dipper hissed at her, eyes darting to Dib's looming presence. Mabel punched him in the arm. "Ow!"

            "I told you we are cooking today!" She gestured to the plastic bags on the counters. "Or I suppose I will be cooking."

            "I thought you were coming later! Now isn't a good time," Dipper insisted. He did not want his twin in the same room as Dib for a second longer.

            "It's like noon." Her eyes moved back onto Dib and a smirk crept over her face. "Why, you busy hanging out with your buddy here? I don't think we've met! You know my name." Mabel held out her hand to him. Dipper’s heart sank.

            Dib smiled pointedly at Dipper as he responded, shaking her hand lightly. "Dipper talks about you a lot! I'm Dib, Dipper’s boyfriend."

            Dipper thought he had screamed out loud for a second, before realizing it was the ear piercing shriek of Mabel. She practically exploded between them, even Dib's eyebrows raised as she locked his hand in a death grip and bounced up and down. Dipper cringed as she looked back and forth between him and Dib, screaming her excitement. She lunged and tackled Dipper into a hug and spun him around with surprising strength she had always seemed to possess, even as kids.

            "YOU HAVE A GOTH BOYFRIEND!?" She shrieked in his ear. His headache pounded behind his eyes. 

            "He's not—we're not—I mean..." Dipper stumbled over his words as Mabel lurched him around in her arms. "Gah, Mabel!"

            "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" 

            "Put me down!" Dipper struggled to be released. "It just... I don't know, I..." Fucking Dib, what the fuck what the f—

            "He's shy," Dib said, suddenly behind him. He felt hands under his arms as he was gently lifted from Mabel's grip and set back on the ground. Mabel stared at the display, stars practically dancing in her eyes. Dipper blushed. He elbowed Dib in the stomach. Dib hissed in pain and laughed. Mabel beamed, not picking up on Dipper's sour mood whatsoever. 

            "Dipperrrr~!" she squealed, squishing her cheeks in her hands. "Why didn't you tell me, I am your TWIN! How did this happen? When? HOW?"

            "Mabel!" Dipper protested and pointed to his head. Her mouth formed an o. 

            "Oopsie, sorry! Mister hangover boy~" She giggled and skipped back over to the counters filled with supplies. 

            Dib shot Dipper an amused look when her back was turned and whispered, "Goth?"

            "You're wearing black platform boots and eyeliner." Dipper hissed back at him, avoiding his eyes.

            "Touché."

            "Well, now we can all chat over lunch! This is perfect!" Mabel presented her goods. Dipper saw she had brought hamburger meat, peppers, onions, and various condiments and tortilla shells meant clearly for tacos. "Figured this way you could have leftovers for a while, too."

            Dipper grimaced but Dib stepped forward. "Wow! How thoughtful of you. You have an amazing sister, babe!" 

            Mabel giggled delightedly at the compliment and at the use of the petname. She waggled her eyebrows at Dipper. Maybe it would be better if I jumped out the fire escape, he thought, but Mabel grabbed him by the arm and forced him to sit at the kitchen island.

            "Here. You just relax out here and I'll get things ready." She patted Dipper on the top of his head. "Do you want me to make you some of Mabel's Special Hangover Remedy?"

            Dipper's face paled. "God no."

            "Suit yourself." She huffed and started unpacking the plastic bags.

            "Hey, I'll help you out." Dib smiled and reached out, clearly putting on some kind of normal and charming act for her. 

            "Oh, you don't have to!" Mabel said.

            "I insist! I don't wanna just be standing around getting in the way." He laughed. Goddammit, he is too good at seeming normal! Bastard. Dib glanced over Dipper and smirked, as if hearing his thoughts. "Here," he said as he pulled a knife from the block on the counter. "I'll chop the onions and peppers."

            "Thank you, sir!" Mabel replied playfully. 

            Dipper’s face paled at the sight of Dib with a huge kitchen knife in his hand, with his sister standing right at his side. A dangerous glimmer shone in Dib's eyes as the boys shared a silent exchange. They both knew how dangerous Dib was, and how oblivious Mabel was to this danger. Dib had complete control at the moment, because he could easily paint Dipper’s kitchen in Mabel's blood at any second. This situation was worse than any nightmare Dipper had ever had since meeting Dib. 

            Mabel set the vegetables on a cutting block for Dib and he thanked her. He lined the sharp blade up and sliced a red bell pepper clean in half with a thunk into the wood below. Mabel had her back turned to him, busying herself with washing her hands and preparing the hamburger for the pot she had pulled out. Dipper swallowed. He couldn't stop imagining how easy it would be for Dib to turn and sink the long blade into her back. Every clean slice of pepper and crunch of onion he envisioned as Mabel's flesh, her fingers, her hands, her bones. He felt sweat trickle down his back.

            Dipper’s mind was racing with so many panicked thoughts that he couldn’t latch onto one, so he sat frozen in place on the opposite side of the kitchen island. It was a small counter, but Dipper felt like a ravine separated him from Mabel, and the wolf standing behind her. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

            "Dipper, are you listening?" Mabel snapped, turning around to stare at him. He jumped and wiped at his forehead. 

            "Wha—sorry," he mumbled. 

            "You need to get better sleep, bro-bro." She shook her head and went back to her work, dumping spices all over the meat and mixing it in.

            "Yeah..." Dipper shot a venomous glare at Dib as soon as her back turned. Dib smirked.

            "Anyway," Mabel said, "I was just asking how you and your boyfriend here met."

            Dipper inwardly groaned. Why did Dib have to tell her that? He couldn't very well say, Actually no, he is stalking me and threatening your life to keep me compliant, without risking Mabel's safety. Dib cocked his head, watching Dipper think. He ran his finger along the knife. Dipper’s eye twitched.

            "At the...at the Halloween party," Dipper hesitantly supplied. Mabel gasped and whipped back around, wielding the large spoon in her hand in an accusatory point.

            "I KNEW IT! I knew it was him!" Mabel shouted. "You little liar, you said nothing happened!" Dib raised his eyebrows at Dipper as if saying, You two have talked about me before?

            "I said I didn't want to talk about it! Which was true." 

            Mabel pouted. "Sheesh, my own brother... The betrayal." 

            "C'mon, you know how I am with—" He swallowed back the words. He cursed at himself as he saw Dib incline his head curiously. He had accidentally let something slip about himself.

            "With dating?" Mabel finished with a scoff. Dipper sank lower in his seat as Dib grinned at him. "Yeah, well you scored yourself a goth boy somehow, despite having no game whatsoever. Not to talk about you like you aren't right here, Dib. Sorry."

            Dib laughed cheerfully. "Don't worry about it, this is hilarious." 

            Mabel giggled along with Dib. Dipper felt sick to his stomach. Why, of all people, did Dib have to be the boy to not only be attracted to Dipper, but also get along so well with his sister? God, why couldn't you have dropped a normal attractive boy into my life? Dipper thought. Not that Dib is attractive, he's just weird. And evil.

            The sound of sizzling meat spooked him out of his head. The rich smell of seasoned taco meat filled the kitchen. Dib finished cutting the onions (with scarily expert handling of the knife, figures) and dumped them into a frying pan, joining Mabel's side at the stove top. The knife lay forgotten at the cutting board and Dipper considered for a moment reaching out to snatch it away, but really what was the point? There were more just-as-deadly knives in the block right next to Dib and besides... The pair were happily chatting and cooking together, laughing about Dipper's grumpy face and his bad alcohol habits. 

            His face fell into a sad frown. He really was pathetic for thinking so, but he wished more than anything that this situation could be as normal and heartwarming as it seemed from an outside perspective. But Dib was not his boyfriend, and it was not the real him that Mabel was smiling and laughing with. It was all a lie. A very well executed one. It scared Dipper to think about how much practice Dib must have had, luring people in with words. He clearly didn't just hunt from the dark of shadows, but must sometimes engage with his prey directly before sinking a blade into them. Dipper probably would have fallen for it, if he had been a proper target of Dib’s and not just an unfortunate chance encounter.

            Dipper saw Dib’s hand suddenly close around the knife once more. His eyes widened as Dib smirked at him and lifted it, turning towards Mabel with the glinting blade, her back turned. Dipper lurched to his feet, terror and adrenaline rising in his chest. He's gonna kill her!? He's—The stool under him clattered to the floor with a loud bang and Mabel whipped around. 

            "Jesus, Dipper! What's wrong?" she exclaimed, looking at his panicked expression with her brow furrowed. Dib silently plopped the knife harmlessly into the sink. He turned and leaned back against the counter casually.

            "You okay, babe?" he said smoothly, "You look a little pale.”

            Dipper clenched and unclenched his fist once. "Fine," he forced out. "Gonna go...wash my hands." He stiffly put the stool upright and walked down the hall. He slipped into the bathroom without turning the lights on, leaving the door open in case Mabel screamed. He hunched over the sink, staring at his dark reflection in the mirror. 

            The purple shadows under his eyes were so noticeable and his hair was a mess. He looked like shit. He splashed cold water from the sink on his face and shuddered. What the hell does Dib see in me? Why did he choose me specifically? Just because I tracked him down? He squeezed his eyes shut. He was tired of this ridiculous dance Dib was doing with him: the 'will I, won't I kill you and all your loved ones'. 

            And now Mabel knew his name and face. And thinks he is Dipper’s fucking boyfriend.

            "Hey babe." Dib's warm breath ghosted over his ear and Dipper startled away. Dib chuckled. 

            "What the hell are you doing in here?" Dipper hissed under his breath, worried Mabel might hear.

            "Being a concerned boyfriend!" Dib said cheerfully and pulled Dipper forcefully into a hug. Dipper sputtered and struggled against his chest.

            "'Concerned' my ass!" Dipper spat.

            "I told Mabes I was checking on you." Dib ignored him. "You don't want her to think something is wrong, do you?"

            'Mabes'? The audacity of this fucking guy, Dipper silently seethed and stopped struggling. He glared at Dib's face inches away from his. "Fine."

            "Good! Let's get back out there." He pressed a quick kiss to Dipper’s lips before he could pull away, and went back down the hall. Dipper cursed at him under his breath. That's right, Dipper, keep it together. He followed Dib back out, where Mabel was setting out sour cream, shredded cheese, tomatoes, and sauce on the counter to be used.

            "Assemble away!" Mabel exclaimed, throwing her arms out to dramatically present the food set across the countertops. Dipper inwardly groaned, but stepped up and took a plate. He scooped sour cream, cheese, and meat onto the shell and hesitated at the roasted peppers and onions. They looked good, but he would once again be eating something Dib had made. He frowned, I have to keep up appearances in front of Mabel, anyway. He plopped a few into the shell. They cleared off the kitchen island and sat around it, biting into their tacos. 

            "Mm! Mabel this is great! You seasoned it so perfectly." Dib exclaimed through a mouthful of taco.

            Mabel giggled. "Thank you, thank you! I do my best." Dipper said nothing and half-heartedly chewed on a bite. Mabel narrowed her eyes. "Why are you being so mopey? You're really that upset I caught you with your cool secret boyfriend?" Dib snorted. Dipper glowered. 

            "No, I mean..." He looked down. Dipper hated lying to her face. "I dunno, I'm not feeling great and it's... a little embarrassing." Dipper avoided Dib's gaze, sensing the shit-eating grin directed at him.

            "Gosh, Dipper, you don't have to be so tense!" Mabel wagged her taco at him before putting it in her mouth. "It's not like you've never expressed interest in boys to me before!"

            "It's not that!" Dipper said quickly, flushing with embarrassment. He loved Mabel, but god she did not have a filter even when talking in front of strangers. Dib was clearly loving every second of Dipper’s misery though, if the huge grin on his face was anything to go by. Dipper gritted his teeth.

            Mabel laughed. "I'm just messing with you! I expect details later though." She winked and Dipper wished he could die on command. 

            Dib barked a laugh. "There may not be much to tell! We've only kissed a few times." He said it matter-of-factly but he shot a smirk towards Dipper.

            "YOU'VE KISSED!?" Mabel shrieked and slammed her hands down on the counter. Oh my fucking god, I'm gonna kill him! Dipper thought.

            "It—it's, uh..." Dipper stammered.

            "You owe me coffee and a chat, mister!" Mabel pointed fiercely at Dipper. He sank in his seat.

            "Yeah, yeah, fine. Let's stop talking about it in front of him, please?" 

            "Nothing to be embarrassed about, babe." Dib winked at him and Dipper glared. "Our first kiss was at that Halloween party, actually!"

            "It was!?" Mabel squealed. "Oh my gosh, I knew it!" She's gonna tear into me, next time we're alone, Dipper thought to himself. I am so fucked.  

            The three (mainly Dib and Mabel) chatted over lunch and swapped stories, before eventually Mabel bid the boys farewell, hugging Dipper and exaggerating a wink as she went. The front door clicked closed behind her and Dipper exhaled in relief. They all survived. Well...all except Dipper's ego. That was one of the more embarrassing interactions he'd had in a long time. Now they were left standing in the kitchen, alone together one more. The kitchen light had been flicked off, leaving only the dim glow of early afternoon sun from across the room. Dipper turned towards Dib, furious.

            "Why the fuck did you say all that?" Dipper snapped at him. Dib blinked. "Why are you so fucking dedicated to making my life miserable, you fucking bastard!"

            Dib stumbled backwards with a shocked look on his face when Dipper shoved him hard in the chest. A bewildered smile crept over his face. He chuckled.

            "Ooh! Someone's angry!" Dib mused condescendingly.

            "Of course I am!" Dipper shouted. "You told her you're my fucking boyfriend!" 

            "Because I am."  

            Dipper scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're infuriating."

            "You love me, though~!" Dib cooed playfully.

            "I literally don't, and you don't love me either!" Dipper snarled. Dib narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to respond. "No! Don't fucking talk to me, you don't actually like me, you just love fucking with me! Psychos like you don't love people." 

            "Don't I?" Dib's brow furrowed unhappily. 

            "No! You don't!" Dipper backed away from him, pacing the kitchen in agitation. 

            "Hmm. I guess I'm not being clear enough then," Dib said in a low voice. "I can fix that."

            Dipper huffed in annoyance and turned towards Dib as he approached him, ready to continue telling him off, but his eyes widened when he saw a stoney glint in Dib's amber eyes. 

            "Hey, I—!" Dipper was cut off as Dib slammed his back against the wall. "Ow! What the fuck—mmph!?" Dipper’s protests became muffled as Dib roughly kissed him, digging his fingers into Dipper's waist and pinning him up against the wall. Dipper squeezed his eyes shut, face flushing red as Dib pressed in with his tongue. Dipper weakly pushed a hand up to Dib’s shoulder to push him away, but Dib snatched it up in a fist and held his arm against the wall next to Dipper's head. Dib broke away to look at Dipper, lips reddened and grinning.

            "I'll show you just how much I 'love' you, you stubborn moron." Dib smirked. Dipper squirmed and began to protest but Dib leaned in and set their mouths together once more. One of his hands trailed up under Dipper's shirt and up his side. Dipper shivered at the sensation and inadvertently whined against Dib's mouth. Why does this feel so good?  

            Though Dipper was loathe to admit it...he had never done anything with another person. Sure, he has kissed people and have touched himself, who hasn't, but... Fear jumped in his chest as Dib's lithe fingers nudged their way past Dipper’s waistband and pulled his sweatpants down his hip, exposing his pale flesh to the air. Dipper sputtered against Dib's incessant kiss and tried to protest.

            "Dib, hey—!" Dipper squeezed an arm against Dib's chest pressing in on him and tried to push him off. "W-what the fuck, get off—!" Dipper struggled and squeezed his eyes shut as Dib only laughed and pressed the kiss deeper. He trailed over his jaw.

            "I love how you squirm and fight, babe," Dib purred against Dipper’s ear, the quiet rumble of his voice sent shivers through Dipper’s whole body. Dib's lips pressed against the soft skin at the nape of Dipper’s neck and trailed down, the pecks turning into sucking. Dipper’s head spun and he forgot for a moment about Dib's wandering hands. He yelped as his pants dropped from his hips and Dib's hand slid into his boxers.

            "D-dont!" Dipper tried to yell, but it turned into a choked gasp. Dib's hand wrapped around his shaft, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Dib, get the f-fuck off of me or—" Dipper growled before Dib ran the pad of his thumb over the slit on the tip of his cock, eliciting a strangled cry as the boy doubled over and fell trembling on Dib's shoulder. Dib chuckled and wrapped an arm around Dipper’s waist to steady him.

            "Or what?" Dib enunciated the mocking question with a firm stroke of his hand. Dipper cried out and buried his face in the crook of Dib’s neck. "That's what I thought." He said with a smirk and pressed Dipper back into the wall, pressing their bodies flush together. He could feel Dipper’s breath on his ear as the boy keened and moaned under his touch. Dib started up a steady pace and Dipper’s dark eyes quickly glazed over. "Mm, you're so hard! What was all that about not liking me?"

            "Sh-shut the fuck up," Dipper managed to force out through his failing attempts at biting back pathetic moans. He had never felt so good in his life, and he was unraveling under Dib's touch.

            Dib pulled Dipper’s erection free from his boxers and continued jacking him with one hand, quite deftly considering how little space he had from holding Dipper so close. Dipper's legs were trembling, intense heat like lightning was coiling in his belly and he was seeing stars. He weakly held the front of Dib's t shirt and moaned into the taller boy's shoulder. This is wrong! Dipper’s mind distantly screamed at him through the fog of pleasure, Push him off. Fight back! He's raping you, stop feeling good!  

            "You're so wet. Sloppy boy," Dib mused, grinning at the slick of precum on his hand, but he didn't slow his pumping. "And you're drooling on my shirt."

            "I'm n-not," Dipper mumbled indignantly, watching a trail of saliva from his lips as he lifted his head. His cheeks burned.

            "Yes, you are. See?" Dib leaned in suddenly with his tongue out and sloppily kissed him, licking his wet lips. 

            "Mmph! Hhn—" Dipper whined against Dib's mouth, distantly embarrassed at how he was acting. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back without thinking. It was all too much for him. He couldn't fucking believe what was happening, but moreso he couldn't believe how insanely good he felt. All of his stress and fear was gone, there was just the heat of a body pressing against him, wrapping around him, kissing him, touching him, oh god. Dipper’s legs started giving out, but Dib only wrapped his free arm tighter around the boy to keep him upright and kept stroking his leaking erection. Dipper broke away from Dib's kiss with a pathetic cry, tears springing to his eyes.

            "S' too much," Dipper slurred, slumping and resting his chin on Dib's shoulder. Tears leaked down his face. "T-too much, I'm—st-ah!" Coiled fire surged through his body, white hot. He was too far gone now to care about the string of desperate moaning he was practically yelling in Dib's ear. He came harder than he ever had in his life, his vision went dark for a second and he didn't know if he had closed his eyes or if he was about to pass out. 

            "Good boy, Mason. There you go," Dib cooed to Dipper and kissed the top of his head as the boy practically screamed through his orgasm. He kept stroking him through it, coaxing out the beautiful overstimulated response he was giving. Dib was practically completely supporting Dipper’s weight now with the arm around his waist, as his legs gave out and he trembled and bucked his hips into Dib's hand. Hot, milky white fluid splattered to the floor and onto Dib's hand. Dipper sobbed weakly.

            Finally, Dib helped Dipper lower onto the floor, where he sat crying and delirious from pleasure. Dib smirked and left momentarily to get some toiletries to clean them up. He wiped up the mess on the floor and on Dipper's now flaccid member, as well as cleaning up a bit that got on his own jeans. Dib narrowed his eyes mischievously and backed up, pulling his phone out and snapping a picture before Dipper could realize what he was doing. The boy's eyes widened and he sat up straight, fumbling to stuff his dick back into his boxers and pull the pants up from around his ankles. Dib laughed.

            "I'll fucking kill you," Dipper hissed venomously as he struggled with his weak legs. His face burned in shame and anger. What the hell just happened, oh god did I really—!? Did he... Dipper's eyes blew wide open. "Did you fucking call me Mason!? Where the fuck did you hear that?"

            "Aw, are you mad at me, Mason?" Dib said.

            "SHUT THE FUCK UP! DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Dipper snarled, finally pulling up his pants and scrambling to get on his feet. "I will fucking kill you!"

            "Boo..." Dib said with a disappointed pout. "I guess that means I have to leave. Here, I'll give you something to remember me by."

            Dipper opened his mouth to cuss him out some more, but nearly choked as Dib suddenly grabbed him and locked their lips together once more. Dipper squeezed his eyes shut and strained against Dib's iron grip, gasping for breath as soon as he pulled back. Quicker than Dipper could lunge after him, Dib had darted away in a smear of black and stood at the glass sliding doors.

            "Well, this has been extremely fun!" Dib waved back at Dipper brightly, as if he hadn't just assaulted him. "Don't miss me too much. Though, if you do, you can always just jack off and think of me, now!" Dib winked. 

            Dipper’s mouth fell open in horror and his face paled, but Dib didn't stick around to watch. He disappeared off the fire escape into the early afternoon sun, leaving Dipper behind to process what had just happened to him. 

Chapter Text

            Dipper tapped his finger against the side of his warm Latte. The days were becoming too chilly to sit outside at he and Mabel’s usual table, so instead he sat in the corner, inside, staring into space. Christmas lights were strung up along the ceiling, and cutouts of gingerbread men were taped on the windows. He was so lost in the tumultuous seas of his own mind that he didn’t even notice Mabel sitting down across from him.

            “Hey!” She reached across and snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “Earth to Dipper!” Dipper flinched away and blinked a few times.

            “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled and looked away. Mabel cocked her head and sighed. She pulled out her sketchpad and splayed it out in front of her.

            “You, my dear brother, are going to tell me everything. Without making me force it out of you,” Mabel said simply as she took a sip of her own steaming drink and picked up her pencil. 

            “Mabel...” Dipper groaned.

            “Dipper,” she retorted, fire in her voice. 

            “Fine.” Dipper leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. “What is it you want to know?”

            Mabel scoffed. “Come on, don’t make me spell it out.” She kicked his leg under the table. “You have a boyfriend. I need to know why my dorky brother has scored someone before I have. I am much more charming than you.” She smirked playfully and Dipper couldn’t help the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile as well. He rolled his eyes.

            “Ugh, fine. You are impossible.” 

            “You love me.” She went to work sketching patrons from the cafe in smooth deft strokes. 

            Dipper grimaced. Not too long ago Dib had said something similar, right before he... Before he... Dipper abruptly slapped his own face and took a large swig of his drink. He didn’t want to think about it, he couldn’t. Yet, it had been the only thing plaguing his thoughts ever since. Which made going out incredibly annoying.

            “Jesus, what’d you do that for?” Mabel stared at him incredulously.

            “I hate this.” Dipper groaned. “But fine.” 

            Mabel perked up and leaned in slightly. Dipper swallowed. Was he now going to lie about dating this psycho just to keep her from finding out the true nature of their so-called relationship? Unfortunately, yes, though hopefully mostly lies of omission would suffice.

            “We...met at the Halloween party and he flirted and... kissed me.” Dipper forced the words out, frowning at the sparkle in Mabel’s eye. “Then we...ran into each other again near here and went on a date of sorts, watching a movie.” Mabel couldn’t help the squeal that escaped her.

            “So cute! And then what?”

            Dipper shook his head.

            “I dunno, he just kept showing up and...here we are.” Mabel narrowed her eyes.

            “Oh, come on. That is such a cop-out answer.” She pursed her lips disapprovingly. “You make it sound so... noncommittal. You’re boyfriends, where is the confession!? The romance!?”

            “I don’t know what to tell you, Mabes.” Dipper shrugged and thought to himself, because there isn’t any, he’s just a creep. “It’s really new and recent and we’re just kind of hanging around each other.” Dipper lifted his cup to his mouth.

            Mabel gasped and leaned in to mutter under her breath. “You guys aren’t... It’s not just fuck buddies, is it?”

            Dipper nearly spat out his coffee.

            “No! Jesus, Mabel.” He glanced around to make sure no one overheard and was looking at him weird. “Absolutely not,” he hissed.

            Mabel sat back up and giggled. “Doth do protest too much.”

            “We aren’t.”

            “Okay, okay.” Mabel frowned. “Do you love him?”

            Dipper choked down a few harsh words like, Fuck no, I’d rather date Gideon, but instead he said, “I don’t know.”

            “Does he love you?” 

            Dipper paused. “He says he does, but I don’t see how he could. We barely know each other, and don’t really get along.” And he's a serial killer.

            Mabel’s face twisted up in bafflement.

            “Dipper, you are such a weirdo. Who dates somebody they don’t like?”

            Dipper shrugged. Because we’re not dating. Mabel shook her head.

            “Well, when I start dating it is going to be romance central! Confessions in the rain, sweeping her off her feet under the light of the stars, candlelit dinners—”

            “You mean if you ever work up the guts to ask Pacifica out?” Dipper chuckled. Mabel’s eyes went wide and she sputtered.

            “Wha-! I mean... No... Well...”

            “You should.” Dipper smiled. “You should do it! Confess to her under the rain or stars or whatever, just make the plan already. I can help.” Mabel narrowed her eyes at him.

            “I don’t need a twenty page plan document. But maybe you’re right.” She fidgeted nervously with her pencil.

            “Of course I am,” Dipper ignored how Mabel stuck her tongue out at him. “What do you want then, if not a plan?” Mabel bit her lip and looked sideways.

           “Mm...we could...you could...wingman?”

            “Wingman,” Dipper repeated, deadpan.

            “Yes! I know, it’s silly, you’d be a terrible wingman.”

            “Hey!”

            “But, maybe it could work...” Her eyes glazed over as the gears in her head began to turn. Dipper smiled at the sight. “Yeah... Yeah!” She practically jumped in her chair, eyes lighting up. “Yes! The three of us could go out somewhere—maybe that club she wanted to check out!—and she wouldn’t suspect anything because you’re there, right? And then you can, like...help get her and me alone. And BOOM!” She slammed her hands down on the small table, nearly sending their coffees flying and attracting curious stares. “I make my move.” Mabel’s grin was positively shining. Dipper chuckled.

            "Whatever you need of me,” he mock saluted. “You guys are childhood friends, I’m sure you’ll know just how to impress her by now.”

            “Operation fanfic,” Mabel said breathlessly, eyes wild.

            “W-what?”

            “OPERATION FANFIC TROPE!” She pounded her hands on the table again and earned some annoyed glares, this time. “It’s perfect!”

            “I’m not sure I follow.” Dipper’s brow furrowed.

            “Childhood friends to lovers, dummy! It’s a popular romantic trope!” Mabel grinned. “It’s perfect. It’ll work!”

            Dipper laughed.

            “Childhood friends to lovers, it is. You can do it.” He leaned forward and plopped a hand onto her shoulder. “You are the master matchmaker, after all.” 

            Mabel beamed at him. 

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Dipper tucked his jacket around his body, cursing himself for not wearing something warmer. Time was going by quickly, winter was fast approaching. Dipper furrowed his eyebrows. How much time would he have, really? Would he make it to winter? Spring? Would Dib decide to kill him before then, when he got bored of him? Dib. Dib, his life revolved around him now. 

            Dipper grimaced and balled his hands into fists within his pockets. Though Dib left him alive, he was stealing Dipper’s life from him. Everything was different now, how could he go out with his sister and friends and laugh like everything was as it used to be? Dib entered his life and Dipper was poisoned for it, rotted. Nothing would ever be the same, he would never be the same. And he hated that thought, hated giving up the hope of a life without him.

            Dipper’s mind wandered as he walked, to images of Dib in the darkness, or washed in red light, holding a knife. He heard his voice in his head, he... Dib, holding him close and touching him as his head fell onto his shoulder in throes of pleasure. Dib’s mouth locked with his, Dib’s voice saying that he loved—

            Dipper whipped around and slammed his fist into the side of a brick building he was next to, immediately shouting in pain and clutching his hand to his chest. Fuck, that was stupid, but at least the pain was making the heat coiling in his stomach quickly disspate. 

            “Dipper!” A familiar, accented, high-pitched voice called from behind him. Dipper turned to watch the girl walking towards him, glasses fogging from her breath and long black hair blowing around her round face.

            “Candy. Hi.” Dipper tried to sound cheerful. He liked Candy, she was a sweet girl and a great friend to Mabel, he had even almost dated her once upon a time. She waved to him as she approached, her hands hidden in the big sleeves of her green cardigan.

            “Oh! Dipper, what is wrong?” Her dark eyes filled with concern at the pained look on his face. 

            “Oh, just...nothing.” Dipper laughed awkwardly. “I’m fine, how have you and Grenda been?”

            “We are good!” Candy said cheerfully, “Grenda has a trip planned to go see her foreign boyfriend this winter break, so she has been trying to study up. Speaking of!” She perked up and looked around, as if for someone nearby. “Have you seen Mabel?”

            Dipper blinked. “Oh, yeah. I just had coffee with her but I think she left for class.”

            “Rats!” She ‘swore’ and Dipper smirked. “I will try to find her, we are having a study group. Are you wanting to join, Dipper?”

            “Ah, not this time. Thank you, though.” Dipper waved it off. He normally wouldn’t mind it, seeing Mabel’s friends in small amounts was good, sometimes, but now... He didn’t want Dib to bring them into this as well, making them a potential target. If they weren’t already. Dipper frowned and Candy took a step forward and squeezed his arm in a comforting gesture, looking up at him. “Dipper, are you alright? You are acting odd.”

            “Odder than usual?” Dipper tried to laugh but it came out as a choked noise. Candy didn’t laugh at the joke and Dipper swallowed. Keep it together, Pines! No one can suspect anything. “I’m okay, really.” He steadied his voice.

            Candy said nothing for a long moment. “Mabel is worried, too. I can tell.” Dipper’s brow furrowed and Candy stepped back. “Take care of yourself, Dipper Pines. You have many friends.”

            Dipper nodded, keeping his mouth shut for fear of spilling something.

            “T-thanks,” he said, and hated that he sounded like he was going to cry. Candy pulled him into a hug suddenly and he exhaled loudly. He gave her a weak pat on the back. "Don't mention it to her, to Mabel. I'll be fine, really." 

            Candy nodded reluctantly and turned to leave. Dipper let out a shaky breath and ran his cold fingers through his hair. Everything was too much, how much longer could he do this for? 

            He ignored a vibration from his phone and headed home, throwing his clothes to the floor. He needed to stop thinking about Dib. So, he went to bed, praying the bastard wouldn’t haunt his dreams, too.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            The world was blurry, washed out and too bright. Dipper squinted, trying to move as his head spun, only to realize he couldn’t. Tugging again, he became more alert and could feel scratchy rope against his arms. He looked down and saw he was tied to a chair, panic beginning to rise in his chest. 

            “Wh-huh?!” He gasped, wrestling against his restraints as the chair creaked behind him. “Dib?” He called out, knowing he was the only person who could be behind this. 

            “Hi!” His voice came from behind his shoulder, Dipper nearly jumping out of his skin as he felt Dib’s arms wrap around him as he rested his head on his shoulder. “Good morning, sunshine!” he said playfully. 

            “What do you want now?!” Dipper groaned, then squirmed when he felt Dib’s hand trail down his bare chest— since when was he only in his boxers?

            “For you to calm down,” Dib cooed, feeling the rapid rise and fall of Dipper’s chest below his hand. “What’s wrong, babe? You seem tense,” he purred, his cold fingers dipping below his waistband. Dipper squeaked, trying to squirm but it felt like his body wasn’t even moving. 

            “What do you mean what’s wrong?!” Dipper sputtered indignantly, growling and trying to turn to face Dib. “You know what’s wrong! You’re fucking—“ He cut himself off with a high pitched whine when he felt Dib gently run his fingers up his shaft. “Quit it!”

            “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with this!” Dib replied, continuing to pump him to get him hard. “I like you and I wanna make you feel good!” Dipper squirmed and growled, but his own struggling simply created more friction, making a squeaky moan pass his lips. Dipper’s eyes widened and he wished he could slap his hand over his mouth. He sank his teeth into his lower lip, trying to ignore Dib’s deft hand toying with his shaft. 

            The edges of Dipper’s vision hazed white again, his mind getting jumbled and lost in pleasure until he finally snapped back and saw Dib’s mischievous face hovering above him. “You're so cute when you moan!” He giggled, and Dipper took a moment to process the new position, his hands tied and his legs spread—wait, what?! 

            A sudden rush of pleasure filled him and he couldn’t even ask what was going on. He didn’t remember getting untied from the chair, he didn’t remember getting thrown on the bed, or getting prepped, all he knew was now this was happening and it was terrifying. He grit his teeth, biting back a moan. Dib grinned, thrusting into him a little harder. “Cmon, be a good boy…”

            Dipper gasped, a strangled moan making it past his lips as Dib’s cock hit something inside him that made the white around the edges of his vision blur. He saw Dib’s eyes light up at the noise, shifting his hips to aim for his sweet spot. Why did he almost look cute? Dipper frantically shook his head, trying to dispel that thought before getting distracted by Dib thrusting deeper inside him with a moan. Dipper arched his back, gasping and moaning as he tried to hide his face in his bound hands, which Dib batted away. He held his wrists in his free hand, the other placed firmly on his thigh, forcing his legs open. 

            “Don’t hide from me, baby.” He smiled, thrusts becoming slower and deeper. Dipper groaned, panting and squirming and wishing Dib would speed up again. The boy noticed this, a smug look blooming on his face. “Beg for it.”

            “Wh—no I—ah!” he stuttered, Dib snapping his hips at Dipper’s refusal. 

            “Cmon, be a good boy, good boys obey orders.” He leaned down, filling Dipper’s vision as it tunneled and all he could feel was pleasure, gazing up at Dib. 

            “Okay! Okay I’m sorry I’ll be good!” He whined. “Please just dont stop! I promise I’ll be good!” The edges of his vision darkened, his shallow gasps becoming more frantic. 

            Suddenly, everything dissipated like smoke, and Dipper sat up with a panicked shriek. He placed a hand to his chest, grounding himself back in reality as he felt his hands touch his flushed skin. He glanced around his bedroom in bewilderment, the covers shuffling above him as he jerkily checked the corners of the room. 

            “What the fuck?” he mumbled, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “What the fuck?” he repeated as he shifted and felt the hard-on straining in his boxers. “Fuck’s sake…” He gritted his teeth, shamefully gripping the covers and sitting in bed indignantly for a few moments, trying to process everything and decide what to do. 

            Dipper bit his lip. Dreams were just brains trying to process stuff! Obviously Dib constantly messing with him and violating his consent the other day was going to make him dream about it, he reasoned. Besides, he was probably pent up because of Dib’s constant surveillance of his apartment, and Dib was the only one who had been touchy with him recently. Having dreams about something doesn’t mean you want it to come true, those are just called nightmares, and Dipper could attest that this entire situation was a goddamn nightmare. 

            Dipper could fret about the implications of this later, he had a waking nightmare to deal with as he glanced down at his lap. He could just go to the shower and deal with it. Well, no, actually. He still hadn't been able to find the camera in the bathroom and didn’t want to give Dib any more creepy jack-off material than he already had. Cold shower, then, Dipper reasoned, then glanced out the window at the cold whipping wind outside. Maybe not. Hide under the covers with tissues like a teenage boy and pray Dib didn't somehow have a way to see him? He could also just ignore it, but that would suck and he already had enough discomfort in his life. Dipper groaned, about to move when he noticed his bedroom door was slightly cracked. 

            “Hey! WHAT THE FUCK!” Dipper yelled, his immediate dilemma forgotten as he jumped out of bed, throwing on a giant hoodie to hopefully cover his problem and chasing Dib down the hall. “GET OUT HERE!” he yelled when he entered the living and kitchen area, with no Dib to be found. 

            “Good morning, sunshine!” Dib sing-songed from behind him, making Dipper shriek and nearly jump out of his skin. 

            “What do you think you’re doing in my fucking house?!” he spat, whipping around to glare at the smug intruder.

            “Just checking on you.” Dib ran his fingers through Dipper’s messy hair, to which Dipper grabbed his wrist and yanked it away from his curls, as much as it hurt to untangle Dib’s fingers from it. “Making sure you were sleeping well.” Mirth bubbled in his amber eyes as he watched realization dawn on Dipper’s face. 

            “UGH!” He shoved Dib away from him. “You are so fucking nasty! I was SLEEPING!” he snarled, making Dib simply giggle and tilt his head. 

            “And you make the cutest noises!” He smiled, making Dipper clench his fist before winding his arm back to sock him in the face. However, before he could land the blow, Dib had managed to dodge it, grabbing Dipper’s arm and trapping it behind his back. “Oh come on, babe. That’s not a very nice way of saying thank you!”

            “Thank you?! You fucking touched me while I was asleep!” Dipper spat, grunting as Dib twisted his arm a little more. “Why the fuck would I thank you for any of this?!”

            Dib let out another self-satisfied chuckle. “I dunno babe, you seemed to be enjoying yourself quite a bit!” Dipper tried to get out of his grip, growling as Dib slammed him into the wall and grabbed his free wrist as well. He briefly wondered how the fuck none of his neighbors had lodged a noise complaint against him, before he was shaken from this thought as he felt Dib’s tongue against his neck. 

            “RRGH! What the fuck?!” Dipper jerked away from him before hissing in pain as the movement twisted his arm more. “Youre so fucking gross, I hate you, get out of my house—“

            “Quit the dirty talk, babe,” Dib teased, making Dipper turn his head to try and glare at the boy. His flushed cheek was pressed against the cool drywall, eyes blazing as he wished looks could kill. “Anyways, I—“ 

            Dib was cut off as Dipper kicked him in the leg, the surprise making Dib loosen his grip enough for Dipper to squirm away. He whipped around to face him, his foot colliding with Dib’s stomach and sending him to the hard floor of the hall with a grunt. Dipper glared down at him, ready to kick or punch again if he tried to move. 

            “Didn’t know violence turned you on, too, puppy.” Dib smirked, eyes drifting lazily between his legs. Dipper balked, eyes wide as he took a step back and pulled his hoodie down over his thighs. 

            “Wh—shut up, you bastard!” Dipper barked, eyes narrowing as Dib got up and dusted himself off. 

            “Oh come on, babe, lemme help—“ He extended his hand towards Dipper, who bared his teeth and growled at Dib. 

            “Leave me the fuck alone.”

            Dib paused, before laughing softly. “Alright, alright. I can tell when my boyfriend needs his space. I’m such a good partner, mm?” He cocked his head, walking up to Dipper and giving him a kiss on the cheek, making him bristle. “Suppose I’ll let you come up with your own sick fantasies to jack off to. Have fun!” He wriggled his fingers playfully as he waved goodbye, pulling open the balcony door. The blast of cold air that entered the apartment sent a chill up Dipper’s spine as Dib left, hopping down the fire escape. He hoped the bastard slipped and cracked his head open on the way down. 

            Dipper tugged the hem of his hoodie down as he wandered back into his room, shutting the door and making sure to lock it behind him. He glanced at the clock, thankfully he had more than enough time before class to shower and collect himself. He stumbled across the room as he pulled off his clothes, throwing them on the floor behind him before entering the bathroom and turning on the shower. 

            He got in, the stream of warm water relaxing his tensed muscles before he felt the prickle of someone watching him, reminded of the camera that was trained on him from somewhere in the room. He’d checked everywhere, the corners, the shower head, the drains, every nook and cranny and crack that he could, to no avail. Dipper leaned his head against the cool tile in front of him, groaning. 

            He'd been so terrified of Dib breaking in while he was sleeping and stabbing him to death, but apparently that was not the true concern. It was Dib breaking in and touching him. Raping him? He didn't even want to think about it.

            Dipper thumped his forehead against the wall, He is so fucking annoying.

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            Despite the fact he showered, Dipper didn’t feel any cleaner when got out. The gross feeling followed him throughout the day, making his skin prickle as he struggled to pay attention in class. He nervously tapped his pen along to the ticking of the clock at the front of the room, in between bouts of gnawing at the end of it. He got a couple glances from some of his peers, who looked over every time he shifted in his seat or began bouncing his knee, much to their annoyance. Dipper couldn’t really be bothered to notice.

            He rushed out of his first class, not even giving himself time to properly pack up as he jammed his papers and pens into his backpack while slinging it over his shoulder. His feet seemed to automatically lead him to the coffee shop, his routine had become muscle memory this far into the semester. Finals were approaching, they had about a month to go. Dipper groaned, feeling a headache coming on just thinking about it. He got in line, staring at his phone to attempt to distract himself.

            “HEY BRO-BRO!” Mabel practically yelled in his ear as she attacked him in a hug, sending Dipper’s phone clattering to the floor as he was thrown off balance. 

            “Mabel!” he whined, shaking her off to sheepishly take his phone from the girl in front of him that had picked it up. “I didn’t know you would be here today, what’s up?” Mabel cocked her head.

            “Do you have bees in your brain? We planned to meet here last night to discuss Operation fanfic trope!” She dropped her voice to whisper the end of her sentence. Dipper blinked in confusion before putting on a fake smile.

            “Oh! Oh, right, yeah.” He laughed nervously, tilting his phone away from her as he checked their messages to see what the hell his sister was talking about. He felt a slight burn of shame when he realized she was talking about their plan to get her together with Pacifica, he couldn’t believe he had been so distracted that he’d managed to forget his sister’s massive crush on the girl. This Dib problem was getting out of hand, he thought as he looked back up at Mabel. She was chatting with the girl in front of him who had picked up his phone. 

            Dipper went back to stewing in his own thoughts, as he had been doing all morning, until Mabel nudged him to go order. He stumbled up to the counter, and decided against ordering anything caffeinated since he was so high strung already. He wandered to a table in the little dining area of the cafe, waiting for his hot chocolate. Mabel bounded over a few moments later after ordering her own drink and pastry.

            “So what’s got you so jumpy?” she asked as she sat down across from him. 

            “Mm,” he said around a mouthful of hot chocolate. “You know me—mister anxiety!” 

            Mabel rolled her eyes and took a swig of her own drink. “Well, I have hardly been able to sleep. Thinking about Operation fanfic trope.” Mabel grinned.

            “Thinking about what?” Another voice spoke and Mabel’s eyes bulged. Dipper looked over just as Pacifica sat down, her short blonde hair wind-tossed and her cheeks pink from the cold.

            “Uh.” Mabel’s mouth hung open. “Nothing.”

            “Just a Mabel thing, you know.” Dipper chimed in to save her. “She likes to scheme.” 

            “Wha—Bwuh—?” Mabel stared at Pacifica.

            “Right,” she said, her manicured nails pulling the lid off of her coffee. “Well unfortunately I have no time to scheme. Professor Creep has decided to have us do a goddamn group project for Finals, on top of that six-thousand word essay he assigned last week. It's absurd!” Her face twisted up in a sour grimace. 

            “Aw, but...” Mabel’s face fell. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to go to that new club on Marcus street.”

            Pacifica sighed sadly.

            “I’m sorry, Mabel. I don’t think I’ll be able to until Winter break. Maybe earlier, if my group aren't morons.”

            “Are you not going to join us for Thanksgiving, either? Or are you going home?” Dipper chimed in.

            "You better!" Mabel said, "I'm gonna make my Mabel Surprise Stuffing."

            "NO!" Dipper and Pacifica exclaimed in unison and then laughed at Mabel’s exaggerated pout.

            Pacifica sighed, “Yes, I’ll be there for our Thanksgiving next week even if I have to murder my classmates and hide the bodies.”

            Mabel and Pacfica laughed at that, but Dipper's face fell. He shakily picked up his hot chocolate and took a big drink, wincing at the heat. 

            “Well...” Mabel tapped her chin with a finger. “How about we all go the first weekend of Winter break? Kick it off with a bang!”

            Pacifica smiled.

            “Sure. It’s a date.” She nodded acknowledgment at Mabel and then Dipper, missing how Mabel’s cheeks flushed pink. “Well, I can’t stay and chat. Have a good one, freaks.” She stood and stalked out of the cafe, the doorbell jingling pleasantly as she went. 

            Mabel turned slowly towards Dipper, grinning like a maniac. 

            “I did it.”

            Dipper laughed. “Yes, congrats.”

            “She said yes to the plans!” Mabel threw her arms into the air. “Operation fanfic trope is a GO!”

            Dipper grinned back at her, laughing along with her giddy ranting about plans for the night of the nightclub visit. Until, a figure in black slid past the window down the sidewalk and Dipper’s blood froze. He turned and locked eyes with Dib, standing outside in his trenchcoat. The boy smirked darkly at him and gave him a wave. 

            Mabel noticed Dipper had gone dead quiet and turned to follow his gaze, eyes alighting on Dib as well. Her face broke out into a grin and she waved enthusiastically at him. His face lit up, a mask of cheer, and he waved back to her, before continuing on his way.

            “I don’t know what you mean by not getting along with him, he seems so nice!” Mabel said to him. She waggled her eyebrows. “And attractive, no wonder you like him!”

            “I don't... I...” Dipper trailed off and opted to groan instead, lifting his mug to his mouth glumly. “Whatever.”

            Mabel only laughed. 

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            That weekend, Dipper took a large swig from his glass, relishing the burn as the alcohol went down his throat. Thrumming music vibrated up his legs and in his skull. He slouched over the bar, ignoring all the people dressed in fishnets and neon coming and going around him.

            Nightclubs weren’t really his scene, but damn if he wasn't going to use Mabel's invitations as a chance to sit at a bar all night.

            "One more of these, please," Dipper murmured drunkenly at the bartender as he went by. 

            "You sure, buddy? You're a little—" The older man looked him over skeptically.

            "Yesh, I'm fine." Dipper slid a few dollars over to him and the man shrugged, plopping a new, cold glass in front of the boy. He quickly finished off his old glass, tilting his head back.

            Goddammit, Dipper thought, glaring at the liquid swaying in the crystal clear glass. He ran his fingers over the condensation. No matter how drunk he got, that stupid bastard Dib would not get out of his head. Dipper rationalized that it made sense, considering Dib was such a dangerous presence in his life, and was around near constantly, so of course he would frequent his mind! Especially after... after he...

            Dipper furiously took several gulps of his drink. After he fucking jacked me off. Multiple times. Dipper wanted to scream. He blushed, though his cheeks were already flushed. Embarrassment ran through him like fire and he clenched a fist in his hair. He couldn't stop thinking about that, either. He had even had a full-blown sex dream about him. What the fuck is wrong with me?

            No. No, it's probably normal. Someone who isn't intimate with anyone suddenly getting that stimulus? It's totally normal that his brain would latch itself to the experience! It had felt so good because it was a natural bodily response, that's all! Surely if it had been with anyone else, I would feel the same way. Dipper thought to himself. Yeah, exactly. Literally anyone else would feel the same as doing things with him.

            "Here you are, sir." The bartender slid a tall, thin shot glass towards Dipper, breaking him out of his thoughts. Dipper blinked in confusion.

            "I didn't, uh..." he said lamely, pointing at it.

            "Yeah, it's from that fella over there." The barkeep motioned to the other side of the bar, where a man around Dipper's age gave a short wave and a smile when he saw Dipper glance in his direction. Dipper's brain lagged for a moment and he blushed, giving the decently attractive guy a short nod.

            Holy shit. Dipper stared into his glass. Is this really happening? He'd never had something like this happen to him. He had seen it happen a handful of times to Mabel and Pacifica, usually some guys they weren't interested in, but this... With anyone else...

            Fuck it.

            Dipper tilted his head back and swallowed the shot in one go. He stood up, slipped on his jacket, and walked to the other side of the bar where the other man was chatting to someone next to him. Dipper let his foggy-headed drunkenness quel his intense social anxiety as the man perked up upon noticing his approach.

            "Hey—!" he started to greet him, but Dipper grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him up off of his seat. The man laughed. "Oh! We're doing this, then, okay!"

            He took Dipper’s hand and led the boy across the edges of the room, weaving through groups of clubbers leaned up against the wall. Dipper’s mind would be screaming protests at him normally—this was not like him, was he really about to hook up with a stranger?—but he was drunk and didn't give a shit. He had to prove to himself that what happened with Dib was just... nothing. It was nothing, it meant nothing!

            The pair slipped away into the dark and through an exit door, Dipper stared numbly at the red glow across his bare forearm. Then, suddenly, the other man grabbed Dipper’s waist and pressed him against a cold wall of brick. An alley? Dipper thought, but didn't look around him. He met the stranger's gaze, drunk and heavy. He was clearly attracted to the boy, yet Dipper didn't feel the familiar squirm in his gut as he did when fixed under the hungry amber gaze of Dib. He frowned and grabbed a fistful of the taller man's shirt.

            "Kiss me and make me forget," Dipper said to him.

            The man grinned. "Gladly."

            He leaned down to kiss him, cupping a hand to Dipper’s face and caressing his hair. It was...different, in every way. The man's hands were rough and thick compared to Dib's thin, cold ones. His face too, dotted with stubble where Dib's jaw was smooth and angular. The man's chest was broad and Dipper ran his hands up it, eliciting a deep groan from the stranger.

            "You're so fucking sexy." He wrapped an arm around Dipper’s thin waist and pulled him in. The kiss itself was slightly similar, it felt alright, if a bit sloppy. But everything else. The man smelled of men's body spray and slightly of sweat, his voice was deeper, he groped at Dipper’s ass with large hands and rubbed against him like a rutting animal. He was just...some horny dude at a bar. 

            Fuck, fuck! Dipper swore in his mind. It's not working, why isn't it working? He threw his arms up around the stranger's shoulders and tried to deepen the kiss. Feel something! Get turned on! Hell, even Dipper’s dream about Dib was sexier than this. No! That's not fucking right!

            The man suddenly slid a hand into the waistband of Dipper’s jeans and he felt his calloused hands squeeze his bare ass. The man pressed against Dipper, a hard-on straining in his jeans. The stink of alcohol choked Dipper and a twist of extreme discomfort rolled in Dipper’s stomach. He couldn't do it. He couldn't just...

            "I've got a condom in my pocket, baby." His hot breath hit the side of Dipper’s face. A large hand slid from Dipper’s hips to the button of his jeans. 

            This isn't right.

            Dipper closed a hand around the man's wrist and pulled it out from his pants, pushing on his chest with his other.

            "Wait."

            "What's wrong?" The man frowned and nuzzled kisses into Dipper’s pale, freckled neck.

            "I can't, I need to go... Hey!" Dipper protested as the man ignored him and groped Dipper’s crotch, holding him against him as he struggled with increasing alarm. Fear lit up in his chest, pushing back his drunken haze. 

            "C'mon, sexy. Don't be shy now, my dick'll be real good." He rutted against Dipper’s leg.

            "Fuck off, man!" Dipper raised his voice in anger, shoving harshly against his chest. He stumbled back a little, a shocked look on his face that quickly darkened into anger. 

            "Are you fucking kidding? You're really gonna blue-ball me?" he snapped, motioning to the tent in his jeans.

            "I'm leaving." Dipper glared and moved to walk past him. He yelped as the man harshly grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back.

            "If you're gonna act like a fucking slut, then you can at least just bend over like one!" the stranger growled. 

            Panic lit up in Dipper’s mind, sobering him quickly. "Get the fuck off!"

            "No, just—!" 

            The man yelped as Dipper’s fist collided hard with his nose. He stumbled away from the boy, swearing loudly. Dipper’s knuckles stung and his chest heaved in and out with heavy breaths. I just fucking punched someone. He laughed in disbelief at himself. Red blood trickled over the man's mouth and he turned an enraged glare towards Dipper. Dipper turned and sprinted away, out into the street.

            "Fucking whore!" the stranger screamed from behind him, but thankfully didn't give chase. 

            Dipper didn't stop running until he was several blocks from the club. A painful stitch throbbed in his side and his feet hurt from pounding across pavement. He called a cab and sent a quick text to Mabel to let her know he left, saying he 'didn't feel well'. Another lie. How many more lies would he have to tell her? It made him feel sick. It made him feel like a tar-black pit was festering at his core. He stared at the spots of blood on his knuckles.

            As he kicked off his shoes and changed for bed, he thought to himself that maybe he wasn't as good of a person as he thought he was.

            And it terrified him that hurting someone felt as good as it did.

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            “Oh for fuck’s sake, seriously?” Dipper muttered to himself as he came to on his bedroom floor, hands and feet bound with thick rope and duct tape. He tried to pull his hands apart, hissing as it constricted harder around his wrists. God damn it, Dib! He thought as he squirmed into a sitting up position. “Hey asshole! I’m awake!” he yelled at his door, trying to scoot closer but pathetically falling to the side.

            Dipper heard Dib’s footsteps walk down the hall before poking his head into the doorway, a giddy smile on his face.

            “Good morning!”

            Dipper’s eyes flicked to the clock. “It’s two p.m.” He narrowed his eyes at Dib. “What’s the deal with this?” He lifted his bound hands. This time Dipper was sure it wasn’t some wet dream, so, instead, annoyance burned in his chest. Dib chuckled a little, walking up to him with his arms behind his back. 

            “Dunno, it seemed fun.” He smiled and leaned over Dipper menacingly. “You’re really stubborn, it just seemed like tying you up would probably make you easier to handle.”

            “Easier to handle?” Dipper narrowed his eyes, looking quite offended. Dib grabbed him, to which Dipper started to struggle. “Quit it!”

            “You’re just proving my point.” Dib dragged him to sit in his lap, wrapping his arms around his waist to trap the squirming boy there. “Difficult boys are my favorite, though. It’s more fun to wear you down ‘til you crack!”

            Dipper rolled his eyes, trying to pull at the rope around his wrists.

            “You are so fucking annoying, oh my god. Can you get the fuck out of my house?” 

            “You’re being awfully mean to your boyfriend,” Dib teased.

            “You are not!” Dipper snapped, whipping around to glare at Dib. Dib gave him an unsettling smile back. “You are not, and never will be, my boyfriend. I don’t fucking like you.”

            “I think that’s a lie.” Dib moved to cup his cheek, to which Dipper took the opportunity to bite at him, catching his hand between his teeth and sinking them into Dib’s skin. Dib ripped his hand away, swatting at Dipper’s nose. “Hey! Naughty!” he snapped, as though Dipper were some kind of disobedient puppy rather than a human. Dipper bared his teeth, trying to kick Dib with his bound feet, who laughed.

            “You are such an asshole!” Dipper growled. “I have class in an hour.”

            “Well, that’s another hour we can snuggle!” Dib cooed, gathering Dipper up to cradle him. Dipper squirmed, pushing Dib with his hands to fall out of his arms.

            “Get away from me! God, you’re psychotic!” Dipper struggled to sit up to face him. Dib’s face lit up at the insult. “In an annoying way!” he spat. “I was not complimenting you!”

            “I’m choosing to take it as such.” He hummed, leaning forward and wrapping his arm around Dipper’s waist, unceremoniously dragging him back closer to him. Dipper, at this point, was having none of it, and managed to snap at his arm again, considering his teeth were the only weapon he had. He caught the flesh between his teeth for half a second, pinching Dib’s skin before he pulled his arm away. Dib hissed in pain, recoiling for a moment before surging forward and pinning Dipper to the floor.

            “You’re acting like quite the wild animal today, huh?” Dib snickered, straddling his hips and keeping his hands on his chest to stop Dipper from fucking biting him. “Guess I’ll have to tame you.” 

            “You are so fucking gross!” Dipper groaned. “Just get the fuck off me!”

            “You know, it’s kinda cute watching you struggle and bite at me. You’re like a big puppy.” He cooed, tilted his head. Dipper huffed, ceasing his struggling and flicking his eyes to look at the ceiling.There was a pause while Dib expected Dipper to reply, but got none. “Hey, what gives?”

            “I’m ignoring you,” Dipper said plainly.

            “You’re such a brat.” Dib shook him a little, to which Dipper barely responded. He narrowed his eyes, scooting down slightly before grabbing at the hem of his jeans. This made Dipper react, who angrily lifted his legs and sent Dib off balance, who tumbled to the side, barely catching himself. 

            “Fuck’s sake, can you go three seconds without trying to fucking molest me?” Dipper sat up, putting his hands in his lap to prevent Dib from grabbing him again.

            “Nope!” Dib grinned, scooting closer and receiving a kick from Dipper. It wasn’t very strong thanks to the fact Dipper’s legs were tied, so Dib just found it funny. “Your pouty face is so cute.” Dib leaned forward and kissed him, Dipper flinching away and falling back to the floor. Dib chased him, grabbing his face and bending down to kiss him again. This time Dipper couldn’t flinch away, and growled behind the kiss, pushing Dib’s chest with his hands until Dib grabbed those too, pinning them above his head and going right back to kissing him. Finally, Dipper got sick of it and bit him again, catching his lower lip and sinking his teeth into the more fragile flesh of his lip.

            This of course, did not deter Dib in the slightest, who moaned, making Dipper violently jerk his head away out of Dib’s grip. He was pretty sure he just did it to annoy him, but again, this was Dib. Dib eventually pulled away as Dipper clamped his jaw down harder, wiping his mouth with his hand and grinning when he saw pinpricks of blood smeared across his skin. 

            “Geez, babe, stop acting so into me, I might have to make you late for class!” he teased, tilting his head.

            “You weren’t supposed to like it!” Dipper spat, glaring up at him. “I’ve only got twenty minutes to get ready! Quit being a freak and let me go!”

            “Oh, insult me more.” Dib rolled his eyes and fake-moaned the sentence. “Oh well, since you’re so worried about your stupid class, I guess I’ll have to get going.” He pouted, getting off Dipper and going to leave the room.

            “Hey! What the fuck! Untie me so I can knock your fucking teeth in, you bastard!” Dipper squirmed and shakily got on his hands and knees. Dib glanced over his shoulder.

            “Oh, yeah, right.” He smirked, tossing a knife a few feet away from Dipper. “Fetch.” 

            Dipper was unbelievably pissed at that statement, indignantly shuffling across the floor and snatching the knife, sawing through the ropes as fast as he could. As soon as he got up, he tore through his apartment, gripping the knife in his hand and looking through every closet and corner to see if Dib was still in his house. Of course he wasn’t, and Dipper just sat down on his couch, feeling rather violated. He tossed the knife to the side and grabbed his phone, groaning when the screen turned on.

            He was so going to be late for class.

Chapter Text

           Dipper lay awake on his bed, despite it being the middle of the night. His bloodshot eyes stared vacantly up towards his ceiling, and perhaps to the overcast sky beyond.

           He couldn’t sleep. His brain was too active, too restless. He closed his sore eyes and took a deep breath. He heard a floorboard in his hallway creak. 

           Dipper didn’t stir or open his eyes even as he heard someone enter his room, trying to be quiet presumably to not wake him. It was Dib again, no doubt. It had been over a month since Dib’s torment came into his life, and Dib had not harmed him since the first night in the kitchen when he cut his cheek with a switchblade. Dib clearly didn’t have a plan to kill him yet, always going on about being boyfriends, which he supposed was of some comfort. So he waited to see what the bastard was doing this time. It’d be funny to jump up and scare him, Dipper thought. I have lost my fucking mind—

           Snip.

           Dipper felt a tug on his hair and he reflexively sat up and lurched away from it, staring bewildered at an equally shocked Dib with a pair of scissors in his hand. And a small locc of Dipper’s hair in the other.

           “What the HELL!?” Dipper snapped at him. Dib blinked, standing frozen in place.

           “Uh oh. Hi.” Dib chuckled, snapping out of his stricken, bug-eyed stance. He tucked the pinch of curled hair into his trenchcoat pocket. “You're awake, that’s not supposed to happen!”

           “What do you mean ‘not supp—Ugh, whatever.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “Explain why you're stealing a strand of my fucking hair, creep. You leaning more into the crazed stalker thing? Don’t tell me, you have a shrine of random trash you’ve stolen—”

           Dipper’s eyes widened at the same time Dib’s did. 

           “Nooooo! Definitely...not. What gave you that idea, babe?” Dib chuckled and took a step towards the door. Dipper thought back to all the shit that went missing in his apartment the weeks before Dib first showed his face. Realization hit him.

           “GET BACK HERE, FUCKER!” Dipper shouted as he vaulted from his bed in a fury. Dib squeaked in surprise and darted through the open doorway fast as a shadow. Dipper chased him down the hallway in his boxers and a loose t-shirt. 

           Dib darted out into the kitchen, but instead of running for the glass sliding door, he darted around to the opposite side of the kitchen island. Dipper moved to pursue him and Dib only sidestepped, keeping the counter between them. Dipper growled in frustration.

           “I fucking hate you, you know that?” Dipper seethed.

           Dib giggled. “No you don’t~!" the boy sing-songed playfully. Dipper made another lunge around the island but Dib easily danced out of his way.

           “I do!” Dipper snapped. “I don’t like you and never will!” 

           “Why?” Dib smirked. “Because I’m a bad little serial killer?” He said in a mocking baby voice. Dipper grimaced.

           “That’s a pretty good fucking reason, yes.” 

           “Nah.” Dib scoffed, waving the scissors around. “You have no other reason though, babe. That’s why I’m—”

           “Yes, I do, asshole!” 

           Dib narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and smirked. “Do tell! I don’t believe you.”

           “I...” Dipper swallowed, he needed to get Dib to become uninterested in him, this boyfriend thing needed to end if he was ever going to get away. But, what to say? He paused, then his anger hardened his resolve, “Because there’s other people I like, shit-head. I like girls!” Dib raised an eyebrow in smug disbelief. “...Mostly.”

           “Uh huh. Sure you do,” Dib said sarcastically. He stalked around the island towards Dipper. Dipper took a step back, but Dib loomed over him. “Who are they, then?”

           “As if I’d tell you, psycho,” Dipper said. Dib pursed his lips and leaned away. A smile alighted on his face once more.

           “I don’t believe you.”

           “I don’t care.” 

           “Alright, well... Goodnight!” Dib said cheerfully and darted away, taking the opportunity to jump out the fire escape where he came. Dipper chased him to the balcony and cursed under his breath. 

           He rubbed at his exhausted eyes and sighed deeply. At the very least, the adrenaline of chasing that idiot around his apartment had managed to make him tired. So Dipper shuffled back into his room and curled up under the covers, drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

           Dib rolled over, groaning as his phone alarm blared. A thin arm reached out of a pile of blankets and pillows and grabbed it off of the charger, turning the screen on and silencing it. He squinted, holding it close enough to his face to see without his glasses, and a pleasant smirk stretched over his face. 

           Dipper: I want my sweater back btw, mabel made that 

           Dib chuckled under his breath and typed back.

           Dib: Haha ;3

           Dipper: Thats not a response

           Dipper: asshole

           Dib: but i like it :((((

           Dipper: ITS LITERALLY MINE!!!!

           Dib laughed and clicked his phone off again. It was cute how easily angered Dipper was. He stretched, then untangled himself from the blankets, pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, and headed downstairs. 

           Light filtered through the tall glass windows that spanned floor to ceiling of the living room, casting long shadows over the monochrome space. He turned into the large, equally monochrome kitchen, where a girl was sitting at a dining counter. She didn’t look up as Dib opened the large fridge.

           “Good morning,” he said pleasantly as he pulled out a carton of eggs.

           “It’s noon.” The girl didn’t look up from her phone, a dull expression on her face.

           “Have you eaten yet? I’ll make us omelets!” 

           The girl with short, curled at the tips, purple hair finally looked up at him. Her eyes narrowed into a suspicious glare.

           “Why are you so happy lately? It’s gross.”

           Dib laughed and she rolled her eyes. He turned back to the counter and started slicing through some peppers and mushrooms with a knife. 

           “Ah, I’ll tell you if you sit and eat with me~” He turned back to her and flashed a cheeky smile. She rolled her eyes but didn’t refuse, so Dib went back to cooking, practically glowing with his good mood. 

           He cracked several eggs into a large pan, and the vegetables in another. When the peppers and mushrooms were cooked a bit, he dumped them into the eggs to be mixed in as they turned white and fluffy. He split them in two halves with the spatula and sprinkled cheese onto each, before folding them over themselves to let it melt within the heat. He plopped one of the folded omelets onto a plate in front of the girl, and then another for himself. He handed her a fork and sat down on a stool next to her.

           “I take it Dad isn’t gonna be here tonight?” Dib said and then shoved a steaming mouthful of cheesy omelet into his mouth, letting out a hum of satisfaction. 

           “When is he ever?” the girl mumbled back. 

           “Mm. True.” He tapped his fingers on the dark stone countertop and the girl kicked him. “Hey, it’s not my fault he never shows up for holidays.” 

           “No, but you’re being annoying. Stop fidgeting.” 

           “Boo.” Dib pouted. The purple-haired girl sighed.

           “Again, why have you been so annoying lately? To what do I owe the displeasure?”

            Dib fixed her with a beaming smile and she grimaced. He leaned in like a giggling schoolgirl and whispered, “There's a boy I like!”

           “Ugh.”

           “No, really!” He dropped his fork onto the plate with a clink of metal against glass. “He’s really cute and smart and—”

           "I pity whoever has your affections." The girl turned away from him. Dib sighed.

           “It’s real this time, I know it. It’s been over a month and I think it’s going well.” 

           The girl frowned thoughtfully at this, glancing sideways at him. She rolled her eyes when she saw the stupid smile on his face.

           “Good for you, keep me out of it.” 

           “When do I ever drag you into my—”

           “All the time,” she interrupted, “But it’s fine as long as you don’t give me details, as I’ve told you.”

           “Yes yes, trying not to stain your conscience.” Dib sighed and scooped more forkfuls of omelet into his mouth. “I’m gonna go pick up the stuff for tonight, but I’m gonna be going out after.”

           “Oh?” she replied with disinterest.

           “Gonna go pay my boyfriend a surprise visit.” He giggled and put an arm around her.

           “Whatever. Don’t get hurt.”

           “I never do, Gaz.” Dib jumped up and dumped his plate in the sink. The girl watched him dart off into the huge, empty house with a frown. She stared down at her plate, and sighed.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

           Dipper panted and whined quietly beneath the rushing of water. The warm water crashed over the back of his neck and down his bare back, his head craned forward, eyes screwed shut. One hand tightly clutched the shower bar to steady his trembling legs, the other... 

           His mind was a fog of arousal, relishing in the electric heat that shot through his hips and stomach with every desperate stroke of his hand. His body quaked, he gasped as if he was suffocating and his whole body spasmed. The boy came back to his senses as he watched the white fluid wash down the drain. 

           Fuck.

           Fuck, fuck, goddammit, what is wrong with me? Post-nut clarity was a bitch, and Dipper just realized he had jacked off to thoughts of Dib holding him down against his will, his weight pressing him down, his warm breath against Dipper’s ear as he—STOP thinking about it or you’ll get horny again!! Dipper slapped himself and cranked the shower water to cold, gasping and curling in on himself as it hit him.

           What the hell kind of a person fantasizes about a guy—a murderer—forcing himself onto him? Dipper stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped a towel around himself, he shot a glare around the room in case Dib was watching. He prayed it wasn’t possible to put a cam in the shower itself.

           Dipper flopped onto his bed and groaned. The euphoria was fading fast, with his conscience catching back up to him, and he felt the familiar ball of stress forming in his chest. He breathed deeply, trying to calm down.

           No more thoughts of Dib today. It was a holiday, and he was going to have a good fucking day with his friends, for once. He let out a long exhale and grabbed his phone. He opened the Discord group chat.

           Dip: is everything ready? should I come over early and help with anything

           A message came back right away.

           Paz: Yes, do so. Get out of bed and get your lazy ass over here

           Dip: I'm not....

           Dip: .... fine okay. see you in a bit

           Gaybel: BRING THE SHIT I LEFT THERE

           Dip: okaaaay

           Dipper sighed and forced himself to sit back up, despite his body feeling heavy. He rooted around for something to wear, since the sweater he usually wore was stolen by a certain someone who shall not be named. He settled on a University hoodie and jeans, simple but clean. He shook his damp hair out and went to brush it, slipping on socks and shoes.

           Then Dipper grabbed the two circular glass dishes out of the refrigerator that Mabel had left from the other day. She had come over earlier in the week to cook dessert in his kitchen, leaving the pumpkin pie and fluff dessert behind to cool in his fridge in preparation for this Thursday. Today.

           He carefully brought them out into the hall, balancing them in his arms as he locked his front door behind him. An action that felt pointless, as of late. How could anyone worse than a serial killer break into his apartment? But it was habit. He went down the flight of stairs and out to his car, checking his phone one last time before heading out, as the car warmed up.

           Gaybel: me n candy are otw

           Gaybel: paz do u have whip cream

           Paz: No

           Gaybel: FUCK

           Gaybel: DIPPER

           Gaybel: GET COOLWHIP OR SOMETHING PLEEEEAAASE

           Dipper rolled his eyes and sighed, but smiled.

           Dip: istg

           Mabel responded with a string of big-eyed begging emojis and praying hands. Dipper chuckled under his breath and he pulled out of the parking spot.

           It was another cold day, with December right around the corner. Dipper’s mind was wandering, so he cranked his music. He didn’t want to think about what his life had been the last few months. Not today.

            He made a quick stop at a small grocery store on a corner that was still open. People were coming and going in a hurry, last minute shopping most likely, same as him. He didn’t envy the workers, but he made his way inside and grabbed what he needed from the cold section. He checked out quickly, refused a bag for his two containers of whipped cream, and made for the automatic glass doors. He froze as his eyes fell on a bulletin board to the right of the exit. 

           An unpleasant feeling squeezed in his chest. It was a bunch of flyers, mostly advertisements, but there in the middle... It was a flyer for an upcoming memorial in the city park. A candlelit vigil for all the victims of the Rocksburg Reaper, a gaudy name the press had recently given D—the serial killer. Dipper tore his eyes away, but the imagined image of a large group of people, friends, grieving families, strangers, all carrying little spots of light in the darkness for those who were slaughtered... Fuck.

           Dipper hurried back outside and got in his car, a sick, guilty feeling in his stomach. 

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

           “Mabel, did you check the turkey?” Pacifica’s voice called out, falling on deaf ears as Mabel sped through the large, modern kitchen.

           “Candy, whisk me!” Mabel commanded, shoving out her hand. Her softly curled brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail and tied with a bow, her eyes were wild.

           “Roger!” Candy exclaimed, slapping a whisk into Mabel’s open palm. The girl then turned and began viciously whisking the frosting together. 

           “Dipper!” Mabel shouted as she whisked, “Stir the gravy!”

           “Okay—”

           “That’s AYE AYE, YESSIR to you!” she snapped at him, throwing the whisk at the sink, “SPATULA!”

           “Aye aye!” Candy handed her a rubber spatula. Mabel carried the mixing bowl of pink frosting over to the tray of sugar cookies that had been made earlier. Dipper stirred the gravy that sat on one of the stovetop burners a few times and glanced over at Pacifica apologetically.

           “Mabel—” she tried to say.

           “Candy!” Mabel called, “Check those beans and the stuffing STAT.”

           Candy saluted and scurried over to the crockpot. Mabel was doing quick work of slathering frosting onto the sugar cookies, trying to get them ready before the rest of the food, so that they could sit and settle while they ate.

           “MABEL, DID YOU CHECK THE TURKEY?” Pacifica finally shouted across the chaos. Mabel’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

           “My bird!” she exclaimed in horror and almost tripped in her haste to check the oven. She popped it open and speared the thermometer into the meat, “DIPPER, GLOVES, NOW!”

           “Jesus, they’re literally right next—”

           “NOW, DIPPER!” The girls screamed at him in unison. Dipper swore and grabbed the oven mitts, tossing them to his frantic sister. She slid them on, hoisted the turkey out of the oven, and set it on an empty stovetop. 

           Dipper backed away, all the screaming and panic was not doing well for his stress—BANG! The front door practically exploded inward, so hard that Dipper was shocked the hinges didn’t break. Pacifica winced.

           “GRENDA IS HERE!” Grenda announced with a yell, her imposing form entering the doorway with arms full of bread rolls and tupperware filled with mashed potatoes.

           “Help me frost these cookies while I get the turkey!” Mabel called to Candy, who slid into her spot and took up the rubber spatula. 

           "Every year they are like this and every year I am surprised by it." Pacifica slid in next to Dipper and said to him, her arms crossed. "It has a certain charm to it, though." Dipper did not miss the way she was staring directly at Mabel as she said it, ponytail bouncing as she bobbed through the kitchen. Dipper couldn’t help but smile. "What?" Pacifica shot a sly look at him.

            "Nothing!" Dipper smirked. "Just funny seeing how the rich girl has warmed up to us weirdos, over the years." The blonde girl elbowed Dipper in the side and scoffed. 

            "You weirdos didn't give me much choice." She smiled warmly, humor glinting in her eyes. Dipper laughed.

            "Yeah, Mabel is, well...incessant." 

           Pacifica laughed and nodded agreement. Dipper felt warmth bloom in his chest. He had a good feeling about the day Mabel would finally confess to her, he saw how Pacifica looked at his sister. That fondness was too evident to be that of a friend. 

           "DIPPER, c'mere and help set stuff out on the table." Mabel called from across the room. Dipper gave Pacifica a pat on the shoulder and left her side. It didn't escape him how Mabel was commanding everyone except Pacifica, they were so obvious. 

           He did as he was told and helped set plates and silverware out on Pacifica’s large blackwood dining table. Grenda helped setting out bread rolls and butter in the middle, along with two jugs of juice and champagne. The rest of the food was set out in a row on the counters, ready to be served. Mabel cut the turkey open, slicing a few chunks off. They all grabbed a plate and formed a line, going through and spooning green beans, mashed potatoes, non-Mabel surprise stuffing, and turkey onto their plates. They settled back at the table, passed around the bread and drinks, clinked their glasses together and laughed merrily. The food was good, as usual. And plenty enough where there would be leftovers to take back with them.

           Dipper was happy. He was surrounded by friends and family, and he was safe in the warmth and the bright overhead light. Everything was normal, peaceful.

           “Dipper,” Mabel said with a mouthful of turkey, “Why aren't you wearing my sweater, you usually do on Thanksgiving?” 

           Dipper froze, fork midair. His mind spiraled back, his shoulders tensed back up.

            "Ah, it...was in the wash," he lied. 

           “Pshh,” Mabel responded and took a swig of juice.

           Dipper set his fork back down. He checked his phone. The sun was down, he had no new messages from Dib. Goddammit, Dib... He always found a way to creep back to the forefront of Dipper’s mind. He felt miles away, suddenly, from the happy bright scene around him. Grenda gushed about seeing her foreign boyfriend soon, Pacifica complained about a classmate slacking on their group project, Candy giggled over some new photoshoot of a boy-band that had Mabel squealing when she showed her—their lives were good, normal. And Dipper’s was now stained in blood and death, and no-one knew, no-one could ever know—

           “Hey Dip, you look kind of pale—” Mabel said.

           “I’m gonna go get some air.” Dipper mumbled and stood up, hurrying away deeper into Pacifica’s multi-bedroom house. She didn’t have any roommates, but her parents insisted she live well, even if she wasn’t going to a fancy University. No daughter of theirs was going to stay in some shitty apartment, or, god forbid, a dorm. 

           Dipper darted down the hallway and onto the back terrace. It was dark enough, aside from the pale string lights hanging outside over the door frame. He slid the glass door shut behind him and let out a shaky breath, leaning onto the smooth wood railing. The view wasn’t very high up, but a hill sloped downwards, making the ground feel far away in the dark. He looked out over the lights of the city, like millions of stars. Or candles.

           “Fuck,” Dipper choked out and hung his head, digging his fingers into his scalp. He hated this, he hated not being able to tell anyone, warn them. Dib would surely be caught had Dipper gone to the police by now, but would his sister and his friends be some of the victims being honored in that candlelit memorial? He couldn’t bear the thought, but instead he doomed strangers to die in their place. Selfish. He had originally wanted to investigate the murders to help stop them, to help save people. But now... He kept the secret out of fear. Selfish, complicit, horrible, guilty, he was an awful perso—

           “Dipper?” 

           He jumped, whirling around to see Pacifica stepping out onto the balcony with him, sliding the door shut softly behind her. She wrapped her arms around herself to shield from the cold air. Her brows furrowed and Dipper realized his eyes had started tearing up. He quickly turned away and rubbed at them. 

           “Sorry. I’m fine,” Dipper mumbled. Pacifica walked up on his left and leaned onto the railing as well, looking sideways at him, despite how he avoided her eyes.

           “Stop saying that.” She frowned at him. He looked at her, confused. “You clearly aren’t. You don’t need to pretend, idiot.” 

           Dipper exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh. “I am, it’s just—”

           “Don’t make an excuse, I don't need it,” she said sternly. Dipper shut his mouth and said nothing. Pacifica sighed, and softened her voice slightly, “Just...tell me what’s up. I know you like to bottle things, like some kind of ‘I’m a man, I can’t show emotion’ bullshit.”

           “It’s not...its not that.” Dipper narrowed his eyes, trailing off.

           “What is bothering you, Pines?”

           “I...” Dipper swallowed, “I can’t really say.” He felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead.

           “Try,” Pacifica said.

           Dipper let out a breath. “I... it’s...ugh.” He ran his fingers through his hair, Pacifica waited patiently for him to find the words. “I feel... I don’t know, scared. Disconnected from everyone. Like...my life is ruined and I don’t want to drag everyone down with me. I’m anxious all the time that one of you will get hurt because of me.” And I have good reason to believe this, but I can’t say, I can’t say, I can’t—

           Pacifica’s face screwed up, trying to process Dipper’s words. “You don’t need to be scared for us, we can handle ourselves.” Not against him— “And, Dipper,” she caught his eye, “Life changes all the time, it doesn’t mean... You are still you, and we are still here for you.”

           “That’s not...” Dipper choked back the words he wanted to say. “It’s bad. It’s not just normal life stuff.”

           Pacifica frowned. “If you’re in some kind of trouble, we can help. My family—"

           "No!” Dipper said too quickly. “I mean, no, you don’t need to...I’m...handling it.”

           “Poorly, clearly.” She raised an eyebrow at him and he groaned. “Try to get it off your chest, then. Talking helps, so people say.

           “You're terrible at this.”

           “Want me to go get Mabel?”

           “....No.”

           “Then talk.” She brushed a strand of pale hair out of her face.

           “I don’t know what to feel.” Dipper started slowly. “I... This thing in my life is terrible. It hurts people, it’s dangerous, but... Sometimes it’s good, to me, sometimes. It confuses me, and I hate it, but I also hate that sometimes I don’t hate it, even though I should?” Dipper took a deep breath.

           “Sounds complicated.” 

           “That’s putting it simply.” Dipper sighed. “I don’t know what to do, because I know that if this keeps going it’ll ruin my life, and I don’t want all of you to be hurt.”

           Pacifica blinked. “Well, that’s very sweet of you to think of us.”

           Dipper rolled his eyes. “Of course I would, even you are...important...to me.”

           “Wow, you really struggled to get that one out!” Pacifica laughed and Dipper couldn’t help but chuckle a little as well. 

           “You know Mabel and I care for you. She would kill someone for you,” she said.

           “And you wouldn’t?” Dipper smirked. Pacifica scoffed.

           “I’d have someone killed for you, I wouldn’t get my hands dirty like that.” 

           Dipper laughed softly and then his face fell. Jokes about killing came so easy, until it had become such a real thing in Dipper’s life. He let out a breath he was holding.

           “I care about you all, too. I couldn’t live with myself if anything bad happened to Mabel, she’s...” Dipper’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “I don’t want my life ruining yours.” 

           Pacifica leaned back and pulled Dipper up with her, holding his arms to make him face her. Below, some bushes rustled quietly.

           “Dipper Pines, you are part of our lives whether you like it or not!” she announced.

           “I know, but...”

           “No, listen.” She gazed at him with her piercing pale eyes. “We love you, moron. I love you. Whatever is bothering you, we will be here if you ask for help. Always.”

           Dipper swallowed and nodded.

           “You got it?” She gave him a gentle shake. “It doesn’t matter how horrible this thing in your life is, you will always have us and we will always be here for you.”

           “Thanks,” Dipper said quietly. He blinked and tried to swallow the emotion rising up his throat. She had no way of knowing just how bad his situation was, but her words were of some comfort. He could handle Dib, somehow. Keep them all safe, and then he would still have all of them to fall back to when he survived. They would be there. “Thank you.”

           To his surprise, Pacifica leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

           “Never tell anyone I did that,” she said when she saw Dipper’s wide eyes. His hand went up to touch his face.

           “They’d never believe me if I tried,” he laughed.

           “Damn right,” she said, and ruffled his hair. He ducked away, protesting, and she relented. “Let’s go back in before Mabel comes out here, too.” 

           “Sure.” Dipper smiled. 

           “Oh, don’t look at me like that!” she snapped.

           “Like what?” He smirked.

           “All sappy and shit,” she punched his arm and walked away to lead them back into the warmth of her home. Dipper smiled to himself and let out another deep breath. 

           He would be okay, somehow, some way, he would handle his Dib situation and everything would be fine. He had to keep telling himself that. Just keep playing along to keep them safe, and when the storm passes, they will be there. His old life would still be there.

           “Let’s go.” Dipper said and followed her in. Somewhere below, in the darkness, the pale light from the doorway reflected off of a pair of circular glasses. 

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           Roughly an hour later, the group was finishing off scraps of dessert from their plates and chatting about school, as college students seem to always come back around to. Dipper licked some whipped cream and pumpkin pie off of his fork, listening to the girls quietly. Then, Mabel turned to him.

           “How about you, Dipper?” she said and Dipper blinked. “How are your finals going?”

           “Oh,” he responded easily, “I should get the ones for my other classes done without too much issue or all-nighters, but my journalism class—” He cut himself off. Fuck, I shouldn’t have brought it up. He cleared his throat. 

           “I thought you liked that Professor?” Pacifica tilted her head at him.

           “He’s great!” He coughed. “Um, no, it’s just the project itself is giving me some trouble. It’s supposed to be, like, an essay researching a newsworthy event.”

           “Sounds dull,” Pacifica said and took a bite of a cookie.

           “Sounds interesting, to me!” Candy squeaked. “What are you doing it about, Dipper?”

           “Uh.” He really didn’t want to bring down the mood, but they all looked at him expectantly. He sighed and mumbled, “I’m doing mine about the recent murders.”

            “Oh.” Candy’s face froze. Even Pacifica’s frown deepened. Grenda’s eyes went wide.

            “The Rocksburg Reaper!” Grenda said ominously, like she was telling a scary story around a campfire. 

            Pacifica groaned at that.

            “I don’t know why they give serial killers catchy names, they are all just creepy, ugly losers.”

            “Ugly creep loser boy! That’s what they should call him!” Mabel giggled.

            “How do you know it’s a he?” Candy said with wide eyes. “Maybe there’s a creepy loser girl!”

            “Unlikely.” Pacifica took a sip from her glass. “Men are always statistically the brutal pieces of shit, like all these cases have been.”

            “Okay!” Dipper interrupted them, ignoring how easily he could slip up and say something like 'Yeah, actually he is a guy, and he’s definitely a creep, but not ugly.' “Mabel, your turn. Tell us about your finals.”

            Mabel perked up with a grin. “Oh, so glad you asked! In fact, I am done with my fashion course!”

            “Shut up!” Pacifica said in offended disbelief.

            “Oh my gosh!” Grenda exclaimed.

            “What’d you make?” Candy leaned forward, a sparkle in her eye.

            Mabel chuckled arrogantly, she loved showing off her creations, and Dipper had an idea of what she was about to do. She stood up and pulled out her cute backpack, dramatically reaching inside and pausing.

            “I just so happened to have made an extra, which just so happens to be in YOUR SIZE!” She whipped out the shirt and shoved it into Pacifica’s face. Grenda and Candy exclaimed and clapped excitedly. Pacifica leaned back, blinking in surprise, before her eyes lit up.

            “Oh my god, it’s gorgeous.”

            Mabel beamed.

            Pacifica took it gently from her and Mabel happily let her inspect it. Dipper had seen some sketches of it, but was impressed with his sister’s handiwork. It was a form fitting, sleeveless crop top, chic and colored a beautiful lavender, Pacifica’s favorite. Pacifica shot a sly smile at Mabel and turned the shirt to show the others the heart shaped boob-window. 

            “Oh, you have outdone yourself Mabel!” Candy squealed.

            “PRETTY!” Grenda agreed.

            Mabel was absolutely glowing with the praise, basking it in. Dipper smiled. “It looks great, Mabes!” He said and Mabel winked to him.

            “This is so good, Mabel, wow!” Pacifica stood up and wrapped Mabel in a tight hug, causing the other girl to turn red. Grenda and Candy giggled, surely having been told long ago of Mabel’s crush on the girl. Mabel was smiling as Pacifica pulled away.

            “I’m so glad you like it! I was hoping—”

            “Of course I do! Everything you make is great, dummy.” 

            Mabel scoffed but Dipper saw how her ears turned pink. 

            “Tell you what, I’ll wear it when we visit that club.” Pacifica said, Mabel perked up.

            “Oh, that'll be a perfect time!”

            “And,” she said nonchalantly, though Dipper could see the sappy smirk on her face, “I can go a bit earlier now, if you both have the Saturday before winter break off.”

            “YES!” Mabel practically exploded. Dipper laughed and nodded when she turned to him for confirmation. “YES, YES!”

            Dipper’s phone buzzed with an alert and he reflexively pulled it out to check. The smile on his face dropped instantly. 

            “Dipper, what is the matter?” Candy asked, concern lacing her voice. The others turned to him. There was no way he would be able to lie to them, not with the look of dread on his face.

            He read the title of the tabloid article just posted aloud. 

            Breaking News: The Rocksburg Reaper Kills Again!

            The others fell dead silent upon hearing this and let Dipper quick scan through the rest. It was very short, just something quick that had been rushed out as soon as possible. “We have just been alerted to reports overheard on police scanners that there have been a few found dead this evening, Thanksgiving, around seven p.m.”

            Only ten minutes ago. A few? Dipper’s stomach twisted in horror.

            “The identities and cause of death are unknown at this stage, though the Reaper is sure to have been brutal. We will offer more details as soon as they become available. Stay safe in your homes tonight. Even monsters don’t take breaks for the holiday—” Dipper stopped reading, clicking off his phone and putting his head in his hands. Candy whimpered.

             So that was why he wasn’t bothering me tonight, he was busy killing more people.

            “Fucking christ,” Pacifica spat agnrily. “Figures that fuck wouldn’t have any family who liked him enough to invite him to dinner.”

            Mabel frowned deeply, staring at Dipper. Dipper sat back up and tried to push down his emotions, she didn’t need to get all worried over him now, too. 

            “Well,” Dipper said, “That put a damper on things.”

            “No kidding,” Grenda grumbled.

            Mabel’s brow furrowed and she stepped closer to Pacifica, “Is...is it safe to go home?”

            “You guys can stay the night, if you want. I know the bastard has hit the school before.” Pacifica immediately spoke up. She glanced over at Mabel and gave her hand a squeeze. “Don't worry about it. Just stay here, all of you.”

            “I’m not.” Dipper cleared his throat awkwardly. “Not staying, that is.”

            “Oh c’mon, Dipper.” Mabel said. “Are you still scared of a sleepover with us girls?” Candy and Grenda smiled a little at that.

             Dipper forced out a laugh, but he felt no humor in it.

             “It’s not that. I’ll be okay, I don’t live in the dorms anyway. I’d just rather be home.”

             Pacifica pursed her lips disapprovingly. Candy said, “Dipper is a strong boy, he will be okay!” 

            “Well, then who’s gonna protect us?” Pacifica asked sarcastically.

            “GRENDA! I will crush them with my fists!” Grenda bellowed and flexed, the others laughed. 

            “I guess we should wrap it up then, if you need to get back.” Pacifica eyed Dipper, he could tell she was scrutinizing him to see if he was okay. He nodded at her.

            “Hey!” Mabel jumped up and dashed over to Dipper, grabbing his sleeve. “You aren’t leaving without some leftovers, mister!” She poked his stomach and he swatted her.

            “We must fatten him up!” Candy giggled.

            “Come on!” Mabel dragged him over to the food and started scooping things into spare tupperware. 

            “H-hey, not too much, okay?” Dipper said. “Leave some for you guys, too.”

            “Fine, fine. But you’re taking some.” She plopped the two containers into his hands. “I gave you some extra turkey so you have protein. Make sure you eat it! And the green beans!”

            Dipper rolled his eyes with a smile and said, “Yes, mom.” She laughed and punched him in the arm. 

            Dipper went around the room hugging everyone goodbye and thanking them for helping with the meal, and to Pacifica for letting the girls stay with her.

            “Make sure all your stuff is locked. Balcony and windows, too.” Dipper said quietly to her so the others wouldn’t hear. She gave him a nod and a pat on the shoulder.

            “Of course I will.” 

            Dipper swallowed down the anxiety in his chest. Dib had no reason to target them, not that anything he did had much reason behind it. But he had already killed someone—multiple someone's, apparently—tonight. Dipper hoped that meant his appetite was sated for now. He went out to his car and turned it on, watching his breath cloud like smoke in the darkness. He checked his phone. No new texts.

            Dipper drove home, without music, and kept an eye out the entire time, for the lights of police cars or for a familiar black coat, he wasn't sure. He pulled into his parking spot and headed upstairs, unlocked his front door, stepped inside, and braced for something to come at him from the darkness. He held his breath, but everything was still. He clicked on the lights.

            The apartment was as empty as he had left it, and nothing looked out of place. He exhaled a sigh of relief and threw the tupperware containers into the fridge. Maybe Dib wasn’t going to bother him tonight, after all? The night had not been perfectly calm, but Dipper had a good time with his sister and friends. It was good to have some moments of normalcy, when life with Dib was anything but.

            Then his phone buzzed, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe he just shouldn’t check it. Get undressed, go to bed, check it tomorrow. But... What if it was Mabel or Paz? He took a breath and pulled it out.

            Dib: happy thanksgiving babe

            Dipper’s hand slapped over his mouth upon seeing the attached image. Dib had sent a picture of tonight’s kill directly to him. At first Dipper thought it was one person, then he saw the rest.

            It was a couple, presumably. The man was held up by wire around his wrists, he was mostly naked, and his mouth was gaping open. An arm hung out of it, shoved down his throat with the hand splayed outward, like someone was crawling out of him. Dipper’s stomach lurched. There was a torso on the ground at his feet, missing all of limbs and head, surrounded by lit candles. Like a set table for a feast.

            Dipper's hand shook as his eyes fell on the center. The man's stomach was sliced open, the guts spilled out and in their place...the rest of the woman's limbs seemed to be shoved inside the bloody cavity, an arm folded above, a leg hanging out, and in the center, displayed perfectly, her head. Her long blonde hair splayed out, her dead face a mask of horror and blood. She was probably butchered alive. The man might have been, too, while Dib shoved her decapitated parts inside his....

             Dipper ran to the bathroom and vomited everything he had eaten.

Chapter Text

            Dipper’s dreams were drenched in blood. 

            With Finals coming up in a few weeks, Dipper had dove nose-first back into his research of Rocksburg’s recent killing spree—Dib’s killing spree. The blood-spattered images and dead-eyed gazes of the victims flickered in his mind, his eyes were strained from staring at his laptop screen into the dead of night. Dipper’s dreaming mind used to put himself in their place, fleeing and then falling under Dib’s knife, the boy’s circular glasses like disks of moonlight, but now...

            Darkness, and red, such vibrant red. The images swam in his mind, out of focus and shifting unnaturally like dreams do. He felt his own body abundantly clearly, though. Dipper was standing, his chest rising and falling with breaths, his arms were... slick with something warm. His right hand wrapped tightly around a handle of something. The image sharpened in his mind’s eye when he focused on it, and he saw a glinting knife clasped in his hand, painted in dark viscera. Dipper felt his breath quicken. 

            In excitement. Not horror, not disgust, though there was a little bit of that underneath the thrill.

            “No, no, no.” Dipper heard his thoughts breaking through, coming back to his senses within the dream, trying to wake up. He looked down at his feet.

            Mabel laid below him, splayed out in a mirror image of the college girl who had been found strangled with her own innards. His sister’s familiar brown hair splayed around her, sticky with the blood pooling out from her. Her eyes stared up past him, empty, gone. He had killed her, he knew it implicitly. His subconscious supplied him with fake memories of sinking the blade into her body, sliding past ribs, into her, over and over, drawing out that beautiful red that was her life. He felt himself smiling in this dream memory.

            Dipper woke up screaming. 

            He lurched awake, violently thrashing his limbs and clambering to untangle himself and sit upright. His skin was cold with sweat, his head ached with the blood pounding through his veins. Dipper practically fell off the side of his bed to the ground. The boy, in a panic, scrambled on all fours to the end of his bed, then rose to his feet and dashed blindly through the still-dark apartment to the bathroom across the hall. It didn’t even occur to him to check if Dib was lurking around, as he usually did now when he woke up. 

            Dipper slammed into the bathroom at full speed, nearly slipping on the tile. He practically punched the lightswitch on and stared into the mirror. His own haggard, terrified face greeted him, purple under-eye bags and hair messed from sleep. He moved his eyes down to his shaking hands. Familiar pale skin, thin fingers. He looked up at his face again, then back to tracing over his freckled arms. No blood. Not a drop. 

            He let out a shaky breath as the strength left him all at once and he slid to the floor, sitting with his back against the counter. 

            “Get it together, Mason,” he ordered himself under his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on breathing in and out slowly. Eventually Dipper stood back up, exhausted from the adrenaline spike right upon waking up. Instead of blood, he felt his shirt damp with sweat. He went back into his room and checked his phone. Six in the morning. He didn’t have class until later, so Dipper got into the shower and tried to drive away the skin crawling feeling in his arms, the feeling of blood covering his hands from the dream.

            It wasn’t real. Of course it wasn’t real, he would never hurt Mabel, let alone kill her and smile while doing it. It was just a fucked up dream from ruminating on fucked up shit for so long. He crawled back into bed to sleep for a few more hours and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t Dib. He never would be.

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            Dip: its gonna go fine Mabel

            Dip: your master matchmaking combined with my planning will work, trust

            Gaybel: right cuz your insane plans for rizzing your crushes have worked so well in the past TwT

            Dip: rude

            Gaybel: sorry sorry, i'm sure youre right lil bro. 

            Dip: ignoring that, and of course I am

            Dip: anyway, did you decide if you're coming home with me for winter break? We should probably get plane tickets soon

            Gaybel: ur still gonna do that? idk...

            Dip: why wouldnt i? It will be good to get out of this shitstorm of a city for a while, and she’ll still be here when we get back you know

            Gaybel: Yeah youre probably right

            Dip: As usual lol ;)

            Gaybel: Oh shut it! >w< you are infuriating

            Dip: ahahaha <3

            Dipper clicked his screen to black and glanced over at the whiteboard propped up in his living room against the wall. He and Mabel’s handwriting scrawled all over it, topped with the big OPERATION FANFIC TROPE and a bunch of doodles of hearts and the like, courtesy of Mabel. His eyes traced over the timeline they had laid out. Bring target (meaning Paz) to the nightclub, wingman gets the pair alone together, out on dancefloor make your move and BOOM, confess under the lights, kiss!?, GIRLFRIEND ACQUIRED!, profit. Dipper couldn’t help the small smile alight on his face. With everything else in his life so steeped in death and tragedy and stress, it was good to be doing something whimsical and light-hearted with his sister again, like they used to. He had missed their ridiculous ideas and shenanigans. He had missed her. 

            Dipper blinked away the thoughts and turned back to his work, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. Click, click, click, it was a constant noise recently, the clacking of the keys. But he was making good progress on the article, though he cringed with every usage of “the Rocksburg Reaper” (he was certainly putting in a small section about how the media giving these names and attention to serial killers helps embolden them). He needed to pass this class, and he certainly couldn’t tell Professor Schafer that he was having trouble because he had actually found the killer, who was now ruining his life. It would sound absurd even if he did try to tell him.

            Dipper audibly groaned as he heard the sliding doors of his balcony open. Speak of the devil... Cold air gusted in for a moment before it closed again. Dipper didn’t even turn around to acknowledge the intruder, he just kept working at his desk with his back to the room, glaring at the screen. Wait. Dipper’s eyes widened and he slammed his laptop shut as muffled footsteps approached him, Dib leaned over Dipper’s chair and wrapped his arms around the boy’s shoulders.

            “Whatcha working on, babe?” Dib’s smooth voice spoke next to Dipper’s ear. “Or were you watching porn or something?”

            “I wasn’t!” Dipper snapped. I would die of embarrassment if this bastard saw that I was writing about him. “Get the hell off.” Dipper shrugged Dib off and pushed his chair back to stand up. Dib backed off and instead turned his head to the side and blinked curiously. A mischievous grin spread over his features. 

            “Ah, what’s this? Operation...fanfic trope? What does that mean?” Dib was looking at the whiteboard. Dipper’s face paled. He rushed over and grabbed the board, flipping it around and leaning it back against the wall so Dib couldn’t read any more.

            “None of your business—HEY!” When Dipper turned back around to scold Dib, the raven-haired menace was over at his desk with his laptop opened back up. Dib laughed as his eyes scanned the article and Dipper felt his face redden. “Get the fuck away from that!” Dipper scrambled over and slammed his laptop shut again. It was a wonder the screen wasn’t cracked. 

            “Oh, calm down.” Dib chuckled and walked nonchalantly over to the sofa, where he plopped down like he owned the place. “I already know that you’re writing about me for school.”

            Dipper blinked in stunned silence, the gears in his brain turned, trying to process. “You... wait, you knew!? How the fuck—!?”

            “I know lots of things! I told you, I keep tabs on you, babe,” Dib laughed. Dipper stormed over to him and stood with his fists balled up.

            “H-how much did you read?” 

            “Enough.” Dib smirked, and pulled out his switchblade. Dipper didn’t flinch, he was more accustomed now to how Dib liked to pull it out and play with it idly, which is what he did now, twirling it in his deft hands and clicking it open and shut. Dib shot Dipper a wide grin. “Want to ask me how I do it? Exclusive interview with the Rocksburg Reaper! I bet that would get you big points. Not to suck my own dick or anything, but I'm pretty good at what I do~”

            “Yeah right, as if I’d give you the satisfaction,” Dipper sneered. “Besides, I’m sure the police would come sniffing around if—” Dipper stopped mid-sentence and looked thoughtfully at Dib. “I changed my mind, go ahead and tell me everything! I’ll write all about how good you are at slaughtering people, I’m sure everyone will want to know exactly how you keep getting away with it.”

            Dib laughed and raised his arms in defeat. “Okay, point taken! Interview is maybe not a good idea.” Dib directed a crooked smile at Dipper. “Perhaps sometime I can give you a hands-on lesson about it, though.”

            Dipper recoiled. “Why the fuck would I ever agree to that? I’m not like you, not even a little!”

            “No?” Dib cocked his head, a smile still on his face, his eyes fixed on Dipper unnervingly. “I bet you’d change your tune if you knew what it felt like. The power, the thrill. It’s addicting, I know you’d relish in it. I can tell.”

            “You don’t know a fucking thing about me!” Dipper yelled furiously. “The only person I’d ever kill would be you. You fucking monster.” Dib’s eyes lit up.

            “Ooh!? Really?” Dib leaned forward, propping a hand under his chin and grinning. “How would you do it, if you could? Do tell! I am so curious.”

            Dipper glared at him. “God, you're sick. You’d probably just get off to whatever I say.”

            “Probably!” Dib giggled and stood suddenly, immediately startling Dipper back a few steps as he raised to his full height, a few inches above Dipper. Dib hunched slightly and grabbed Dipper’s chin to hold him in place. Dipper squirmed uneasily under Dib’s hungry gaze; he'd never quite gotten used to it no matter how many times he found himself held in Dib’s eyes. “Do you fantasize about it?” Dib breathed in a low voice, exhilarated. “About killing me?”

            “Wha—!?” Dipper’s eyes widened, why did Dib look so excited about it?

            “Do you use a gun?” Dib continued, his face inches from Dipper’s. Dipper tried to back up and Dib just followed closely, his fingers digging into Dipper’s jaw. “Do you use a knife? An axe? Poison? Are you happy while doing it, do you mock me? What do you do with my body afterwards? Cut it up into pieces? Bury it? Burn it? Dissolve it in acid? Dump it in a river? Keep it around awhile? How does my blood feel on your hands?” Dipper flinched under Dib’s intense stare. His heartbeat quickened. “Do you taste it? Does it feel hot on your skin? Does it feel good?” Dipper’s nightmare flashed in his mind and his stomach lurched.

            “SHUT UP!” Dipper ripped himself out of Dib’s grip and dashed to the side, chest now heaving with deep breaths. “I am not fucking like you! I don’t enjoy thinking about all the fucked up little details of murder!” Dipper didn’t expect that Dib’s expression would become a smug smirk. He took another step back.

            “Ah, babe...” Dib chided softly. Dipper swallowed, suddenly thrown off guard at the silky candor of his voice. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

            “Excuse me?” Dipper’s face twisted back up in anger. He stood his ground as Dib stalked over to him. The boy’s shadow fell over Dipper's face as he leaned in, amber eyes lidded and voice rumbling in his throat.

            “Babe, really,” Dib tutted. “You're obsessed with killing. How many other students in your class are doing deep dives into the mind of a killer, one who has butchered their own classmates no less?”

            “That’s not...” Dipper swallowed uneasily.

            “Not the same?” Dib finished for him. “You spent weeks trying to find me, pouring over everything, and you actually did it! You were able to think like a killer, to figure out how I hunted. Even so-called professionals haven't been able to do what you did, because you're different, Dipper. I know you stay up past midnight every night now, staring at the mutilated bodies I’ve left behind for you. You dream about it, don’t you? The blood. But tell me, Dipper—Mason— whose blood do you dream about?”

            “I-I...don’t understand,” Dipper stuttered. He tried to back away and his lower back hit the island counter, stopping him in place.

            “Are you the one holding the knife in your dreams?” Dib’s eyes bore into Dipper, all consuming.

            “Fuck off!” Dipper snapped, and his voice cracked. He harshly shoved Dib’s chest to push him away. Dib stumbled back a few steps, but that smug, knowing, infuriating smirk stayed on his face. “Stop fucking looking at me like that! You don't know shit!” 

            “No? Am I wrong? Then...” Dib pulled out his knife and clicked it open, his gaze darkened with a grin. “Maybe this is more like what you dream about?”

            Dipper had just a single horrified moment to realize what Dib was doing before the boy moved. 

            Impossibly fast, Dib lunged for him and panic exploded in Dipper’s body. He threw himself sideways and heard the crack of Dib’s blade tip hitting the countertop where Dipper had been moments before. Terror struck Dipper like lightning, his mind reeled, is this really happening, is he finally about to kill me, did I finally set him off!? Dib turned towards him and Dipper took off sprinting down the hall without a second thought. He screamed, hearing the sound of Dib’s boots pounding after him, right on his heels. Dipper dove through his bedroom doorframe and whipped around to slam the door shut behind him, but Dib’s boot kicked into the gap and stopped it. Dipper’s eyes widened and he reeled back to slam it once more on Dib’s foot, but the other boy’s shoulder slammed into the door and knocked Dipper back with a yelp. 

            Dipper fell on his ass and looked up from the floor in time to see Dib standing over him, a black shape looming in the doorway with a knife in his hand. An image straight from his nightmares. Dipper scrambled backwards after the moment of being frozen, stricken by fear. Dib crouched down and grabbed the front of Dipper’s shirt in a fist, pulling him harshly to his feet and holding him close to his face.

            “Nice dodge back there!” Dib said pleasantly, grinning at Dipper’s terrified face. Before Dipper could even think to respond, Dib turned and threw him backwards. Dipper winced, but he only fell backwards onto his own soft bed. His eyes opened again, not sure whether to be afraid or bewildered. Then Dib was crawling over top of him.

            “Wh—? What the fuck is going on!?” Dipper tried to push Dib off, to no avail.

            “Oh, did you think I was gonna kill you?” Dib asked, voice raised in laughter.

            “What the fuck, yeah!? You fucking attacked me!”

            “Not really, you didn’t get hurt!” Dib giggled and suddenly held the knife under Dipper’s chin, pressing the cold metal against his throat. Dipper’s eyes widened and he grew very still. “There you go, good boy~”

            “Dib...” Dipper pleaded quietly, scared to move his throat too much and have the knife draw blood. “I don’t know what you're doing, but—”

            “I'm only playing,” Dib reassured him.

            "Well, knock it off! You—" Dipper’s voice cut out with a choked noise of surprise. A sting of pain bloomed from where Dib pressed the knife harder into the soft skin under Dipper’s chin. He winced and Dib pulled the knife away. Laying on his back with Dib on hands and knees above him, Dipper watched Dib bring his knife up to his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he ran his tongue over the blade, licking up the small smear of red there just like he had done that night in the kitchen when they first came face to face. He tucked the knife back into his jacket. Dipper shuddered slightly and frowned, furrowing his eyebrows back into a glare. 

            “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Now get the hell off,” Dipper said. Dib pursed his lips, a playful glint in his eyes. Dipper yelped when the other boy suddenly leaned in close, one of his cold hands closing around Dipper’s wrists and pinning it to the mattress.

            “Hmm, but what if I don’t want to?” Dib hummed, his face dangerously close to Dipper’s. 

            “I don’t care, get off!” Dipper growled up at him and squirmed. “Hey!” The boy protested indignantly as Dib’s face lowered and he ran his tongue over the tiny bleeding nick on Dipper’s neck. Dipper pulled against Dib’s hold on his arm, but Dib held firm. The taller boy’s weight over him trapped him, Dib’s arms and legs on either side of his body caging him in place. His body pressed against him as he leaned down close to pepper kisses on his throat. “I am not in the fucking mood for this, Dib. Get—” Dipper’s eyes went wide when Dib suddenly moved his hips and grinded down on Dipper, rubbing against him through their clothes. Dipper let out a choked gasp.

            “Not in the mood?” Dib smirked. “I think thats a lie, too, babe.” Dipper’s face turned bright red. Not now, not now! Dipper yelled in his mind, his own body betraying him. 

            “That’s not...It’s not...” Dipper struggled for words. 

            “I didn’t realize you got turned on by knifeplay! Want me to get it back out, I can leave some pretty marks on your body~!” Dib giggled.

            “No!” Dipper said quickly. “No, it’s...” Because you're holding me down, he finished the thought in his mind. “Fuck off! It’s just natural reactions, you're doing it on purpose!” Dipper fought against Dib’s weight, but his squirming only caused more friction between them.

            “Ah,” Dib said, puncuating it with another roll of his hips down on the growing strain in Dipper’s pants. Dipper let out a small hiss of breath. “So you like me being on top of you, then? Or...” Dib leaned back to sit upright on Dipper’s hips. Dib cocked his head and smiled playfully down at Dipper’s flushed face. “Or do you like the thought of me riding you?”

            Dipper’s brain short ciruited, eyes going wide. He blushed furiously. 

            “Wha...I...I don’t... I never...” He felt his dick twitch at the thought. Dib...bottoming? It had never even occurred to him. He looked up at Dib in a daze, and Dib responded by grinding down on him. A whine slipped past Dipper’s lips as electric arousal surged through him. “Oh my god,” Dipper whimpered under his breath. Why was Dib moving against him, fully clothed, turning him on so much? 

            Dipper felt his breath quicken as Dib started to rut against Dipper’s pelvis rythmically, almost like he was really riding Dipper, bouncing on his cock. 

            “Oh, god—hhn,” Dipper moaned and then clasped a hand over his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t realize when his other hand moved to grasp Dib’s thigh. Dib put his hands against Dipper’s stomach to prop himself up and started rutting faster. “Dib, fuck! A-ah—!”

            “Does that feel good?” Dib asked, breath hitching as he did, giving away his own pleasure. Dipper stopped himself from nodding, instead throwing his head back and letting his own hips jerk upwards to meet Dib’s. He heard Dib gasp slightly and heat flared through Dipper at the noise. “F-fuck, Dipper.” Dib’s voice washed over him and Dipper whimpered. God, Dipper thought, why is his moaning so hot—?

            Dipper did not have time to unpack that thought, as the sound of the doorbell rang down the hall. Both boys froze like deer in headlights, staring wide-eyed at each other. Dib broke first, sheepishly grinning at Dipper. 

            “Oops." Dib slid sideways off of Dipper, which made him groan at the sudden loss of Dib’s body heat. Dib’s eyes lazily trailed to the tent in Dipper’s pants. "Guess you better go answer that, huh?"

            "Fucking asshole," Dipper hissed as he hurriedly got up from the bed and threw on the biggest hoodie he owned. Dib watched from the bed as he rushed out to the front door. He pulled the hoodie down over his crotch and hunched over, unlatching the door and peeking through. He blinked in surprise. 

            "Ah! Mason, there you are." His landlord said when he met Dipper’s gaze. He was an older man, balding on top and out of shape, the red of his cheeks contrasted poorly with his polo shirt.

            "Oh, Mr. Falmer! Uh. What...what can I help you with?" Dipper said nervously, continuing to hide behind the door. Did all of his lamenting on never getting noise complaints finally catch up to him? But the man held up a small box in his hands. Dipper blinked.

            “You asked for a lock replacement, yes?” Mr. Falmer probed. Dipper’s face lit up with recognition.

            “Oh! Oh, yes. Thank you so much!” Dipper opened his door wider a crack to take the box. He was frankly surprised that he had shown up in person, let alone actually got him a new lock. Then he hesitated.

            “It’s easy to install yourself, just need a screwdriver!” The landlord said before Dipper could ask. “I trust a young man such as yourself will be able to manage?”

            “Uh. Sure,” Dipper said dumbly. “Right, well, thank you Mr. Falmer!”

            “If you need anything just shoot me a text or email.” The man said and turned with a wave to walk back down the hall. Dipper pushed the door shut with his elbow.

            “‘A young man such as yourself,’” Dib said in a bad impression of the landlord and chuckled. He was leaned against the wall just behind the door, arms crossed over his chest. Dipper jumped with a yelp of surprise, then cursed under his breath.

            “Wh—When the hell did you—? Whatever.” Dipper rolled his eyes and walked over to set the box on the counter. 

            "Lock replacement, huh?" Dib sidled up next to him. Dipper groaned.

            "None of your business." 

            "Sure it is! What, you don't like me coming in through the fire escape?" 

            "Of course not!" Dipper rounded on him, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. "Why would I like a pyscho breaking into my fucking apartment?"

            Dib scoffed. "Cuz it's romantic, duh."

            "How," Dipper deadpanned. He shot an annoyed glare at Dib as he slid around him to be at his back. Dib's arms snaked around Dipper’s waist and he pulled the boy to his chest.

            "Because," Dib said in his ear, "It's like...Romeo and Juliet, sneaking up the trellis to spend time together in the dark of night."

            "More like Billy and Sidney,” Dipper scoffed and pulled out of Dib’s grasp, turning to face him and crossing his arms over his chest. Dib’s face lit up at the reference.

            “I suppose I’m Billy in this scenario, then,” Dib stalked sideways around Dipper, until he grabbed Dipper’s waist and pulled him to him again. “Wanna fuck and then I can chase you around trying to kill you?” Dipper scowled at the attempt at flirting.

            “Sidney kills Billy at the end of Scream,” Dipper growled, but didn’t push out of Dib’s hold. Dib leaned in close to his face, eyelids drooping as he grinned.

            “And then Sid keeps killing people. Once you start, you get a taste for it,” Dib said.

            “Wha—No, that’s not how that happened!” Dipper huffed.

            “It is. She kills several people after that, in the sequels.”

            “Yeah, other murderers!” Dipper twisted away from Dib. 

            “Doesn’t change the fact. “Dib shrugged. “She’s still killing people, just like how Dexter Morgan is still called a serial killer even though all his victims are pieces of shit.”

            “He’s also not real.” Dipper glared at Dib and started walking back down the hallway to his room. “It’s different when it's killing evil people, real serial killers don’t do that.”

            “So,” Dib trailed behind him, “You would happily be a serial killer if you got to kill just ‘bad’ people?” He made air quotations with his fingers.

             “Where did you get that from?” Dipper turned to fix him with a bewildered glare. “I’m not killing anyone!”

            “You fancy yourself as someone with a strong sense of justice. Just earlier you said you’d like to kill me!” Dib laughed. 

            “Because you’re killing people!” 

            “And you aren’t stopping it, are you?” Dib smirked and leaned his shoulder against Dipper’s doorframe.

            “Fuck you, man!” Dipper stormed over and jabbed a finger hard into Dib’s chest. The other boy didn’t flinch. “You know I would have turned you in, but you threaten my fucking sister! You just stick around to fuck with me, what would you do if I just dissapeared one day, huh? Get bored and fuck off?”

            “Baby, if you ran away I’d find you and kill you! But not before killing your cute little twin in front of you~” Dib booped Dipper’s freckled nose and he recoiled. “That’s a promise.”

            “I’m taking a shower,” Dipper just growled and pushed past Dib, ignoring how he laughed. “And I'm fucking pissed at you so don’t even think about breaking in or some shit!”

            “Sure, sure, whatever you say, babe! Have fun with the cold shower~” Dib winked and raised his hands in mock defeat. He turned and stalked back down the hallway at a casual pace. 

            Dipper swore after him and stepped into the bathroom, locking it, checking the lock, and then locking it again.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Later, Dipper padded barefoot down the hall towards the kitchen, rubbing a towel over his damp curls. He scrunched up his nose at the sudden waft of smells. Cooking food? Dipper stepped out and looked towards the oven. Dib was standing there with his back to him, diligently stirring something within a pot. His head perked up at Dipper’s arrival.

            “Babe, can you hold the strainer for me?” Dib nodded his head towards the wire strainer set out on the counter. Dipper paused for a moment. Responding to Dib’s commands—and being called babe—was something he wanted to resist when possible, but also...what the hell was the point? He’s just cooking, and Dipper felt his stomach growl at the smell of pasta. 

            Dipper heaved a loud sigh and walked over next to Dib, taking the strainer in his hands and holding it over the sink. Dib set the spoon he was using aside, little droplets of boiling water dribbling from it, and lifted the black pot in his hands. He poured it carefully into the strainer and Dipper shook the contents to drain any excess water, before pouring the pale noodles back into Dib’s pot. Dib ripped open a packet and poured the viciously orange powder over the noodles, along with a dash of milk from Dipper’s fridge and a glob of butter. 

            Dipper watched him begin stirring the contents together for a moment before silently opening a nearby cupboard and reaching up for the small container of pepper. Dib stepped aside and he dashed a thin layer of the black particles over the noodles. Dib shot him a bright grin.

            “Tada!” Dib splayed his hands towards the pot. “Maccy cheese!” 

            A chuckle slipped out of Dipper. He quickly cleared his throat and turned away from Dib to get a bowl out of the cupboard.

            “That’s what Mabel calls it,” he said stiffly.

            “We are kindred spirits,” Dib chuckled, Dipper frowned. He didn’t reply and simply let Dib pour him out half of the noodles. He reached into the fridge and pulled out the near-empty ketchup bottle. 

            “You monster!” Dib gasped in mock offense. Dipper rolled his eyes and turned away to hide the tiny smirk on his face, squirting a bit of the ketchup into his bowl. “And you call me evil?” 

            “Oh whatever. You probably eat yours with blood or something,” Dipper said as he closed the refrigerator door and walked out to the living room. Dib followed behind him.

            “What, you offering?” He said playfully and Dipper shot him a dirty look.

            “No, and I’m still mad at you for earlier. This shit stings.” Dipper poked at the little nick under his chin and then took a bit of his macaroni onto his fork after he sat down.

            “Aw, how can I make it up to you?” Dib pouted. “Want me to suck you off?”

            Dipper nearly choked.

            “WHA—NO!? Shut the fuck up, oh my god!” He spat between fits of coughing.

            “I think doth do protest too much!” Dib chuckled and popped a forkful of the cheesy noodles into his mouth. 

            “Fuck off, why are you even still here?” Dipper grumbled half to himself and clicked on the TV. He pulled up a Youtube video he was halfway through, an hour long true crime documentary. He froze as Dib let out a laugh.

            “See?” Dib said through a mouthful of food. “Obssessed.”

            “Says the stalker,” Dipper glowered and turned back to the TV, slumping glumly in his seat.

            They ate in silence for a while, with Dib occassionally making little comments about the guy’s ‘sloppy technique’ and relating to his own killings. Dipper’s skin crawled uncomfortably. Anyone looking in would see some normal, very domestic scene and, strangely, it kind of was in a small way. But here he was, watching True Crime with an actual serial killer making casual comments about the investigation and his own killing tactics. 

            The thought of his life never being normal again squirmed uncomfortably in his gut. Dipper sat up and walked over to the trash, dumping the unfinished half of his bowl into the bin.

            “What’re you doing, babe?” Dib asked from the couch.

            “Lost my appetite,” Dipper replied simply. He started walking back down the hall to his room. “I'm going to bed.”

            Dib looked at his phone, shoveling another forkful of noodles into his mouth. 

            “Hmm, I didn’t realize how late it had gotten,” he said.

            Dipper ignored him and slipped into his bedroom, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He clicked his phone screen to life and set an alarm before tossing it onto the floor nearby. Then Dipper flopped face-first down onto his bed and laid still. A few moments passed and he felt his mattress dip under someone else’s weight. 

            “Diiiib,” Dipper groaned loudly and lifted his head to see Dib talking his black trenchcoat off, his boots already kicked off as well. He looked innocently at Dipper.

            “Yeeees, babe?”

            “The fuck are you doing?” Dipper mumbled grumpily.

            “I,” Dib said happily, “am going to sleep with you! We haven’t gotten to cuddle yet, I want to cuddle with my boyfriend.” Dipper jolted upright and off the bed to stand.

            “Excuse me?” Dipper snapped.

            “Not sleeping with like that,” Dib scoffed, and then shot a smirk at him. “Unless you want to, of course. We didn’t really get to finish what we were doing earlier~”

            “No, go home, get out of here. I have class in the morning.” Dipper pointed to the open door. Dib stood, but was clearly not heading out of the room. He reached past Dipper and clicked off the lights. “I am not fucking sharing the bed with you.”

            “Cmon, babe, you gotta sleep.” Dib gave Dipper a cheshire grin as the annoyance glittered in Dipper’s eyes. 

            “I'd rather sleep on the floor, thanks.” The boy huffed, but was grabbed by Dib. 

            “Aw, cmon baby. Don't make me tie you to the bed, unless you’re in the mood for that~'' He purred, dragging his finger down Dipper’s chest before he swatted Dib’s hand away. 

            “As if I’d ever wanna do anything like that with you.” Dipper replied sourly, making Dib perk up. 

            “So you’d do it with someone else?" He teased, squeezing his arms slightly too tight around his waist. “I didn’t take you for the kinky type.” 

            “Wh—No! Shut up!” Dipper gritted his teeth, growling and turning harshly to shove Dib off him. He crawled into bed and settled near the wall. “Fuck’s sake,” Dipper muttered when he felt the bed dip beside him as Dib climbed in as well, pulling the blankets over them both. Dib’s arms wound their way around his waist once again, dragging him from the safety of the wall to where Dib could bury his face into Dipper’s chest. 

            “Goodnight, Dipper.” Dib said softly, almost sweetly, before he looked up at him and smiled. “Remember, I'll kill you if you run!”

            Dipper was silent for a long moment before scoffing. 

            “No, you won’t. If you killed me, you’d kill yourself right after.” He narrowed his eyes at Dib. “I know you. You’re too obsessed with me to kill me.” 

            “Awww,” Dib cooed as Dipper continued to talk. 

            “You might severely mutilate me—wait, no. You probably wouldn’t even do that. You’d probably rough me up and drag me back here, but nothing too bad.” Dipper mused, glaring at Dib. 

            “I suppose you’re right…though I think our definitions of ‘roughing up’ are a lot different.” He giggled as if this were amusing (and to him, it was). “How about this: if you leave, I'll break your legs so you can’t run, sew your mouth shut so you can’t scream for help, and maybe rape you as the cherry on top.” He watched Dipper’s face for a reaction, and when he got none, he pressed more. “Maybe I'll do some crack surgeries on you too, dig around in your cute little guts!” He poked Dipper’s stomach, to which the boy swatted him away. 

            Dipper strangely wasn’t phased by the threats. He knew that Dib was just trying to get a rise out of him. He had suspected that Dib wasn't really planning on killing him, maybe he never had in the first place. Earlier today for a moment Dipper thought he was being proved wrong, but instead it only proved his feeling correct, which Dib had now even confirmed. Dib only liked to mess with him, to make him scared, even to hurt him a little, but he wasn't going to kill him. 

            “You are so goddamn annoying,” Dipper hissed. “Whatever. Just go the fuck to sleep so I can get this night over with.” He rolled over so he wasn't facing Dib anymore, but the other boy grabbed him and forced him to lie on his back so he could snuggle into his side. 

            “You're so grumpy when you’re sleepy. It’s cute,” Dib murmured, his tone still playful. 

            “You're annoying when you’re all smug like this,” Dipper grunted back. Dib pouted. 

            “I'll make you love me, don’t worry,” he cooed. 

            “Fat chance.” Dipper rolled his eyes, once again trying to shake Dib off and succeeding, rolling over and curling up. Dib still had his arms around his waist with his face buried between his shoulder blades, and Dipper nervously swallowed as he stared at the wall. Not out of fear of Dib, he wasn’t afraid of him at all. No, he was more afraid of what was stirring around in the back of his mind. 

            Maybe Dib had better odds than Dipper was willing to admit.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Pacifica audibly groaned in annoyance when Christmas music started playing over the cafè’s speakers. She swiped her shiny metallic credit card and walked back over to Dipper at the end of the counter to wait for their orders. He chuckled at the sour expression on her face.

            "What, Pines? Does the constant barrage of Mariah Carey not drive you insane?” Pacifica crossed her arms over her chest. She was wearing a pale cream knitted sweater and shiny lip gloss. Dipper shrugged. I have other things to drive me insane nowadays, he thought to himself. Pacifica just huffed again.

            “Hey, it’ll be over soon, just a few more weeks of December to go,” Dipper said with a small smile. The dark cloud over him dissipated slightly when he was around her. She was familiar, fiery, and safe. Normal. Just listening to her bitch about annoying Christmas music was refreshing to Dipper, a life raft in a dark sea threatening to swallow him.

            “Right,” Pacifica said. One of the workers set their drinks in front of them, their names scrawled on in black marker. Pacifica picked hers up and headed towards their table by the window without waiting. Dipper scooped his hot drink up in his hands and followed after her. 

            The chair legs scraped on the ground and he slid into his seat, hanging his bag over the back. He pulled out his phone and scrolled idly for a second. Dipper narrowed his eyes and scanned the handful of new articles about the Rocksburg Reaper. Thankfully, none were about any new murders since the grimsly ones on Thanksgiving. His stomach squirmed thinking about it so he clicked his phone back off and blew gently into the container before taking a sip.

            “Thanks for paying, by the way," Dipper said. Pacifica gave a small grunt in response, eyes fixed to her phone. Her manicured nails clacked over the screen as she typed far faster than Dipper could on his own phone, it was almost impressive. He listened to the ambience of his surroundings for a bit: the whirring of machines steaming milk, the voices of several people talking among themselves merging into white noise, the ching of the cash register when it opened. He looked outside. 

            It was gray and dark outside today. It almost looked like the clouds were heavy with snow, but none came. They hadn’t actually gotten any snowfall at all yet. Just frosted grass and biting winds. There were less people than normal walking around outside, all walking fast and with their coats pulled tightly around them. Dipper’s gut stirred uneasily. He half expected to see a familiar black trenchcoat among them, but then his attention was pulled back to Pacifica as she sighed loudly and dropped her phone onto the round tabletop.

            “Fucking idiots,” she hissed under her breath and tossed a strand of her short blonde hair back from her face. 

            “Work group?” Dipper asked knowingly.

            “Of course. It’ll take a miracle to get this project to A status.” She scowled. “Luckily, I am good at performing miracles.”

            “Uh huh.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “You still up for going to that new club this Saturday, then?”

            “Of course. I would never hear the end of it if I backed out. Besides, I haven’t had much time to spend with Mabel as usual and I miss her.” Pacifica paused mid-sip of her drink. “Don't tell her I said that.”

            Dipper grinned and laughed at that, and Pacifica couldn’t help the smile that crept over her face as well. 

            “Oh, shut it!” She let out a chuckle and swatted his arm. They grinned at each other, then Pacifica’s expression softened. "How have you been?”

            “Ah,” Dipper’s expression dropped and he quickly forced a smile back onto his face. “Fine! I mean, it’s been okay recently. I’m getting work done on my Finals, it’s...good. Good enough.”

            Pacifica pursed her lips and nodded. She reached over the table and gave Dipper’s hand a comforting squeeze. 

            “Good. You let me know if you need anything,” she said sternly, but with a soft edge to it. 

            Dipper averted his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Wendy has been telling me the same thing.”

            “Wendy?” Pacifica chuckled. “You really just attract women that take care of you, don’t you?”

            “Hey! What the hell is that supposed to mean!?” Dipper scoffed indignantly. “I take care of myself, thank you very much.” 

            Pacifica only laughed and shook her head. 

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Several hours later, the sun had dipped below the skyline, casting the world in cold darkness. It was not terribly late at night, but still Dipper was sat on his couch idly sipping a leftover hard lemonade he'd had in the fridge. He stared ahead at the TV, not paying attention to it at all but just... staring. Thinking. 

            About Dib. About how their weird fucked up relationship had been shifting, somehow. Dipper wondered what the finish-line looked like for them. Dib wasn’t planning to kill him, so...what was the goal? To wear him down until he just fully accepted being his boyfriend? Did Dib expect Dipper to fall in love with him? Something squirmed uncomfortably in Dipper’s chest and he banished the thought, taking a large gulp of the alcohol. Fuck, stop thinking about him, Dipper thought to himself. He moved his attention back to the screen, images cut together of victims and investigations. Dipper’s eyes quickly went out of focus again.

            Then his phone vibrated on the cushion next to him, without looking he reached out and picked it up. In the back of his mind he was just expecting to see another message from Wendy, as they had been texting back and forth all afternoon, but when he lifted it to his face... His brow furrowed and he clicked open the message thread.

            Dib: hey babe~! :3

            Dib: you busy?

            Dipper: yes, what do you want

            Dib: trick question, i know ur at home watching tv lmao

            “Fuck.” Dipper swore to himself and stood up, glaring around him at the hidden cameras he evidently still hadn’t found. He went back to his phone.

            Dipper: i wish you wouldnt do that shit

            Dib: haha ;P

            Dib: Ive got a surprise for you!!

            Dipper: i dont want any surprises from you. fuck off

            Dib: aw but theres someone with me who wants to see you :(

            Dipper froze, his blood running cold like ice.

            Dipper: what

            Dib: come and see! shes just dyyying to talk to you <3

            Dipper: dib what tHE FUCK DID YOU DO??

            But the only message that came back from Dib was an address. Dipper’s heart pounded in his ears, his mind was racing. He didn't have time to think, if Dib had one of his friends...or Mabel... 

            Dipper dashed to his front door. He shoved his bare feet into his shoes, pulled his jacket over one arm, and sprinted out of his front door. He ran down the flight of stairs, practically jumping down most of them. A woman walking in the hallway ducked aside with a startled noise as Dipper went barrelling towards the door to the parking lots. He jumped into his car and turned it on, distantly realizing he had forgotten his license. It didn’t matter. He pulled up the address on his phone and sped off into the city.

            Dipper was almost dissapointed that a cop didn’t catch him speeding, maybe then he could have led them to Dib. But fifteen minutes later Dipper was pulling into a dark lot in front of a huge, seemingly empty warehouse. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine became silent. He stared up at the dark looming building, the only sound he could hear was his own labored breathing. 

            He got out of the car and ran to the warehouse door.

            As he approached, he slowed down and tried to listen. Nothing, just the wind wailing through nearby alleyways. He turned the cold metal handle of the door slowly and Dipper winced when it squeaked upon swinging open. He ducked inside and closed it softly behind him. The interior was dark, with a few distant lightbulbs outlining rows of empty shelving. He crept further in, towards the light in the center of the huge space.

            Dipper’s heart skipped a beat when he heard a girl’s muffled, fearful whimpering. He dashed out into the open and to her immediately, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the scene.

            “Hey, baby! Glad you could make it, you got here fast!” Dib grinned at him, waving the knife in his hand around casually. He stalked around the chair in the center of the light. There was a girl tied to it, crying and shaking but gagged with a piece of cloth. She looked up at Dipper with teary, terrified eyes, strands of her blonde hair sticking to her forehead.

            Dipper had never seen her before in his life. It was a stranger.

            “Dib,” Dipper said in a low voice, dark eyes trailing the other boy as he paced around. “What the fuck is this.”

            “A gift!” Dib said and grabbed the girl’s shoulders. She let out a muffled scream as Dib shook her slightly. 

            “What the fuck,” Dipper hissed under his breath, eyes going wide with furious disbelief. “You...What is this!? You're dragging me into your sick shit? What the hell!? ” Dipper looked away from the girl’s pleading eyes. 

            Dib rolled his eyes and walked over to Dipper. Dipper shifted out of his reach but Dib grabbed him by his shoulders and twirled him around to face the captive.

            “Dib! Stop—” Dipper hissed but Dib propped his chin on his shoulder, speaking in Dipper’s ear.

            “I want you to kill her, Dipper,” he said calmly to him, directing Dipper’s gaze to the girl as she began to thrash against the ropes in a panic. 

            “E-excuse me? No!?” Dipper sputtered. Dib held him in place.

            “She bullies Mabel, did you know that?” Dib said to him and Dipper went quiet. 

            “You’re lying,” Dipper whispered.

            “Mabel never told you because she knows how stressed you’ve been lately.” Dib pressed on, Dipper shook slightly with bubbling anger, knowing Dib was the cause of said stress. “She and her friend’s mock her designs, sometimes rip them off for projects to humiliate her, and I even saw her slap Mabel’s sketchbook out of her hands outside the hall once.”

            Dipper breathed sharply through his nose, trying to keep it together. Dib stepped away from him and walked back into his view, off to the side.

            “You won’t get caught,” Dib said and Dipper’s eyes reluctantly dragged away from the girl’s face and onto Dib.

            “What?”

            “I’ll make sure you don’t get caught.” Dib repeated, cocking his head with a smile. Then he held out his hand, opened it, and presented his knife to Dipper. “Do it.”

            Dipper’s breath caught in his throat and he stumbled backwards. His head throbbed painfully. His eyes darted to the strange girl, crying and struggling, then back to the knife.

            “I’m not... no!” Dipper snapped out of his shock. “I’m calling the fucking cops—!” Dib lunged back over to the girl and she screamed as his blade flashed in an arc. Dipper froze, eyes going wide.

            "See, it's not that hard," Dib said nonchalantly, twirling the bloodied switchblade in one hand. The girl wailed in pain, staring horrified at the long bleeding gash on her arm. 

            "What the hell is wrong with you?" Dipper yelled, eyes burning. It was probably silly to act like this was abnormal, but Dipper had only ever seen the aftermath of Dib's "work". He only saw the dead bodies, things that Dipper could distance himself from in some small way. This girl, whether she was a bitch or not, was alive. She was right there, screaming, fighting, breathing, crying, looking at him. Alive. Living.

             Dib's knife slashed out again. Dipper surged forward to grab his arm and pulled him back. The girl screamed with the new slice through her flesh, the sound made Dipper’s skin crawl. Dipper forced his lingering eyes away from the growing patches of deep red on her skin and clothes. He dragged Dib away from her and then positioned himself firmly between him and the stranger.

             "Dipper, please," Dib rolled his eyes in annoyance.

            “What the fuck were you expecting here?” Dipper snapped, waving his arms outwards for emphasis. “That I would just...go along with this? Oh, yay, thanks Dib! I’ve always wanted to murder some random girl!”

             Dib’s brow furrowed and he frowned, frustrated. “If you would just fucking do it then you would understand!”

             “I don’t want to understand why you think butchering innocent people is fun!” Dipper shoved Dib back as the other boy tried to come closer.

             “She’s not innocent!” Dib snapped back at him, he pointed at her with his knife. Dipper’s eyes fixed onto a drop of crimson that fell from the tip and to the cement floor beneath them. “I specifically chose someone who deserves it!”

             “Being a bitch doesn’t mean she deserves to die! That’s not your choice to make!” Dipper growled.

             “But it could be yours,” Dib said, intense amber gaze locking with Dipper’s. “That’s the point, Dipper. When you hold power over life and death, the world is yours. You're free. You get to make that judgment, to do whatever you want! You get to end the pieces of shit that hurt your sister.”

             “That’s not how the world works, Dib. You're just sick in the head,” Dipper snarled. The emotion left Dib’s face and his expression changed to something neutral, disappointed.

             “Why do you still fight so much?” Dib sighed.

             “I thought you liked that,” Dipper laughed bitterly. 

             “It’s getting a little redundant. What’s the point?”

             “Gee, I’m so sorry I refuse to let you ruin my life!”

             “What life, babe? Pretending that you're normal, and doing college work just to get some shitty job to pay off the debt?”

             “Fuck you!” Venom dripped from Dipper’s voice. “I have a life! I have friends, family, and—”

             “Like that pretty blonde girl you hang out with?” Dib’s eyelids drooped.

             “Yes! I have Pacifica, and Mabel, and—” Dipper bit back his words, noticing the twinge of anger burning in Dib’s eyes like embers. A fleck of blood dotted his chin. Dipper swallowed and hardened his gaze. “I. Do. Not. Love you.” Dipper said severely, letting the words hang in the air for both Dib and himself. He let it sink in, standing in sudden silence, only the sound of their breathing and the girl’s scared whimpering. To his surprise Dib just...shrugged.

             “Have it your way, then, babe.” 

             Dipper couldn’t react in time when Dib suddenly lunged forward. For a fraction of a second Dipper tensed in anticipation of a knife burying into his gut, but instead the black shadow that was Dib darted past him. Dipper whirled around, eyes going wide in a panic.

             “Dib, NO!” He cried desperately and rushed after him. His hand reached out as Dib reached the girl’s side, almost closing around the fabric of his trenchcoat. And then blood hit his face.

             Dipper gasped and stopped in his tracks, right in front of her. He looked down and locked eyes with her. They were wide, bloodshot. Her eyelashes stuck together, wet with tears that streaked down her face. She convulsed. Dipper stepped back.

             Dib had sliced the side of her neck, through the artery, sending a spray of blood onto Dipper as he did. Dipper stared at the river of blood soaking her shoulder, and then down at his shirt at the spray of red there.

             Dipper turned and sprinted away. He didn’t know if he was fleeing the scene, or aiming to go get help, he just ran.  

             “Dipper!” Dib called after him. 

             Dipper slammed the door with the metal knob open and tripped over the stoop. He landed on his arms painfully, they burned with what he imagined would be some scrapes, but he scrambled to his feet. Car. Get back to the car.

             Right as he stood, he felt arms wrap around him from behind and seize him. Dipper let out an involuntary shriek. 

             “Dipper, be quiet!” Dib hissed in his ear.

             “Get the FUCK OFF OF ME!” Dipper screamed at the top of his lungs, fighting against the arms that held him around his chest, pinning his arms to the sides. Dib spun him back around towards the warehouse.

             “Fine!” Dib spat, shoving Dipper against the cold brick wall and holding him there. “But think very hard about what you do after this. Go home, shower, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

             Dib released him and Dipper didn’t even stop to respond. He dashed to his car, got in, jammed the key in the ignition, and then stopped. He watched Dib go back inside. Clouds of his own warm breath swirled around him. Think hard about what I do? His chest heaved with panicked breaths. I-I need to get help! I need to call an ambulance, I—

             Dipper stopped. Looked down at himself again. I’ve got her blood on me. She was hit in the artery. She’s probably...already dead.

             Dipper choked back a horrified sob. He couldn’t save her. Even if he tried, all that would happen is them showing up to find a dead body, Dib would be gone, and he would immediately target Mabel for having tried to get him caught. It was pointless. He had lost. 

             He let someone die in front of him.

             Dipper drove home in silence. He parked his car and went up to his apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He stumbled over to the living room couch. Hands shaking, he picked up the abandoned bottle of hard lemonade and chugged it. He ripped his shirt off and threw it to the floor, then went into his bathroom and flicked the lights on, staring into the mirror.

              A face covered in blood stared back from his reflection.

Chapter Text

           Late morning sun gleamed into Dipper’s apartment, casting shadows along the walls and illuminating little motes of dust that drifted through the air. Dipper had barely slept. His eyes hurt as he reluctantly opened them, sore from a night of staring up at the ceiling trying not to freak out or tear his hair out. As much as he wanted to go back to sleep and skip his classes for the day, he also didn’t want to risk meeting that now-dead girl in his dreams, seeing her teary eyes staring at him, begging for help that would never come.

           Dipper threw his legs over the side of the bed and walked across the hall into the bathroom. He needed to clear his head, he needed to get his shit together. He knew that was the kind of stuff Dib did, and he should’ve figured that Dib would try to drag him into it eventually. He exhaled long and slow, and turned the shower on. The hot water soaked Dipper’s hair, where it fell in droplets to the floor and into the drain below. He only stood in it for a few minutes, but the heat was refreshing on his exhausted body. The mirror was cloudy with steam when he got out to pat himself dry with a towel, and he was glad he couldn’t see his reflection, even though he knew the blood from last night was no longer there. 

           Back in his room, he pulled on a shirt and some pants and then went out into the kitchen to eat something. His stomach didn’t feel too great, a bit queasy at times, but he didn’t want to get stuck feeling light-headed in class later. He munched idly on some granola for a while, scrolling his phone and smiling at a dumb picture Wendy sent him, then he walked back to his room to get ready for class. Dipper turned around as he suddenly heard footsteps approaching from behind him, lowering his expression into a glower.

           “Mornin’!” Dib greeted him with a lazy smile. Dipper stood his ground, crossing his arms over his chest as Dib approached but not moving away from him. Dib’s arm wrapped around Dipper’s lower back and pulled him close. Ignoring Dipper’s growl of annoyance, the taller boy craned his neck slightly downwards and kissed him. Dib smiled as their lips pressed together, amused by Dipper’s squirming, and only continued to try slipping his tongue past Dipper’s lips. Dipper found purchase on Dib’s chest and pushed him back enough to disconnect from the kiss. He stumbled, and heaved an annoyed breath at how Dib still held him in his arms.

           “Dib, I'm trying to get ready for class,” Dipper hissed, fixing Dib with a venomous glare.

           “Aw, you're not late or anything though! You have time for a little fun~” Dib smirked and lowered his eyelids seductively at the grumpy boy in his grasp. He trailed a few fingers affectionately through Dipper's damp curls. Dipper huffed and twisted out of Dib’s arms, causing him to pout.

           “Dude, there is a shirt in my living room with a dead girl’s blood on it because of you!” Dipper snarled, taking a moment to glance back at Dib before turning away and taking a few steps. His fingers twitched imperceptibly as the images of her eyes, her blood—so much dark blood—flashed through his mind, still raw.

           “You just left it lying around?” 

           “It happened last night, I didn’t...I couldn’t deal with it.” Dipper turned back to glare at Dib. “That was fucked, Dib.”

           “Want me to clean it for you? I know how to get the stains out really well.” Dib offered innocently. 

           “No! Just...” Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt his chest tightening with stress. “I can’t deal with you right now. I have things I need to get ready for, I need you to just fucking leave me alone.” Dipper didn’t wait to see Dib’s reaction before he turned away again, digging through his dresser for a clean hoodie. He pulled out the salmon-red hoodie with University of Rocksburg written on the front, the same one he wore a few weeks ago at Thanksgiving. Dib’s eyes lingered on it for a second and then he blinked, letting out a sigh and folding his arms over his chest.

           “Baby, are you still mad at me for killing that chick?” Dib said from the hallway.

           “Among other things,” Dipper grumbled in response, pulling the hoodie over his head. 

            “Aww,” Dib cooed and approached him from behind. He ran his hands down Dipper’s chest and stomach, his voice was silky in Dipper’s ear. “Want me to take your mind off of it? You know I can make you feel good~” Dipper shuddered and wavered for a moment before mentally slapping himself—do NOT be horny for the psychopath!  

           “Goodbye, Dib,” Dipper said instead, shoving past him and out into the living room to retrieve his bag. He slung it over his shoulder and headed out, shutting the front door behind him without looking back at Dib. He can fuck around in my apartment as much as he wants for all I care. It's not like me not being there has stopped him before.

           Walking briskly down the stairs to the ground floor, he tried to steady his anxious breathing. He ran a hand through his brown hair with one shaking hand. Dipper leaned against a wall and clenched a hand over his face to hide the way it screwed up like he was about to cry. But he choked it down and took another deep, labored breath. Any normal person would probably skip classes the day after they literally witnessed a murder a few feet in front of them, feeling the warm blood from someone’s artery on their skin, but Dipper supposed he couldn’t call himself normal anymore. So, he stitched himself together haphazardly and began the walk to campus. The cold air bit at his skin painfully, but he ignored it. It was nothing compared to the pain he had allowed that girl to suffer. He deserved to be punished. 

           Dipper crossed the street and tried to avoid looking at the memorials covered in dead flowers. How long until he would see a similar one with a picture of that blonde girl’s smiling face on it? He didn't even know her name. Her screams echoed in his mind, images of her blood burned behind his eyelids—he shoved them all away and kept walking.

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           By some miracle, Dipper had made it through a few hours of his classes. Gnawing feverishly on his pen in an attempt to stay present and somewhat sane, he was now sitting in the lecture hall of his last class for the day. Halfway, c’mon Pines, you can make it—strings of desperate reassurances ran through his brain. He needed to get himself the fuck together. For Mabel. For Paz. His sister needed him tomorrow night. 

           Then his phone vibrated and he instinctively pulled it out. Heads turned towards him when he let out a horrified gasp, clenching his hand hard on the edge of the desk table. He stood suddenly, in the middle of the professor speaking, shoving his laptop, cables, and notebooks in his pack and stumbled down the rows, making a beeline to the exit.

           “Dipper? Is something the matter?” He heard the Professor's voice call after him, but he slammed out of the door and went sprinting down the empty halls. He ran until he got back outside, darted off the cement path to where it was quiet and secluded, and collapsed onto his knees. 

           The cold air stung his cheeks when a tear slipped down, hot on his clammy skin. His hands, clawed and shaking, grasped at his face. Get it together, get it together— The girl from last night was found dead and mutilated. Dib cut out her tongue and left her next to a dumpster, apparently. Probably some kind of meaning about her ‘talking trash’, Dipper didn’t care to analyze it at the moment. It was so different when he'd been there to see her last moments, before she was just another victim in an article. He'd had her blood on him, for fuck's sake. He keeled forward, kneeling on the grass and breathing hard, fighting off a panic attack. 

           Dipper thought of Mabel. He squeezed his eyes shut and chanted in his head over and over and over, She needs you, she needs you, be normal. This could wait. This guilt and disgust at himself could wait, he needed to be there for his twin. Things were fine. He was fine. It was just a stranger, she was just a stranger. He didn’t kill her, Dib did. Dipper took another shaky breath and stood back up. He was fine. He had to be. 

           He looked down at his jeans and groaned at the new grassy mud stain on them. Goddammit.

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           The next day, Saturday, Dipper woke up late in the morning after a night of barely sleeping. Slow to rise, he spent a few hours milling around his house and working up the energy to do chores before the big night. 

           He gathered his dirty laundry and took it down to the basement. He flinched when he grabbed the bloodied shirt to toss it in, but swallowed the sour feeling down and slammed the washer door shut. 

           He went back upstairs and took a shower, since his anxiety made him sweat a bit and he did not need the girls to give him shit about it. His tired, bloodshot eyes stared blankly at the wall as the water ran down his back. His mind began to wander again so he hurried to get out and dry off. Downstairs, Dipper switched the load into the dryer and went back up to his apartment, popped open a can of alcohol in the fridge, and slumped on the couch. He downed it quickly and cracked open another.

           Dipper’s efforts were strangely helping a bit. He just needed to not think about it, about anything except for tonight. He had to convince himself to be okay, to silence his mind. So, after bringing his clean laundry back up to his room, he laid in his bed and tried to drift off. It wasn’t too hard, having spent most of the previous night restless and unable to quiet his tumultuous mind. The haze of day-drinking helped him fade and sink into peaceful darkness.

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           Dipper woke up to the sound of his phone vibrating violently with notifications. He rolled over, rubbing his eyes, and picked it up off the nightstand. 

           Shit. 

           Shit shit shit shit shit.

           He was going to be late if he didn't haul ass out of bed right now.

           It was late in the evening, Dipper was glad he had remembered to set an alarm for tonight. Mabel was sending him message after message about Operation Fanfic Trope, the plan they had concocted for Mabel to confess to Pacifica. This night was so important to Mabel and he was already fucking it up.

           Thankfully, the panic of needing to get ready immediately didn’t allow him time for his mind to wander to darker things. Filled with renewed energy, Dipper threw on a freshly washed plain t-shirt and pants. He pulled a nice button up shirt on over it and looked at himself in a mirror. It almost looked as if he was going on a date. He chuckled at the absurd thought and hurried out the front door, grabbing a jacket and scarf on the way out.

           His warm breath billowed out in front of him, he hurried to where his car was parked. It was cold out tonight and the sun had set hours ago. It was getting closer and closer to their winter break; next week, in fact. Dipper could not wait to finally go visit his family and get away from everything here, and to get away from someone in particular. He had tried very hard to not let Dib know about his plans, lest the psycho follow him all the way back to California. A break from all of this madness and death would do him good, Dipper could feel it. He just needed to last a little longer.

           He groaned when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Speak of the devil.

           Dib: youre going out awfully late, got a date night? ;P

           Dipper grimaced and quickly typed back. 

           Dipper: Fuck off. None of your business

           Dib: you know you only belong to me babe!

           Dib: dont forget that~~

           Dipper swore under his breath and shoved his phone deep into his pocket. Fuck him. Tonight was about Mabel and he wasn't about to let Dib ruin it. He took a deep breath and drove to pick up Mabel. 

           The dorm she stayed in with Grenda and Candy wasn't far. She ran right out to meet him, her cheeks and nose flushed pink from the chilly air and her shoes crunching on frost. She slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut, whipping around to breathlessly jump right into a very one sided conversation.

           “Oh man, this is it! You remember the plan, right?”

           “I—”

           “This has to go perfectly! I can’t have her hating me forever.” She laughed nervously and then her eyes went wide. "Oh, god. What if she just laughs right in my face? What if she...” Mabel’s gaze fixed blankly in front of her, seemingly staring at a horrible, imagined future in which her confession ruined their almost decade long friendship. 

           “Mab—'' Dipper started, eyes locked on the road as he made the turn into Pacifica’s neighborhood, the large white houses and perfectly manicured lawns illuminated only by street lamps. It was comfortingly familiar. They had been here numerous times, even if Dib had tainted the recent trips, it didn’t erase the previous years of Holiday get-togethers and movie nights spent together at Paz’s place. Mabel clearly was not feeling this same comfort as she started feverishly chewing her bottom lip.

           “We’ve been friends since we were like thirteen. She’s so pretty and amazing and talented and I’m just this hyperactive weird girl. Oh, I bet she’s going to look stunning. She always does.” Mabel grabbed at her face and hair frantically. “Do I even look okay? I look ridiculous, don’t I? Stop the car! I can’t fucking do this, I—!”

           "Mabel! Mabel, calm down!" Dipper raised his voice a little and Mabel finally looked up to meet his eyes, her face turning red now with her panic. "I know the plan, I helped write it for weeks. And you look fine, you always look fine." Mabel clenched her hands in fists, clearly starting to spiral.

           "I don't need to look fine, Dipper! I need to look perfect! What if she rejects me? What would I do? Our friendship would be ruined. Oh my god, I should call off Operation Fanfic Trope, this was a terrible idea..." 

           "You look great, Mabes. Trust me, Pacifica likes you too. You have nothing to worry about. Plus, I'm here to help, remember?" He smiled reassuringly at her and she took a deep breath, fidgeting and rubbing at her bright multi-colored fingernails.

           "I'm sorry, I know, I know. I'm just so nervous, you know? I want everything to go right. She's...she's so important." Mabel's voice wavered. Dipper reached over and squeezed her hand in his. 

           "You're the love guru, remember? No way Paz can resist that."

           Mabel laughed. "Oh shut up." She punched his shoulder softly. They were both quiet for a moment before Mabel took a large breath and slapped her cheeks suddenly. "Love guru. I can do this." 

           Dipper pulled into Pacifica's driveway and Mabel turned to him with a big smile. "Thanks, bro bro! I'd be lost without you." She got out of the car and bounded forward to embrace Pacifica, who was already trotting down the driveway at the sight of their headlights, wearing the lavender crop top Mabel had made for her underneath a white coat. Dipper watched them wrap their arms around each other, wreathed in puffs of their warm breath and grinning at each other. 

           He heard his phone buzzing and the slight smile on his face dropped immediately. He picked it up and gazed silently at the bright screen. Dib again. Dipper felt something in his chest throb as he considered how he would never have a relationship like Paz and his sister. They were in love and it was cute and happy and normal. Not at all like his twisted, fucked up feelings towards Dib. “Feelings”, if you could even call them that. Dipper didn’t know what he and Dib’s relationship was anymore. Stalker and obsession? Killer and future victim? The devil and the sinner he was tempting? Ugh, wait no, that implied Dipper was a sinner in this scenario...

           Dib: so cold, babe :(  

           Dib: c mon, dont ignore me <3

           Dib: tell ya what, come on a date with me. we can warm each other up haha

           Dipper glared at the screen. Did Dib even really feel affection for him? He certainly liked to pretend he does; stalking him, cuddling, touching him, kissing him—Dipper squeezed his eyes shut. Was Dib even capable of loving someone? 

           No. He clicked the phone off and pushed down his thoughts, wanting to completely ignore and repress the road they led down. No matter what, he was not going to allow himself to acknowledge the glimmer of attraction he had to that psychopath. Never. Dib doesn't feel things, he toys with people and then kills them. All Dipper was to him was entertainment, someone to fuck with. He had even tried to get Dipper to kill someone, probably just to ruin his life further, maybe frame him for his own string of killings. He couldn’t allow this anymore. He couldn’t just give Dib the amusement he craved. 

           Dipper picked the phone back up, a steely glint of anger in his eyes.

           Dipper: Sorry Im busy trying to have a normal fucking life. Ill never date you. I like someone else so either just kill me or stop toying with me bastard

           It wasn’t true, of course. About liking someone. But in that moment Dipper just wanted Dib to fuck off. He wanted to piss him off or hurt him in some way, to take back a little bit of control that Dipper hadn't felt like he'd had in such a long time. Bastard deserved to feel like shit too. Though, like the last time he said it, Dib probably wouldn’t believe him. Dipper threw his phone in the backseat just as Pacifica and Mabel opened the car doors and slid inside. Dipper turned his head to avoid their gaze but Mabel caught his sour expression. 

           “Everything okay?” She looked at him with pure honest concern in her face and Dipper’s expression softened.

           “Yeah, Mabes. Let's get going.” Dipper replied.

           Pacifica gave a little whoop from the back seat and then they were off, a cheerful mood returning to the air as the girls jumped into lively chatter. The trio drove over to the new club Dipper had picked out on Marcus Street, a single story building of brick and sweeping neon signs on the front. The parking lot was small and mostly dark, with just a few streetlamps dotting the nearby sidewalks. They went through an intersection and passed a park, before turning in and parking in front of the nightclub. Dipper locked the car as they all tumbled out, and they hurried towards the front doors to escape the cold. They went through the line easily and slid inside.

           Upon entering, they were immediately met with thumping music blasting through the air and vibrating through the floorboards. The scent of alcohol, smoke, and perfume hung in the air around them, wafting from groups of people in rave gear stumbling past. Neon lights and lasers shone from metal rafters, dancing across the silhouettes of a lively crowd—the dancefloor. Directly ahead of them, in the open space between the dancefloor and the bar to the far left, was a lounge area. Small tables scattered across the floor, some pushed up against big support beams. The three of them wandered through, quickly finding a table to leave their coats at. Pacifica frowned, looking at her beautiful white coat hanging there in the open.

           "This is ridiculous, it would be so easy to steal things here. Do you know how much this coat cost?" 

           "A completely unreasonable amount, I'm sure," Dipper said and Pacifica glared at him. 

           "Here! Mabel to the rescue!" Mabel whipped her own jacket off, putting it over Pacifica's so it was mostly hidden from prying eyes. Pacifica nodded in approval. 

           "Oh, that's brilliant! Thank you, Mabel." She smiled warmly and Mabel lit up. Dipper rolled his eyes affectionately. They were so obvious. 

           Dipper clapped his hands together and exhaled, the girls turned to look at him. 

           “Well, I’m gonna head over to the bar and get started on drinks. You twoooo...” Dipper began pushing them forward together, towards the sound of the thumping music and dancing lights, “Get started on the partying.” 

           Pacifica rolled her eyes with a smile and walked off. Mabel turned to look back at Dipper and gave him an over exaggerated wink. He waved them both off and went to order drinks, returning with three to sit at the tiny table they dropped their things at. He sat down and sipped idly at his drink. Man, he thought, I have no fucking idea how to be a wingman. 

           He hoped he was doing well so far. He felt his tense muscles relax into the warmth of the room, he felt strangely comfortable despite everything. A few songs played and Dipper felt the beginnings of a headache start to form. At least he wasn't getting more texts from Dib. 

           “That’s a sorry sight.” 

           He looked up at Pacifica standing there with her lavender crop top and earrings to match. She looked at his slouching form with disapproval, a hand on her hip. 

           “Aren’t you supposed to be, like, also hanging out with us?” She said.

           Dipper sighed and let his head fall back into the palm of his hand, nursing a now near empty glass. 

           “Sorry, headache. I don't wanna let it ruin your night, so don't mind me!” He flashed a smile up at her. Just go hang out with Mabel, go back to Mabel! Pacifica heaved a sigh and he watched as she picked up one of the three glasses and downed it in one go. 

           “Come with me, doofus.” She extended a hand to him. Dipper took it and stood, he knew to just listen to her rather than fight. Pacifica could be incredibly stubborn when she wanted to be, but it was something he liked about her, something they had in common.

           Dipper expected her to lead him out towards the crowd of drunk, dancing people, but instead she veered off towards the bar. She ordered two more drinks and turned back to Dipper, leaning her elbows on the glossy counter that reflected the neon lights hanging over the bar and glowing behind the rows of bottles on shelves. She set her empty glass down on the counter beside her with a clunk.

           “Uh.” Dipper aimlessly looked anywhere but her, avoiding the intense stare she was giving him. Her blue eyes were piercing. 

           “Okay, moron. Tell me what’s up with Mabel.”

           “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He felt sweat droplets forming on his forehead and wiped at them quickly. The neon lighting cast half of her face in shadow, but Dipper could clearly see the annoyance there. 

           “She’s acting weird. You're the twin, so tell me what's up. Now.” A manicured nail tapped against the empty glass impatiently. Beads of moisture dripped down the side and onto the dark bar. Dipper’s eyes traced the movement and then looked back at the girl sitting next to him. 

           “I don't know, really! She’s been really looking forward to this outing and I think she misses hanging out with you. We've all been so busy with school, you know...” The lie came out easily. He had been lying so much lately, more than he was used to. But, truth be told, he hadn't been hanging out with her in person much lately either. Although for completely different, serial killer related reasons. Dipper’s heart leapt when he saw Pacifica’s expression soften into something almost sad. 

           “Oh...Well...” The barkeep placed the two drinks on the counter and she picked one up without looking at it. She looked back up at Dipper, a glint of resolve in her eye. “Let’s get the fuck back out there then, yeah?” He picked up the other glass and nodded. 

           “Hell yeah.” They clinked their drinks together.

           Mabel had returned to the table by the time they came back, and they all shared a drink and some laughter. Mabel grabbed Dipper’s glass out of his hand and finished it off, ignoring his protests, then dragged her two companions out into the thick of the crowd. Music and lights washed over the group, people smiled and swayed all around them, a sea of bodies.

           Dipper felt nervous at first, remembering the night he first locked eyes with Dib in a crowd similar to this, washed in red light. He glanced around, scanning for that long black coat or shining circular frames, but he saw nothing except people laughing and bouncing to the music and grinding on eachother. He turned back to Pacifica and Mabel. They were facing eachother, dancing along with the pounding music that vibrated through the ground and in their chests. His sister looked gleefully lost in the moment, bobbing her head and swinging her arms without a care in the world. Pacifica’s eyes were locked on Mabel, smiling fondly and laughing along with her. A smile twitched at Dipper’s lips. It was like how it used to be; the three of them, sometimes joined by other friends, just dancing with each other like the room was all theirs, like they owned the night and the sun would never come up. It was good. His head was fuzzy from drinking and there was a smile on his face, he bobbed side to side a bit, getting lost in the beat. 

           Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

           And then again. 

           Goddammit...

           Dipper leaned in and tried to tell the girls he was going to step out for a bit. Mabel responded by yelling “WHAT?” and descending into a giggling fit. Dipper rolled his eyes and pushed her into Paz, who caught her and spun her around. He could hear Mabel’s loud whoop of delighted laughter as he pushed his way through the crowd and away from the pair. Anxiety bubbled up into his chest, his phone kept buzzing and buzzing. He got back to their table and whipped out his phone, clicking it open. 

           He gasped aloud and nearly dropped it in shock. 

           Dib was sending him pictures of a person tied to a chair, face bloodied, illuminated by a light overhead in an otherwise dark room—just like the scene from the other night, but a completely different person. A new victim. 

           Dipper jumped when his phone started angrily vibrating and the screen went dark. Dib was calling him. Dipper panicked, looking around wildly. He pulled on his coat and scarf and rushed towards a back door where there were some people smoking in the hallway, and then Dipper picked up.

           “What the fuck—” He started, but Dib’s calm smooth voice drawled over the phone speakers immediately.

           “Baaaabe, there you are! You're missing the fun! Oooo, is that music I hear? You out clubbing?”

           “Wha—No, I...” Dipper hurried past the smokers, out the door, and moved farther from the building until he couldn’t feel the bass rumbling in his legs anymore. He pulled his shoulders inwards against the cold air. “Shit, what the hell kind of pictures do you think you're sending me, asshole?”

           “Oh, those?” Dib giggled and Dipper’s face twisted up in anger. “Having a little fun since someone is ignoring me to hang out with his little crush.” 

           Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I don't know what the fuck you’re talking about. Just...stop. Stop taunting me like this, stop sending me pictures of fucking dead people to get a rise out of me, you sick fuck.” 

           “Dead? Oh, no no no, babe~” Dipper’s phone buzzed again as Dib sent him another text. “Look again.” 

           Dipper could hear the smug grin in his voice, but he opened the new message anyway. The line of dark pictures showed up again, this time the most recent was of Dib holding a knife up to the person's cheek, tears streaming down their face. 

           They’re alive.  

           The realization hit Dipper like a truck and all the breath escaped him. It was literally like the exact situation as the other night; someone tied up and helpless, about to die. And Dib was dangling their life in front of him. 

           “Let them go.” Dipper’s heart hammered in his chest.

           “Come and make me, babe,” Dib replied. “I’m on North Juniper Street, behind that cute little knickknack store. Run fast!” The line went dead before Dipper could respond. Dipper quickly opened up the Maps app on his phone and typed in the street with shaky hands. Twenty two minute walk. Dipper cursed under his breath and took off at a sprint, cutting through a quiet park filled with trees right across the road from the club. He almost slipped on the frost covered grass, but regained his footing and took off once more through the city streets. 

           He was going to stop Dib this time. It was going to be different, he had another chance. No one was going to die tonight. Not again. 

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

           Eleven minutes later, Dipper found himself on a somewhat dark street lined with little window shop storefronts. His lungs burned, he was sweaty and his whole body ached, but he hurried onwards. ‘Knickknack store’, Dib had said...there! He rushed forward, darting sideways into the uncomfortably narrow alleyway to get behind the building. He pushed his way out and frantically looked around, balling his hands into fists in anticipation of a fight, but...

           His hands dropped back down to his sides.

           There wasn't anything here. Just a dumpster and a pile of cardboard boxes shoved up against an overgrown fence. He looked at his phone. Nothing. He wandered around for a bit, glancing down connecting alleys to see if he could spot anything, but Dib simply wasn't here. There was no one here. 

           Dipper: What the fuck.

           Dipper sent the text to Dib and finally allowed himself to lean over and catch his breath. There was a stab of pain in his side with every inhale. This is fucked.

           Dib responded after a moment, simply typing “hahaha”.

           Dipper tried calling him but he didn’t pick up. He swore loudly and kicked the dumpster, immediately falling backwards on his ass and clutching his foot. “Fuck! Fuck, ow...” He sat for a long moment, dejected and alone on the cold cracked cement of this random back alley. 

           Dib tricked him. Again. 

           Dipper felt like an idiot. Dib was always fucking messing with him, why would this time be any different? Burning with anger and frustration and shame, Dipper picked himself up off the ground and started dragging himself in a slow march back towards the club. He pulled his coat tighter around himself as the wind picked up and the sweat from sprinting chilled, leaving him shivering. After a few minutes of walking dejectedly down the sidewalk, his phone vibrated and he took it back out. Mabel.

           Gaybel: where the hell are you ?

           Dipper frowned. He quickly typed back, clumsy from the chilly air biting at his bare hands.

           Dip: sometihng came up, be back soon  

           Gaybel: this night is not going to plan

           Dipper groaned. Shit.  

           Why was he always fucking up the lives of the people around him? He was cursed, he really must be. On the walk back he kept texting Dib, various insults and swearing and “respond already. Now whos ignoring who”, but there was no response. None at all. He passed under streetlamp after streetlamp, occasionally passing people that were out for the night, and watching cars go by. Six minutes away from the club, according to his app, he got a call. He picked it up with an annoyed sigh. 

           “Mabel, I told you I’m—” The words died on his tongue and his entire body went ice cold, but not from the winter air. “Mabel, Mabel, what’s wrong?” 

           Fear seized his muscles at the animalistic wail that came crackling through the phone speakers. Mabel was simply howling in agony, sobbing and screaming the words “No no no no no no” on repeat, over and over. He’d never heard her like this, the closest time was when Waddles... He flinched as a piercing scream lanced through the speakers. 

           Something was very, very fucking wrong.

           Dipper’s body lurched into action and he took off sprinting faster than he’s ever run in his life. He didn’t stop for cars, he hurtled over curbs and benches until he finally saw a stretch of dark green ahead of him—the park next to the club. He heard more sobbing and screaming, but no longer just from the phone. She must be just ahead of him, but why the hell was she all the way out here? He dropped his phone in his pocket and propelled himself recklessly through the grass and trees, ignoring the twinge of pain as a branch smacked him across the face. He saw a blot of color ahead in the darkness; someone doubled over on the ground. His sister. He slid onto the grass beside her, coating his pants in dirt but not giving a shit. 

           “Mabel! Mabel, are you hurt? What’s—?” 

           Mabel's face was a mess of tears, contorted in agony. She was clutching her hands to her chest in a white knuckled grip. His frantic eyes scanned her quickly for blood, or knife wounds, but found nothing. She didn't even look at Dipper or acknowledge his arrival. 

           “NOOOO! No no NO!” Wails ripped out of her lungs as she rocked back and forth, delirious with horror and unable to look away from something straight ahead. Dipper turned to follow her gaze. His breath caught in his throat as he saw a shock of white. 

           And red.

           Dipper stood up slowly, leaving his sister screaming and clawing at herself on the grass as he stared blankly ahead. His scarf dangled loosely from his neck. It was like the ground suddenly dropped out from under his feet, he felt fully untethered from everything, dizzy, floating in a void. This isn’t real. But deep down in the very back of his mind, he knew it was. He knew exactly who was capable of bringing something like this into reality. His sister’s screams were white noise in his brain. 

           She looked almost alive, at first. Like she could be just standing there. Her pretty white down coat was lying forgotten in the wood chips surrounding the tree. And she was there, in her soiled lavender top, just standing there. Hanging there, Dipper realized with a sick lurch in his gut. A thick wire, wrapped tight around her neck just under her chin, was cutting into the flesh under the weight of her body. It was tied to a branch above, propping her upright. There was another wire tied to the branch as well. Dipper’s eyes followed it back down to the other end, which wound tightly around her wrists, held aloft and extended like she was offering something to them in the palm of her hands. 

           Red. Almost black in the dim moonlight that filtered down through the branches, but shockingly dark against all of the light colors of her body and clothes and hair. Her chest was a gaping dark maw, cut open and bloodied, with jagged pieces of ribs as teeth. Her eyes were open, the pale blue irises staring into nothing. And the dark red glistening thing in her hands...

           Dipper doubled over and vomited the alcohol he had drank earlier. He stumbled sideways and fell onto his knees in the grass once more. He pulled out his phone and crawled over to Mabel, who continued to sob and claw at her face, unable to do anything else with the catastrophic emotions surging through her body. 

           “Mabel,” he spoke, his voice thick and ragged with effort. “I’m going to...to call the police, okay?” He put a hand on her back and felt her body convulsing with the screams that tore from her throat. He dialed the numbers on his phone, heard the operator distantly, like in a dream; hard to hold onto and recall. He numbly said where they were and hung up as the operator tried to press for more information. He dropped the phone onto the grass and tried to pull Mabel to him.

           “NO! NO! PACIFICA!” She screamed and fought against him but Dipper wrapped both arms around her, pulling her into his chest even as she thrashed like a wild animal.

           “Stop, stop looking. Stop looking,” he muttered to her, pleading.

           She dug her hands into him like claws and sobbed and sobbed, letting herself be held in her brother's arms. Her face buried into Dipper’s coat and he just held her tight, like she would slip away at any moment too. Dipper sat motionless. He didn’t cry. He only continued to stare blankly ahead at the serene face of his childhood friend. She looked pretty, still.

           In his mind, Dipper couldn’t say it. He knew it, but he couldn’t say the name. He knew who did this, because he had seen a message like this from him before. The heart that was cut out of her chest and that Pacifica now held in her own hands was for him. A confession or a mockery or a promise, Dipper didn’t know. But it was for him.

           He sat still for what felt like an eternity, limbs going numb from the cold. Red and blue lights washed over the grisly scene, sirens cut over the sound of Mabel’s cries. People were talking around them, to each other, to the twins sitting together on the cold grass. The hiss of radio chatter cut in as well, calling for backup and ambulances. So much noise suddenly, but Dipper was in a trance. He could only think of one thing on repeat.

           It’s my fault. 

           It’s my fault. It’s my fault.

           “Kid, can you hear me? What was that you said?” An officer leaned in, flashlight in hand. The light glared into Dipper’s blank eyes. “I can’t hear you, I need you to repeat. Are you hurt? Can you tell us what happened here?”

           “It’s my fault.” Dipper’s voice was barely a whisper. “It’s all my fault.”

            Pacifica is dead and it’s all my fault. 

Chapter Text

           Dib sat in a room with the lights turned off. The only illumination came from the monitors in front of him, the blue-white electric glow reflecting in his circular glasses. He flipped through the different camera feeds, bored out of his mind and chewing on his fingernail. He kicked one of the many empty Monster cans that had fallen underneath his desk.

           Click. Click. Click. The screen showed rooms of a small apartment, one that Dib was now extremely familiar with. The front door which opened into the kitchen, an island counter in the middle that was stacked with notebooks and dirty plates... Dib glanced over the countertops with the sink and oven. He smirked; this was where they first met face to face, and where he first marked Dipper with his blade. His eyes kept moving. Black bags sat against the wall near the locked front door, next to a nearly full plastic trash can. He forgot to take his garbage out again, Dib observed.

           To the left of the kitchen was the living room, situated with a couch, television, and desk where a laptop covered in stickers sat. On the far left wall of this room were the glass sliding doors that opened onto the balcony, Dib’s favorite entry point. Then straight across the kitchen was the dark mouth of a hallway with three doors, two on the right and one on the left, down near the end. The first door on the right was a closet, the second the bathroom. Dib clicked his mouse and the pixelated image of it appeared on screen; sink and counter with a large mirror, toilet, and a shower and tub combo. A used towel laid abandoned on the floor. The bathroom was dark and empty like the rest of the apartment. 

           Dib clicked and the image changed to the room beyond the door on the left at the end of the hallway. It was a room painted in muted colors, a bookshelf and dresser against the wall, a beanbag under the window, and several various posters and photos taped up on the walls. The window, almost always with the shuttered blinds down, was on the far wall across from a queen bed, in which a body lay tangled amongst the dark blue blanket and sheets. Dib felt a smile creep across his face.

           Dipper Pines. Asleep in his bed, wearing an oversized t-shirt and boxers, the milky white skin of his exposed legs shone in the dim light of the room. Dib leaned his chin onto the palm of his hands, feeling satisfied with himself. This boy, this dumb, clever, pretty boy was all his. Even if he didn’t accept it yet. Dib was impressed when he realized Dipper had tracked him down, doing what the city police still were incapable of doing even now, when his public body count was nearing double digits. It was playful curiosity at first. He wanted to observe him before killing him. See what kind of person he was. 

           A college student, apparently. That much became glaringly obvious. He spent almost all of his time either on campus or at home, but he had some friends. He hung out with a lot of girls, Dib had noticed. A red head, a blonde, and a brunette, primarily. The brunette held a shocking resemblance to the boy, with her freckled cheeks and green-brown eyes, so Dib figured they were family. The girl with the blonde bob-cut was pretty and well dressed, it was obvious she came from money. Those two seemed to usually come in a pair, and the redhead was older, not around as much. He remembered seeing her at the cornmaze he later followed Dipper to. Ah, how fun of a night that was!

           They called the boy “Dipper”—an odd name, but one that Dib liked the ring of. He amused himself with blending into the crowd and following him around so easily; he never seemed to notice, despite seeming incredibly paranoid. It sent a sick thrill through Dib, knowing that he was probably on this boy's mind. He followed him back to his small apartment and, when casing the place, he had stopped and realized...he’d been here before. 

           The night he killed that girl on campus, he had chased her through back alleys and through back alleys he had escaped, and here Dib stood in such a back alley now, looking up at the apartment building Dipper called home. He gazed upward at rows of tiny dark balconies. Not much of a view for the people who lived there but...a memory he’d forgotten popped back into Dib’s head. He had been noticed that night. As he fled, a soft yellow light poured out from one of the higher floors, the second floor to be exact, and Dib stopped to look. He saw a boy standing in the moonlight, shivering slightly from the cold air that kissed his bare skin, his stomach and legs exposed. Dib couldn’t see his face at the time, even when it turned in his direction and he darted away, but he knew. 

           It was definitely the boy that he had his eyes on now. 

           So Dib installed cameras in Dipper’s apartment and watched him go about his days at home. Walking around in his underwear, doing homework, watching TV late into the night, and waking up from night terrors at one a.m, sheets soaked with sweat. This was Dib’s favorite thing to observe. He wished he knew what kind of nightmares he was having. He hoped they were about him, he hoped Dipper constantly dreamed about his knife plunging into that pretty white stomach of his. It was probably the case, Dib picked up quickly that Dipper was acting extremely panicked and paranoid and fearful, unable to sleep well. Was he still afraid after they locked eyes that night in the club? Dib smiled as an idea came to him. Let’s see how clever you really are.

           His shadow loomed over the body slumped against the wall in front of him, obscuring it in darkness. The nearest streetlamp was many feet away and barely offered any light, but Dib was used to working by the light of the moon alone. He brandished his shining knife, already slick with blood, and he made quick work of cutting out the pretty green eyes of the college boy he had killed. He laid the bloody white organs down, still attached to some fleshy pink where Dib had to rip them out the rest of the way, and placed the boy's hands in his lap. He stepped back and took a picture. Dib smiled. What a pretty scene he had painted. Dib was good at creating art through blood; he had practiced for years. Only now was he getting some attention for it, and, sure enough, early the next morning, his little message was swarming with police and reporters. 

           He watched Dipper on the cameras that day, and sick delight flooded him when the boy panicked and called someone, nearly hyperventilating by the looks of it. But he remained home that night. He went to bed, uneasy and vulnerable, and Dib just couldn't resist any longer. Plus, he needed to replace the bathroom cam. And to Dib's surprise, the boy was awake. They finally met again, face to face. He was stunning up close; the way his lips arched alluringly, his eyelashes fluttering over his hazel eyes, his freckles like constellations across his skin, even what literally looked to be a constellation peeking out from under his bangs. Dib hungrily watched the way his chest fluttered with scared breaths, his thin hands came to rest on the countertop behind him as Dib cornered him, his throat bobbed with a nervous swallow... And then, unexpectedly, scared little Dipper acted brave and headstrong in the face of his nightmare. Nothing like the nervous little thing he had been watching on the hidden cameras.

           This intrigued him. Dipper turned out to be...different from what he expected, having stalked (and ultimately killed) many people before him. There was something in the way Dipper held himself in Dib’s presence. Something in his eyes as he boldly stared into the face of death. It excited Dib. Finally, something interesting to occupy his time! He wanted to pursue this boy, to pursue these feelings blooming within him. There was something special about Dipper, he could tell. And this feeling only got stronger as the weeks went by, spent toying with him, and then hanging out with him in person, becoming physical, affectionate—Dib was addicted to him.

           Dib wasn’t usually one to kill out of personal feelings—well, not since that one time many years ago—but he found himself here, Thanksgiving night, cutting up the bodies of some perfect young couple and scowling as he did. It felt silly to be jealous and annoyed at Dipper getting affection from other people, but the logic didn’t override the uncomfortable anger in his gut. So he did what any normal person would do and decided to cut open someone’s else’s gut. 

           It helped, actually; taking his upset feelings out on the couple he spotted walking along while storming off into the city. The girl was even blonde too. Funny how that works. He hoped Dipper connected the dots when he sent him the picture of his work, a particularly gruesome (and kinda funny, in his opinion) scene he had concocted. It was therapeutic to saw apart limbs haphazardly, flicking strands of bloody hair from his bonesaw that he kept in his car in case he got the urge suddenly, like now. He propped the man up, secured him, and began to force his girlfriend’s body parts inside him like a puzzle—a leg bent here, an arm wrapped around there, and then the centerpiece that was her stupid, pretty face displayed in the middle of the stomach. A love that devoured. 

           Dib wished Dipper could share in these moments. He wished he could drag Dipper even further into his world, away from all the pretty girls giving him fucking kisses on his cheek.

           Ugh.

           He bet he could do it, though; get Dipper to kill someone, or at least to actually attack him. Get him to feel the blood on his hands and the knife in his grip, even if it was just before Dib plunged a blade into his heart. That was the plan: Dipper would either get a taste for killing and fall in love with him, or he would attack Dib with murder in his eyes, and Dib would kill him in the ensuing fight to the death, leaving both of them bloody from eachother's blows. The mental image of it sent shivers of anticipation through Dib’s body. It seemed fitting that he would either have Dipper or be the one to destroy him in the end. It was all he could think about. Dipper was attracted to him, and the boy had violence bubbling under the surface of his perfect little college student persona, Dib knew it. He was made for killing. And yet...

           Dib felt the sting of rejection, unfamiliar and unpleasant, when he presented Dipper with a way to see the world washed in blood as he did and he refused. He ran away, got angry, acted disgusted by him. But even in his disappointment, Dib was able to smile at the memory of Dipper’s pretty face with blood on it, and god did he want to see more. He hoped Dipper went home and saw himself like that too, saw how beautiful he was. Dipper refused his knife this time, but Dib could be very patient when he wanted to be. Things weren’t over yet.

           It concerned him that Dipper clung so fiercely to his old life, though. He knew the boy was stubborn—that was one of the things he liked about him—but it was beginning to cause problems. Dib could be patient, yes...but he was also extremely possessive of the things he cared about, and this care he had for Dipper was becoming unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life. It was all-consuming, like a raging fire igniting his veins that burned all of his previous plans and preconceptions to ash.

           Dib’s not sure exactly when he decided not to kill Dipper, but over the few months of being with him, and flirting and touching him...Dib realized that he was simply obsessed. He realized that he loved this idiot boy. Being in love, what a funny and vulnerable thing. Dipper was endlessly entertaining and gorgeous and intriguing, he simply could not stop thinking about him. Dib had felt the boy's body quaking in his arms as moans of pleasure escaped his lips under Dib’s touch. He'd seen Dipper’s eyes upon him, looking at him as if he was the only thing in the room. He had seen the way Dipper stared at blood, too. Like a predator. Like he did.

           He wanted to break him. He wanted to break him so badly. He wanted this stubborn, righteous boy to fall in love with him and feel terrible about it, because it meant letting darkness into his heart as well. Dib saw it there. He saw the potential. Dipper wasn’t normal. What normal person tracks down a fucking serial killer all by themselves and then continues to interact with them when they break into their house over and over? Dib found himself fantasizing about them being together, truly being together, taking on the world side by side and making it bleed.

           I bet he would look beautiful covered in blood. Dib wanted to see his vision come into fruition. He wanted to tear Dipper down and show him how powerful he could become with a blade in hand. He was perfect. He was his.  

           Dipper is mine. Mine to have and mine to destroy.

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           He was planning something. Dib could tell.

           Dipper and Mabel were texting and calling and meeting up more often than usual, writing notes and bullet points on a large whiteboard. ‘Operation fanfic trope’. Mabel, the love guru. Wingman. Club. Confession... They were planning something, and it made the back of Dib’s neck prickle in annoyance. Dipper had said there was someone he liked that wasn't Dib. He hadn't believed him, figured it was just a lie to piss him off, especially since he ran into Mabel and started chatting off and on with her, and she told him that he was “so Dipper’s type!”... But he was getting a bad feeling, and he was getting angry.  

           Later that week, Dib watched the camera feeds as Dipper got dressed hurriedly, checking himself in the mirror and smoothing out his shirt. He was trying to look good for someone. Dib narrowed his eyes. He picked up his phone as he saw Dipper exit through his front door, out into the hall. 

           Dib: youre going out awfully late, got a date night? ;P

           Dib picked at his fingers and stared at the screen, unblinking. Little dots danced at the bottom of the screen, indicating Dipper was typing. 

           Dipper: Fuck off. None of your business

           Pretty typical response. Dipper wasn’t one for niceties. The boy stubbornly clutched on to his feelings of anger and hatred towards him despite Dib having literally seen him come undone beneath his hand. 

           Dib: y ou know you only belong to me babe!

           Dib: dont forget that~~

           A reminder. A threat. A promise. Dib made it very clear that Dipper belongs to him and he alone. He shouldn’t have forgotten it, he wasn’t that dense. When no response came, Dib got fidgety. What the hell were they doing tonight? Maybe it was nothing. The Pines twins were a pretty strange pair, that much even he could see. He liked Mabel well enough, but she was starting to get in the way a bit. He was becoming impatient. What would it take to get Dipper to just give in to his feelings? He tapped his painted nails on the desk for a few long minutes, thinking, worrying. 

           Dib: so cold, babe :( 

           Dib’s fingers tapped across the phone screen. Being ignored by Dipper was not abnormal behavior by any means, though it annoyed him sometimes. He liked to get a rise out of him, he liked knowing how to press his buttons. Dib waited. Waited. No response. 

           Dib: cmon, dont ignore me <3 

           Prodding for a reaction. Anything at all.

           Dib: tell ya what, come on a date with me. we can warm each other up haha

           Be flustered, be annoyed, give me any indication that you're still only thinking of me. 

           Ding. A response. Dib smiled. Of course that did it; Dipper was always so embarrassed when Dib flirted with him. His grumpiness and denial was cute. 

           Dipper: Sorry, Im busy trying to have a normal fucking life. Ill never date you. I like someone else so either just kill me or stop toying with me bastard

           Dib read the message, and then read it again. The smile dropped off his face and a twisting dark feeling squirmed in his gut. Normally he would figure Dipper was lying, that boy was such a fucking virgin, but... He remembered that Thanksgiving night, where he crouched next to the bushes under that girl’s—Pacifica’s—porch, out of sight but able to hear everything when he got there. She had said she loved him, then kissed him on the cheek. It made Dib fucking pissed at the time, enough where he went out and killed the first couple that he found, but he later convinced himself it was nothing. But now...memories of Dipper talking fondly of her, of her reaching to grab his hand in the cafè, of Dipper smiling like an idiot after she had kissed him...his suspicions had been right all along. 

           Dib’s eyes darkened. He stood from the chair and whipped his long black trenchcoat on, stepping out into the cold air of December. 

           Dipper was not allowed to just move on. He was not allowed to leave Dib behind and try to pursue a normal life, dating normal fucking people. Mabel must be helping him. She’s sociable, cute, cheerful, and literally calls herself the love guru. That’s what this night must be, it makes perfect sense. Fucking Dipper, standing in front of the mirror preening. Showering and dressing himself, looking nice and cute for the big fucking night they had been planning. He was trying to give his heart to someone else, when it already belonged to him.

           No. No. 

           Dib smiled as he stepped into his car and turned the ignition, but it was one devoid of any humor or cheer. It was simply the confidence and malice of having a plan. He opened an app on his phone and began to drive through dark city streets. He knew exactly where Dipper was going, and he wasn’t about to let him get away with this. 

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           Ah. It made sense now. Operation fanfic trope, childhood friends to lovers. He had to give it to her, she was incredibly pretty. Dipper would be lucky to have her as a girlfriend.

           Anger burned in his stomach as Dib watched the pair from a dark corner in the club. She made him stand and they went to the bar together. He looked nervous, like a nervous little boy trying to hide something. Dib felt his hand slide into his coat and grip the handle of a switchblade there. It felt comforting, but he wanted something tangible. He wanted to let his knife taste flesh. 

           “Look at them.” Dib hissed under his breath, watching the pretty blonde girl in her cute crop top lead Dipper back over to the table and onto the dancefloor, disappearing into the crowd. “Fucking slut.”

           A middle-aged man nearby scoffed as he overheard this, shaking his head and taking a swig of his drink. “I hear ya, bud. Places like these are always full of whores looking for a cheap fuck rather than a guy who will treat em’ right. Y’know? Fuckin’ unbelievable.” Dib glared at him in disbelief and walked away without a word. “Prick” The guy mumbled, going back to staring at college girls with shorts too short for winter.

           Dib whipped out his phone, a plan circulating in his mind already. The first part would be easy, he was sure. Dipper thought he was so fucking righteous, wanting to find a killer and save people and yadda yadda. It was all just bullshit. Dipper craved validation and appreciation and wanted people to like him, to think of him as a hero. Plus, he was still obviously sore from having let the girl Dib got for him die the other night. Dib started linking the images one after the other. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. They were old pictures, of course. Back when Dib liked to kidnap people and take them to a more secluded place where he could have fun. They worked perfectly for what he was about to do.

           Sure enough, he saw Dipper angrily stomp over to their table, take his phone out, and look at the messages. Dib felt a twinge of satisfaction when Dipper’s jaw dropped. Dib quickly stepped outside and walked behind the building by the dumpsters, dialing Dipper’s phone. He picked up after a short moment, saying a quick “What the fuck—” and Dib smiled lazily, returning to his self assured teasing demeanor.

           “Baaaabe, there you are! You're missing the fun! Oooo, is that music I hear? You out clubbing?” Dib leaned back against the cold brick of the wall, shoving one hand in his pocket. A lightbulb that hung over an employee entrance flickered on and off. 

           “Wha—no, I...” Dib held back a snicker. He knew exactly where Dipper was but the boy was still trying to hide it. He could hear the music fading as Dipper covered the phone and hurried out of the building, pushing through people. He heard a door open and close. “Shit, what the hell kind of pictures do you think you're sending me, asshole?”

           “Oh, those?” Dib giggled in delight, relishing that familiar angry tone of his. He was far too fun to play with. Dib’s smile fell slightly and he gripped the knife in his pocket. “Having a little fun since someone is ignoring me to hang out with his little crush.” 

            “I don't know what the fuck you’re talking about. Just...stop. Stop taunting me like this, stop sending me pictures of fucking dead people to get a rise out of me, you sick fuck.” Exasperation. Annoyance.

           Dib narrowed his eyes, anger pulsing through him. Again with this tone, acting like I’m some annoyance he just wants to move past and leave behind. You will never get away from me. I will make you fall to your knees and I will be the only one you look at with those eyes of yours. Mine. Mine. Mine. A serene smile slowly spread over Dib’s face and he relaxed. 

           “Dead? Oh, no no no, babe~” Dib sent another picture; the hook to catch the little fish. “Look again.” 

           Dib listened contently and smiled when he heard Dipper exhale on the other end of the phone, realizing what the picture was. He wished he could see his face, he was surely thinking back on the girl Dib had offered to him as a kill just the other night. The poor girl that poor little Dipper couldn’t save.

           “Let them go.” Dipper’s voice had a slight quiver to it. Dib’s face dropped into a deadpan stare—I have him.

           “Come and make me, babe.” Dib replied. “I’m on North Juniper Street, behind that cute little knickknack store. Run fast!” He hung up without waiting for a response and breathed out slowly, watching a cloud of his breath billow out before him. Showtime.

           “Hey!” A male voice called out to his right. Dib turned to see a thin, dark haired man in an employee vest approaching him stiffly from the direction of the rusted door with the flickering light. “You aren’t supposed to be back here.”

           “Really? I had no idea.” Dib said sarcastically, pushing off the wall and watching him approach. The guy’s face twisted up in stubborn anger and he walked right up to Dib, jabbing a finger at his chest.

           “You need to leave now, asshole.”

           “Nah. I’ve got a better idea.” Dib’s hand shot out from his pocket and a thick hunting knife buried itself in the man’s jugular. His eyes went wide and he reached up with his hands as if in disbelief. Dib ripped the knife out and shoved the guy to the ground on his side. Dark blood gushed from the wound in time with his heartbeat and Dib pulled off his vest quickly. He wiped the bloody knife off on the man’s jeans, who was twitching and gurgling as the life swiftly left him. He would be dead in a few moments. Dib put the vest on under his coat and slipped the knife into the back of his pants. It was time to set the stage. 

           He went back into the club, entering through the back door, and swiftly retrieved the expensive white coat poorly hidden under a darker one. 

           Then he went out to his car that was parked nearby, getting out the bundle of thick wires, cutters, and gloves, and walked out to put them under a nice tree in the park that was so perfectly close to the nightclub. He left his trenchcoat behind and returned to the club to wait, adjusting the employee vest on his shoulders. He didn’t have to wait long as he saw the blonde girl, Pacifica, break away from a cheerful and red faced Mabel. He approached quickly, seeing her eyes widen as she dug around and did not find her white coat.

           “Ma’am.” Dib spoke up and her worried gaze lifted to him, giving him a once over, eyes lingering on his vest. “I’m so sorry to bother you, it’s very urgent.”

           “Wha...?” Pacifica looked at him and then down at the chair where Mabel’s coat hung.

           “Just before you came over I saw someone take a white coat from this table and leave the building—” He said and was immediately cut off as a look of rage washed over her face.

           “Motherfucker! I’ll kill them, that was a limited edition—!”

           “They headed toward the park, I think I saw them dump the coat as they ran off! Let’s hurry, I’ll help you look for it,” Dib lied and moved to walk away, glancing back at her. This wasn’t the best way to lure someone away, but it was the one he could best think of in the moment. How else do you get a girl to come with you to a park in the dead of night? He inwardly smiled as he saw the calculation spinning behind her eyes and she settled in behind him, deciding to follow the 'security guard' and get her stolen coat.

           They rushed off, pushing out the same door Dipper left through, and they hurried over to the park across the road. It was dark and dead quiet, the sounds of cars and music in the city was a far off drone of background noise. The frostbitten grass under their feet crunched as they briskly jogged deeper into the sparse trees.

           He stole a glance behind him. She was following steadily, arms wrapped around her to fight off the cold. She dutifully scanned their surroundings looking for the coat thief, then her eyes widened and she rushed off suddenly towards a shock of white upon the ground. Dib followed her silently. His hand reached behind him, sliding out a large glinting blade. Pacifica crouched down and picked up her soft coat. 

           “Thank god!” She looked around, narrowing her eyes. She was standing under the tree now, her back to Dib who was stalking up behind her—a predator, and she was his prey, caught right where he wanted. “What... what the hell is all this stuff?” Her eyes scanned over the bundles of wire and the pile of black that was Dib’s trenchcoat. 

           Pacifica froze, the situation finally dawning on her. The hair on the back of her neck stood as she felt the presence of the tall stranger right behind her. She was completely alone, in a park at night, in the dead of winter...with a strange man. She whipped around, hands clenched in fists.

           “I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to pull here,” Her eyes glittered with ferocity, she wasn’t going down without a fight, “But if you think I’m just going to roll over and—!”

           Her breath escaped her and the words died on her tongue, exchanged for a strangled yelp as pain like liquid fire sunk into her lower ribcage. She choked and shook and Dib leaned in close. To passerbys, it might have looked like an embrace or a kiss between lovers, but they were hidden by darkness and unseen from the roads. No help would come. No one would interrupt Dib’s deadly work.

           “His heart belongs only to me,” Dib whispered in her ear and viciously pulled back before plunging the knife back into her sternum. She gasped out loud, a painful and terrified noise that ripped from her body unwillingly. A dying, hunted animal. She looked at him, eyes clouded over with pain and fear and confusion. 

           Dib didn't take his time with this one. She wasn’t a fun plaything to him. She was simply in the fucking way. The knife plunged into her chest, once, twice. She threw her pretty blonde head back and let out a silent wail, lungs surely filling with blood. She sank towards the ground and Dib caught her and held her with one arm, guiding her down to lay on her back as she convulsed. Her eyes were locked on the tree branches and the dark sky above, gasping and fighting to cling onto her life. But Dib knew that it was a hopeless battle that would soon be over.

           “This is his fault, not mine,” Dib said to her, and then the knife sank in and pierced her heart. Darkness bloomed outwards from the wounds, staining her heart-windowed lavender top. Dib clicked his tongue. What a shame.  

           He got on his knees, pulled the gloves over his wrists, and went to work, making use of the hunting knife he brought today specifically for this. His arms became covered in blood as he forced the knife through flesh and bone, breaking and cracking open her ribcage with his hands. It didn't matter if this part was pretty, he only needed what was within. He dug his gloved fingers into the still warm cavity in her chest and closed his hand gently around the slick, wet organ. Her heart. 

           Her blue eyes were open, staring dead into the sky as he cut her heart out and laid it aside. Dib pulled the surgical gloves off, shoved them in his pocket, and then began the process of wrapping the thick wire around her hands to hold them together. Once he was satisfied with the tightness of the binding, he moved on to the noose when suddenly his phone chimed. 

           Dipper: What the fuck.

           Dib couldn’t help but smirk. Ran all that way for nothing. He typed back “hahaha” and slid his phone back into his pocket after putting it on silent. He had work to do and he was on a time limit. He had a picture in his mind, a painting, a stage, and he was going to bring it life. This is for you, Dipper. Don’t betray me again. 

           He hoisted her up, positioned her arms, and placed the heart snugly in her hands. He stood back and dragged his eyes over every inch of his work, a smile stretching over his features as he took it in. It was beautiful, like both a love letter and a letter from a scorned lover at the same time. Dipper was clever, Dib was sure that he would get it. How much more obvious could he be, after all, killing the girl that he liked? Dibs head turned as someone called out in the distance, getting closer by the sound of it. Dib picked up his supplies and darted off into the trees, vanishing into the black of night. It was time to leave and let this play out. His work was done, and he was no longer needed here.

           Dib was gone by the time Mabel’s horrified screams echoed through the night air. He was gone when she fell to her knees and screamed and begged for this to not be real. The girl she loved was dead. The girl she met one summer as a child and was friends with for years and years. The girl who, instead of going to a fancy expensive college like her parents wanted, decided to come to the college Mabel was going to just so they could take classes together and go to parties together. The girl who comforted her when she was crying, who held her hand when she needed someone, and who could always get her laughing again.

           The girl who had smiled when Mabel kissed her just about a half hour ago, glowing in the neon lights and surrounded by music. 

           The girl who kissed her back.  

           Here she was, gutted and hanging from a tree like an animal, as some kind of sick display. Mabel’s mind couldn't make sense of the brutality she was faced with. It wasn't senseless. It was methodical, perfected, deliberate...just like Pacifica was. But it was vicious unlike anything—evil—and she couldn't believe something like that had ripped Pacifica from this world. It wasn't right, it didn't make sense. It couldn't be real, but there it was, lit in moonlight, and she couldn’t look away.

           She called her brother, but could muster no words save for the screams that tore her throat raw. She screamed and screamed, as if it could change what she was seeing, but it did nothing, nothing, nothing. And then Dipper was there, holding her, consoling her. Police arrived some time after. They gave them both blankets and ushered them away to sit in the back of an ambulance, and then at the police station. Pacifica remained. She stayed in the cold, holding her own heart in her hands as police took pictures of her body and then later cut her down to be driven away to a morgue.

           Dib went home, satisfied after having done good work. He hadn't gotten any messages from Dipper yet, but he knew to give it some time. It was an especially hard lesson, but it had to be done. Dipper would understand that eventually. For now, he wanted to get cleaned up, have a drink, and go to sleep. He could enter into the new world he had created with his knife tomorrow morning. He knew Dipper would still be here. So he unlocked the front door of his father’s looming white house and stepped inside, going into the fridge to look for something to drink when a voice spoke from the darkness. He didn't even flinch.

           “You need to stop staying up so fucking late. You wake me up every time you bang around in the kitchen at three in the goddamn morning.” A female voice, messy purple hair. Dib chuckled and slunk away.

           “Sorry, sorry~” He glanced over into the darkness, a sheepish grin on his face. “Hope you don't mind if I take a shower, then?” The girl's eyes lingered on the blood for only a moment before she turned away and groaned, waving her hand noncommittally. Dib laughed, heading upstairs to his bathroom. He washed the dried blood off of his arms and face and bundled his clothes up to be either washed or burned—he would decide in the morning. He settled into bed and listened to the police scanner for a bit before checking his webcam feed and falling asleep.

           The twins didn’t sleep that night. Or the next. Mabel cried her eyes out constantly, refusing the comfort of Grenda and Candy, and Dipper just...went numb. He didn’t eat, he barely spoke, and he didn’t visit anyone. They answered questions for the police, being interrogated on the events that transpired. They were important witnesses as both the victim's friends and the ones who found her body, but Dipper felt sick to his stomach the whole time he was in the tiny white interrogation room. He knew who did it, but he said nothing. Just a few words and Dib could be arrested. But he didn't, couldn't. He hoped the police didn't clock the way he was holding things back, it would be just Dipper’s luck to go down for Dib's crime. 

           But now this was so much more than that. Dipper had gotten too comfortable and his worst nightmare became reality. His life was touched by death already, but now it had bled into the lives of those around him. Pacifica was butchered, and Mabel had seen her mutilated body posed as a message for him, something she would never understand. Now his sister would never be the same either. Nothing could ever possibly go back to how it was before. He laid awake in his bed for hours thinking one thing: It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s my fault that she’s dead. Her vacant blue eyes stared back at him from the shadows of his room. His skin crawled.

            Pacifica was dead. Murdered. And he may as well have been the one to drive the knife into her heart. 

Chapter Text

            Dipper sighed as he watched the gently falling snow outside his window, coating the world in a soft, white powder. It felt wrong. Pacifica had missed the first snowfall of the year, and he felt his stomach twist in despair. She liked winter, and now her body was sitting in the morgue, colder than it was outside. 

            It had been a long few days filled with police interviews and grief. Mabel wasn't taking it well, holing up in her dorm room not eating or even speaking to Grenda and Candy. Dipper...well, he was doing about the same. He had spoken to some family and friends out of necessary politeness, but it made him sick to talk about her death while keeping the truth of it secret. He knew who killed her, but he couldn’t tell for fear of losing others to him. It wasn't fair. He felt so guilty, he hadn't even cried...

            Dipper grimaced at his dull reflection in the window, curling into his blanket as a chill dripped its way down his spine. He was inside with the heat on, and yet his skin still prickled in discomfort. He almost wondered if those shitty ghost shows on TV were onto something when they claimed ghosts made the temperature drop. Pacifica was haunting him whether she wanted to or not, and it made Dipper feel like he was decomposing right along with her. 

            What would he say to Mabel? How could he explain why he left the club that night? Why the hell did he even trust where Dib was leading him? Dipper’s nails dug into his flesh as a wave of hot anger washed over him. Dib! It was all Dib’s fucking fault! Stupid, jealous, asshole Dib who probably thought Pacifica was some kind of threat. The only threat was that Dipper fucking hated Dib! And after this? God, he wanted to kill him. Actually kill him.

            He grit his teeth as the vague buzzing of his phone brought him out of his haze, glancing at the screen and seeing an email from one of his professors. He rubbed his eyes, rolling over and kicking his phone off the couch as he curled up. He needed a nap, he wanted to be unconscious and away from all of this. Dipper pulled his blanket over his head, studying the weave of the cheap fabric the cushion in front of him was made of until it suddenly became much dimmer beneath the blanket. He lifted his head, confused as to what blocked the daylight pouring in from outside.

            He was hit in the face with a blast of cold air, squinting when he saw Dib hovering over him with a smug smile on his face. 

            “Hi babe!”

            Dipper barely processed the wave of pure rage that surged through him as he launched himself over the arm of the couch to claw at Dib, fingers finding purchase on his shirt as he slammed the boy into the glass door of the balcony. 

            “You think showing your face here is a good fucking idea?!” He spat through clenched teeth, taking in the slightly startled look on Dib’s face that he instantly hid behind a veil of egotistical self-satisfaction.

            “Of course, babe! Wanted to see how my puppy was doi—” Dib was violently cut off as Dipper’s fist collided with his jaw, throwing him to the side. Dib stumbled back, eyes wide with shock as he held his face. He was about to say something, but Dipper lunged at him and grabbed his shirt, punching him in the gut and cutting off anything coherent he had to say. 

            Dib snapped out of his stupor when Dipper’s fist cracked against his ribs. Dipper was really finally attacking him, fury blazed in Dipper’s eyes as he came at him, one fist still curled in the fabric of Dib’s shirt. Dib was used to fighting though, even with fists. He had grown up getting into fights with other kids all through his life, so his brain kicked into autopilot and Dib sidestepped and grabbed him, yanking him off balance and slamming Dipper into the wall with a bang. The pictures that hung there rattled from the impact and Dipper grit his teeth as Dib returned the favor and punched him, making Dipper’s ears ring on impact and stumble back, dragging Dib along with him due to the grip he held on his shirt.

            “Having fun?” Dib teased, and Dipper just growled angrily as their bodies collided and he shoved Dib to the ground. He landed on the hard floor with a grunt, knocking into a desk and rattling everything on top of it, a couple pens fell to the floor. Dib didn’t even have a moment to look back up at him.

            “You fucking killed her!” Dipper screamed, diving to continue attacking Dib, his knee hitting him in the stomach as he landed on top of him. Dib threw his hands up to deflect Dipper’s blows, kicking wildly to try and get the boy off of him. “You fucking killed Pacifica! You son of a bitch!” 

            Grief and rage fuelled him as he continued bringing his fists down again and again, Dib unable to do much other than try to block the blows with his arms. If he could just knock Dib out, make him vulnerable, he could get him out of his life forever. He gritted his teeth in a snarl and put every ounce of strength he had into his arms as they wheeled back to pummel Dib. Pain flared through his knuckles each time he struck, but the sting felt good, because he knew it meant Dib was finally feeling even a fraction of the pain he’d caused too.

            As Dipper raised his fist to punch him again, Dib saw his opportunity and quickly grabbed him by the hair, throwing him to the side and slamming his head into the floor. Dipper’s vision went white for a moment, he barely heard the cry of pain he let out as Dib growled and punched him square in the throat. Dipper choked and scrambled back with a hiss as pain exploded where Dib had struck, reaching up to grab at Dib’s wrists blindly. The two boys twisted and threw punches at each other clumsily from the floor, both falling as Dipper dragged Dib down, then scrambling to kneel again before Dib kicked out and knocked Dipper onto his side. Dipper’s eyes met Dib’s for a fraction of a second before the other boy’s elbow cracked against his nose.

            He involuntarily gasped when white hot pain shot through his face and blinded him. Dipper’s thoughts scattered as he felt hot blood spatter his upper lip, his brain turning to autopilot as he let survival instincts take over, clawing and hitting anywhere he could, trying desperately to get Dib away from him. He'd attacked in a flurry of grief and rage, momentarily forgetting the kind of monster he was up against. Dib wasn't just some drunk asshole he could punch and then walk away from, this wasn't just some petty fucking scuffle. 

            “Getting brave, are we?” Dib's voice filled Dipper’s ears as his vision came back to him. “ You killed her the moment you decided to go to that club with her, the moment you cheated on me.” Dib’s sadistic laugh stopped the spinning in Dipper’s head and sent fear through his body. Dib wasn't even fazed by any of this. He was just grinning maniacally, blood on his teeth and eyes wild with the thrill of a fight, eyes that no doubt had seen many lives snuffed out by his hand.

            Oh god, Dipper thought, he was next, he was going to be next, Dib was gonna kill him. How fucking foolish of him to think even for a second that he could possibly have known what Dib was thinking. He didn't think Dib would target anyone he cared about so long as he was around, he didn't think Dib would kill him, and yet he had been wrong about the former. He was such a fucking idiot.  

            With all his strength, Dipper managed to shove Dib just enough to scramble away, barely getting to rise to his knees before he was tackled once again, gasping desperately as the air was knocked from his lungs and a numbness filled him. Adrenaline chased away the pain as he frantically kicked at Dib’s chest. 

            “Get the fuck away from me!” He shrieked, begging to whatever god there was that his useless fucking neighbors heard him, heard anything.

            A horrible wheeze escaped Dipper when an arm wrapped around his neck from behind and yanked him back. Dib let himself fall backwards and pulled Dipper with him, holding the boy on top of him with the crook of his elbow hooked against Dipper’s throat. Dipper clawed at Dib’s arms and kicked his legs out, thrashing and bucking wildly in Dib’s grip. He heard Dib grunt and swear as he jammed his elbow hard into Dib’s side once, and then twice, until his iron grip loosened. Dipper tore himself away and stumbled on his knees toward where the wall cut off and opened up to the kitchen, but Dib was right behind him.

             Dib grabbed a fistful of his hair, painfully yanking his head and bringing the little end table beside him into view. Dipper’s hand shot out, desperately clawing at the legs of the table in order to reach the lamp that sat on it, catching it as it nearly fell over. He violently swung it at Dib, the piercing sound of glass shattering filled the air as the lightbulb smashed against Dib’s face. Glass rained down on them both and Dib cried out, covering his face as he dragged himself away. Dipper crawled the opposite direction, past the edge of the wall and onto cold tile. Recovering after a moment, he grabbed one of the barstools by the kitchen island to lift himself to his feet.

            Dipper’s vision tunneled when he stood, watching Dib’s dark form rise to full height with an angry sneer on his bloody face. Dib confidently stalked forward, some melting snow on his boots leaving wet marks on the ground in his wake. Refusing to let Dib attack him again, he stumbled forward and lunged at Dib, grabbing the collar of his coat before he could back away. 

            Dib bared his teeth and twisted in Dipper’s hold, spinning them around back towards the couch. Dipper felt pain shoot through him as a piece of glass sliced through the bottom of his foot, causing him to lift it from the ground with a sharp gasp. Dib used his unbalanced state to shove him, throwing him over the arm of the couch and careening onto the coffee table. The poorly built furniture collapsed under him, the legs giving out with a sharp crack from the force of Dipper colliding with it. A wheeze left the boy’s lungs when he and the table hit the ground, painfully landing on his spine.  He fumbled to sit up from the wreckage, but exhaustion and pain was catching up with him.

            Dipper glanced up and froze when he saw Dib there, standing over him. He panted breathlessly in terror, the distinct glare of a blade glinting in the light as Dib sneered at him, blood dripping from his nose and mouth, coating his clenched teeth as he spoke. A bruise was forming on his sharp cheekbone.

            “You’re so fucking lucky I like you.” He grabbed Dipper by the collar, who cringed as Dib pressed the blade to his throat. Dipper’s shallow, quick breaths made him disoriented as he gasped for air, unable to respond as his senses were overwhelmed with the metallic stench of blood, unsure if it was from his own bloody nose or the pink-ish drool dripping from Dib’s mouth. The tension felt palpable between them, before Dib’s anger melted into a smug grin. “You need'a quit flirting with me, babe.”

            Anger suddenly bubbled back up through Dipper’s chest, cutting through the fuzziness in his brain and allowing him to collect himself enough to speak. 

            “WHAT ABOUT THIS IS FLIRTING?! You’re such a fucking freak! I want you to get away from me!” Dipper yelled, voice hoarse from the blows Dib had landed on his throat. “Leave me the fuck ALONE!”

            He yelped as he was dropped onto the splintered board below him. Dib stepped to the side and kicked him in the ribs for good measure, as if Dipper wasn’t already struggling to breathe enough. Dipper curled up a bit in defense, unable to stop the pained whimper that escaped past his lips.

            “You’re fun.” Dib replied, wiping his face on his sleeve and smearing the sticky blood across his skin, sniffling a little due to the blood that continued to ooze from his nose. He twirled the knife between his fingers, and upon realizing Dipper wasn’t getting up, shifted his weight and looked down at him. 

            Dipper glared back at him.

            “You’re cute when you’re mad. And when you’re covered in blood.” Dib snickered. Dipper wanted to move, reach up and punch the smug look off his face, but the adrenaline in his system had run out and he was more tired than he had ever been in his life. Pain flooded his body in hot, sharp waves, and he could feel his cheek swelling already. 

            “Get out.” Dipper curled his lip in a snarl.

            “You’re making an awful lot of demands for someone who just got his ass kicked,” Dib teased, making Dipper narrow his eyes. “Might I remind you this is your fault. You started it.”

            “Fuck you,” he panted. 

            “You’re so threatening, babe. It’s truly adorable.” Dib mocked, tucking the pocketknife he’d threatened Dipper with into his coat. “You poor thing.” He crouched down, swatting Dipper’s hands away from his face to grab his chin. “You look so pathetic, I can almost pity you.” If Dib hadn’t put his knife away, Dipper would have been sure he was going to kill him, but what he did next almost felt worse. 

            Dib’s bloody lips collided with Dipper’s, disgust filling him as Dib kept a tight grip on his jaw so he couldn’t pull away. The kiss felt like it lasted eons before Dib pulled back, strings of bloody spit connecting them before breaking and falling against Dipper’s lips. His stomach churned, and not from the multiple punches Dib had subjected him to. He choked back a whimper.

            “Just face it babe, you can’t get rid of me. You are mine, and mine alone." Dib gave it a moment to let the words linger and then he said, "Love you!” He smiled brightly, letting go of Dipper before turning and leaving through the fire escape like he always did, leaving Dipper alone to deal with the aftermath of their destructive encounter.

            Dipper lay on the broken remains of his coffee table staring at the ceiling for a very long time, before he burst into tears. 

            He cried, cried for Pacifica, cried from the pain, cried from the realization it would be harder to get rid of Dib than he thought, impossible even. If he couldn't beat him in a fight, then he really had no fucking chance in hell. He couldn't protect anyone.  

            A ragged scream filled the air as Dipper punched the couch in an explosive fit of emotion. He clawed at the cushions, threw them across the room, stomped his foot down on some broken bits of the shattered table, and winced as pain shot up his leg. All the fight drained from his aching body at once and he collapsed in a heap, folding his legs up to his chest and crying pathetically. The tears cut trails through the quickly drying blood on his face, and he curled up as despair choked him. It hurt to wipe his eyes, bruising already beginning to form along his cheeks. He needed help, he needed someone desperately. 

            It took all his strength, but he managed to roll over, hissing as he put pressure on his shoulder. He grabbed his phone, shakily opening his contacts app and pressing Wendy’s name, tapping speakerphone when she answered so he wouldn’t have to hold the phone against his sore face. 

            “Ayyy, Dippy!” Wendy’s cheerful voice already made him feel better. “You doin alright?” 

            Dipper inhaled, trying to steady himself. 

            “N-no, not really.” He coughed, lungs aching as his bruised ribs protested at the movement. “Do you think you could…” He frowned, how could he explain the mess in his apartment without having to make up some elaborate lie? “Do you think I could come over? Being in my apartment has been really, uh…suffocating or whatever.” He could come up with an explanation for his appearance later.

            “Of course, dude.” Wendy replied, voice softening in what Dipper assumed must be sympathy. 

            “Do you think you could pick me up?” Dipper felt bothersome asking, but there was no way he could possibly drive in this state.

            “Yeah, gimme like thirty minutes okay?”

            “Uh-huh.” Dipper sniffled and coughed, before Wendy said goodbye and hung up. He stared out at the mess around him with a deep frown: the splintered wood, the shards of glass, the droplets of blood dotting the floor, whether it was Dib's or his own he couldn’t tell. With a groan, he sat up, looking down at his bloodied foot with a grimace. Embarrassment flooded him as he dragged himself across the floor on his hands and knees to avoid using his foot, despite the fact no one was watching.

            Actually, no. Dib probably was. He grit his teeth as he realized Dib was probably watching Dipper pathetically crawl to the drawer with his first aid kit, whimpering and hissing in pain as he used a pair of tweezers to pull the shard from his skin. Thankfully, it wasn't too large or deep and didn't need stitches or anything that would require him to go to a hospital. He bitterly watched blood ooze out of the wound while he prepared a bandage and swiped an alcohol wipe over his skin. 

            The sting traveled up his leg like lightning, and the air felt like it was making it worse. He quickly wrapped a bandage around his foot, standing up and holding the counter to steady himself before he limped down the hall to his bedroom, making his way to the bathroom in order to wash the blood from his face and hands and wherever the fuck else. He avoided his gaze in the mirror, he didn’t want to see the swollen bruises Dib’s hands had left behind. At the very least, the cool water soothed the pain. 

            Patting his face as gently as he could to dry it, he stumbled into his room, dropping the towel to the floor and grabbing a new shirt to wear, as Dib had torn his current one during the fight, not to mention it was damp with blood and sweat. The sky was growing dark as the sun dipped below the horizon, even though it was only about five in the afternoon. He heard his phone buzz, limping over to grab it, and saw that Wendy had arrived. 

            Putting on socks and shoes was agonizing, but once he managed to get them on, he slowly made his way outside, pulling on his hood and staring at the floor in case he passed anyone. He slipped into the passenger seat of Wendy’s truck, keeping his gaze pointed down towards his shoes.

            “Hey dude.” He could see Wendy’s gentle smile out of the corner of his eye, and watched it turn into a look of concern. “Dude? What happened?” She touched his shoulder and Dipper finally lifted his head, the gasp of horror Wendy let out made him cringe. “Are you okay?!"

            “N-no, not really.” Dipper whispered, anything louder and he knew his voice would break. “I uh…um…” He tried to think of a lie. “Got mugged. Well, not really, they didn’t steal anything. Just, like, beat me up, and I fought back.” Dipper lifted his red and battered knuckles for her to see. “Uh…yeah. I didn’t get a good look at their faces and I just kinda wanted to not be alone...”

            “Where? Dude, I’ll fucking whoop their asses.” Fire burned in her eyes and it made Dipper almost want to smile for a moment, but even talking this much was hurting.

            “No, I... I really don’t care, I just...I dunno. Wanted company.” Dipper desperately wanted Wendy to just believe the lie. He watched her lips twitch in a frown. 

            “Are you sure? There might have been cameras where it happened or something, maybe we could find the bastards.” Wendy offered, and while Dipper really did appreciate her concern, he couldn’t risk her finding out anything and putting herself in danger as well.

            “I promise. I just wanna forget about this and hang out with someone or something...to get my mind off of this, and...you know.” His voice had a pleading edge to it, and Wendy finally got the hint and dropped it. To get his mind off of Pacifica. She frowned.

            “Alright. But I’m taking you to my place and patching you up. You look like hell.” She handed him her phone. “Your pick for music.”

            Even though smiling hurt, Dipper gave her an appreciative look, queuing up some songs as she started to drive to her place. He settled into the passenger seat, shutting his eyes and slumping down, trying to keep his mind off the aching that throbbed through his body from practically everywhere. 

            When they got to her one-bedroom apartment that she shared with Ramona, Wendy pulled out her first aid kit, along with some frozen peas wrapped in a towel, which she placed over his swollen eye. She applied ointment and bandages to a couple small scrapes and scratches he had, and gently checked a couple of his worse bruises in order to make sure nothing was broken. Dipper appreciated every second of the attention, he hadn’t felt this cared for in a while. 

            Wendy helped Dipper out into the large open living room, propping a hand under his arm. He plopped onto the squishy couch and sighed, exhausted just from the small effort of moving around. He couldn't remember a time when he had been in such pain, not since he was a kid maybe. He wasn't one to get in fights, yet here he was, bruised and battered, but alive. After fighting with a serial killer, no less. He didn't want to think about how different the outcome may have been if he'd come at Dib with a knife instead.

            Wendy nudged him. “Do you wanna watch some stupid movies to take your mind off of everything? I’ve got weed and tylenol, take your pick.”

            Dipper cracked his good eye open, a soft smile gracing his features. “Brownies?” Wendy laughed, nodding. 

            “Yep. Chiu made ‘em. I take it you’ve made your choice?”

            “Yeah. And we can watch stupid movies.”

            Wendy nodded, grabbing the edibles from her fridge while Dipper browsed a shady movie site for something, eventually settling on The Craft. It was one of Mabel’s favorites, apparently one of the main characters was a “goth hottie” and Dipper just had to watch it. Dipper slumped against Wendy as she sat down, pressing play and taking a brownie from her. 

            The aftertaste made him scrunch his nose, but it was worth it after about thirty minutes, when his mind became comfortably numb. Though he would still occasionally remember the fight from earlier, he felt no emotion towards it, and would get distracted by the movie or Wendy speaking. All he could feel was pleasant pins and needles, the pain melting away. He eventually dropped the peas to the side, wanting to watch the movie with both eyes. 

            Over the course of watching it, the movie felt infinitely funnier, and the both of them eventually started talking over it, barely absorbing the plot as they discussed Mabel’s taste in women.

            “Okay, she was entirely correct about Nancy, but Rochelle is way hotter than her.” The peas lay against Dipper’s thigh, leaving a wet spot on his jeans, but he couldn’t remember to move them every time he noticed it.

            “Are twins supposed to have the same taste in women?” Wendy teased.

            “Are you saying she’s not hot?” Dipper gestured at the screen, unsure of what was happening plot-wise anymore.

            “No, but you both seem to have the same taste in people. Do I have to remind you of Aki from sophomore year?”

            Dipper sputtered, before bursting into laughter. “Shut up! That was highschool!”

            The two giggled to themselves, turning their attention back to the movie for about five minutes, though it felt like hours in Dipper’s mind. 

            “Do you wanna watch American Psycho?”

            “Last time we watched that I almost pissed myself during the business card scene.” Wendy snickered.

            “Exactly.”

            Wendy shrugged, grabbing the laptop and changing the movie. Dipper tried to pay attention, but fell asleep pretty quickly after it started, too exhausted to keep his eyes open. 

            At least he wasn’t in pain.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Well, he wasn’t when he was asleep, anyway. As soon as his eyes opened the next morning, he regretted waking up, dull pain coursing through his body as he gingerly sat up and stretched. Along with the pain from getting the shit beat out of him, his neck was now sore from being slumped against Wendy all night. 

            He grabbed an abandoned water bottle on the coffee table and got up, going to the kitchen and grabbing some tylenol from the cupboard. He took it, along with downing the rest of the water. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until he swallowed the pills. Leaning against the counter, he cringed as a bruise sent a sharp pain across his hip.

            “Hey Dipper,” Wendy rasped, making Dipper look up from staring at his water bottle. “You sleep okay?” Her red hair stuck up at an awkward angle where she had been resting against the sofa. Dipper smirked a bit at the sight, though he was sure he probably didn't look much better. 

            “Kinda. My neck hurts,” he responded.

            “Damn, more pain, that sucks.” She gestured at the tylenol. “You take some?”

            “Yeah.” Dipper nodded.

            “I’m fucking starving, do you want Mcdonald’s or something?” Wendy asked, making Dipper perk up.

            “Sure.” He smiled at her. Wendy ruffled his hair, and even though it hurt, Dipper tried not to flinch.

            “Alright, I’mma go piss and brush my teeth and we can go.” 

            Dipper sat down as he waited for Wendy, beginning to stew over last night. He couldn’t overpower Dib on his own, that had proven itself to be a bad idea. He needed something else, to somehow pacify Dib for long enough that he could get help or turn him in. Or kill him. Rubbing his eyes and looking around, his gaze landed on a bottle of melatonin gummies, and the gears in his head began to turn. 

            “Ready?” Wendy’s voice shook him from his thoughts. 

            “Yeah!” Dipper gave her a stiff smile and grabbed his phone off the table as he followed Wendy to the car. He opened up a contact and sent a quick text.

            Dipper: you got anything to help someone sleep? 

            Guilt made his stomach twist, but he pushed it down. If Dib was going to play dirty, the only way to win against him would be to cheat a little too. It made his skin prickle uncomfortably, but he needed to get Dib out of his life before he hurt him… more, or finally snapped and went after more people he loved. Dib wasn't giving him the choice, anymore.

            “What’cha want, lil dude?” Wendy asked, pulling Dipper from his unsettling thoughts.

            “Oh, uh...hashbrown and like, a breakfast sandwich?” Dipper said, grabbing his wallet. 

            “Nah, nah, man, I’ll pay.” Wendy waved her hand in Dipper’s direction. He gave her an appreciative smile and then turned back to his phone as she drove.

            Robbie: I probably have something yeah? y u asking me tho im not a fuckin walgreens, kid

            Dipper: I need something stronger than melatonin

            Robbie: ......

            Robbie: whatever twerp, u better not be fuckin with me

            Dipper: tonight?

            Robbie: tomorrow after 8

            Dipper: see you then

            Dipper breathed out a sigh of relief.

            "Is that Mabel?" Wendy peered over at him and he shut his phone off quickly. She passed the drive-thru worker her credit card.

            "Uh, no. I haven't...I haven't talked to her much, since..." Dipper trailed off. He didn't want to say it—since she found Paz's mutilated body. He hated the pity people gave him. He didn't deserve any of it, not in the slightest. He was the reason she was dead. Wendy only nodded solemnly and dropped it, focusing on the drive-thru. She passed him the paper bag when she got it and Dipper dug into it, fishing out his sandwich and hashbrown. 

            "Thanksh," he mumbled with a mouthful of egg and bacon. Wendy laughed.

            "Any time, dude. You know..." She hesitated as if she was unsure if she should finish the sentence. "I didn't know her well—Pacifica—but she seemed like a good kid. Had to be, if you and your sister liked her so much!" She shot a smile over at Dipper, who wasn't looking at her. His brow furrowed. "Shit, sorry. I shouldn’t... I'll stop talking, I'm just saying that I'm sorry, man. Shit sucks."

            "It does." Dipper agreed quietly. He took a bite of his hashbrown, cringing at the grease on his fingers, but chewing felt like such an effort now. 

            "I'm sorry for bringing it up." Wendy frowned. "I know you guys aren't doing so hot and I worry! I mean...you're getting into fights, Mabel isn't responding..." She sighed heavily. "Pass me my damn McMuffin, yo."

            Dipper smirked and plopped it into her open palm. She ripped open the wrapper and took a hearty bite.

            "Shit sucks, indeed." Dipper sighed too, slumping farther into his seat. "Don't worry about me as much as Mabel," he said. "I'd rather you comfort her, if you can. But really, thanks for this. I needed it."

            "Of fuckin' course, man!" She reached over and lightly slapped his shoulder. "I can worry about both of you. Call me any time you need to, I mean it!" Dipper picked at his sandwich a bit, looking out the window. She was heading back to her apartment.

            "Actually, sorry, could you drop me off back at my place?" He said. "I've got some things I need to clean."

            "You sure?" She glanced sideways at him, and his bruises. "You want help with it?"

            "No!" He chuckled nervously, he definitely did not need anyone seeing how trashed his place was. It looked like someone broke in and ransacked the place, which Dipper supposed wasn't too far off from his 'mugging' story. "No, I'll do it myself. It keeps me busy."

            Wendy nodded and changed destinations. Dipper allowed himself to close his eyes and relax into the feeling of the road rumbling gently beneath tires. It was good to be around Wendy. She had always been a rock, always cool-headed and steadfast, the coolest person he knew. He would bet Wendy could probably take Dib in a fight, but the thought sickened him further. He didn't want anyone else to be targeted by him. Dipper would die first. He would throw himself into the goddamn grave if it meant the others got to live.

            He wished Wendy a farewell and limped back up to his apartment. When he got up there, a noise complaint was tacked onto his door. He scoffed humorlessly. That could've been the sound of his murder, and he got a fucking noise complaint. But never for the other times he had been screaming at Dib, of course not! Dipper entered his apartment, pissed off and in pain. He crumpled the little paper and threw it away, looking over the mess in his place with growing despair. He was going to need a new coffee table. And a lamp. Dipper grimaced at the flecks of blood everywhere. He sighed heavily, picked up a broom, and began sweeping up glass.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Dipper pulled his winter coat tight around his body. He walked fast (as fast as he could with a limp), head bowed against the daggers of cold wind that whipped snow across his cheeks. He sped up, seeing the dim lights of several identical apartment doors before him, some decorated with colorful strings of lights to celebrate the fast approaching holiday. He quickly ducked into the shelter of one of the alcoves, huddling against the corner and striking his knuckles against the door. His face stung from the cold and he cursed under his breath, rubbing his hands together. 

            Shit, what the fuck am I doing? Dipper grimaced, looking back out into the dark parking lot he came from. Flecks of snow caught the light and swirled in a mesmerizing dance against the black of the sky. He never imagined himself coming to an apartment at night to do a fucking drug deal, but this year had proven that nothing was off limits for him anymore. 

            Dipper fidgeted nervously, hearing voices raise from within. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to just turn and leave, forgetting the whole thing. This was embarrassing, this was awkward, this was a terrible idea. But then the door finally opened inward and Dipper felt the warmth from inside immediately. 

            Dipper cleared his throat. “Uh... Robbie. Hi.” 

            Robbie looked him up and down, an unreadable expression on his stubbled face that made Dipper shift his weight anxiously. The older boy stared Dipper down silently, running his tongue over his teeth in thought. Dipper stared back at him for a tense moment; he and Robbie were never particularly close, even though they weren’t necessarily on bad terms anymore, not like how they were the summer they met. Coming to his apartment like this though... The sight of him in sweats and slippers was a bit too far into an awkward kind of familiarity for Dipper. Finally, Robbie opened his mouth to say something, but a shrill voice from inside beat him to it.

            “ROBBIE! Close the goddamn door, you’re letting cold air in!” 

            Robbie heaved a sigh and stepped aside, motioning Dipper to enter with a jerk of his chin. Dipper swallowed and stepped forward, kicking snow off of his shoes on the stoop. He was thankful for the warmth that seeped into his bones immediately and breathed it in. Robbie shut the door behind him as Dipper kicked his shoes off. It looked like they had entered directly into the small, warmly lit living room. A familiar girl was sat on the couch, head bent over her phone. She looked up and met Dipper’s gaze, her perfect dark eyebrows lifted in surprise.

            “Oh. Hey, kid.” Tambry said. 

            Dipper raised a hand in greeting. “H..Hey Tambry. Uh, how are things?”

            She scoffed and went back to her phone, nails clicking across the screen furiously. “Just fucking peachy.”

            Dipper blinked. “Uh?” Robbie pushed past him, bumping into his shoulder.

            “Follow me,” he said gruffly. “Don’t mind her, she’s in a mood. You know how women get.” Tambry flipped him off without looking up and he shrugged. He led Dipper down to the end of a dark hallway and past a few doors, stopping in front of one with a few death metal posters taped to it. “Wait here.”

            Dipper was left in the cramped hallway by himself as Robbie slid the door open and went inside, closing the door behind him. Dipper was used to feeling awkward being inside other people’s houses he wasn't close with, but...being in Robbie’s? This was too fucking weird and he couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of here. He could feel himself starting to sweat and he looked around nervously, willing Robbie to hurry up so they could get this over with. He heard muffled music playing from another room, the vibrations thumping softly through the carpeted floor. Robbie stepped back out into the hallway. 

            “Okay. Something to sleep, that’s pretty fuckin’ generic so I guess this shit should be okay. You could’ve just gone to a damn pharmacy.” Dipper looked at the little package of pills in his hand. He grimaced. It was a little better than melatonin, but not quite what he needed.

            “No, uh...” He took a deep breath. “No, I was needing something a bit...stronger. Like, uh. R-rohypnol, or something, maybe.” 

            Dipper immediately regretted saying it when Robbie’s eyes narrowed severely. He lowered his voice disapprovingly and hissed, “You know what that shit is usually used for, right? Why the fuck would I have that? Roofies, Dipper, seriously?” 

            Shit.  

            “I-I know! But, I don’t know, I just...” Dipper stammered, reaching for some kind of acceptable answer. He swallowed hard, feeling guilt twist in his gut for what he was about to say. “I...I just can’t handle the fucking nightmares, you know? I want to pass the fuck out and have no dreams, I just can’t get the image of Paz’s body out of my head.” Dipper looked down at his feet and clenched his fists at his sides. His voice came out a whisper. “There was so much blood...”

            “Christ.” Robbie winced and ran his fingers through his unwashed black hair. He looked around, clearly conflicted. Dipper felt terrible for guilt-tripping him with the trauma of discovering Pacifica’s brutalized corpse, but he needed this. He was out of other options. He certainly couldn’t just tell Robbie that is was actually for a fucking murder plot.

            Robbie sighed heavily. “Goddammit, Dipper. Okay. Fuck.” He stomped off and rapped his knuckles on a different door. The music Dipper was hearing earlier became a little quieter. “Ricky! Unlock the fucking door!”

            “You have other roommates?” Dipper asked.

            “Yeah.” Robbie grumbled. Dipper imagined Robbie probably wanted to add an “unfortunately” to that, but the door cracked open and a man with thick stubble and long brown hair poked his head out. He glanced lazily at Robbie with lidded eyes, he smelled strongly of weed.

            “Yeah, man?” The stranger spoke in a slow, deep voice.

            “I need to see what you got, dude. Open.” Robbie pushed the door and shoved past the tall, thin man. Ricky backed up and sighed, glancing at Dipper before pushing the door shut once more. Dipper pulled out his phone and checked it in the meantime, his gut twisting up as he saw a string of messages from Dib and Mabel on the screen. 

            He frowned guiltily as he swiped away Mabel’s message without reading it. He just couldn't deal with her right now, he had to focus on the thing that was putting her in danger, the person that ruined both of their lives. Dipper’s expression furrowed into a vicious glare as he opened Dib’s contact.

            Dib: I wanna see u babe, we should talk! You seemed soooo mad the other day, ha

            Dib: btw you fight pretty well! Id rather not make that a recurring activity tho, not that I mind the pain ;]

            Dipper narrowed his eyes and scanned over the words once more. Bastard probably wanted to have a little date night with him or something,  as if they could casually go back to before Pacifica was butchered. Dipper gritted his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to tell Dib to eat shit and die, but...this worked out in Dipper’s favor. Dib would easily come over if Dipper asked, he knew the fucker had nothing better to do with his time, clearly. So he decided to string Dib along. Alluding to being open to it, but still as begrudging as he usually was. At least, as he usually was before Dib killed one of his best friends. 

            Dipper: ................... yeah. we do have shit to talk about

            Dipper: i guess I'll text you tomorrow, I'll be home that evening so

            Dib: sooooooo thats a maybe?? :3c 

            Dipper: fucking whatever, just..I'll text you, asshole

            Dipper: And you owe me a new fucking coffee table btw

            Dib: ahahaha <3 yeah that was pretty funny

            Dipper scoffed angrily at the remark. Funny? Fuck him, god he was annoying.

            Dib: well kk babe, talk to you tomorrow thennn~ 

            Dib: I hope you dream of me <3 <3 <3

            Dipper: shut the fuck up

            Dib: love youuuuuu!!

            Dipper glowered at the string of kissy-face emojis Dib sent, and shoved the phone deep in his coat pocket. It was getting so uncomfortably warm in here now, he wanted this whole thing to be done and over with. He didn’t want to be asking Robbie for fucking daterape drugs for his “nightmares”. He didn’t want Wendy to see him beaten up and bloody. He didn’t want Mabel to be broken and depressed, holed up in her dorm room, not happily hanging out with Candy and Grenda like she usually is, like she should be....and he didn’t want to bury any more friends. Things could never be normal again. But maybe they could be better. He just needed to get Dib out of the fucking picture.  

            “Here, kid.” Robbie returned and handed Dipper a little bottle that rattled with just a few pills inside. “Don’t...” He sighed heavily. “Just use them fucking responsibly, okay? This shit is the real deal, it’ll knock someone the fuck out.”

            “Perfect.” Dipper closed his fingers around the little bottle. It was real now. It was in his hand. His hands shook slightly as he shoved it into his pocket. “What do I owe you?” Robbie sighed again.

            “Just...get out of here. Fucking kid...” He muttered under his breath, shoving Dipper back out into the living room. 

            “Wh—No, I need to pay you, obviously.”

            “No. Just take the shit and go get some sleep or something, you little shit.” 

            They walked the rest of the way in silence. The pills were so light, but they seemed to weigh a ton in Dipper’s pocket. He looked over at Robbie, his face was sagging into a deep frown. Dipper was such an asshole for bringing up Pacifica... 

            “Soooo...” Dipper muttered, trying to lighten the mood as he pulled his shoes back on. “Ricky and Robbie, huh? Ricky and Robbie the roomies.” He started to chuckle, but quickly turned it into a cough when he noticed Robbie glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. 

            “Begone.” He opened the door and shoved Dipper back out into the cold night air. “Drive safe, or whatever.”

            Dipper barely heard Tambry call out “G’night kid!” before Robbie had shut and locked the door in his face. Dipper stood there for a long moment, until the cold seeped back into him and he turned to head down the dark snow-swept sidewalk. His hands were shoved firmly in his pockets, one fiddling with the small plastic bottle. He actually had it. He really got it. This was really happening, he couldn't turn back now. 

            He looked up at the endless black night sky, little snowflakes hitting his freckled face and melting in an instant. He closed his fist tight around the bottle. He was going to actually do it. He had to. 

            Tomorrow, Dib was going to die.

Chapter Text

            Dipper was a terrible cook. He knew this for a fact, and yet here he was, standing in front of the rarely-used oven in his apartment, hoping that he had cooked the frozen, boxed lasagna he'd found in the back of the freezer all the way through. 

            He muttered to himself as he cut two portions, trying to hype himself up for what he was about to do. He had a date tonight, and it was important. He took the two plates to the kitchen island, cleared of clutter and spotless, making sure to set each plate down in the correct place across from eachother. He grabbed a cheap bottle of champagne, pouring two glasses before placing it in the middle of the counter, hands shaking slightly.

            He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection in the window, noticing how strung out he appeared. However, he always seemed anxious when Dib was around, so hopefully the other boy wouldn’t notice. That is not to mention, however, the dark bruises that bloomed across his skin. Those he wanted Dib to see, so he hadn’t bothered to cover them with makeup he bought earlier that day when the sun was still up, among other things. 

            He sighed to himself as he nervously pulled on the ends of his hair, and grabbed his phone from the table, going to sit and try to calm down. Dipper stared at the device, checking the time obsessively as he counted down the minutes until his “date” arrived. Hazel eyes narrowed at the screen as he reread their text conversation again, double and triple checking the time Dib had said he would arrive. 

            Dipper: and what the fuck makes you think id wanna go on a date with you??

            Dib: i dunno babe

            Dib: we need to smooth things over after what happened last time i came over. and i think your sister would love to see you getting back out on the dating scene, you know? 

            Dipper: what the fuck is wrong with you

            Dib: does 6:30 at your place sound good?

            Dipper: youre fucking disgusting, u know that right?

            Dib: yep :)

            Dib: see you at 6:30 <3

            Dipper: fine. but I'm handling food

            Dib: Ooooo!~

            Dipper: shut up

            Dipper’s eyes flicked to the clock at the top of the screen, it was 6:28. He chewed on his lip, awaiting the sound of the doorbell and for the tension in the air to pop like a balloon.

            That never happened. Dipper didn’t even hear Dib enter until the other man roughly sat down on the couch next to him, making Dipper screech and jump away. 

            “There’s a fucking DOOR!” Dipper snapped. 

            “Believe it or not, that’s not the worst reaction a date has ever had to me.” Dib giggled, leaning closer to Dipper as the boy tried to control his fight or flight. “You seemed busy, so I let myself in.”

            Dipper’s anxiety peaked with that statement. Had he seen him preparing dinner? How long had he been watching him? How long had he been inside?! 

            “Oh, uh, yeah. That seems like a you thing.” Dipper managed to narrow his eyes at Dib, who gave him a goofy smile. 

            “Look at you!” Dib ran his fingers up Dipper’s chest, trailing over the closed buttons of a dark dress shirt Dipper had on. Dib hummed appreciatively, ignoring the way Dipper winced at the touch. “You look good.” Dib lifted his eyes to meet Dipper’s as he ran his thumb over the bruising across Dipper’s face, slowly, before landing on his bottom lip. 

            Dipper awkwardly cleared his throat and leaned away. “I made dinner.”

            “Really? For me?” Dib finally got out of Dipper’s personal space and stood up, tossing his coat on the couch behind him. “You're so sweet, babe.” Dib, unlike Dipper, had chosen not to dress up for the occasion, wearing his usual attire of a t-shirt, skinny jeans, and obnoxiously massive boots that made him taller than he actually was. Dipper had no idea how the hell he snuck around so quietly in them, since his footsteps were loud and clunky as they walked to the kitchen island, thanks to the large platforms. 

            “I didn’t know what you’d want.” Dipper tried to control the nervous shake in his voice as he followed and sat down on one of the stools. His heart thumped against his ribs so hard he worried Dib could hear it from across the counter. “So I just made something I had.”

            “I can’t believe you did all this for me,” Dib said dreamily, taking in the steaming fresh food and glittering champagne glasses. “I knew you liked me,” he teased, poking out his tongue, a metal piercing in it catching the light for a moment. 

            Dipper crossed his arms. “Don't start thinking you’re so special. I found this in the freezer and I only cooked so I wouldn’t have to spend money ordering food.” He leaned back in his chair, staring Dib down. He felt a twinge of satisfaction in his chest at the ugly dark bruises on Dib’s cheek and chin.

            “Oh, I would’ve gladly paid, baby!”

            “Don't call me that.”

            Dipper watched as Dib took the first bite of the arguably mediocre food, before beginning to eat himself. He remained quiet, not really wanting to interact with the fucking serial killer across from him. And also because he could feel nervous sweat starting to drip down his back. 

            “You're so cute when you’re mad,” Dib teased. “You're all pouty.”

            “Wonder why,” Dipper replied flatly.

            “I dunno why you’re playing so hard to get. Mabel told me I was your type! Don’t you trust your sister?” Dib asked, the fake innocence in his voice grating on Dipper’s nerves to the point he threw down his fork. 

            “Because Mabel doesn’t know who you actually are! She doesn’t know you’re the fucking monster that murdered Paz! She doesn’t know you’re fucking nuts and are probably planning to kill the both of us eventually!” he snapped. Dib didn’t look put off in the slightest. In fact, he looked rather amused, and Dipper wanted to slap his stupid grin off his face. 

            “Oh, stop talking dirty to me at the dinner table.” He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand, relishing in Dipper’s anger and annoyance, showing that he wasn’t taking any of this seriously. “I like Mabel. I don't have any reason to hurt her right now.” He flashed a smirk. 

            “If you lay a fucking finger on Mabel you will have hell to pay,” Dipper growled. 

            “And what are you gonna do about it?” Dib replied smugly. Dipper almost wanted to laugh, Dib would find out soon enough. “Anyways, as adorable as you are when you’re mad, I'd much rather see your smile. How was your day?”

            “Shit, thanks to you,” Dipper replied venomously. 

            “Aw, really? I knew I should have brought flowers.” He gave a fake pout before perking up. “I’m sure I can make it better.” 

            “Not likely,” Dipper replied as he glanced at the clock on the wall. He just had to endure this conversation until the stuff kicked in. 

            “How's your foot?” Dib asked through a mouthful of lasagna, his head tilted curiously in a way that was almost cute. 

            “What?” 

            “I've seen you limping.”

            Dipper scowled at the reminder of Dib constantly being able to spy on him. He just hoped he had been sneaky and subtle enough when bringing in supplies and setting up for tonight. Dib was showing no signs of catching on, but Dipper knew better than to relax. He pointedly stopped himself from staring at Dib sipping from his glass and instead focused on eating his own meal. The faster the better.

            “It'll heal,” Dipper grumbled. He lifted his eyes to Dib. “Let’s cut the bullshit. You said you wanted to talk, to ‘smooth things over.’ So, what do you have to say?” Dipper stared daggers at the boy across from him; what could he possibly say to make what he did better? He couldn't just put Pacifica’s heart back into her ribcage.

            “Mm?” Dib looked up, chewing on some food. “Oh, I mostly just wanted to see you. Without the fighting stuff.” Dib twirled his hand in the air dismissively. 

            “Excuse me?” Dipper felt his skin heating up under the collar of his shirt. “You don't have anything to fucking say? How about start with why you fucking murdered my best friend!” Dipper raised his voice, but Dib didn't seem to pay it any mind. He only rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, as if Dipper was asking something stupid.

            “Do I really have to tell you over and over?” Dib rested his chin in his palm, black fingernails tapping against a purple bruise. He smiled. “It's because I like you, Dipper. A lot. You're mine and no one else's.”

            Dipper’s mouth twisted. “You said you'd leave them alone.”

            “Dipper,” Dib sighed and twirled his last bite of lasagna with his fork. “She was causing problems, you were causing problems, and it pissed me off. I get rid of things that piss me off.”

            “So why haven't you gotten rid of me?” Dipper asked, an edge of barely restrained hatred in his voice.

            Dib smiled again, softly, staring at him with warm eyes. Dipper felt something squirm in his chest at the change in expression and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

            “I know you like me back,” Dib said. “You were getting... distracted though. I can't have that. You'll get over it.”

            Dipper bristled. “‘Get over it!?’ I don't know if you've forgotten what it's like to be a normal fucking person—if you ever were—but people don't just get over something like that!”

            Dib scoffed. “You're not normal, babe.”

            “More normal than you.”

            “Hmm. Fair enough!” Dib shrugged and shoved the last bit of food into his mouth. Dipper watched him, swallowing down any further angry retorts. 

            Dipper sighed, deflating in his seat. “You want to pretend what we have is some kind of relationship, well you can't just force me to get over the stuff you do.” 

            Dib nodded thoughtfully. “You want me to be more gentle with you?”

            “I want you to not kill my fucking friends.” 

            “Okay.” Dib shrugged. “You have to behave, though. No trying to leave me behind, and no falling in love with other people.” Something in Dib’s expression darkened severely, and Dipper looked down at his plate. 

            “I'm finished,” Dipper mumbled and stood up. He took his plate to the sink, with Dib following as expected. Dipper noted thankfully that Dib had eaten all his food, and drank most of the champagne. He grabbed his own champagne glass and went to sit down on the couch, his date following him like a lost puppy. He just needed to wait now.

            “Netflix?” Dib asked, taking a sip of his champagne and snuggling up to Dipper’s side. The boy tensed, and not just because of the cold condensation from the glass dripping onto his arm. Dipper looked down at the empty patch of carpet in front of them, where his shattered coffee table used to lay. A renewed wave of hard determination washed over him. 

            “I suppose that's what people do on dates,” Dipper grunted. This was met with a giggle, which only grated on Dipper’s frayed nerves more. 

            “Cant wait!” was Dib’s response. Dipper selected a random movie, too distracted to even care what it was. Dib settled against him to watch the movie, and much to Dipper’s surprise he remained quiet as it started. 

            Not long after, Dipper jumped when he felt cold champagne spill all over his pants. Dib’s body had gotten heavier against his over the course of the start of the movie, and this was his sign Dib had finally passed out completely.

            This was his chance. 

            Dipper paused the movie, grabbing the glass and throwing it in the sink before returning to the couch. He slipped his arms under Dib, carrying his limp body bridal-style down the hall and into the bathroom.

            Dipper had prepared it earlier, taping down tarps all across the floor, tub, and walls. He set Dib in the bathtub, grabbing rubber gloves from the counter and snapping them on against his clammy skin. Adrenaline coursed through his body as his shaky fingers met the knife he'd prepared, wrapping them around its handle to pick it up. He adjusted his grip on it, holding it in his fist as he approached the bathtub and stared down at Dib. 

            His body laid crumpled and peaceful in the dim, cool light that pooled in from down the hall. Dipper didn't want to turn the lights on, it didn't feel right. Like keeping intimacy confined to the darkness, he didn't want what was happening here to be seen, even if no one was around to witness. They were alone together, the only people in the entire world. He became acutely aware of his own breathing, and the heavy feeling of the knife handle burned in his grip. Is this really happening?

            Anxiety flooded Dipper as he struggled to figure out what angle would be best to do this at. He knelt down beside the tub, the crinkle of plastic cut through the silence and made him flinch. His nerves were on fire, he could practically hear it buzzing in his skull. Dipper reached over and hovered the knife tip in the air. Staying outside of the tub seemed too hard, he probably wouldn’t be able to get enough body weight behind his stabs. After a moment's hesitation, he crawled into the tub, straddling Dib’s hips and looking down at the unconscious boy. He raised the knife again, two-handed, and brought the sharp point gently down onto the fabric of Dib’s shirt. He didn't know how long he sat there watching the slow rise and fall of Dib’s chest. The boy beneath him felt warm, full of life. Dipper swallowed bitterly, pulling the knife back to his side.

            This wouldn't do, he reasoned, I'd get blood all over myself and it would be hard to clean up. Dipper looked around the bathroom. Perhaps he could strangle him with something? Less mess, but it probably wasn’t very reliable and could take ages. Maybe he could fake a suicide, say Dib left for the bathroom during the date and he found him dead. No, Dipper thought. There was nothing strong enough to hold Dib up on a rope in here. He didn’t even have rope to begin with. 

            And what if he got caught? Arrested? What if he didn't get rid of the body well enough and he was put in jail for the rest of his life? No one would know Dib was actually a serial killer, they would just see him as a victim, and Dipper as a murderer, just as bad as Dib. Dib would succeed in ruining his life anyway, from beyond the grave.

            Dipper swallowed loudly, nerves writhing in his throat. He pressed the knife tip back down against Dib's shirt and watched as it rose and fell softly with Dib’s gentle breaths. He adjusted his grip on the knife, trying to ignore the twisting in his stomach. Dib is evil, he reminded himself. He's a danger to me and Mabel, I need to kill him before he kills me, he attempted to rationalize, mouth going dry as he imagined plunging the knife into Dib’s chest. His mind began picturing the moment he would push the knife down, the snapping of sinew and muscle and bone ringing in his thoughts and making him feel sick. The slick blood coating his hands, so hot it could burn him. God, so much blood... 

            How hard would he have to press down to break skin, to feel it pop and give way into his chest? To break through a rib? What if Dib woke up?! Would he scream? Try to fight? Make some sarcastic remark as he bled out in his tub? Would he have to stab him again and again, plunging the knife into his body over and over just to make sure he stayed dead? 

            How the hell did Dib do this?!

            Dipper bit his lip, becoming more and more anxious as he realized this plan was likely going to fail. He didn't know what the fuck he was doing, he wasn't cut out for this, no matter what Dib liked to say. Stabbing Dib to fucking death? He deserved it, god did he deserve it. So why couldn’t he just plunge the blade in and end it? Tears pressed at his eyes as he realized he’d psyched himself out. Fuck, he wasn’t going to be able to do this! No, no, I have basically all night to figure this out. He tried to calm himself. It isn’t like Dib will be waking up any time soon. 

            Dipper lamented over what he could do for a few more minutes before his knees started hurting from sitting in the bathtub. He climbed off Dib, assuring himself that he could figure something out, work up the nerve, but for now he should probably get Dib out of the tub. Just in case he did wake up and realize Dipper was planning on killing him, of course. He put the knife down on the bathroom counter, and scooped Dib back up, making sure to kick the bathroom door shut behind him as he carried the boy across the hall to his room. 

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Dipper was curled up on the couch when the first rays of dawn were breaking. A solid stone of guilt had lodged itself in the bottom of his stomach, making it nearly impossible for him to sleep. He even considered taking some of the shit he'd drugged Dib with in order to get some shut-eye, but decided against it for fear of Dib waking up first and doing something horrible to him. He was a fucking idiot. He blew it. No way Dib would let his guard down again—

            “Good morning,” Dib said as he entered the living room, making Dipper jump. He whipped around, expecting anger on Dib’s face but only finding a pleasant smile. “You know, I never took you for the date-rape type. If you had wanted to fuck me, you know I would’ve said yes.” He sat down next to Dipper with a smile. 

            Dipper blinked, the gears in his head turning as he attempted to process what Dib said. 

            “Wait, what?!” He exclaimed after finally managing to parse together what Dib was accusing him of. “I didn’t do that!”

            Dib tilted his head, giving Dipper a look. “Why else would you have drugged me?” 

            “I-I didn't…” Dipper weakly lied. 

            “Oh come on, don’t play dumb.” He approached and traced Dipper’s jaw with a finger, leaning over him. “You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you? Felt too guilty?” he purred, intense amber eyes examining his face. Dipper uncomfortably shifted, trying to push himself away from Dib, but was trapped by the couch cushions. 

            “N-no!” he squeaked. “Why would I want to sleep when there’s a serial killer in my fucking house?!” 

            “Oh please. A knocked out, drugged serial killer is that scary? I've slept over before, or did you forget?” Dib tilted his head. “You’re such a bad liar, Dipper. You can just admit you like me, you know.”

            “I don’t!”

            “See, my theory here is that you actually really like me. But you don’t want to admit that to yourself, so you drugged me and raped me so you could get the desire out without having to face the fact that you’re into me.” Rather than meeting this conclusion with the horror and disgust a normal person would, Dib looked quite impressed. “That’s some mental gymnastics right there, huh? Wouldn't it be easier if you just let yourself have what you want? I mean, at this point we’re kinda on the same level here, what moral high ground do you have to keep?”

            Dipper narrowed his eyes. “You’re delusional. And I do have the moral high ground, I’m not a murderer!”

            Dib snorted. “No, you’re not. You’re a rapist. How morally superior of you.” He teased and plopped down on the couch with a thwump. 

            “I didn't do that to you, fuckin’ hypocrite!” Dipper spat, shoving Dib away. “I don’t even want to fuck you in the first place! I just drugged you so you wouldn't kill me in my sleep or something!”

            Dib rolled his eyes. “Then you should probably drug me 24/7, considering I can get into your apartment literally any time I want. Face it, Dipper. I’ve had millions of chances to kill you. If I wanted to, I would have done it by now.” Dipper swallowed, watching Dib inspect his nails before glancing back over at him. “How’d it feel? I mean, before all the shame and guilt. I hope you liked it,” he taunted, mirth bubbling in his eyes as he pushed Dipper’s buttons. “I’d hate to be a bad lay.“

            “Shut up!” Dipper suddenly yelled, cutting Dib off. “I didn’t rape you! I didn’t fucking touch you! Stop saying I did! I’m not like YOU!”  He yelled, clenching his fists in frustration, tears pressing at the corners of his dry eyes. Dib raised his eyebrows, seemingly the first genuine response to anything Dipper had said to him the entire morning. He leaned closer, and Dipper pressed his back into the arm of the couch, cringing away from Dib.

            “You’re not like me, huh?” he replied, and for once his voice had lost its smug tone. “Because you’re such a saint, aren't you?” Dipper swallowed, worried that he’d angered Dib for a split second before the boy tangled their fingers. “You know, that’s part of what I like about you. You’re so snooty and righteous and stuck up your own ass, that you can just tell you’re repressing shit. I know there’s something absolutely disgusting lurking in the back of your mind, Pines, and I intend to be the one that sets it free.” He leaned forward and kissed him, Dipper flinching away as their lips brushed. 

            “No. You won’t. There’s nothing to let out.” He tried to defend himself, but couldn’t look Dib in the eye. He could tell the other boy found that incredibly amusing, thanks to the soft exhale he gave. 

            “You’ll crack eventually,” he purred, forcefully stealing another kiss before he hopped up and grabbed his coat. “I’ve already seen your resolve crumbling. It’s hilarious to watch you try and convince yourself you still don’t like me. Anyways, thanks for the date.” He grinned. “I hate to leave so soon, but I’m busy today. Maybe we could do this again on Saturday? I’ll order food this time so you don’t have to slave over a hot stove for me. Sound good, babe?”

            Dipper didn’t even bother to respond, knowing Dib was stating a fact rather than attempting to make plans. He curled his knees to his chest, waiting for Dib to just leave already. His head was beginning to hurt from the sunlight and he didn’t even know how he was going to manage to sleep any time soon. He eventually looked up, finding that Dib had vanished without a sound. 

            He sat silently for a long moment, staring at his apartment with his face taut in a painful grimace. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. Fuck. Fuck. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he bared his teeth, lip quivering. 

            “FUCK!” He screamed in frustration, tearing at his hair with his hands. He dropped to his knees and shook violently. He left. You let him fucking walk out of here again, un-fucking-scathed. WHY DIDN’T YOU KILL HIM? Dib was right. Dipper wasn't normal, he was fucked up. Who the hell thinks of murder as a first option? He should have just tried to call the cops ages ago, but a weight in his chest, pulling at him, told him it was far too late for that. It was too late.

            Dipper screamed at the top of his lungs, punching the armrest of the couch. He was distantly aware of his knuckles throbbing with dull pain when he noticed someone was pounding at his front door. He squeezed his eyes shut and ignored it, but it persisted. 

            BANG BANG BANG. He gripped his hair for a moment before getting up, stomping over to the door.

            “FUCK OFF—!” Dipper snarled as he swung it open, but the rage and frustration consuming him immediately dissipated as he saw Mabel’s bloodshot eyes staring back at him, her expression twisted into one of bewildered indignation. “I-I...” Dipper stammered, all of the fight draining from him in an instant, leaving him cold.

            “What in the fuck has gotten into you? Why are you screaming as you answer the door!?” Mabel snapped at him and Dipper’s mouth moved uselessly, no words coming out. She shoved past him and into the apartment. Dipper closed the door behind her far more gently than when he had whipped it open. He watched her tear her jacket off and throw it on the kitchen island.

            “What are you doing here?” he finally managed to ask in a small voice.

            “Checking up on your dumbass because you won’t fucking talk to me!” Her voice broke for a moment, eyes watering. She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “And instead I get a message from Wendy saying that you got beat up or something? What the hell is going on, Dipper!?”

            His throat closed up and his eyes burned. A pit of guilt twisted in his stomach. She was right, he hadn’t spoken to her hardly at all outside of small talk and having police statements taken. Ever since... 

            He just couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to face her. Especially now, after he had failed to do the one thing that would guarantee her safety. After failing to avenge Pacifica. He was weak. He was a failure of a brother and as a friend. He couldn’t protect Pacifica and he couldn’t protect Mabel. Mabel, the most important person to him in his life. And he was lying to her. He didn't recognize himself anymore, Dib was changing him, breaking him apart piece by piece.

            “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine now,” he said.

            Her eyes widened when she saw the bruises on his face. 

            “Dipper, what? You seriously got attacked?” She clenched her fists. “Why didn’t you report it? Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your sister, for fucks sake.” Her voice shook, threatening to break into tears. Seeing her here was too much. The hurt on her face was too much. He choked on a sob.

            “I’m sorry.” He clutched a hand over his mouth to hide his face, eyes stinging with tears. “I-I’m so s-sorry.” He folded in on himself as all the anguish and grief he had buried suddenly hit him all at once like a tidal wave, wracking his body in violent sobs. Mabel’s expression instantly dropped into one of concern, tears springing to her eyes. She surged forward, wrapping her arms around Dipper’s shaking form.

            “Idiot,” she sniffled. “Idiot.”

            “I’m sorry,” Dipper hiccupped, burying his face into her shoulder, her soft hair brushing against his tear streaked face.

            Mabel opened her mouth to offer words of comfort but something inside her broke that moment, hearing her brother finally break down made everything real. It was real, Pacifica was really gone. Tears fell freely from her eyes and she clutched him tight, her pained voice joining in with his in wails of agony. They dropped to the floor, holding onto each other for dear life. Just like they had been that cold night in the park.

            “Why? Why weren’t you around!?”

            “I’m s-sor-rry, M-mabe—” he sobbed, digging his fingers into her sweater. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t.”

            “I needed you,” she wailed in turn, and Dipper choked back a cry.

            “I'm s-so sorry. It’s my fault. It’s my fault she’s gone.”

            “It’s not fair!” Mabel screamed into his shoulder, rocking back and forth. “Why her?!”

            Dipper squeezed his eyes shut. He muttered apologies over and over in between sobs and hoped that would be enough. Because how could he ever tell her the truth? How could he ever tell her that Pacifica was dead because of him? Because he went looking for trouble and found it in the form of Dib. Dib, who inexplicably decided that he liked him. And Dipper, who didn’t put a stop to it. Dipper, who, though he could never admit it to himself, naively had grown somewhat comfortable with his presence. Coward. Moron. You might as well have killed her yourself.

            Mabel’s cries eventually grew softer and she supported Dipper in her arms as he continued his endless mutterings, like prayers of repentance. She closed her eyes, tears drying on her pink cheeks.

            “Don’t leave me like that,” she whispered into his hair, voice hoarse. “Don’t ever leave me like that.”

            “I won’t. Never. I’m so sorry,” he whispered back.

            Mabel frowned and held him tight as he trembled. They had always been a pair, as long as they’ve been alive. Two halves. Twins, inseparable and together, always. Anything that happened in life, they were always there for each other to trust and to talk to. They were the perfect partners, nothing could stop them when they were together. The whole world was theirs for the taking. It was comforting, knowing there would always be someone who knew you and loved you completely and unconditionally, no matter what. Dipper was always there and always would be there. That had always been true. So....

            Why did she not believe him?

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            Mabel had left a few hours ago now, and Dipper had been laying in his bed ever since, numb to the world. Thinking. Crying. Staring at the ceiling. Was Dib watching him? Probably. He hoped that he looked like the most pathetic, sad sack of shit ever. Maybe then Dib would change his mind about...whatever the hell it was Dib thought he was doing. Messing with him? Seducing him? Dipper narrowed his eyes. As if that monster could feel anything akin to love or affection. How could you, after gutting so many innocent people? Dipper closed his eyes and images of blood and gore swirled in his mind. 

            He hated himself. 

            He hated himself so fucking much. How, how, HOW, after everything? After everything, how could he not have the will to plunge the knife into that fuckers cold, unfeeling heart? He was sick in the head. Something really is wrong with me. Dib was right about him, and that made it sting even worse.

            Dipper lurched out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom, retching into the toilet. Tears streamed down his face. This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. Why hasn’t Dib just killed him yet? How could Dipper have lowered his guard? How did he just fucking forget what Dib was? How did Dipper have any right to feel betrayed by him, as if this wasn’t Dib’s nature? Why? Because Dib kissed him and held him? Dipper felt another surge of nausea wash over him. 

            This had to stop. This was unhealthy, Dipper couldn’t let this continue. He picked himself up off the cold tile of the bathroom and trudged back into his bedroom. The light of his phone stung his eyes. He had so many unread messages and emails. Emails from professors about skipped classes, condolences from friends and from classmates he didn’t know or give a shit about, concerned messages from Wendy, from his parents, from his Grunkles... He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath.

            He opened up Dib’s contact and typed out a message. 

            Dipper: I don't want to see you. Don’t come near me, don’t come near anyone I know. Don’t message me. I need time.

            He grimaced and clenched his teeth, rubbing at his temple. 

            Dipper: The funeral is in a few weeks. Let me be alone. I won’t forgive you if you ignore this.

            He hit send and tossed his phone away, rolling over to curl up on the bed. He felt so tired. His eyes hurt from crying and he was exhausted and dehydrated. 

            Too many thoughts and feelings were buffetting Dipper’s mind like a storm, he couldn’t fucking stand it anymore. Everything was fucked. He stood up and went into the kitchen. He grabbed a glass of water and rinsed his mouth, staring at the spit in the sink as he groaned. He wiped his face, lifting his head as his eyes connected with a half-empty bottle of liquor on his counter, something nasty and too artificially sweet his friends had hated and just left at his house one night. Fuck it. He downed a few glasses of the cheap alcohol, barely feeling the burn of it go down his throat. He pressed his clammy palms to his eyes.

            “Stop. Stop...” Dipper groaned to himself. Why couldn’t he stop fucking thinking about him? He had been ever fucking present in Dipper’s life ever since he met him. He was everywhere, all the damn time. Dipper glared around at the walls and ceiling, stumbling slightly. 

            “Is this what you wanted?” he said loudly to the air, outstretching his arms. He turned around in a circle slowly, scanning his little apartment with bloodshot eyes. He scoffed. 

            “FUCK YOU!” he screamed, hoping one of Dib’s stupid fucking cameras were pointed on him. He swayed on his feet. 

            Paz’s funeral was in a few weeks. But, for now, it was their Winter Break. His plans to fly home felt so distant now; there was no way he was leaving Rocksburg yet, not with everything going on, not until the funeral in Gravity Falls, at least.

            Dipper shuffled into the bathroom and grabbed the small bottle Robbie had given him. He twisted the cap and took out one of the few little pills still left. He stared at it for a moment, thoughts of Dib and Paz and Mabel swirling in his head. 

            “Fuck it.” He put the pill on his tongue and washed it down with another swig of shitty alcohol. He tucked the pills away into the corner of the cabinet and stumbled back across the hall to his room, falling onto his bed like a rock.

            He didn’t dream.

Chapter Text

            Mabel fidgeted nervously with her hands in her lap. The metal chair she was seated in was becoming uncomfortable, as was the droning buzz of the ceiling panel lights. She was sitting in the corner of a dull, windowless, sterile looking room, small and empty save for the table pushed against the wall she was at, and another chair across from her. 

            The single door to the room clicked open and a police officer she hadn’t seen before stepped inside, a man who looked to be in his late thirties. Mabel’s eyes lingered on the badge pinned to his dark blue uniform, and the bulky belt on his hips with a gun strapped on the side. She turned her head away.

            “Mabel Pines?” The cop asked as he sat down with a file and clipboard, though it was more of a confirmation than a question.

            “Yes...” Mabel responded in a small voice and returned her gaze to him. “Why am I here again? I’ve already...” She swallowed. ...already told you all about finding Pacifica’s body a few days ago.

            “Yes, I apologize for pulling you in here again,” he replied, and then held out his hand. She reluctantly shook it. “You can call me Officer Kelley, or just Michael, if you prefer.” She nodded, but did not really plan to call him either if she could help it. He shuffled through his papers again and Mabel’s nose scrunched up. She didn’t like to imagine what kind of things were in those files. “Thank you for coming in. We just wanted to go back over the events of December sixteenth now that things have had a few days to cool down, just to see if there were any details we missed.”

            A few days for me to calm down, more likely. Mabel thought bitterly back to how hysterical and emotional she'd been when she was brought into an interrogation room the Sunday after... after what happened. 

            “Do you have any leads? Have you brought my brother back in, too?” Mabel asked.

            “We have already spoken with him again, yes,” the cop responded. Mabel frowned, Dipper didn’t mention that to me... “As for leads, we are exploring as many avenues as possible, but as I’m sure you’re aware, this is a sensitive and ongoing investigation.”

            “Because that serial killer did it, the Reaper,” Mabel said.

            “Right... That is certainly not ruled out as a possibility, but we are not at liberty to discuss details about ongoing investigations. I apologize.” Officer Kelley’s brow furrowed slightly, seemingly a slight indication of his frustration with the poor situation. 

            Mabel bit her tongue, swallowing back harsh words that she had said the last time she was here, to an older cop: If you had already fucking caught this guy, she wouldn’t be dead! She inhaled slowly. 

            “We are doing everything we can, I assure you,” he said, something Mabel had heard over and over. “Your eyewitness account is very valuable, as is your time. I know it’s difficult to think about, but if you could please recall the events of that night in as much detail as you can, if there’s anything you overlooked.”

            Mabel grimaced at the pity in his voice, the careful way he stepped around her grief and trauma. Like she was a broken little girl. And... she supposed she was. She nodded and took a deep breath.

            “Right, uh...” she began hesitantly, trying to ignore how the cop quickly began taking out his notes and files, even though she was sure these sessions were recorded. Her voice was raw and quiet, as if she had just woken up, but really it was just sore from screaming into her pillow. “We had—me and my brother and Paz—we had been planning to go to the nightclub for weeks.”

            The officer nodded. “The nightclub next to the park where she was found?”

            “Yes.” Mabel’s voice was a whisper. “I, uh... we...”

            “I know this is hard for you,” he cut in, and Mabel clenched her fists under the table in frustration at his tone of voice. “You mentioned in the first interview that you and the victim were romantically involved, yes?”

            Mabel’s lip trembled. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. She tried to relax. Just breathe. Get through this. “S-sorry, can I get some water?”

            “Of course.” Officer Kelley stood and cracked the door open, speaking in a hushed voice to what Mabel presumed was another cop standing guard outside the door. Mabel’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. She never much cared for police—something she probably picked up from her Grunkle Stan—and certainly didn’t like the experience of being in the police station under their watch and control. But she didn’t have much choice. As useless as they had proven themselves in catching the evil fucker that murdered Pacifica, what else could she do? 

            A few moments later the other cop returned with a small paper cup and passed it to Kelley, who in turn set it down in front of Mabel. She picked it up, willing her hands to stay steady, and took a few sips. The water was cold against her lips. She involuntarily shivered, her thoughts going to the cold air of that night, and of the freezing morgue lockers. She shuddered and clutched her face.

            “Do we need to take a break?” the officer said gently.

            “No! No, uh, I’ve barely said anything yet, I’m fine,” she said, mostly to convince herself. She sat back up and Kelley returned to his notes. “Right, um. We had all planned to go to that club, but Dipper was secretly helping me to get Paz alone so I could, uh...” Mabel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the metal creaking under her. “I confessed to her, that night. That was the plan. And then...right, uh. Details.”

            “As many as you can. Anyone suspicious in the club itself? Anything off about the victim’s behavior?”

            “Pacifica was acting completely normal.” Mabel lowered her gaze, worried he might see the flash of annoyance there. “We arrived, we set our stuff at a little table, I put my coat over hers to hide it because she was worried it would get stolen. We all went out on the dancefloor and I think, uh, Dipper went back to the table because his head hurt? Paz followed him back, I stayed by myself.”

            “Did you see where they went? Did she go speak to your brother, or anyone else?”

            “Um.” Mabel shifted in her seat, fidgeting under the table. It felt like a lump was forming in her throat. “No, I-I didn’t really look. I was nervous as hell just trying to think about what to say when she came back.” The officer nodded and jotted something down. “Uh, when she came back she leaned in and said that they had got some drinks and Dipper was hanging back for a bit.”

            “You were drinking that night?” 

            “A bit, of course.”

            “How much?” His pen hovered over his clipboard and he stared into Mabel’s face. Her brow furrowed.

            “Mm...I had one or two glasses, I think. Pacifica probably a little bit more. After she came back, we stopped to see Dipper and went and got our own shots, and then went right back to the dancefloor. I didn’t see Dipper anywhere at that point.”

            Kelley nodded. “And you didn’t notice anyone watching you two at all?”

            Mabel swallowed. Her skin crawled at the notion that the killer was hanging around the club, watching them, watching Pacifica. Waiting. She wracked her brain for anything, but nothing came. 

            “I-I’m sorry, I don’t remember. I was pretty much just focused on her.” Mabel let out a shaky breath and her eyes pricked with the familiar burning sensation of tears forming. She lifted the cup back to her mouth and took a big gulp of the refreshing water, emptying it. Memories swam through her mind. She really had just been looking at her the whole time—how could she not? Pacifica had been radiant. The most beautiful girl on the planet. Her blonde hair and pale skin washed in the shifting neon lights: red, pink, green, blue, purple. She was there, her hand holding Mabel’s, their bodies close, their eyes fixed to each other. Mabel remembered running her hand through Pacifica’s soft hair at some point. Was it as they were kissing? God...

            “Take your time,” Kelley said.

            “Sorry, it’s just...y’know.” Mabel hated the way her voice trembled. She breathed in, filled her lungs, ignored the guilt of still being able to breathe even when Pacifca never would again. “I’m fine. Um. Yeah, I didn’t notice anyone. We were together on the dancefloor for a while, I confessed, we kissed,” It was the happiest moment of my life; leaning in to kiss her, pulling away, terrified, only to see Paz’s face light up and pull me back into a kiss. We laughed and held each other like we were the only people in the room, we were so happy, we— “We stayed out there for a bit, and then Paz said she was gonna go back to the table and get us water because we were getting a bit out of breath.”

            “And did you see where she went then?”

            “No.” Mabel’s vision swam. She remembered feeling hot, surrounded by other people, heart pounding and breathless from having kissed her. She had just stumbled around, giddy and grinning and love-drunk. But then... “I was out there by myself for a while, catching my breath, but then she didn’t come back. I...I kept waiting, and it had been too long, I was getting nervous about it.”

            “About how long do you think it was?”

            “Um...” Mabel furrowed her brow. “I’m not exactly sure, maybe ten minutes?” The officer nodded and jotted it down.

            “And what did you do after realizing she hadn’t come back for a while?”

            “I...” Mabel took a shuddering breath, her chest tightening like she was back at the club, realizing Paz was missing. “I went back to the table. Dipper’s coat was gone, and so was Pacifica’s.”

            “Both of them? And your’s was still there?” 

            Mabel nodded stiffly. “Yeah, it was the only one still there, plus like three empty glasses I think. I looked around, I checked the bar, I checked the bathrooms, I texted her, called her. Nothing. So I texted Dipper, I didn’t know why he wasn’t there either.”

            “And he responded,” Kelley said, seemingly already knowing this information.

            “Yes, he did. He’d left the club and apparently was on the way back. 

            "Did he tell you where he was?" 

            "No."

            "Did he and the victim have a history? Did they ever argue, or did he ever express romantic interest in her? Did anything seem unusual about his behavior that night?"

            Mabel’s brow furrowed and she frowned deeply. "He didn't do this."

            "Of course, just standard questions to help paint the picture," he scribbled something down and Mabel felt a twinge of annoyance. "Please, if you could answer the questions.”

            Mabel swallowed down her bitter anger. “No, he was acting fine, and they were practically best friends. Is he a suspect in this?”

            “We aren't ruling out any possibilities, Miss Pines, but I'm sure our standard procedures will clear you both, no worries.”

            Mabel sat forward in her chair, indignant. “Both? Excuse me!? I was in the club the whole time right up until the end!” Right up until I went outside and found her butchered body in the park. “You can clearly check that on any of the cameras!”

            Instead of responding right away, Mabel noticed a muscle under the cop's eye twitch, and his lips flatten into a pale line. Ah. She sat back, stunned out of knowing how to react. All the outrage she felt at the implications she or her brother could have killed Paz evaporated like smoke in the wind.

            “The footage is gone?” she whispered the question half to herself. She had forgotten that was part of the Reaper’s case, that he was a monster that seemingly couldn't be caught on camera, the footage always being mysteriously corrupted or erased. Mabel fell silent for a beat, deflated. “No. Dipper liked Pacifica. He wasn't acting strange.”

            Kelley nodded and jotted down another note, clearly ready to move on from the sore subject. The scratching noise of the pencil had Mabel digging her nails into her thigh to stop her leg from bouncing. 

            “Thank you. Continue. You texted your brother, and then...?"

            "Um, right... I was...really upset at this point. Everyone had seemingly left, I didn’t know what Paz was doing... I-I thought I'd scared her off.” Mabel blinked back tears, thinking back on the fear and hurt she had felt at the time. Now, she would’ve preferred if Pacifica really had just ditched her. At least then she would still be alive. “I got my jacket on, and I ran out of the building.”

            “Where were you planning to go?”

            Mabel laughed bitterly. “To be completely honest, I just wanted to get out of there and go cry somewhere by myself. And... And...the park was across the street. It looked dark, quiet, so I... I-I...” Mabel’s voice hitched and a tear slipped down her cheek. She reached up to quickly swipe it away, but felt a tremor in her shoulders.

            “Did you see anyone else?” Kelley pressed.

            “U-um...” Get through it, get through it. Mabel wrapped her arms around herself and ignored the hot tears falling down her face. She put all of her effort into keeping her voice as steady as she could. “There were a few people walking under the streetlamps, not in the park though.”

            “A pair?”

            “Right. I-I didn’t really look at them, they were just on a walk or something, crossing the street far away. I crossed where I was—no crosswalk, not many street lamps—and went into the park. I walked around a bit, crying, and I...” Mabel’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “I think... I may have heard some far away, like...branch snap? I went in the direction, walked for some minutes, like four maybe, and then...then...uh...” Her voice trembled, throat closing up like it didn't want her to say the words. 

            “We can take a break if you need,” the officer interjected, seeing her hesitation and distress.

            “No,” Mabel said, but it came out as more of a whimper. I need to do this, she assured herself. “I saw a shape, a person, standing under a tree. I walked up, I-I rec-cognized her blonde hair, her white coat on the ground. I started to talk to her.” Mabel’s words echoed in her head: Paz, what are you... Why are you out here? Why aren’t you wearing your coat, it’s freezing out— “Um. Yeah, she wasn’t r-responding, of course. I walked up a-and... Uh. I just broke. I screamed, I fell to the ground. I didn’t approach any further o-once I noticed...noticed h-her chest, uh, her hands.” A horrified sob escaped her, but she continued so the cop wouldn’t stop her.

            “She was st-strung up, her hands out, h-holding...” Mabel swallowed, her throat already feeling dry again, “s-something dark and round a-and, uh, her top—” The lavender top I had made for her. “It was so dark, with blood... a-and it looked like... her chest had been ripped open. He fucking tore her heart out. Her eyes were open.” A sob that was a bit more of a scream tore out of Mabel’s throat. She rocked back and forth slightly in her chair, clutching her mouth with her hands.

            “Why did you call your brother first?” Kelley asked quietly. Why did you call your brother and not the police, like a normal person would have?

            “Because! Because we a-always handle things together. Always. I...I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t talk, I don’t remember if I did, anyway, just screaming and... Dipper ran up kinda from the direction I came.” Mabel remembered clutching him like a lifeline, the only real thing around her. She remembered his voice, but not anything he said. “I was out of it, I guess he called the cops. He tried to pull me away so I would stop looking a-at he—hic—her. Then cops came. They flashed lights at us, pulled us away, drove us off. That’s it.”

            “Was there anything around the tree?” 

            “I don’t know, her coat? I didn’t see anything else. Just...please get this fucking guy.” Mabel’s grief-stricken voice shifted into a murderous hiss. “You need to find this fucking evil piece of shit!”

            “Yes, Miss Pines, I assure you—”

            “Just DO it! Don’t assure me shit! It's too late for that,” Mabel raised her voice and the cop leaned back. “You didn’t save her. So save other people!" Mabel breathed heavily and realized she had slammed her hands down on the table. She sat back in her chair and folded her hands back up in her lap. “Sorry. Just... get this guy. I...I think I’m done for now.”

            “Of course, thank you.” Officer Kelley relaxed a bit. “One more clarification, if you could. You mentioned hearing a noise in the direction of where the victim was found. Did you see or hear anything else as you approached?”

            Mabel was quiet for a long moment. “No,” she said, though she wished she had. She wished she had seen the killer then. She wished she had found him, followed him. She wished he had killed her, too. 

            “Thank you for your time today, Miss Pines. We will be in touch, please call if you think of anything else.” He handed her a little white business card and she tucked it into her pocket as she stood and put her coat on, the metal chair scraping on the floor.

            “Thank you,” she muttered under her breath and hurried out of the station as fast as her escort would allow. Mabel stepped out into the snow and relished for a moment the bite of the freezing air on her face. She could almost pretend that she was as cold and dead as the girl she loved. She folded in on herself and broke down crying on the sidewalk, surrounded by a landscape of white and gray.

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            Mabel stared numbly at the glowing numbers of her cute pink kitty alarm clock. She was exhausted beyond belief, but just...could not fall asleep. She knew Dipper had some issues with insomnia, but in the past Mabel had only ever had sleepless nights from being high-strung with excitement. Like she was the night before she confessed to Pacifica, bursting with nerves and giddiness into the late hours. Now... it was the opposite. How cruel, the way that worked. That now she lay sleepless because her dreams were filled with Pacifica’s gored body. 

            How did other people deal with this agony? How did they cope? Even her brother, who was there with her at the scene, wasn't speaking to her, wasn't coming to her to grieve together. She was alone. The pain was unbearable. Days, now, spent bundled up in her sweaters, crying, not coming out to eat with Grenda and Candy, not showering, not going to class... She just couldn't. It felt like her life ended the moment she laid eyes on Pacifica, with her heart sitting outside of her chest. 

            This was never supposed to happen. How could this happen!? It was wrong, it couldn't be real, it could not. Yet, against everything within her telling her this wasn't reality, she had memories of the police pulling them away, of spending what felt like hours in a drab interrogation room just days ago—and the day after Paz was killed, the fluorescent lights buzzing in the silence when the officers went into the next room over to speak with her brother, the sting of pain when she picked her cuticles bloody just to feel something. In the days since, she had received numerous messages and emails of condolences and asking if she was okay. Okay? How could she possibly be anything but eviscerated.

            Pacifica was dead. Her smile, her laughter, her sapphire eyes, all destroyed in blood. She was gone. 

            Mabel wished she had gone with her, not having to experience anything after the elation of kissing her. They could have just stayed there forever, hearts hammering, grinning and full of love and so far away from the cruelty of the world. 

            If only they could have just stayed like that.

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            "Mabel! You can't stay in there forever, you'll start to grow mushrooms." Grenda’s rough voice came booming to Mabel’s ear, though muffled through the closed door.

            Mabel raised her head weakly to peer through the near pitch darkness of her tiny room, the curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. Her hair was a mess, tangled and sticking up at odd angles. 

            "Grenda, I do not think that's actually possible. Though I don't see how it would be a bad thing! Mushrooms are very..." The softer, melodic voice of Candy trailed off into white noise. Mabel’s eyes stung, threatening to break like a dam at the mere sound of her friends' voices. She took a long breath, using all of her will to hold herself together. She couldn’t just stay in bed today, she had to be there for Grenda.

            "Coming," she called weakly and forced herself to sit up in bed. All of her limbs felt heavy and leaden, but she shuffled to the door and opened it, squinting her eyes against the assault of light.

            "Mabel!" Candy and Grenda exclaimed at once and backed up to let her through. 

            Mabel sniffed glumly and looked down at herself. She had been sleeping in the same pastel sweater for a few days now and worried she was starting to smell. And she was terribly thirsty.

            "Sorry..." she mumbled to her two friends, who were watching her expectantly with concern in their eyes. She sniffled and smiled at them, eyes watery. "I'm okay, guys. I'm gonna get a drink..."

            Mabel began to walk to their shared mini fridge, but was suddenly wrapped up in a hug—Candy's thin arms on one side, and Grenda’s thick ones nearly lifting her off of her feet on the other. A small laugh slipped from Mabel. She sniffled and patted their arms.

            "We love you," Candy said. Grenda nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

            "I love you guys, too. Thank you." Mabel smiled, but her eyes were tired and strained from crying. Even their shared common room couldn't cheer her up, with its brightly colored decor of posters, drawings, flags, and inside jokes. An explosion of color all around her, but she still felt inexplicably gray.

            After chugging half of a chilled water bottle, Mabel worked up the will to take a quick shower and get out of the dirty clothes. She breathed deeply, relishing the warm steam in her nose. The sound of rushing water helped drown out her thoughts and lull her into a tenuous calm. Her long wavy hair became soaked and plastered down her freckled back. It felt good to be clean, to wash away the darkness hanging around her. As hard as it was to work up the will to do so sometimes, a shower usually helped ease the weight of depression. 

            She'd finally spoken to Dipper the other day. Well...maybe ‘spoke’ is the wrong word. She would be lying if she said she wasn't concerned. He had opened the door screaming and haggard, and then immediately broke down crying. Mabel was still a bit exhausted from her own breakdown, but at least it was now the start of Winter Break and she didn't have to worry about class, nor Finals.

            A tidal wave of grief hit her suddenly and she crouched down on the floor of the bathroom, clamping both hands over her eyes hard. She failed to choke back a wail, her eyes burned. It was so hard to be okay when every slight reminder of her sent Mabel into a spiral. Finals. The crop top Mabel had made her. The one Paz was wearing when she...covered in blood and.... Mabel curled up on the floor and sobbed, hoping Grenda and Candy couldn't hear.

            Roughly fifteen minutes later, Mabel splashed water on her flushed face and pulled herself together, got dressed, and went back out to join Grenda and Candy. Grenda was standing with her suitcase packed full and her face flushed with excitement. 

            “Are you sure I shouldn't come back early?” Grenda asked, watching Mabel with sad eyes. She was referring to missing Pacifica’s funeral, but Mabel didn't want to drag everyone into her misery. Grenda had saved up for this trip for months.

            Mabel shook her head and put on a smile. “I'll be okay. You weren't friends with her like I was, we can always visit her grave this summer.” Her grave...

            “I don't wanna leave you without moral support...” Grenda frowned.

            “I'll have my family, and Candy. Don't worry, really! Go have fun and say hi to Marius for me.” Mabel put a hand on Grenda’s big arm.

            “Say hi for Candy, too!” Candy piped up. “Let's get going, you can't miss your flight to boyfriend town!” 

            “Oh, heck! I'll get dressed!” Mabel laughed and darted away.

            Candy and Mabel saw Grenda off to the Rocksburg airport. They exited a cab and went out into the winter air, bundled up in winter jackets and shuffling through the dusting of snow. They waved farewell as Grenda left them to go through security, off to visit her foreign boyfriend. Mabel smiled as her friend vanished into the fray of Christmas travelers, but it felt heavy and unnatural on her face. Her heart ached. Were things always going to feel this way from now on?

            Mabel’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out with cold fingers, half hoping it was from Dipper. Wendy's contact appeared on screen instead. She unlocked her phone, scrolling past threads with Candy and Grenda, and Dib, and opened Wendy’s.

            Wendy: hey mabes you up for coming over and chilling? dippers coming and we could use a fourth

            Mabel’s eyes lit up.

            Mabel: YES!!

            Mabel: Yes yes!! I'm already out and about so ill head over now! :3

            Wendy: sweet. cya soon kiddo

            "Candy, go on without me. I'm gonna go hang out with Dipper and Wendy," Mabel said to the black-haired girl waiting for their ride next to her.

            "Oh! Mabel, that's wonderful!" Candy immediately grinned and wrapped her up in a hug. "Have fun!"

            Mabel smiled brightly, something that now felt foreign. She waved Candy off and called her own ride, rubbing her hands together and shivering when she slipped into the warm vehicle as soon as it pulled up. She paid and hopped out some long minutes later, bounding into Wendy's apartment building. She bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting for the chime of the elevator, and then she practically skipped down the hallway and up to a door halfway down. The door opened moments after Mabel rapped her knuckles against the wood.

            "Hey!" The familiar face of Ramona brightened upon seeing her. The purple streak in their dark curly mass of hair looked freshly dyed, and they wore a hugely oversized band shirt that hung down to their upper thighs, legs bare and showing off their beautiful dark skin. They stepped to the side and held the door open. "Come on in! Coats are there, and you can just dump your shoes anywhere here." 

            Mabel shook off her coat and hung it up, before kicking off her shoes near the door. She smiled slightly upon seeing Dipper’s familiar old pair sitting there as well.

            "DIPPERRRR!" Mabel called loudly into the apartment. She heard Wendy laugh from out of sight. 

            Their rectangular living room stretched out in front of her. She darted inside, following Ramona towards the far side where the small dining table sat across from the kitchen, enclosed with a partial wall that separated it from the living room, and a section of counter to separate it from the little dining corner. It came into view as Mabel went further into the room, spotting Dipper leaning against the floating countertop section watching Wendy setting out what looked to be a board game. Dipper gave her a small smile and a nod of acknowledgement as she approached.

            “Hey, Mabes!” Wendy called to her. The older girl's arm lifted in greeting, the sleeve of her loose sweater bunched up at her elbows. “Just in time.” 

            Ramona grinned and motioned for her to take a chair. She eagerly pulled up a chair and scooted in next to an empty seat in between she and Wendy. She glanced over to where Dipper was propped on the counter and jerked her chin towards the empty seat.

            “Come on, dummy!” Mabel reached towards him and made a swatting motion in the air, since he was too far out of reach. She smiled warmly at the sight of him chuckling softly and smiling a bit. Her heart ached.

            “Yeah, get in here, man! I’m gonna crush you,” Wendy said to him. At that, Dipper let out a short bark of laughter.

            “Oh, yeah? We’ll fuckin’ see about that!” He grinned as he pulled up the chair in between her and Mabel. Ramona dragged a fourth over next to Wendy, across from them.

            “I’m gonna destroy all of you while you’re fighting amongst yourselves. I’m great at this game,” Ramona declared as they took a seat, smiling playfully at the twins.

            “Good at Uno?” Dipper made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a scoff.

            “Surprisingly, yes. We should all gang up on them.” Wendy shuffled the deck one last time and started dealing them in.

            “Hey!” Ramona exclaimed, and they all laughed. 

            The game quickly became heated, everyone crying out and laughing as their hands became full with cards. Ramona indeed won the first game, and then everyone made it their mission to sabotage them in the next. With a flourish, Mabel placed down her last card, a Wild card, and declared her win, sparking an argument on whether that was actually allowed in the rules or not.

            Some minutes of furious googling later, they relented and gave her the win. Dipper and Wendy, as the losers, paid to order pizza to the apartment, and the group moved on to another board game, eating and laughing as the sun dipped below the city skyline and turned the sky a burnt orange.

            Mabel and Dipper bumped shoulders, giggling and scheming like they always did, like they used to. The party of four eventually busted out some drinks, which made for even more rambunctious games, but no one minded, as they went from game to game for hours. The room was filled with light and warmth and joy, so very, very far from the darkness outside. They were together, and nothing could hurt them.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Christmas—a few days after the start of their Winter Break—came and went surprisingly uneventfully. The cut on his foot and the bruises on his face were all but healed by the time the end of year rolled around. Dipper had got together with all the friend’s still around for the holidays—Christmas at Wendy’s, and then for New Year's they all went out drinking: Wendy, Mabel, Ramona, Candy, and even Robbie and Tambry (Dipper mostly avoided interacting with Robbie for fear of him asking questions about the drugs). He hadn’t smiled so much in what felt like ages, laughing and telling stupid stories, hanging off of each other's shoulders as they became drunk, dancing badly but not caring who saw. Revelry. Celebration. 

            It was good, even if it was partly an act; Dipper did not fail to notice Mabel slipping away and coming back puffy-eyed under the neon lights. He figured the scenery must have reminded her of that night, but trying to replace it with more happy memories was important, he supposed. It was good to have a little light gleam through the darkness. Or, more accurately, the void; the absence of someone’s presence who should be there but wasn't. It hung around them like a shadow, and he could tell that Mabel felt the ghost of Pacifica lingering around them as well. There was a familiar haunted look in her eyes that he saw whenever he looked at himself in the mirror. 

            Despite everything, it was good for what it was. Dipper needed people around him, people that weren’t Dib.

            He’d heard nothing from Dib ever since he sent that message, the one telling Dib to give him time. He needed to collect himself, he needed to be able to put the mask of normalcy back on, for his own sanity’s sake and for the people around him (Mabel had told him the police considered him a suspect, the last thing he needed was to let it slip he knew more about what happened than he was letting on). Pacifica’s funeral was scheduled for the last week of Break, January 6th. He and Mabel had originally planned to be back home for Christmas, but, well... They needed to stick around while police ran investigations and were holding her body for autopsy. January was the soonest they said they would release her to her family. The funeral was to be held in Gravity Falls, so he and his own family would be meeting there instead of California. He would be leaving Rocksburg one way or the other, whether he wanted to or not. He didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

            Dipper splashed his face with cold water. Everything still felt like a waking nightmare. At least now he had some time to grieve normally. As normally as he could, having been the reason for his friend’s murder. The guilt of having been unable to avenge her hung heavy on him. If he had just... He'd had him right there, right below him, knife pointed at his heart. It should have been easy. It should have been, and yet...

            He could imagine how people would talk about him someday, when everything finally came to light. ‘Why didn't you just call the police?’ they would say. ‘Why didn't you just kill him, why didn't you tell someone, why didn't you do anything?’ And no matter the excuses and rationalizing Dipper would try to explain, how could any of them ever possibly understand how paralyzing decisions like that are in the face of death? They certainly would never understand how Dipper could have gotten...feelings...for him. No one could ever understand, because it didn't make any fucking sense to him either.

            Dipper heaved a sigh. He had time to figure out what to do next. There had to be some way of getting Dib out of the picture, there had to be another way out. He needed to think, he needed to get his head back on straight, to stop obsessively having Dib on his mind, particularly the more...complex feelings that Dipper had about him. He hated himself for it, it shouldn’t be complicated. He absolutely without a doubt should not be attracted to him, he knew that. But...

            No. Distance yourself. Take this time to quash these feelings, obliterate them, nothing can stop you from doing what has to be done. For Mabel. For Pacifica.

            Man was it hard to try to be normal again after months of being anything but. It felt wrong somehow, like he was faking. That chasm of distance between him and everyone around him seemed ever present, but he tried his best to close the gap. He had to hold onto the belief that he was not irreparably changed yet, not damaged beyond repair like Dib wanted. He wasn’t a killer, he wasn’t a monster to lurk in the shadows of the world. 

            So instead he dedicated as much of his time as possible to hanging out with Wendy. He still felt too guilty to be around Mabel alot, but Wendy was different. Distanced, a bit. Wendy was a steadfast beacon, cool-headed and comfortable. Normal, kind, confident, strong. A girl he used to love and now simply cherished and adored as a friend. Ramona was kind, too, when they were around. They had left to go visit their family for a while, planning to come back after Pacifica’s funeral. Wendy was going to attend it with them all, delaying her own trip home to visit her family in Gravity Falls so that she could be there (since she wasn't restricted by Winter Break dates like the rest of them). 

            Dipper wished that he was going back to Oregon under better circumstances. He missed the wild places, the forest, the streams, the mountains. He’d been in the city for too long; it made him homesick, almost. He wondered briefly if Dib would enjoy the forests of Gravity Falls too, and then violently banished the thought. 

            Dipper needed to root himself back into his normal life, else he would be lost in Dib’s darkness, a vast ocean such as it was. Would that make Wendy the lighthouse? Ugh, that sounds overly dramatic, even if it is accurate.

            He clicked the bathroom lights off and exited back into the expanse of Wendy and Ramona’s living room, plopped onto the sofa next to Wendy, and fell sideways against her. She didn’t acknowledge him for a moment, just continued to click through different movies to watch, but Dipper didn’t mind. The comfort of sitting silently with someone else, just existing, was peaceful. Safe. He closed his eyes and sighed, sinking into the warmth of her body. Snow whipped through the wind outside.

            “You got any preferences, my guy?” Wendy asked.

            “Mm,” Dipper hummed thoughtfully. “Not particularly. Whatever you want.”

            “Sure,” she laughed easily and continued to scroll, before settling on something Dipper didn’t recognize nor care about. He leaned back on Wendy’s shoulder and pulled out his phone, scrolling idly through social media as the TV played in the background.

            “How you holding up, bud?” Wendy said after a few minutes. Dipper clicked his phone off and frowned.

            “I mean...” He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.

            “As fine as someone can be when dealing with all the shit you and Mabel are?” 

            Dipper laughed softly. “Yup! Exactly. This...” Dipper continued slowly, “...is helping though. Really, it is. Thank you for doing this, I’m sorry for intruding so much and—”

            “Hey, none of that! You don’t need to apologize, dude, I love you and Mabel. I’ll do anything for you two, you know that. Besides,” she nudged him gently and smiled sideways at him, “I’m a bit lonely with Ramona being away. It’s good to have company.”

            Dipper exhaled softly from his nose and nodded to himself. “Thanks. And thanks for doing it for Mabel, too.”

            “I’m glad she’s at least got Candy around,” Wendy said.

            “Yeah, me too. Living alone can be a little... y’know, sometimes.” 

            “Hey, that’s why you’re always welcome here, dude.” She paused for a brief moment. “Hey,” she slapped his arm, “wanna order some of that absolutely bangin’ pizza from down the road?”

            “Uh, fuck yes,” Dipper grinned back at her. She took out her phone and quickly ordered delivery. They went back to watching the show she had put on, this time Dipper joined in watching and the pair laughed and poked fun at the characters until there was a knock at her door.

            Wendy returned a moment later with the box and carried it past the sofa and over to the kitchen, where she rifled through a drawer and pulled out a pizza cutter. Dipper went back to his phone for a bit, scrolling mindlessly and liking random art posts and news about ghost hunting channels. Then Wendy’s voice called from the kitchen.

            “Yo, come get your shit!”

            “Yeah, yeah! Thank you,” he called back and got up from the soft couch with a huff. Dipper walked over and rounded the half wall that blocked the view from the living room, entering the small, very white kitchen. White tile, white counters, white refrigerator. Wendy’s long red hair stood out amongst it all. She handed him a plate when he came over and then passed him on her way back to the couch with her own plate. His eyes lingered on the knife block sitting on the counter for half a moment, then back to the steaming pizza.

            He pulled out two slices of the hot cheesy goodness and went back to join her, shoving some in his mouth immediately upon taking his seat next to her. It was delicious, the pizza from this place always was. They had discovered it recently, when laying around stoned and hungry as hell for some good fuckin’ pizza that wasn’t some name-brand shit. It was from a local place, the only storefront of its name, and it was so good. It made Dipper happy to share little things like this with someone. It felt like living.

            The show got turned back on and it took only a few minutes before he and Wendy were howling with laughter. It was like old times. It was good. Dipper was happy. And he didn’t think about Dib for hours after that.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Dipper awoke to blinding white light streaming through his open window. He groaned and shifted in his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. I forgot to close the curtains, he thought to himself as he lay still for another few minutes. It felt nice to just...sleep in, with no fear of a maniac breaking into his room. Well, he supposed Dib could always just ignore his wishes, but having now replaced the lock on his sliding doors had helped ease his mind.

            Dipper rolled over when he heard his phone buzz a few times on the nightstand. For the briefest of moments, his heart sank in his chest. Surely not another one already?

            Over Winter Break, Dib had been going on a bit of a killing spree, the worst one yet. He was throwing a tantrum of sorts, Dipper guessed. While Dib hadn't messaged him directly, Dipper had alerts on his phone for any news updates related to the ‘Rocksburg Reaper’ and he had gotten notifications for at least four different murders, each leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. But this time Dipper was in luck.

            He reached out and pulled the device back into the warmth of his blankets, holding the phone in front of his face once his arms were tucked back in the soft, dark blue comforter. He clicked open a group chat between him, Mabel, and Wendy.

            Wendy: holy shit dudes have you looked outside??

            Wendy: mountains of fresh snow

            Wendy: YO!!!! who the fuck wants to go to the little park next to me and have a fuckin snowball fight!!!!!!

            Mabel: OMG YES!!!!!!

            Mabel: Can I bring Candy!! :0

            Wendy: ofc dude, the more the merrier ;)

            Mabel: DIPPER WAKE UP WE NEED REIFORCMETS

            Mabel: REINFORCEMENTS**

            Dipper smiled to himself and began typing.

            Dipper: Who says i wont help wendy obliterate you

            Mabel: BETRAYAL >:(((

            Wendy: lmaoo

            Wendy: meet at my place asap losers. bring a change of pants cuz theyll probably get soaked

            Mabel: I will not pee myself from fear how dare u >:v

            Dipper: From the snow, dummy

            Mabel: OH

            Mabel: yes I knew that, I was making a joke. Obviously 

            Dipper: See u soon, little pee guy

            Mabel: IAM NOT A LITTLE PEE BOY!!

            Wendy: damn, that sounds like something a lil pee boy would say

            Mabel: I AM BEING ATTACKED

            Wendy: not yet ur not, but soon u will be ;)

            Mabel: AAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

            Dipper laughed to himself and tossed his phone aside. He raised himself from the warmth of his bed and stretched. A shiver trailed through his body as he walked over to the window.

            “Holy shit,” he said to himself when he looked out and saw, indeed, a fuckton of snow. It looked like the plows had already gotten to the roads, but it had to have been like six inches, or more.

            Dipper went to his drawers and rifled around for a warm pair of pants, and then an extra pair to change into. He pulled a clean hoodie over his head, put two pairs of socks on his feet to keep warm, and went to the front door. As he pulled his coat on he opened the group chat back up.

            Dipper: yo i'm gonna stop and get breakfast on the way, anyone want anything?

            Mabel: MCMUFFIN!! 

            Mabel: and a strawberry smoothie, and a hashbrown, and candy wants a bacon one

            Wendy: yeah gimme one of those lil bacon shits too, and a hashbrown

            Wendy: Oh and some coffee, if you could

            Mabel: Ooooo yes coffee! Good idea!

            Dipper: I almost regret asking lmao. yall owe me!

            Mabel: see you soon brobro! <3

            Wendy: drive safe

            Dipper went out into the building's hall, locked his front door behind him, and drove out into the snowy morning. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the blinding white, but it was beautiful to see the fresh snow, not quite dirtied by traffic exhaust yet. He smiled serenely to himself as he drove across town to Wendy's and went through a drive-thru closer to her place so the food would remain hot. He enjoyed the scenery along the way. It sure wasn't the forests of Gravity Falls covered in snow—a truly breathtaking sight unlike anything else he'd ever seen—but the city trees’ bare branches hung laden with white and ice. It was beautiful in its own right, and Dipper understood why winter was Pacifica’s favorite season.

            Her favorite.... Dipper swallowed a lump in his throat and his eyes burned. Fuck, this was never going to be easy, was it? 

            Dipper pulled into a parking spot on the street in front of Wendy’s apartment building. He quickly thanked a woman who held the door open for him as he approached with his arms full of fast food bags and drinks. Once inside, he breathed the warm air into his lungs and called the elevator, hitting the buttons with his elbow. 

            Wendy's front door opened a few moments after Dipper kicked it with his foot, unable to knock with his hands. He was greeted by Wendy’s face above him, brightening up upon seeing him.

            “Hey! There—”

            “Help me,” Dipper grunted from behind the pile of bags and drinks stacked in his arms. Wendy breathed out a sharp laugh and took some of the load off, holding the door open for him.

            “Hold the door!” A girl’s voice called down the hall, back from the direction Dipper just came from.

            “Mabel and Candy are here!” Candy’s familiar voice came from around the corner. After a moment, the girls came running up to the doorway and tumbled inside the room, laughing as they did.

            “We made it just in time!” Mabel laughed, seeing Dipper in the room.

            “Time to devour!” Candy exclaimed and moved toward the bags with her fingers arching like claws.

            They all removed their shoes and ate at the table, digging into the hot breakfast. Dipper didn’t say much, still a bit grim from the thought he'd had earlier, but it was good just to listen to the girls chatting around him. He only wished there was another voice among them. Grief was a funny thing, it made one suddenly realize they took regular, boring moments such as this for granted. He was never going to get them back, not as they were, but he had to live in these moments now as best he could, with the people that were still here.

            After everything was finished and the trash tossed, the group got their shoes and coats back on, along with gloves and hats and scarves to bundle up against the cold, and then headed back outside. It had begun to snow lightly, and they decided to just have Dipper drive them a few blocks down to the park Wendy had mentioned. It was a small one, easy to see all the way across to the sidewalk on the other side, with only a smattering of snow-heavy trees and bushes on the grounds. There was a parent and child playing over in the corner of the park, far enough away where their group would be fine to do their own thing. 

            And boy did they not hold back. After a few minutes of playfully kicking around in the powdery snow, fistfuls of it started flying through the air every which way. Wendy could throw a mean snowball, her arms were powerful from growing up climbing trees and felling them with an axe. She lobbed one directly at Dipper, who hit the deck, laying in the snow on his belly. 

            Candy giggled next to him, and then a chunk of snow exploded on her shoulder. Mabel grinned mischievously and darted away to take cover behind a tree.

            “Come on, Dipper!” Candy called to him. “Let’s take them dooown!”

            Dipper laughed and rose to his feet, balling up some snow and letting it sail towards Wendy in sync with Candy. Both hit Wendy in the chest.

            “Hey! Ganging up, are we?” Wendy chucked a ball of snow towards them. Candy shrieked in delight as she dodged. “Mabel, let's do this!”

            As Wendy called out, snow exploded across the back of Dipper’s head and he sputtered. Mabel laughed delightedly and stuck her tongue out at him as he turned to look, before darting away behind another tree.

            “Divide and conquer,” Dipper said to Candy as he grabbed a large ball of snow in his hands and ran off towards Mabel. Candy darted towards Wendy, rapid fire throwing snowballs from her arms.

            Dipper rounded the tree right as a piece of snow shattered across the bark next to him. He looked over to where Mabel was peeking out from behind a bush and she squeaked in alarm when he charged. She turned and ran, her long waves of hair flying out behind her.

            “Dipper! Dipper, no!” She shrieked and laughed as he chased her with a huge chunk of snow in both hands. She ran up to the trunk of a particularly large tree, but Dipper cut her off. She screamed as he smashed the snow over her head and it cascaded into her hair and over her shoulders. 

            “You jerk!” Mabel laughed loudly as she sputtered and brushed it off of her hat and hair.

            Dipper laughed with her, practically glowing with childlike joy, but then he saw Mabel’s face freeze. She stared past him, at the tree, up at the branches. Her eyes became distant and she stumbled backwards with her hands clutched to her chest, a horrified look on her face.

            “Hey, Mabes, what's wrong?” Dipper reached out for her as she shrunk away. Her wide eyes fell on him and blinked. She looked back to the tree, then to their surroundings. She let out a weak laugh.

            “Sorry, ha... I-I thought...for a second it kind of looked like...” Mabel’s face scrunched up, a familiar expression he’d seen her do when she was about to cry.

            Dipper reached out and pulled her into a tight hug. She burrowed her face into his shoulder, trembling slightly in his arms. His chest tightened, but he pushed it down. Now wasn't the time.

            “It’s okay, that place is miles from here,” Dipper said softly, his warm breath billowing in front of him. Mabel nodded. 

            “Yeah, I know. Silly of me...”

            “It’s not silly.” Dipper gave her a gentle but firm shake. “A lot... a lot of stuff reminds me of her, too. It’s normal.”

            Mabel was quiet for a long time before she gently pushed away from him. “It’s not normal at all. How could it ever be?” She furrowed her brow when Dipper laughed.

            “God, you have no idea how much I relate to that statement.” He held out his gloved hand to her. “But we can keep pretending like it is, until it becomes easier.”

            Mabel inhaled and closed her eyes, nodding. She took his hand.

            “Right,” she agreed simply. 

            “Wanna go ambush them while they’re fighting each other?” Dipper grinned, motioning to where Wendy and Candy were dodging back and forth around another tree across the way. Mabel grinned wickedly.

            “YES.”

            In a flurry of snow, the twins charged from each flank, nailing shots into the other two girls’ jackets and hats. They stopped their attack on each other and looked around with wide bewildered eyes. Wendy dodged to the side and avoided Dipper’s projectiles. Mabel descended on Candy, who had fallen, laughing, into the snow. Wendy saw this and raised an arm to throw snow at Mabel’s back while she had her guard down.

            “No you don’t!” Dipper charged and threw himself into Wendy. They both went crashing into the snow with a shriek of laughter, where they began to roll around, wrestling.

            “Dipper Pines, you absolute maniac!” Wendy grinned with feverish delight, pushing a fistful of snow into his face. He grabbed her arm and laughed as she easily threw him off and pinned him. It was like they were kids again. It was like the time they had an epic snowball war with all of Wendy’s friends, the first time he and Mabel visited Gravity Falls in winter. It was one of Dipper’s best memories.

            “I learned from the best!” he replied with a manic grin. Snow dusted across his freckled cheeks, turning them pink from the cold. 

            Suddenly, the pair of them were being assaulted with snowballs from above. Wendy shrieked with laughter and fell to the side, releasing Dipper. A double betrayal! Mabel and Candy pelted the two friends with snow, and all Dipper and Wendy could do was lay there, laughing and raising their arms up in an attempt to shield themselves from the attack.

            None of them noticed the figure in black watching them from across the street, silent and still.

            By the time the group finished their fun and piled into the car to go back to Wendy’s and drink some hot cocoa, the watcher had gone. Like a shadow that had never been there in the first place.

Chapter Text

            Dib slammed the bathroom door open with a loud BANG. Breath hissed from his nostrils with every heavy exhale. He tore his jacket off and threw it into the bathtub, before hitting the lightswitch and moving to glare at himself in the huge pristine mirror above the sink.

            “Fucking... piece of SHIT!” Dib's lips curled away from his teeth in a snarl. With bloody fingers, he lifted the hem of his shirt and exposed a red, leaking wound to the air. A hiss of pain escaped through his gritted teeth when he prodded at it. “Son of a bitch...”

            “You have no idea how to be fucking quiet, do you?”

            Dib didn't turn around at the familiar sound of his sister's annoyed tone. He just frowned and continued to stare at the almost inch-long slice on his stomach. Behind him, in the doorway, a purple-haired girl leaned against the open doorframe with her arms crossed. Her brows furrowed when she saw the cut in the reflection over Dib's shoulder, but her amber eyes averted and she didn't comment on it. 

            “Well fuckin’ excuse me,” Dib muttered in response, beginning to rifle around in the drawers. 

            Gaz sighed. “Why have you been throwing such a goddamn fit lately?”

            “I'm sorry I almost got fucking stabbed,” Dib snapped back at her, tossing a glare over his shoulder before returning to his work. He pulled a medkit out of the bottom drawer and snapped it open. 

            “That's not what I mean. Though it is true you're also being more stupid than usual.” 

            Dib knew she meant he was being reckless, but she never passed up an opportunity to insult him. He scoffed. “The hell do you care?”

            “Because I'm sick of cleaning up your goddamn messes. You're doing way too much within such a short period.”

            “I'm pissed off,” Dib grumbled. Gaz rolled her eyes at the sad excuse of an explanation. 

            “You sound like a fucking child.” 

            “Fuck off! Can't you see that I'm in the middle of something!?” Dib grit his teeth as he pushed a suture needle through his damaged skin, pulling surgical thread through to begin a few stitches. It wasn't the worst wound ever, not deep, but better safe than sorry. 

            “Is it that guy you think you like?” 

            Dib could hear the contempt in her voice. He scowled. “Yes...” 

            “Trouble in paradise?” 

            Dib groaned loudly in annoyance. He quickly tied off the stitches and dumped some peroxide over the now closed wound. He dug his fingernails into the granite counter as the sting of pain stabbed through him. 

            “Something like that,” Dib grunted. “He said he ‘needed time’ and hasn't talked to me in fucking weeks.”

            “So go talk to him, idiot.” 

            Dib turned towards her and met her gaze, looming over her. Even with his features twisted up in pain and fury, she did not let it visibly perturb her. She only stared back at him with a bored expression.

            “You're annoying me because you're mad at your little boyfriend. Go fucking handle it, or I won't help with your next little outburst.” Gaz stared him down. They stayed silent for a long, tense moment, twin amber eyes glaring at each other, before Dib finally sighed and turned away.

            “Fine. I guess you're right, I've given him long enough...” Dib looked down and rubbed two fingers together, watching how the blood got caught in the tiny lines on his fingertips. “I'll do it tomorrow.” 

            “Good, now stop making so much fucking noise so I can go the fuck to sleep.” She stalked out of sight without waiting for Dib to respond. 

            Dib looked at himself in the mirror one last time, sighed, and then flicked the lightswitch back off, plunging the room into darkness. 

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            Dipper sat on his couch, idly sipping leftover champagne while midday sunlight filtered into the room through the glass sliding doors. It was the new year, and Dipper felt hopeful. Reluctantly and cautiously so, but hopeful nonetheless. Things had been good—well, as good as they could be considering everything. It was easier without Dib around.

            Dib. Ugh. Even now, the bastard kept slipping into his thoughts. Whatever. It didn’t matter. He had been giving the cops as many clues during his interrogations as he safely could, trying his best to point them in Dib’s direction without being outright obvious. Surely they had to fucking find something? Then again, putting his faith in the police was probably a terrible idea. Especially considering the fact he was on the suspect list.

            He had to change gears, there were more important things to focus on now. Pacifica’s body had been flown out to Gravity Falls for preparation ahead of the funeral. This weekend. The flight was booked. He hadn’t packed yet, though he had to be at the airport in two days. It was fine, he was only going to be down there for...what? Three days? Leaving Thursday in the middle of the night, arriving Friday, and leaving back to Rocksburg on Sunday. Dipper was dreading it, despite it being a short trip. He had never liked Pacifica’s family, and neither did she, but he did not want to look at their faces and know that their daughter’s death was his fault. That her killer was free because Dipper was too selfish to turn him in and risk his own family, too cowardly to end him himself.

            The alcohol burned a bit as Dipper took a large swig. He needed to stop this train of thought. It always spiraled into depressing places. 

            He got up and walked over to the kitchen, turning on the faucet and splashing cold water on his face. He exhaled slowly, willing away the tension in his shoulders. Then he heard a click behind him and quickly turned. Dipper froze, eyes going wide.

            Dib was standing there, at the glass sliding doors with their brand new fucking lock. It stunned Dipper’s systems for a long moment. It felt like it had been ages since he last saw Dib; his warm-toned skin, his dark hair, his amber eyes lined with black. Time felt frozen in the moments Dipper was held under his gaze. Dib inclined his head towards Dipper and gave a little wave. Dipper's shocked expression dropped into one of hatred and anger. He twitched like he wanted to stride forward towards him, but thought better of it and kept the distance between them. 

            “You can pick locks. That fucking figures,” Dipper said.

            “I have a lot of free time,” Dib responded just as dryly. A tense moment of silence passed between them.

            “I thought I told you I didn't want to see you.” Dipper clenched his fists tight in an attempt to ground himself. It felt surreal seeing him again, despite it barely having been over two weeks since they fought, leaving his apartment in disarray and his body bruised and bleeding. Since he had tried—and failed—to kill Dib, to get rid of him once and for all.

            "Ha." Dib sneered. He stalked forwards a few steps and Dipper retreated. "And I have generously obliged, haven't I? I let you be. I gave you your 'time'."

            Dipper breathed sharply through his nose. Dib sounded almost pissed. Anxiety bubbled up in his chest. Mad though Dipper was, Dib was still an unhinged killer—one who overpowered him in their last physical altercation. Dib was unpredictable, and that's what made him so dangerous.

            "It's been only two fucking weeks," Dipper snapped from between clenched teeth. Dib just shook his head, crossing his arms.

            "Two whole weeks! I was nice. I did what you asked, when I didn't need to." Dib's sneering smile fell away and instead he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "And you repaid me by cuddling up with another girl!”

            "Wha..." Dipper's eyes widened. "What the hell are you talking about?"

            "I still kept tabs on you, babe," he said with bitter venom in his voice, stalking forward slowly. "I thought you would have learned your lesson."

            "I-I.." Dipper backed up into the far wall. All his composure and anger was gone. Dib was getting jealous over something again, and Dipper knew all too well where that led—to the end of his knife. "I haven't been ‘cuddling’ anyone! You were wrong about Pacifica, too, need I remind y—"

            Dib closed the distance and slammed his fist into the drywall next to Dipper's head. He yelped and shrunk away.

            "You've been clinging to that redhead constantly since telling me to fuck off," Dib snarled. Dipper flinched as hot breath met his clammy skin. "Frankly, at this point I don't care if it's romantic or platonic. You're running off into someone else's arms to get away from me. Maybe you didn't get it the first time."

            "No. No, no, don't you dare—" Dipper gasped, feeling panic rise in his chest. He has to be talking about Wendy. He's going to kill Wendy.

            "I'll spell it out for you!" Dib cut Dipper off, sounding more vicious than Dipper thought he'd ever heard him before, despite his voice still keeping its jovial edge. But this anger was cold and controlled; it was a great frozen storm rolling in, not a raging fire like Dipper's anger often was. The stark difference terrified him. 

            Dib leaned in inches away from Dipper's face, arms on either side pinning him there in his shadow. Dipper reluctantly met Dib's glinting amber gaze, and immediately regretted it. The intensity of it swallowed him up and chilled him. 

            "Stop," Dib began calmly, speaking softer now as the icy anger ebbed, low and steady. "Stop running to others for affection. Stop trying to escape from me. Stop looking at anyone else but me. They won't save you, Dipper. You only have me."

            "They..." Dipper's breathing quickened. "They're not... I'm not..."

            "She can't save you, Dipper." Dib grabbed Dipper’s chin and held his gaze there. "Don't make me kill her, too. I'll gladly put her in the ground right next to that blonde."

            "Her name is Pacifica." Anger flared in Dipper's chest, but his voice came out a pathetic whisper. Dib laughed.

            "Was Pacifica," Dib chided. "They can have matching gravestones!" Dipper sucked in a breath as Dib suddenly spun away from him, holding his arms outstretched with a grin. Right back to his cocky, playful self.

            "Please." Dipper shuddered as the horrible word passed his lips. "Please don't."

            "It's up to you, babe!" Dib booped his nose and Dipper flinched away. "This is aaaall you! It doesn't have to be this way, but I don't like other people touching my things."

            I don't fucking belong to you! Dipper wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. He wanted to punch that stupid grin off of his face, he wanted to tear him apart. I should have killed him. He's right, I'll never escape him, I...

            Dipper breathed heavily, eyes glazing over. His heartbeat thundered loudly in his ears. His hands were trembling uncontrollably.

            "Well. Good seeing you, babe!" Dib said cheerfully. "Sure hope you won't get another dear friend killed." He winked and twirled his switchblade in one hand before sliding out onto the balcony and disappearing down the fire escape.

            Oh god.

            Wendy.

            Dipper went running to his front door. He locked it quickly behind him and flew down the flight of stairs. He's going to kill her. I need to stop it. I need to warn her! I... 

            How do you warn someone that a serial killer who's possessively infatuated with you is going to kill them? And that he's the same one who killed your mutual friend recently? He'd never told a soul about Dib. He couldn't, even after Pacifica was murdered. Yet, what other option really was there if he was to warn Wendy about the danger she was in?

            Dipper started his car and drove out onto the snowy roads. This was dangerous. Not just because of what he was going to do, but because he was allowing himself a glimmer of hope that maybe Wendy could even help him. She was one of the strongest people he knew, aside from his Grunkles. If anyone could kick a serial killer's ass, she could.

            Maybe she could do what Dipper couldn’t. Maybe she could end this.

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            Dipper pounded his fist against Wendy's apartment door. Dib's threats crashed in his mind like a tidal wave, drowning everything else out. He just needed to warn her.

            The door opened.

            "Dipper?" Wendy furrowed her brow in confusion, looking down at the frantic and bug-eyed boy in front of her. 

            She was still alive. She was still okay. 

            She was wearing a loose black tank top with an open green flannel and dark gray sweatpants. The tips of her long waves of red hair looked damp, like she had been in the shower recently. 

            "Is Ramona here?" Dipper asked, pushing inside. 

            "Uh." Wendy paused slightly before closing and locking the door behind him. "They're not back yet, no. Are you oka—?"

            "Wendy." Dipper turned, his voice broke as he spoke her name. She fell quiet when she saw the desperate terror in his eyes. "I... I...." 

            "C'mere. Tell me what's wrong." She ushered him farther into the comforting warmth of her living room. There was an orange candle lit nearby, and the kitchen lights glowed farther within, casting soft light into the room. This felt safe. Safer than his own place had felt in so long.

            "I don't know how to fucking say this, but..." Dipper paused. Was he really about to do this? Was he going to tell her? "I-I... I can't say much, but you... you're..."

            Wendy's face scrunched up with worry. She put her hand on his shoulder.

            "Bud, you can tell me. Ride or die," she reminded him. Dipper nodded and swallowed.

            "You... you're in danger." He looked around as if Dib could be in the room listening right this second. Wendy leaned back slightly, confusion flashing over her face. "You have to believe me! Seriously, the guy who killed Pacifica might be coming after you next. I didn't know what else to do." Dipper's voice shook, he ran a hand through his messy hair. 

            "We should call the police then," Wendy said after a moment, reaching to pull her phone out of her pocket.

            "NO!" Dipper lunged to grab her arm, she looked down at him, bewildered.

            "Dipper, what the fuck?!"

            "We can't! That'll just piss him off more. I'm not even supposed to be telling you anything," Dipper urged. “I just...needed to warn you, so you know what might be coming, in case...”

            Wendy fixed a gravely serious stare on Dipper’s face. She left her phone in her pocket and grabbed Dipper’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes.

            "Dipper, what have you gotten yourself into? What the hell do you mean by all this?" she said in a low, firm voice. Dipper trembled under her grip. He felt sweat beading on his skin and his mouth was going dry. He swallowed a few more times, breathing heavily.

            "I-I... it's...hard to explain."

            "Try."

            Dipper squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

            "Sorry. Sorry. Um... H-he killed her." Suddenly Dipper's throat tightened as a lump of grief lodged itself in his windpipe. His face burned, threatening to spill tears down his cheeks. He had never told anyone, and the feeling of it was unexpectedly overwhelming. He had felt so alone the last few months holding onto this secret, more than he realized.

            "He killed her, b-because of me. And n-now he wants to h...hurt y-you too." Dipper hiccuped. "He said he'll kill everyone if I tell..." His voice dropped into a whimper, "M-Mabel..." He bit back a sob and Wendy pulled him into a hug.

            "Holy shit, dude," Wendy breathed shakily. 

            "I didn't... I didn’t know what to do..." Dipper tried to choke down his crying. It didn't feel right to break down now, when Pacifica was dead and he hadn't been brave enough to tell anyone until he had to.

            "The guy who killed Pacifica? You're sure?" 

            Dipper nodded into her shoulder.

            "Fuck, Dipper..." She stepped back slightly. Dipper felt sick at the horror and grief across her face. It was his fault people kept getting dragged into this shit. "We need to—"

            Wendy's head snapped up as the front door to her apartment clicked shut and locked. Dipper jumped away from her, eyes wide with terror.

            Dib leaned back casually against the wall next to the door, staring Dipper down from across the room and clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

            "Oh, Dipper... Why did you do that?" he said with a shake of his head, something akin to disappointment lacing his voice. Dipper felt like he was going to throw up.

            "How the fuck did you get in here? Who the fuck—!?" Wendy snapped, and then stopped dead, glancing between Dipper's horrified expression and Dib's steely cold one. Her whole body stilled and tensed up. "Dipper..." she said slowly, "Is this...?"

            "The boogeyman? Why, yes, it is. Nice to meet you, Red!" Dib said cheerfully, pushing off the wall and giving a mock bow. He raised his head and locked eyes with Dipper, a vicious glint in his gaze. "You can blame Dipper for everything that happens next."

            "Wendy, he's—!" Dipper yelled in alarm as Dib jolted into a sprint straight for them. Wendy moved just as fast, pushing Dipper out of the way and dodging the blade Dib pulled from his sleeve and swung in an arc. She swore loudly, darting backwards. Dib turned her direction, brandishing the knife in the light and giving it a twirl.

            "Hm, not bad—oof!" Dib mused with a manic grin, before Dipper jumped on him from behind. "Gak! Dipper!" Dib stumbled back as Dipper’s arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders. In the second it took for Dib's attention to slip off of Wendy, she charged forward and delivered a powerful kick straight to his gut. He gagged as the air was knocked from him. 

            "Wendy, just run! Get out of here!" Dipper cried, hanging off of Dib's back as he twisted and struggled, pulling at Dipper’s arms locked around him. Wendy's eyes were wild with adrenaline and she looked at him incredulously.

            "No fucking way! I'm not leaving y—!"

            The back of Dib's head suddenly cracked into Dipper’s nose. He gasped as pain blinded him and hot blood spilled down over his mouth. Dib pushed out of his grip and Dipper stumbled backwards, clutching his face. Dib held his stomach for a moment, before his pained and furious snarl locked onto Wendy.

            "Dipper!" Wendy started towards him and then cried out as Dib lashed out with the blade, leaving a bleeding cut across her arm. Where most people would instinctively reach for their injury, Wendy balled her fist and punched Dib square in the jaw, sending him back a few steps. He looked stunned for an instant and then burst out laughing, rubbing at his new bruise.

            "Wow, I like her! She's like a feral wildcat." He grinned unnervingly. "I love when they put up a fight."

            "I'll fucking kill you," Wendy snarled savagely in response, but she carefully kept her distance. Wendy knew how to fight, much better than Dipper did. The two measured each other up, dancing back and forth looking for an opening. Dib had a huge advantage with the knife, but Wendy was slightly taller and stronger and had more reach. 

            Dib darted forward, aiming the knife towards Wendy's stomach. He let out a frustrated yell as Dipper slammed into his back, knocking him off balance. Wendy seized the opportunity and landed a punch on him again, but not before Dib swung his elbow backwards into Dipper's gut. Dipper grunted in pain, doubling over.

            "You're making this so much more difficult, love," Dib growled through gritted teeth, blood trickling from his lip. He avoided fights where he was outnumbered, and fighting two at once was proving to be a challenge. He needed to finish this quickly.

            Another fist came swinging towards him and he let it hit, using the momentum to stumble backwards and grab the scruff of Dipper’s coat. Dipper yelped in surprise as Dib dragged him back.

            "Dib!" he shouted desperately as Dib grabbed his hair painfully in a fist and slammed Dipper's head down onto his raised knee. Dipper's vision went white as pain throbbed through his skull. He felt Dib yank him again, this time swinging him into the wall. Dipper hit hard and collapsed to the carpeted ground. 

            As soon as Dipper went down, Wendy was there, charging forward and body slamming Dib into the wall as well. A picture fell and shattered as Dib's head knocked back against it and he hissed in pain, gritting his bloody teeth together. He kneed Wendy in the stomach, but she didn't flinch, grabbing hold of his jacket and swinging him around to throw him into the nearby sofa. Dib fell backwards over the back of it, tumbling in a mess of long limbs over it and to the floor.

            Get up! Dipper screamed at himself. His head felt like it was splitting open and his vision was full of bright spots. Help her! Get up! His body wouldn't move.

            Wendy looked sideways at where Dipper twitched weakly on the floor and then back to Dib, who was rising to his feet once more, knife in hand. He wiped some blood on his sleeve and grinned wickedly at her, unfazed by the small spot of blood beginning to stain the shirt over his stomach.

            She faltered, the terror that was thrumming beneath the anger and adrenaline finally reached the surface. The man who killed Pacifica... who killed all those people. Her eyes flicked past him. The kitchen.

            Wendy lunged into a sprint, darting past the couch and past Dib in a mad dash. Dib's eyes widened and he chased, right on her heels. Oh no you don't! he thought as she collided with the counter, scrambling for a knife. 

            Dib dove forward and plunged his knife into her shoulder, pulling her back towards him, empty-handed. She let out a blood curdling scream as she was dragged backwards. She struggled to dislodge Dib and the blade from her flesh, but it only sunk in deeper, eliciting another agonized scream.

            No, no, no! Dipper fought down the intense pain and nausea and forced himself up on shaking limbs. He stumbled towards the kitchen, towards the thrashing forms of Dib and Wendy. They were smears of orange and black, twisting and battling and screaming against the stark white of the kitchen.  

            Dib grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled the knife free. He looped his free hand around her front and held on as she bucked like a wild animal against him. He looked up with a smirk. Dipper was back on his feet—tenacious, stubborn boy—and coming to the rescue.

            Wendy saw him, too. Her wide, terrified eyes met his and her mouth opened in a shout. Dipper rushed forward, his feet hit the tile as Dib's knife raised.

            "Don't!" The scream ripped from Dipper's throat, but it was too late.

            Wendy's green eyes bulged and her hands came up to claw at her throat. Blood poured down the front of her shirt. Dib dragged the blade across the side of her neck and to the front, the flesh parting under his touch like paper, and then he stepped back. Dark red arterial blood sprayed in gushes, hitting Dipper's face as Wendy spun and dropped to her knees, choking and gurgling. 

            A horrified wail escaped Dipper. His eyes followed her down, not even paying any mind to Dib standing just behind her. Dipper dropped to his knees, hands shakily reaching out to where her’s uselessly clutched at her neck as her life escaped through her fingers. She looked into his eyes as she trembled and choked on her own blood. It almost looked like an apology.

            Dipper sobbed incoherently, not able to form words. Wendy tried to stand back up but slipped on the bloody tile underfoot, falling and laying there. There was so much red. All over their clothes, their skin, the floor, the cupboards. Dib stood back and watched Dipper kneeling in her blood, trying pitifully to put pressure on the gash. This blood was so dark, darker than any Dipper had seen before. Wendy's eyes stared up at the ceiling as her body convulsed, laying on her back. Her hands slipped from her neck and fell to her sides with a wet slap. 

            "No!" Dipper wailed, tears running down his face. His trembling hands were slick with red where he held them to her throat. With each beat of her heart, more blood fled from her body and onto his hands. There was so fucking much of it. So much blood. Her eyelids fluttered. The gushing slowed. Dipper stayed there, sobbing and holding her neck even as her eyes stopped blinking. 

            Dib wiped the blood off of his knife, staying silent. Dipper fell forward and let his head fall onto Wendy's bloody chest, his body shaking with grief. Dib slid his knife back in his pocket and crouched down next to him, placing a hand on the small of his back.

            Dipper sat back up and turned his tear-streaked face to Dib. Blood stuck in his bangs and lingered on his cheeks, running pink where the tears cut through. 

            "Why?" he sobbed softly.

            "I had to. She was going to ruin everything, she was getting in the way," Dib said. "You shouldn't have come here." 

            Dipper sniffled and bared his teeth in anger. "You didn't f-fucking have to! Why!? Why do you do this? Why don't you fucking leave me alone!?" he screamed. Dib rubbed his back soothingly and leaned in closer as Dipper hiccuped.

            "Because I love you, Dipper," Dib said, and pressed a gentle kiss to Dipper’s temple. “I'm in love with you.” 

            Dipper's breath caught in his throat. "Nnno, no, no, no..." Dipper muttered incomprehensibly, shaking his head weakly. Don't say that! Not that, not now, don't fucking say that! His heart constricted in his chest painfully. He looked back down at Wendy and let out another agonized cry. It was all too much.

            Dib wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders and pulled him in. Dipper's head fell onto Dib's shoulder and he sobbed into it, letting him wrap his other arm around him. Dib held him in his arms while he cried. His embrace felt warm. I hate you, Dipper thought. I hate you so fucking much. He closed his eyes against Dib's soothing whispers, too tired to fight the fact that he found comfort in Dib’s affection, as horrible and twisted as that was. Several long minutes went by, and Dipper's sobs died down and became pitiful sniffling. His eyes stared into nothing.

            "You're not just walking away from this," Dipper croaked into Dib's bloody shirt. "You aren't getting away with this." Dib's chest shook with a chuckle.

            "Of course I am." He rubbed circles into Dipper's back. "You might not, though."

            Dipper pulled away, staring at Dib's calm expression with disbelief and outrage.

            "What?" Dipper said quietly. Dib smiled almost sadly.

            "Mm, well..." He looked sideways at Wendy's body. "I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve. I can easily have never been here, but you..." Dib patted Dipper's bloody cheek and he flinched. "You were the last one here. You knew her. You love her. The cops can pin this on you, easy."

            Dipper's eyes glazed over. He looked numbly down at Wendy's vacant gaze, and then down at himself, covered in her blood. What would he say? If he told the cops about Dib, he would slip away and kill Mabel too, just to punish him further. Both he and Wendy had wounds that corresponded with a fight. Dib hadn't broken in, so he couldn't claim it was a random burglar in an apartment building. And he knew the police would be hungry for an arrest, with all of the bad press lately...

            "That is..." Dib continued. He twirled one of Dipper's curls around his finger. "...unless you ask for my help." 

            Dipper looked back at Dib and sharply exhaled through his nose. No. No, you're not seriously—

            "I can make this all go away, baby. No one will know." He held Dipper's face gently in his hands. "You won't go to jail and your family won't hate you. Imagine what Mabel would think." 

            Dipper trembled and choked back a whimper. "Y-you're a monster." 

            "So are you, babe!" Dib laughed. "I mean, pfft, look at the mess you made!"

            "I didn't fucking do this!" Dipper shouted, slapping Dib's hands away.

            "Mm," Dib hummed and patted the top of Dipper’s head. "Tell that to the cops." He stood up and walked away.

            Dipper sat there, the pool of Wendy's blood that soaked into his jeans was quickly becoming cold. He glanced up at the knife block Wendy had been going for. He looked back down. What would he do? Call the cops and have them find him here, like this? What would he tell Mabel? Panic rose in his throat and tears pricked his eyes.

            "W-wait," he hiccuped softly, turning to Dib’s retreating form. "Wait!" 

            Dib stopped and turned back around, putting his hands on his hips smugly. "Yes?"

            Dipper’s lip trembled and everything within him screamed in protest, but what could he do? As the words left his mouth, he felt something deep inside him crack. He felt something break, irreversibly. Tears slipped down his cheeks. He was so, so tired. Tired of fighting. 

            “I-I...don’t know what to do,” he mumbled. Dib raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. “H-help me,” he choked out. 

            Dib smiled. For a moment longer, he just stood and watched his boy kneeling and crying pathetically in a pool of blood. It was a delicious sight, Dipper covered in blood and sitting in front of a corpse. He cracked his neck and sighed, not hiding his satisfaction. 

            “Of course I will, love,” he purred and came back over to Dipper, crouching down and cradling his face in one hand. Dib’s face flushed at the sight of blood smearing across Dipper’s skin, covering his cute freckles. He leaned in and kissed him. Dipper closed his eyes and let out a weak sob, but didn't pull away until Dib did.

            “I hate you,” Dipper’s breath hitched. “I hate you.”

            “No you don’t. It’s why you can’t bring yourself to take one of those knives and kill me.” Dib gave Dipper another quick kiss and stood back up. 

            Dipper said nothing and stared blankly ahead, as if waiting to wake up from the nightmare. But it didn’t end. He was still soaked in drying blood, he was still aching where Dib had hit him, he was still broken, and Wendy was still dead on the floor.

            Dib clapped his hands on his thighs. “Alrighty! I have an idea,” he said pleasantly. Dipper shuddered. “This isn’t normally how I do things, but I think this one will have to go away, if you catch my drift.”

            “...What?” Dipper asked numbly, his eyes sluggishly trailed up to look at the taller boy.

            “Wendy is going to disappear, go missing,” Dib said. 

            “What? No!” Dipper rose to his feet, shaking. He grabbed the counter to steady himself. “That’s not... That’s fucked! Her family...no one will know!”

            “That’s the point, Dipper. I told you, not how I normally do things! But this is for your sake.” Dib wiped his hands and took out his phone, tapping out a message.

            “How?” Dipper said through gritted teeth.

            “It’s okay, you're new to this so I’ll spell it out,” Dib said, and Dipper prickled at the condescending tone. Dib tucked his phone away and fixed his attention back on Dipper. He lifted one finger. “One girl getting murdered in your life is just an unfortunate tragedy. Two is a pattern. You may already be a suspect, this might give them the go ahead to arrest you. It’ll be obvious it’s more than a coincidence.”

            Dipper’s throat tightened up. Arrested for Dib’s murders, wouldn’t that be just my luck, he thought bitterly. He looked down at Wendy’s body, chin and chest covered in blood and eyes staring dead at the ceiling. Dipper quickly looked away and squeezed his eyes shut. Was he really going to do this? Be party to covering up a murder, just to save his own skin?

            He really was a piece of shit, a monster, just like Dib said.

            “Fine,” Dipper said in a tiny voice. “What... what do we do?”

            “Well first we need to clean up as best as we can! This is a pretty big mess. Ugh, and I busted my stitches, too...” Dib turned and walked off towards the bathroom, grumbling to himself.

            Dipper’s stomach twisted at Wendy being referred to as a mess, but it was done. It was over. He had gotten two important people in his life killed. 

            He numbly followed Dib to the bathroom and gathered what supplies they could. Dib directed Dipper where to get started and he left him behind to clean with the supplies they had, as Dib cleaned up himself and left to go get more. 

            Dipper felt like he wasn’t in his body. He could distantly feel the rubber gloves on his hands, feel the cold water and cleaning solution trying to soak through them, feel the motion of his hands scrubbing... but he wasn’t there. It was like being on autopilot, or being possessed. He had no idea how long Dib was gone, and barely registered his return, even as Dib passed him a large sponge to start soaking up the blood pool and getting it into a bucket. 

            Dib began to work alongside him, taking bleach out and meticulously going over everything. Every little nook and cranny was inspected, every crack in the tile, every grain in painted wood, every inch of the walls, and even the ceiling above the kitchen. Dipper watched him exploring the apartment for a moment, but went back to his own work.

            What felt like hours later, Dipper was sore from scrubbing and kneeling, and the kitchen was starting to look white again. They had gathered Wendy’s body up in a big translucent plastic sheet, wrapping her up multiple times and then securing the bundle with duct tape. He and Dib lifted it and carried it out of the kitchen, before going back and finishing off the meticulous eradication of blood in the area. 

            After that, Dib led Dipper over to sit on one of the nearby dining chairs and he cleaned his shoes with bleach, so as not to track any more blood around. After, they spot cleaned the carpets with shampoo and distilled bleach, removing every little drop and smear of blood. Dipper supposed some of it may be his own, but he didn’t think about it, he didn't think about anything. Dib wiped down every inch of the place—door handles he had touched, walls, counters, every surface—to erase his presence. He even vacuumed for good measure.

            In the bathroom, the boys worked at draining the gallons of bloody water down the bath drain. Dib helped Dipper remove his blood soaked clothes, smiling and pressing light kisses into the boy’s skin as he did. Dipper barely felt it. He stepped into Wendy’s shower and turned the handle to hot. He flinched at the sudden loud rushing of water, and ignored the sting of the heat as he washed Wendy's blood away. He washed her blood off of his face, out of his hair, out from under his fingernails. He scrubbed his arms of it, his legs, his neck, even his damn feet where some had soaked through his shoes. It was everywhere, everywhere, sticky and falling away in clumps under the spray of hot water. Dipper distantly felt himself begin to cry again as he scrubbed violently at himself. He couldn't bear another second with Wendy's blood clinging to his skin. 

            When he was finally satisfied, he stepped out, his skin pink and steaming. He ignored the way Dib smiled and eyed him up, and changed into some store-fresh clothes Dib had brought. The rush of water filled the room again when Dib hopped in the shower after him, and when he was done, he scrubbed every surface of the tub with bleach and dumped the rest down the drain.

            The sun had long set by the time they were done. Dipper looked around at the space. There was an uncanny feeling in his body, like the ground was spinning under his feet. It was... like nothing had ever happened. It was exactly like it was when he had visited the other day. Even the broken picture frame had been replaced and hung back up on the wall. It was like nothing happened, and Wendy would walk out of the other room, smiling and calling Dipper over to look at some dumb picture on her phone.

            But he looked down, and there was the body wrapped in plastic, lying in the middle of the floor. He was glad it was thick enough that he couldn't make out the details of her face, but he could still see the faded orange and green—and the splotch of red. 

            “How are we supposed to get this out of here?” Dipper asked quietly, voice hoarse from not speaking for the last few hours. 

            “Hmm...” Dib hummed thoughtfully. He retrieved another black garbage bag from one of Wendy’s cupboards, another one nearby already containing their discarded clothes and cleaning supplies. Dib had even gotten some extras to replace the ones they used. Not a trace left behind.

            “Hey, help me with this,” Dib said. Dipper blinked and snapped out of the droning white noise in his thoughts. Dib opened the garbage bag and gave it a swing through air before setting it next to Wendy’s body.

            “She’s not gonna fit,” Dipper mumbled.

            “Help me bend the legs,” Dib replied as he began lifting Wendy’s knees to her chest, though the thick plastic wrapping made it difficult. Dipper swallowed back a wave of nausea and leaned down to help him. He held Wendy’s body in place and helped Dib pull the big garbage bag up and around her. He felt sick, but was infinitely thankful that he couldn’t really feel her through the plastic layers. It was still her body, though. He was holding her, packing her away, folding her up like she was just an object. It was sick. 

            And then she was in the bag. Dipper shuddered and turned away, wrapping his arms around himself.

            “There.” Dib tied off the bag and clapped his hands together.

            “People are still gonna see us,” Dipper said with his back turned. “There’s cameras. You don’t think us carrying a bunch of garbage out will look suspicious? Not to mention all the cleaning supplies you bought.” Dipper turned to look at him over his shoulder.

            “Don’t worry about all of that, I have it handled. How do you think I’ve evaded the pigs for so long?” Dib winked at him. Dipper didn’t react.

            “Whatever. What are we doing, then?”

            “Carrying it out to your car.”

            “What!?”

            “Oh, calm down. It’s all sealed tight.” Dib chuckled. “C’mon.”

            Dib lifted the bag of clothes and cleaning supplies in one hand easily, but waited for Dipper’s help with the other. Dipper reluctantly walked over and lifted it in his arms, struggling even with Dib’s support. It was heavy, of course it was, it was a dead fucking body. The boys made it over to the door and Dib opened it for them with a covered hand, still helping Dipper with one arm. Side by side, the two of them shuffled down the hall and into the elevator. Dipper set Wendy down as the doors closed and it descended, breathing a bit heavy.

            “You're pretty strong!” Dib chuckled. 

            Not strong enough, clearly, Dipper thought, and said nothing aloud. The elevator dinged, the doors slid open. Dib helped Dipper hoist the bag with Wendy's body back into his arms and they went out into the cold air. Dipper popped the trunk when they approached, and the bags were lifted and dumped inside. A few people walked down the sidewalk by them, but never stopped. Dipper felt more alien than he ever had before. He was in a different world entirely, he had a dead fucking body in his trunk. Wendy’s dead body. That he was helping Dib get rid of. 

            Dipper leaned against his car as he got lightheaded and dizzy for a moment. How did everything in his life become so bad in just the span of a few months? It was unbelievable, and yet here he was.

            “Hey, wait in the car for a moment, babe. I’ll be back in a few,” Dib said gently to him. Dipper looked up and into his eyes, his own strained and distraught. His eyelids fluttered. Dib saw the expression and leaned in to give Dipper a kiss, as some kind of comforting gesture Dipper supposed, and opened the passenger side for him. 

            Dipper got in and let Dib close the car door behind him with a thud, muffling the sound of wind and the occasional whoosh of a vehicle going past. This is insane. I’m insane, what am I doing? Dipper held his head in his hands, trying not to cry. I’m a bad person. I’m terrible, I’m a coward, I... He had let Dib comfort him as he cried over Wendy's body. And Dib said that he loved him. The admission cut him deeper than any knife ever could. Dipper wasn’t ready to admit it yet. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge the pit of emotion in his chest, not that, not yet. Maybe never, if he could help it.

            Dib returned and popped the trunk, lifting something inside and then slamming it shut again. Dipper raised his head as Dib slipped into the driver’s seat beside him.

            “What was that?” Dipper handed Dib the keys to his car when the boy reached out for them.

            “Hm?” Dib perked up. He twisted the key and the engine came to life. “Oh, a suitcase. Making it look like she just ran off somewhere will muddy the waters of any missing person’s reports.”

            Dipper’s jaw flexed as he grimaced. He hated this. He hated that he was doing this to everyone, all of her family and friend’s might never get closure. She will have just... disappeared, with no explanation. Never to be seen again. And he would have to look them in the eye knowing that he had helped get her killed, and helped her killer hide the body. It was fucked. He was so fucked. At least Pacifica was getting a funeral. This new secret would break him under its weight, even more than he already was. It would destroy him.

            “You should just kill me,” Dipper murmured, eyes staring ahead like he was seeing a ghost. Maybe he was haunted, he certainly deserved to be. 

            “What?” Dib quirked an eyebrow at him. “No, I’m not doing that. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

            Dipper swallowed some bile in his throat. Maybe Dib was right. Death was too good for him. He was once again looking for an easy out, someone else to save him from his problems. And look where that had gotten him.

            The car had been given time to warm up now, so Dib finally pulled out and began driving. Where to, Dipper didn’t know or care. He watched snowflakes dart through the headlight beams before disappearing once more into darkness.

            “None of this had to happen, you know,” Dib said, keeping his eyes on the road. He paused for a beat and continued when Dipper didn’t reply. “You’ve done this to yourself.”

            “Shut up,” Dipper growled weakly. “Don’t talk to me right now.”

            Dib rolled his eyes and continued driving in silence for a while. Eventually, he linked his phone up to the car and started playing some music. Then, after a bit of driving and Dipper staring out of the window with unfocused eyes, they stopped. Dipper looked around in confusion. They were still in the city. Was Dib just going to dump the bags somewhere and hope they weren’t found? He looked sideways and realized where they were.

            “What the hell? Why are we at my fucking apartment?” Dipper turned his bewildered glare towards Dib.

            “Get out of the car, Dipper,” Dib replied. 

            “What the fuck!? No, I’m not—!”

            “I can handle the rest on my own.” Dib fixed him with a firm, calm gaze. “You’ve helped enough. You’re in this now, you're complicit. But I can also tell you're having a hard time, so go back home and let me do the rest.”

            “I don't...” Dipper paused. Was this some kind of trick?

            “I’ll bring your car back, don’t worry.” Dib chuckled at the obvious distrust in Dipper’s eyes. “Go on! Don’t try anything funny, and I won’t either. We’re partners now! In both senses of the word, heh.”

            “We are not.” Dipper glared.

            “What else would you call two people who just cleaned up a ton of blood and shoved a dead body into a garbage bag together?” 

            Dipper flinched.

            “Go sleep or something,” Dib continued, and nudged at Dipper’s shoulder. Dipper said nothing for a long moment, but... Dib was right, he was exhausted. He didn’t think he could handle whatever Dib had planned to actually get rid of the body, this whole ordeal had already left him broken.

            “Fine.” Dipper turned to click the door open, but Dib pulled him back by the collar of his new shirt. Dib’s lips collided with his in a kiss. Dipper froze for a moment, but then Dib leaned back and released him.

            “I love you, Dipper Pines,” Dib smiled lazily at him. Dipper’s chest hurt, his eyes stung.

            “Fuck you,” he replied with no real venom to his voice and got out of the car, followed by Dib’s laughter. He waited in the cold for a moment and watched Dib drive off in his car, into the night. Taking Wendy with him. The last time he would ever have seen her. Or anyone else would, for that matter.

            Dipper entered his building and stumbled up the stairs, getting a few odd looks from other residents, and stepped into his apartment. It was dark and quiet. Empty. He clicked the door shut behind him. Dipper lingered there for a few minutes, with his back against the door, just staring into the grainy darkness of his apartment. 

            Dipper touched his bruised nose and winced. Good thing I still have some makeup left to cover this up, he thought, and laughed bitterly to himself. Then he went to his room and opened his closet, pulled out a small travel suitcase, and began packing some changes of clothes. He still had a funeral to go to, after all.

Chapter Text

            Dipper's fingertips brushed across his cheek. He peered at his haggard reflection in the mirror, searching for the slight discoloration of the skin that signaled where the scar was. Even though he knew it was there, it was still difficult to see where the mark had healed over. But Dipper found it, and ran his thumb over the tiny faint line. It was where Dib had cut him the first time they’d met face to face, a moment that felt like a lifetime ago despite it only having been a few months. It still felt like a bad dream.

            You can’t skip the funeral, you’ve got to act like everything is normal, Dib’s voice echoed in Dipper’s head, something Dib told him the day before his flight out to Oregon. Just play the part, you know nothing about Wendy.

            As if that was so simple.

            Dipper’s hand started to tremble violently. He pulled it away from the scar and looked down at the bathroom sink. He couldn’t hide in here forever, despite how badly he wanted to. He wanted so desperately to just run away from it all.

            Dipper had been avoiding his family like the plague ever since he stepped off the bus in Gravity Falls yesterday. He had to. Every time Soos and his wife, or his parents, or even Mabel, spoke to him, asked him how he was... his skin crawled as if thousands of insects were gnawing at him.

            There was some comfort in being back, though. As he'd stepped off the bus, snow crunching underfoot, a wave of nostalgia hit him. Dipper may have grown up in California, but Gravity Falls had always been his home. It was beautiful. A frozen dusting of snow covered everything, glittering like crystals in the sunlight. Icicles hung off pine branches, little blades of grass poked out through the snow, and the cold air felt crisp in his lungs. For a moment, everything was fine. He had felt alive again. Almost happy. 

            Dipper’s gaze lifted back to his reflection, settling on the dark bags under his eyes. 

            Dib never told him exactly what he did with Wendy’s body, only that he ‘took care of it’. For the last few nights, Dipper laid awake in his bed, tossing and turning, his mind full of grotesque images of Wendy’s body: burning with red flame, the smoke curling towards the dark sky, her flesh bubbling and falling off the bone; cut into pieces with a bonesaw, taken out to the middle of nowhere and buried, or maybe dissolved, her dead face being eaten away by either worms or acid... 

            How does someone pretend to be normal when a few days ago they were scrubbing gallons of blood off of kitchen tile? 

            It was different with Paz; at least he could share that grief with others. He was not only alone with the trauma of Wendy’s death, but he was also an accomplice. Dipper couldn’t feel safe with his family ever again, because if any of them ever found out what he’d done... He couldn’t bear to think about it.

            Dipper could still feel that chasm inside of him from when he had broken under the weight of Wendy’s murder. Part of him died that day along with her. The person that knelt in her blood, with his arms covered in it, trying hopelessly to stop her from bleeding out... that was not the same person that had stuffed her stiffening corpse into a garbage bag to put in the trunk of his car. Dipper was changed. Something inhuman had crawled inside, like a parasite puppeting his corpse. He couldn't shake the feeling of free-falling into nothingness, untethered from the real world. He wasn't in control of his own life, of his own body. 

            When he exited the bathroom, he felt numb, almost like he was gliding across the carpeted floor instead of dragging his feet. Mabel’s head perked up at his return, already with a concerned expression on her face that made Dipper’s stomach writhe. She immediately reached up towards his undone tie, and jumped back into their conversation from earlier.

            “Are you sure about it, Dipper? It’s better to be around friends and family, I don’t like the idea of you sitting alone in some hotel room tonight.” Mabel’s hands looped the tie around itself into a knot and she gave it a tug, settling it around Dipper’s neck. Her voice was laced with worry, pinching her thin eyebrows together. Her eyelids had just a touch of dark makeup, like a stormcloud sitting over her green-brown eyes. It was a little odd to see her in eyeshadow that wasn’t a pop of color—or anything about her dress not being colorful and full of life, for that matter—but today she was in black. A black dress down to her knees, with a sheer black cropped overshirt. Her cheeks were pink, but Dipper couldn’t tell if it was from the cold outside, or if she had put on blush. It would make sense if she had; even he had the mind to look his best for Pacifica.

            “Yes, I’m sure.” Dipper grabbed the tie from her hands and loosened it a bit. She took it back and tightened it up around his collar. Dipper sighed. “Seriously, Mabes, I just... I’m fine. I'm just not really up to interacting with people afterwards, it's hard enough to be here as is.” 

            Mabel frowned, clearly not satisfied with the answer despite being sympathetic to the sentiment, but then their Grunkles approached. Mabel forced a smile onto her face and turned to greet them.

            “Whoah, kid!” His Grunkle Stan’s gruff voice exclaimed as he held his arms wide, taking in Dipper’s tailored black suit and tie. The wrinkles on his stubbled face stretched when he smiled. “I haven’t seen you look so spiffy since you were a boy!”

            “He is still a boy, Stanley.” Ford walked up at his side, hands tucked behind him. The light streaks in his already gray hair were more prominent than the last time Dipper had seen him. 

            “It’s as weird as seeing you all dressed up, Grunkle Ford!” Mabel grinned at him. Ford’s ears turned pink and he looked down at himself in a suit that matched Grunkle Stan’s, though, where Stan’s undershirt was white, Ford’s was steel gray. “It looks good.”

            “Ah, well... thank you, dear.” Grunkle Ford chuckled and cleared his throat, suddenly being put on the spot.

            “The old bugger cleans up well, eh?” Grunkle Stan elbowed his twin in the arm, laughing. “Not as well as me, of course.” Ford rolled his eyes, but there was a small smirk there.

            “Of course,” Dipper agreed with a quirk of his lips. Almost a smile.

            The moment didn’t last long, however, as Stan leaned in closer to Mabel and Dipper and wrapped his big arms around them both. 

            “Real sorry about the Northwest girl, kids. I know you both liked her,” Stan’s voice softened. He pulled back. Dipper felt himself stop breathing.

            “Yes, she was a nice girl. What happened was truly terrible. It is a difficult thing to cope with, being brought face to face with the brutality mankind can exhibit.” Ford’s brow furrowed when he looked at the twins. Dipper averted his gaze. “I'm so sorry for what you two went through. I am sure whoever did this will be brought to justice.”

            “That’s goddamn right!” Stan agreed, cracking his knuckles for emphasis and ignoring Stanford chiding him for his language. Mabel just gave them both a weak smile. Her eyes looked tired.

            Unlikely, Dipper thought to himself. He thought of Dib, the boy’s face appearing in Dipper’s mind like an apparition out of the darkness. Dipper’s skin prickled uncomfortably with the phantom feeling of warm blood. He cleared his throat.

            “Yeah, she was great, thank you,” he said, more terse than he meant to, and walked away quickly. The air felt hard to breath, stuffy, and thin. Kind of how he imagined being nailed in a coffin and buried alive would feel like.

            People were milling about around the dim room with gold accents on the walls; the entrance hall of the church Pacifica’s parents picked out. He looked back and saw Stan giving his and Mabel’s mother a hug, and Ford shaking their father’s hand. Dipper looked around at the crowd of strangers adorned in black, and he was stricken with a deep permeating feeling that he shouldn't be here. 

            The secret of Wendy's death was a swarm of writhing maggots devouring him from within, and Dipper had no idea how no one around him seemed to notice. Was it truly that easy to blend in? Did Dib feel like this, too? Like a living corpse biding its time amongst warm bodies until the moment came to devour them. Ha, that would explain why Dib always felt so cold to the touch. Dipper chuckled under his breath, but it sounded hollow. 

            The whole thing was so surreal, but Dipper was still terrified that someone would notice him, see how he was an intruder, a liar. It itched under his skin and, without realizing, he found himself scratching his arms feverishly.

            He felt a prickle on the back of his neck and turned.

            Mabel was staring right at him, piercing into him with her intense gaze. Their eyes met from across the room. Dipper felt like throwing up. If anyone was going to realize his true nature, his guilt, it would be her. His twin, his other half. She knew him better than anyone. She could see into his soul, and find it stained black under Dib's touch. Guilt, guilty, this was all his fault, she'll find out, she'll know.

            Sweat beaded on his forehead and his hands became clammy. He couldn’t breathe. It was too warm, suffocating, claustrophobic. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Panic crawled into his throat. There were too many people, too many eyes to look at him. He needed to get away, he needed to get the fuck out of here—! 

            He slammed through the front doors and out into the cold winter air, apologizing under his breath as he passed some people he didn’t recognize entering the building. Dipper stumbled off to the side of the cement path leading up to the church and leaned over, resting his hands on his legs and sucking in panicked breaths. 

            I can’t do this, I can’t... He squeezed his eyes shut and focused. They’re all going to be suspicious of me... No! No, they should just think I’m upset. It’s a fucking funeral, everyone is barely holding their shit together too, right? He had to calm down. It was fine, everything was fine. 

            The huge cross on the roof of the church loomed over him, accusatory in its immense size. Someone glanced sideways at him as they passed, and Dipper wanted to tear their throat out for it. Don't fucking look at me! Don't look at me! He grit his teeth.

            "Dipper, are you okay?" 

            Dipper jumped and whipped around. Mabel had apparently followed him outside. She hugged herself, shivering slightly in the cold despite the sun shining brightly on them. She fixed him with that same concerned expression that made Dipper’s chest feel tight with guilt and shame. He blinked slowly, willing the numb, disconnected feeling to return to his body. He just had to bury it, hide it, act normal.

            "You don't have sleeves, let's go back in," Dipper said simply, and walked past her, motioning her to follow him back to the glass doors that led inside. Mabel stared after him, stunned at his sudden change in demeanor.

            "That doesn't answer my question..." she muttered under her breath, but Dipper was already holding the door open for her expectantly. They stepped back into the warmth of the building. It was getting more and more crowded as it got closer to time.

            "She knew a lot of people, huh?" Dipper commented to Mabel as he looked around. There were some around their age here, too. Dipper didn't know if they were people from Rocksburg or perhaps high-school friends, and he didn't care. It didn't really matter, Dipper didn't know any of them anyway. But his eyes nervously scanned the crowd for anyone he would recognize—blonde or red hair, specifically—that he would desperately avoid. 

            Mabel’s brow furrowed as she looked sideways at her brother with a deepening frown.

            "Dipper, seriously, you're acting a bit—" Mabel was cut off by the sound of thick wooden doors being swung open and clunking into place. A man called out for people to start filtering into the worship hall to be seated. Mabel watched the back of Dipper’s head as he walked away from her, either oblivious or apathetic to her attempts to reach out. Before she could go after him, Candy sidled up next to her and linked their arms together. Mabel forced a smile.

            Dipper almost felt himself shrink as he entered the large room. The ceilings rose to a point, high above their heads and criss-crossed with rafters. Sunlight filtered in through large windows on the sides, illuminating the rows and rows of wooden pews. He had never really gone to church as a child, so the space was discomforting and unfamiliar. He stepped aside to let other people pass him down the aisle and find seats, while his eyes fixed straight ahead at the end of the room.

            A wooden stage of sorts raised out of the floor by several inches. There was something like a podium off to the right—a pulpit?—and a big photograph of Pacifica on the left. His eyes didn’t linger on it. Instead, they stared at the casket sitting center-stage, closed, made of rich dark brown wood and gleaming in the sunlight. It looked expensive, but that figured. It sat on a bed of white lilies and carnations, and beyond it... a rainbow of broken light glowed over the scene, cast from a huge, breathtaking stained glass window depicting Jesus. Purples, pinks, blues, greens, yellow; Dipper was surprised something this impressive even existed in Gravity Falls. 

            “Mason!”

            Dipper snapped out of his enrapture at the sound of a woman hissing his real name. He glanced around, startled, and saw his mother motioning him over, her eyebrows knitted like she had been calling him for a bit and had to resort to his birth name to get his attention. Dipper sheepishly made his way over to his parents, weaving around lines of people taking their seats. He mumbled an apology and sat next to her, Mabel on the opposite side in between Candy and their father—a large man with a dark beard, though gray hairs were overtaking it now. 

            Dipper stared at his hands, trying to keep his mind off of the overwhelming amount of sound around him. So many people talking to each other, sniffling, shifting in seats, coughing, crying. God it was so much. Dipper desperately wished he’d had something to drink before coming, but he didn’t want to be that fuckin’ guy who showed up to a funeral drunk. Maybe afterwards. He was probably going to skip the reception anyway, appearances be damned. He was barely holding it together as it was. 

            He felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out.

            Mabel: have you seen Wendy? Is she here yet?

            Dipper hesitated. He bowed his head low, praying that no one saw the look of pain that flashed over his face. 

            Dipper: no. idk

            He typed back and hit send, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His mother's hand gently swatted his leg.

            “Put that away,” she chided quietly.

            Dipper obeyed without a word, still staring at the ground under his feet. For the briefest of moments, he imagined the church roof collapsing and killing them all. How ironic would that be, to be killed in a church, while at a funeral? Dipper slid a hand down his face to hide the smirk there, though it was more of a strained grimace. I'm losing my fucking mind.

            He heard Mabel choke on a gasp suddenly. His head snapped up, and the breath caught in his own throat as well. No way, no way. Are they really...!? No one fucking told us it was—

            Two people from the church had opened the casket and latched the lid, propping it up. An open casket. They were doing a fucking open casket funeral and no one had told him and Mabel. Dipper craned his neck sideways to see his sister. Mabel’s eyes were blown wide with shock and horror, her hands slapped over her mouth. 

            Both their parents and Candy turned to comfort her in hushed voices, but Mabel couldn’t stop the choked sob from slipping out. Dipper saw a few heads turn. Mabel’s eyes burned into the casket, into the girl laying within. She probably thought she'd never see her again, the last time either of them did was the night she was killed. Mabel stood up and pushed her way out of the pews. People murmured to eachother as she went running out of the chapel, tears streaking down her face.

            “Fuck, what the fuck,” Dipper hissed under his breath.

            “Did no one tell her?” Their mother whispered, her voice laden with worry.

            “No, no one told us,” Dipper said with a hard edge to his voice. He quickly got to his feet as well, stepping around others sitting next to them and hurrying out of the hall after his twin. Eyes burned into his back, but he ignored it. He had more important things to worry about. 

            Dipper found Mabel at the far corner of the entrance hall, curled up in a ball and sobbing loudly. Her hands clawed at her hair, mussing the perfect curls. Dipper approached and crouched beside her, just as shaken by the shock of it and at a loss for words. He silently put a hand on her back as she shook with muffled screams, just to let her know he was there with her. 

            “She—she—!” Mabel choked out.

            “I know,” he replied.

            Dipper flinched when suddenly another, larger, body knelt down next to them. A big, rough-looking hand laid itself on Mabel’s shoulder next to Dipper’s. Grunkle Stan nodded solemnly to Dipper.

            “I’ve got her,” he said, his voice a rumble in his throat. His eyes looked weary behind his large glasses frames. “Are you good, kid?”

            Dipper blinked and swallowed the knot in his throat. He took a breath, then another.

            “I don’t know,” he finally said.

            “You should go see her, if you can manage. Say goodbye,” Grunkle Stan said softly, gently. 

            Dipper inhaled sharply. The thought of it was horrifying. To go up and see Paz’s dead body again? Look her in her face, cold and lifeless, and feel her looking back at him in accusation. You killed me, he could hear her say. You are the reason I am dead and bound for the dirt. But could he ever forgive himself if he didn't do it? 

            “I don't know,” he said in a tiny voice.

            “Take your time, kiddo. The wake will last for a bit,” Stan rubbed circles into Mabel’s shoulders as she shook violently, her fingernails digging into her skin and turning it pink. “I think you should try. Better to remember her this way, than...” He frowned. “It'll help.”

            “Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right...”

            “C’mere,” Stan said gruffly and pulled him into a hug along with Mabel. Dipper shuddered. It took every ounce of strength to not shatter into a million pieces right then and there. Mabel clutched Stan’s other arm, now wrapped around her, and sobbed against it.

            Dipper met his Grunkle’s gaze and gave him a stiff nod, before pulling away and standing up. His breath hitched as he walked away from them, stopping to lean against the wall and squeeze his eyes shut for a few minutes. He could still hear Mabel crying across the room, now burying her face in Grunkle Stan’s shoulder. Candy appeared through the doorway and hurried over to her, throwing her arms around the girl as well. Dipper dragged his eyes away and looked back towards the chapel entrance.

            Just... do it quickly . Dipper took a deep breath, steeled himself, and walked back into the chapel. Small groups were lined up all the way to the front, stepping up to Pacifica’s body for a moment as they bid their goodbyes. Some seemed to lay a trinket or flower with her, others cried and looked away, clinging to the person next to them. Dipper ignored his parents' gazes as he walked past where they were seated.

            As he waited in the scattered line, he felt his mind drifting away. A familiar numb, autopilot feeling came over him. His face was blank, a mask of unfeeling, a zombie—just as he'd been during the cleanup of Wendy’s apartment. Like slogging through a dream, Dipper found himself stepping up to the casket and looking down on her. 

            Her eyes were closed. She was dressed nicely, in a dark maroon dress that came up to her neck, covering her chest completely. Dipper wondered if they put something under her dress to keep the shape, to hide the hole. Or did they crack her ribs back into place and sew it shut? Did they put her heart back first?

            Without thinking, Dipper reached out and touched her face. It was almost as if she could be sleeping. But Dipper could feel the thick layer of makeup on her skin. He could see the unnatural coating of blush, trying to make you forget that she was gray and bloodless underneath. She was cold and stiff to the touch, but... she looked peaceful in death. 

            His fingertips brushed against her perfectly splayed hair, blonde and beautiful and a little longer than it had been before. Dipper’s vision swam. He realized his eyes were watering. He laid a hand over her chest, where her heart would be, if it was there, and he spoke.

            “I’m sorry, Pacifica. I’m so sorry.” 

            He wiped away a tear that almost slipped down his cheek and then turned and marched away from the casket, away from her body. A severe look tightened on his face, his lips were thin, his eyes were distant. Anyone looking at him from the pews would see only a somewhat frightening steely-cold glare as Dipper walked back down the aisle, staring ahead at nothing.

            He took a seat next to his parents once more, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. He ignored them as they tried to speak. He said nothing. Dipper Pines was far away, on the frostbitten grass of a park, staring into Pacifica’s cold blue eyes, with her hands holding her heart out to him.

            He didn’t cry.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Mabel went up to see Pacifica a few minutes after Dipper, accompanied by Grunkle Stan for support. As she stepped up to the bed of flowers, her hand tightened in an iron grip on his arm, like he was the only thing tethering her to the earth. She let out a loud sob and reached out to touch her hair, before recoiling and throwing herself into Grunkle Stan’s arms. He said nothing and led her back to their seats, where Candy spoke in hushed words to her, trying to comfort her.

            Then, the ceremony began. Religious music played loudly over the sounds of people quietly crying in their seats, reverberating up through the rafters. A pastor started reciting some shit from the Bible Dipper didn’t know, and then other people were talking. He tuned it all out, head bent down in his hands to stare at his shoes. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted a fucking drink. He wanted to be so far away, literally anywhere else. He—

            “Pacifica was... she was one of the most incredible people I’ve ever known.”

            Dipper abruptly sat up.

            Mabel stood behind the pulpit, her shoulders back, standing tall and still. Her face was flushed from crying, and her knuckles glowed white where she clutched the edges of the pulpit in a death grip. She was barely holding it together, but she was up there despite the tremors in her voice and Paz’s body being only a few feet away. She was saying words for Pacifica? She was... Fuck, oh no. Oh god, no. I cannot hear this, I can’t fucking hear this, Dipper’s thoughts raced with renewed panic.

            “She...” Mabel paused when her voice rose in pitch, threatening to break. She swallowed it down and blinked away tears. “She was so, s-so strong and bright and wonderful. Kind, and clever, a-and...” Mabel hiccuped and swiped at a tear that fell onto her cheek. Her breath hitched on nearly every word. “She was my b-best friend. I couldn’t have made it h-half as far without her. Sh-she w-was... She was truly someone special beyond words, beautiful and talented and stubborn. So damn stubborn.” Mabel chuckled.

            A few small cries and murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. Dipper’s jaw was clenched so hard he thought it might break. Mabel took a shaky breath. Her bottom lip trembled, her face scrunched up, and her voice became strained.

            “I loved her. I l-love her so much, I-I—I can't—” A sob broke her words. Mabel’s head dropped and she turned away from the pulpit, shaking and crying freely, but trying to hide her face behind her curtain of long hair. A pastor standing nearby took her shoulder gently and guided her off of the raised platform.

            It was too fucking much. Seeing his sister crying and speaking at a funeral for the girl she loved—who was dead because of him—was too much. Dipper stood up, swayed on his feet, and fled the chapel before Mabel could come back over to them, before he would have to listen to the Northwest’s cry over their dead daughter, before anyone noticed his burning guilt.

            He darted down the aisle in the opposite direction of the casket, trying to ignore the people with red puffy eyes in his peripheral. Their faces all blurred together in a dizzying mass of color. Then Dipper’s heart nearly stopped when he saw a head of red hair to his right, in the pews. He turned to look, nearly tripping and falling. For half a second Dipper almost thought it might've been Wendy—her body, a living corpse sitting in the pews, covered in dirt from where she'd dug out of whatever hole Dib may have buried her in. 

            Who Dipper actually saw was almost worse. 

            One of Wendy’s brothers turned and looked at him strangely, eyes glassy with sadness. He had been in Pacifica’s grade through High school, it made sense why he would be here, but Dipper could only think of Wendy’s bloody face staring dead at the ceiling of her apartment. This boy’s big sister was dead, murdered, and he didn’t even know. He was grieving for someone else. He would never know, he would be left to wonder where she went, never to hear from Wendy ever again, always hoping one day she would come back. Dipper thought of Mabel, of how her simply disappearing would completely destroy him.

            The boy furrowed his brow at the horrified expression on Dipper’s face. Dipper turned and ran. 

            His breaths came out ragged as he sprinted all the way back to the bathrooms. He slammed open the door and retched into the toilet, but nothing came. 

            “Fuck...” Dipper ran a hand through his curls. His voice shook, his lip trembled, his stomach clenched painfully... and still no tears came. 

            Dipper sank to the floor of the bathroom and just sat there, holding his head in his hands. He couldn’t wait for this day to be over. 

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Dipper stared up through spidery branches at the pale blue sky. His hands were tucked into his coat pockets, hiding from the cold air, and his breath came out in a cloud as he exhaled slowly, relieved. He finally felt like he had a moment to breathe, now that he was out of that stuffy church, out of the crowd, and out of his family's scrutinizing gazes. He leaned his shoulder against the trunk of the tree, his eyes lazily roaming the scattered gravestones around him.

            Dipper nearly screamed when a hand clasped over his mouth.

            “It’s me,” a familiar voice said from behind him. Dipper’s heart skipped and he turned around to find himself staring at an amused smirk on Dib’s face. Dib removed his hand and let Dipper step back. 

            Dipper let out a shaky breath, and quickly scanned their surroundings. He pulled his winter coat in tighter. The rest of the gathering was still over at the open grave, waiting for Pacifica’s casket to be lowered into it’s resting place. They were alone, for now. 

            Dib made a surprised noise when Dipper grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him behind the tree, out of sight. 

            “What... what the fuck are you doing here?” Dipper grabbed the front of Dib’s shirt in a fist and held him against the tree's trunk. Dib pursed his lips in a sly smile, raising his eyebrows suggestively at their position. Dipper rolled his eyes. “Just answer the question.”

            Dib sighed. “I wanted to see how you were doing.” Dipper narrowed his eyes. “Really, that’s all!”

            “You shouldn’t fucking be here,” Dipper said through gritted teeth. His fist clenched tighter. “If anyone sees you...”

            “So what if they do? I'm your boyfriend, Dipper. It's not that weird for me to be here for you.”

            “For me?” Dipper’s voice dripped with barely restrained fury. “Give me a fucking break. You just wanted to see the damage you fucking caused, didn't you? Or maybe you wanted to scope out the rest of my family, more targets to hold over my head, is that it?”

            Dib frowned. 

            “Am I fucking wrong?” 

            Before Dib could respond, Dipper let out a sigh and his hand fell slack. He took a step back, turning slightly away and dragging a hand down his face.

            “Whatever, I’m too tired for this,” he groaned quietly. When Dib peered at his face, Dipper indeed looked haggard and exhausted. Defeated. The boy’s eyelids drooped, his shoulders slumped, and all of the fire that was in him moments ago flickered out.

            Dib cocked his head to the side. Snow crunched underfoot as he stepped up to Dipper, who didn’t bother moving to avoid him. He didn’t even resist when Dib put both hands on either side of Dipper’s arms and gently turned the shorter boy to face him. 

            “You okay?” Dib asked. Dipper only grumbled in response and met his eyes with a glare. “Right, stupid question.”

            “What do you want,” Dipper asked dully.

            “I just wanted to see you. You were pretty, uh, out of it last we spoke.” Dib chuckled, but it trailed off as it was met with silence. He let go of Dipper’s arms and shifted uncomfortably on his feet when Dipper just stared hard at him, inspecting his face curiously. 

            Both of them startled when a voice calling Dipper’s name cut through the tense silence. Mabel ran up to them. She, too, had her winter coat pulled tight around her lithe body, and her eyes were pink from crying. She stopped in her tracks when she spotted the two of them standing close together. Dipper took a few steps away from Dib, keeping his eyes on her.

            Mabel approached them without saying anything. Her eyes moved between Dib and Dipper in a silent question, until they finally settled on Dib. 

            “Um... Dib, hi. I didn’t know you were... coming,” she said. Her voice was quiet and slightly raspy.

            “Oh! I was just about to go,” Dib said quickly, putting on a sympathetic smile. Mabel didn’t smile back, she only shifted her eyes onto Dipper, who quickly looked away. Dib lowered his voice slightly as he leaned in towards Dipper. “I’ll catch up with you later, babe.” 

            Mabel and Dipper said nothing as Dib pressed a quick kiss into Dipper’s hair and then stalked off into the graveyard, vanishing behind some trees. Mabel stared at Dipper the whole time, until he finally met her gaze. 

            “Come on.” She reached out to grab his arm. 

            “Wha—?” Dipper instinctively dodged away from her. She fixed him with a hard stare. 

            “They're about to do it. Stop hiding out here.” There was a cornered look in her eyes, an unspoken plea—she needed him. 

            Dipper paused. “O-okay... alright,” he managed to say. She gave him a sad look and took his hand in hers.

            Dipper followed her back towards the gravesite, back towards the small gathering of strangers in black... back towards Pacifica. Every step had his body screaming at him to turn around and run away. Run, and run, and never stop running, until all of this was so far behind him that he would never think about it again. He would even rather be back at the tree with Dib instead of here. Dipper bit his lip to hold back the urge to laugh at how ridiculous and twisted of a thought that was: wanting to run to Dib instead of his own family. 

            But he marched onwards, and settled in to stand politely next to his parents and Grunkles as Pacifica’s casket began to descend. Finally laid to rest, finally at peace. That’s what was always said, anyway. All Dipper could see was one of his best friends being lowered into a dark fucking pit to never be seen or touched again. To rot. 

            Mabel began to cry again. Her family held her, whispering empty reassurances to her, but she screamed with grief as the shiny surface of the casket sank into shadow and out of sight. Others were crying loudly as well, Dipper’s skin crawled at the noise. He may as well have been a corpse, too, with how silent and expressionless he was as he stood there.

            Dipper watched in a daze as people began to step up to the edge of the grave. His eyes were unfocused, but he could still make out how each one bent down to pick up a handful of dirt, before letting it drop into the hole. He almost wanted to stop them, to scream at them to stop covering Pacifica up in fucking dirt. She didn’t deserve this. It was wrong. He dug his fingernails painfully into the palm of his hand.

            “Dipper,” Mabel said to him in a low voice. Her eyes were dark and severe when he turned towards her. She inclined her head towards the pile of dirt.

            Dipper’s jaw clenched. She wanted him to come and toss dirt over the casket, to help bury Paz. 

            “I can’t—”

            “Dipper,” she hissed and grabbed his arm painfully. Dipper stared at her in shock. “You are doing this with me. Please.”

            Dipper swallowed and said nothing, but let Mabel pull him forwards. The open grave looked like a wound on the face of the earth. Dipper avoided looking at the headstone as they stepped up and took a handful of cold soil. Mabel let hers go first, it fell and hit the surface of the casket with a soft patter. She took a deep, shaking breath and waited at Dipper’s side, staring down into the grave. Dipper stared down as well, but he was wishing to see the casket open up. He wanted Pacifica to crawl up from the ground and seize him with cold fingers, to drag him down with her to bury him, too. 

            But it didn’t open, and Pacifica didn’t take her revenge on him. So instead he just opened his hand and let the smattering of dirt cascade over the rest, and turned and walked away without another word.

            He could sense Mabel’s presence with him, he could tell she wanted to speak, but his parents beat her to it when they came back over. They and their Grunkles offered words of encouragement and comfort, but with Dipper it fell on deaf ears.

            Dipper stared across the length of the graveyard. Far on the other side, amongst the trees, a figure in black was standing. A grim reaper surveying the ramifications of his work.

            So Dib was waiting for him instead of leaving, then. Figured.

            Their eyes met from across the field of gravestones. He couldn’t deduce Dib’s expression because of the distance, but he hoped Dib could see that Dipper was frowning. The stark black of Dib's coat disappeared behind a tree, and Dipper turned to move as well. He took only a few strides back towards the road before he felt Mabel’s eyes lock onto him. 

            “Wha—Dipper, where are you going?” Mabel stammered and fell into step with him. He quickened his pace.

            “I’m heading to the hotel early. I’m sorry, I can’t do any more of this.” He turned and gave her a weary look. 

            She frowned. “You’re leaving to be with Dib, you mean. Instead of us. Instead of me.” 

            “Mabel, now is not the time.”

            She bit her lip. “...Fine.” 

            Mabel stopped dead in her tracks, letting him go on without her. She stood alone on the snowy grass, her black dress blowing in the cold January wind as she watched Dipper disappear down the street and out of sight without so much as a backwards glance. It was a few minutes until Candy called her back over. Mabel stared down the empty street a few moments longer, before she finally turned and ran back over to join her family.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            The sun was setting, the last orange rays of day streamed through the window and glinted off of an open whiskey bottle sitting on the bedside table. Dipper sat on the edge of a hotel bed, wrestling with his tie. It was a real tie, he’d insisted that Pacifica deserved more than just a clip-on for her funeral. Now, he almost regretted it—Mabel helped him tie the damn thing and it felt like a noose around his neck. He struggled with it a few moments longer, and then stopped.

            The heat of someone’s gaze was on his back. He knew Dib was standing in the doorway, even though he hadn’t heard his footsteps. He’d stopped needing to hear them long ago, only needing to feel the prickle of someone watching him to know Dib was around. He lifted his head, glancing back at the boy. 

            Dipper expected a one-liner, some stupid quip about killing Paz that he hadn't had time to say at the graveyard, but Dib’s brain couldn’t form words right now. It had checked out the second he'd caught sight of Dipper. Earlier, he'd been covered by his winter jacket, hidden from Dib’s eyes. He always thought the boy was gorgeous, (yes, even in stained hoodies and basketball shorts), but something about seeing Dipper all dolled up was breathtaking. 

            “What?” Dipper quirked an eyebrow, lowering his hands from the knot at his neck. “You’ve never been this quiet. What’s your deal?”

            Dib’s eyes raked along the tailored suit that hugged Dipper’s body, taking in the little coattails bunching near his hips thanks to how he was sitting, the gold cufflinks, the way his bangs were swept to the side, displaying his constellation birthmark. 

            “You need help? With, uh, that?” he asked lamely, pointing at the tie. 

            “What, are you gonna cut it off or some shit?” Dipper sneered. “Because this—“

            “No, you just look uncomfortable.” Dib made his way across the small hotel room in three quick steps, stopping to stand in front of Dipper. He gently reached out and untied the tie, unlooping it from the knot and freeing the fabric from Dipper’s neck. Dipper watched him gingerly lay the tie on the end of the bed.

            “You... don't normally dress like this. You seem all tense ‘cause of it. Lemme help,” Dib said breathlessly, leaning down to push the suit jacket off Dipper's shoulders and undoing the first button of his dress shirt. 

            “I’m tense because of what you—“ Dipper paused when he noticed what Dib was doing. “Because of what you did!” He tried to gather any anger he could, to set it alight and give him the emotional energy to do something, to scream and hit and punch and hurt Dib, but it never came. 

            “I know,” Dib replied softly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Dipper waited for some quip, something like ‘I guess I should kill more of your friends so I get to see you all dressed up like this again!’, but Dib remained silent, leaving Dipper feeling unsure of himself.

            “What... no gloating? No smugly talking to me about Paz? Or Wendy?” Dipper tried to provoke him, but all he felt was Dib’s shaky fingers undoing another button of his shirt. 

            “No.” Dib’s voice was barely a whisper. 

            “Well that’s... out of character...” Dipper mumbled, unsure of what to say or do. 

            “I know, right?” Dib let out a soft laugh, eyes flicking to Dipper’s before focusing back on undoing the rest of the buttons. For some reason, Dipper didn’t stop him, letting Dib reveal the pale, freckled skin of his chest to the light of his hotel room. Dib pushed it off one of his shoulders, running his hand down Dipper’s warm chest and coming to rest it on his waist. 

            When their eyes met again in the silence, Dipper was sure that Dib could feel it too—a tug in his chest, a powerful gravitational pull drawing him in towards Dib, and Dipper thought that maybe that pull had always been there, he had simply not noticed it. Or perhaps hadn't wanted to notice it. But he could see now, how truly entangled they were. He looked into Dib's face, wide-eyed and drinking in Dipper’s visage like he was the only thing in existence, and Dipper realized that Dib was his. As much as Dib said that Dipper belonged to him, it was just the same in reverse. Dib belonged to him as much as he belonged to Dib, they were eachother’s, hopelessly intertwined. For better or worse, they would always be drawn back together. And, right now, that was the tether Dipper so desperately needed.

            Dib's fingers delicately trailed across Dipper’s throat, tracing the angle of his neck down to his collarbone. Dib didn't break eye contact when he pushed the dress shirt off of Dipper’s other shoulder, and Dipper pulled it off the rest of the way to toss the garment to the floor, almost automatically. He watched Dib’s amber eyes briefly flicker in thought behind his glasses, before the tension between them snapped. 

            Dib surged forward and kissed Dipper like he was drowning, both arms coming to wrap around his neck, kissing and biting and using his tongue to claim the other boy’s mouth. Dipper was caught off guard, a surprised “Mn!” leaving his lips before it was swallowed by Dib. Dipper was used to kisses, but he wasn’t used to this much desperation, and somehow, it was making heat pool in his gut. 

            Dipper kissed him back, matching his intensity, throwing them both off balance and causing them to fall back on the bed in a tangled heap. Dipper’s previously brushed hair was now messy and pooled around his head as he gazed back up at Dib, whose kiss-swollen lips were shiny and red. The sight made Dipper’s mind go hazy. Should he have been in a better headspace, he might have realized what he was doing, but it was much too late now. He was so, so tired of fighting off the feelings he had towards Dib, and the gentle, precise nature of Dib’s actions tonight had finally chipped away the floodgates. Indulging in this, whatever this thing was, was far easier than ruminating on grief and guilt.

            “You... you look really fucking good in a suit,” was all Dib could stammer before leaning back down to kiss Dipper again. The boy tasted slightly of whiskey, the smell mingled with traces of cologne. Dib breathed in his scent and groaned.

            The weight of Dib’s body hovering above his own was nothing new, but this time it was different. Dipper wasn't struggling or protesting, he was pulling Dib closer, desperate to touch and kiss and hold. He tugged on his trenchcoat, breaking the kiss with a growl.  

            “Take this stupid shit off. And your boots, I don’t want those on my bed.” 

            Dipper’s commanding tone of voice seemed to throw Dib for a loop, but the boy did as he was told, as fast as he could. He even threw his shirt off for good measure before they collided again. Dipper pulled him impossibly close, pale hands gripping scarred skin as he finally let his inhibitions melt away into the heat between the two of them. Dib broke the kiss to pant, looking almost dumbfounded. Dipper thought the expression looked adorable on him.

            The next move Dib pulled was familiar. He tugged at the stupidly handsome dress pants to get them off Dipper, groping at his boxers as Dipper let out a gasp. What was different this time, was he didn’t fight. He kicked his pants off on his own accord and his hips rose to meet Dib’s hand. He wanted Dib, and his body wasn't just involuntarily reacting to touches. Dipper pressed his face into the crook of Dib’s neck, breathy whines passing his lips. 

            Dib was a little light-headed from realizing just how hard Dipper was in his boxers. Because of him. It was sending him reeling, he hadn’t realized how much it would affect him if Dipper actually wanted him, and wasn't just stubbornly fighting him off.

            “Why’d you stop?” Dipper’s voice brought Dib back to reality.

            “Uh...” Dib shakily placed his hand on Dipper’s sharp hipbone. “Trying to...uh...decide what to do?” He tilted his head, sitting back to look at Dipper’s face. 

            “Oh, what, the second you’re not trying to rape me you suddenly don’t know what to do?” Dipper huffed, though it was playful and held no bite. “You’re such a loser, man, geez—“ He cut himself off with a gasp as he felt Dib’s fingers wrap around his cock, gently pulling it free from his boxers. Dib could tell Dipper was going to say another snarky remark, so he started sliding his hand up and down, causing Dipper’s words to die in his throat. 

            They had done this before, usually with a lot more fighting, screaming, and kicking. Dipper’s willingness had Dib feeling like a lucky prom date that had gotten to take his date home, like they were boyfriends, like Dipper actually liked him. Dib leaned down to kiss him. Dipper tried to choke back moans as Dib’s boney fingers toyed with his shaft. 

            Dipper grabbed Dib’s shoulder with a tight grip as he weakly thrust into his hand, begging for more friction. Dipper could feel Dib break the kiss, probably to smile smugly like the fucking jerk that he was. Before Dipper could open his mouth to make a snappy remark, the heat of Dib’s mouth wrapped around his cock shut him right the fuck up. 

            “W-wait, fuck—“ Dipper hissed, arousal making him feel like he was on fire. “Oh my god, Dib!” 

            Dipper’s moan of his name sent shivers through him, as if everything else wasn’t enough. The heavy feeling of Dipper’s length against his tongue, the whimpers pouring from Dipper’s mouth, the hand that had snaked its way into his hair... Dib felt like he was floating. 

            Slowly, Dib started bobbing his head, running his tongue along the underside of Dipper’s dick and feeling the boy’s hand tighten in his hair. He had to resist the urge to smile, instead humming with pleasure knowing that Dipper felt good. 

            Dipper couldn't hold back the moan that was stuck in his throat, this was better than all his disgusting daydreams had imagined this would feel. God, and the fucking tongue piercing. His face burned in shame, he had wanted this, fantasized about this, he was so disgusting, “Fuck, Dib, fuck…” 

            Dipper’s moans sounded like music to Dib’s ears as he continued to experiment, taking note of what made Dipper squirm and gasp in pleasure so he could do it again. This attention made Dipper fluster even more, how the hell was Dib being so caring and attentive? Why was he being this caring and attentive?! He could barely maintain that thought for two seconds before it was whisked away with the rest of his thoughts, into a jumbled buzz of pleasure that was blocking out everything in his brain. Everything Dib did was making him feel electrified, a tremble of potential energy shooting up his spine as Dib hollowed his cheeks and sunk his cock deeper into his mouth. 

            Dipper gasped loudly in shock when Dib suddenly slid a finger inside of him. His back arched and he choked out a cry, tightening his grip on the sheets and in Dib’s hair. Holy shit. He'd never fingered himself, he'd never... he'd never felt anything like this before. At first it felt weird, but then Dib curled his finger inside and Dipper’s body seized up as a burst of electric pleasure shot through him, more powerful than anything he'd ever felt. Combined with Dib’s mouth around him, it was too much.

            Dipper opened his mouth to moan something, maybe Dib’s name, but it was cut off by the crash of ecstasy as he climaxed. Everything felt so good, there was no room for him to worry or even think anything coherent, just the feeling of Dib’s mouth on him, Dib’s finger pressing deep inside him, and his hand gripping Dib’s hair. 

            “Fuck, shit...” Dipper cursed, managing to uncurl his fingers through a thick fog of lust. His chest heaved and finally let himself fall back onto the mattress, having been propped up on his arm the whole time. Dib sat back, retracting himself, and Dipper shuddered.

            “Fuckin’ asshole...” Dipper muttered breathlessly, but there was a smile to his voice.

            Dib laughed. “You're complaining? Seemed like you liked that quite a lot, babe~”

            Dipper lifted his hands to rub his face before sitting back up, settling in front of Dib, who looked rather pleased with himself. Dipper gave him a lazy half-smile, leaning forward to kiss him before pressing his palm against the slight wet patch in Dib’s jeans. Dib shuddered, breaking the kiss to moan. 

            “Aww, you really did focus all your attention on me,” Dipper cooed, pulling Dib’s jeans and boxers off. Dib hissed, the cool air making him even more sensitive. He caught sight of Dipper’s face—cheeks burnt red, pupils so blown they almost swallowed the green of his irises, lips swollen and shiny. He looked like an angel, an angel sitting in front of him in the low light of a shitty motel. Dib smiled at him, though it was broken by Dipper wrapping his hand around Dib’s aching erection. 

            Dib trembled, melting into Dipper’s touch as he leaned his head against Dipper's shoulder. 

            “Ah-hah, fuck, Dipper…” He whined as he watched Dipper’s hand stroke his throbbing cock. A shaky hand came up and gripped Dipper’s forearm.

            Dipper frowned. 

            His eyebrows furrowed when he noticed a small stitched up wound on the side of Dib’s stomach. It looked relatively fresh, a few days at most.

            “...What happened?” Dipper whispered. He used his other hand to lightly brush the pink skin around the cut. Dib blinked in a daze, and whined in protest when Dipper stopped moving the hand around his member.

            “Wha...?” Dib flinched slightly as Dipper’s thumb prodded the wound. “Ow. Oh, that.” He let out a weak chuckle, nuzzling into the crook of Dipper’s shoulder. “A guy almost stabbed me, ha! I'm fine, please, Dipper...”

            Dib almost got stabbed? Dipper thought back to the string of murders during the two weeks he had refused to speak to Dib. He... he could have been killed?

            The idea of losing Dib like that stunned his systems so thoroughly that he barely registered the way Dib was pleading in his ear. Dipper exhaled. Dib being killed... by some stranger? No, the idea of it sent a hungry possessiveness surging through Dipper’s gut. Dib moaned as Dipper tightened his hand once more around his erection, pumping his hand and pulling those desperate noises from Dib’s lips. He knew he was close, embarrassingly so, as Dipper picked up the pace and Dib’s moans grew louder. 

            Dipper leaned forward, teeth connecting with his neck as he began trailing love bites across his throat and collarbones. Dib felt like fire was crackling and spitting beneath his skin, Dipper’s little whispers of “mine, mine, mine,” with each bite sending the flames higher and hotter. Needing to anchor himself before he burnt away into ashes and dust, he threw his arms around Dipper’s shoulders as he panted and shuddered. 

            “Yours, yours, yours...” he echoed, gasping. “Hhn, Dipper, ah! Fuck!” Dib exclaimed, digging his fingernails into Dipper's back. The orgasm rocked through him, and he swore he saw stars. He almost thought he heard Dipper laugh, but was too busy drowning in pleasure to acknowledge it. His moans were silenced by Dipper kissing him, the two of them tangling together on the hotel bed. 

            It took a while for them to collect themselves. Neither of them had the energy to move, or speak, or think, so they just feverishly kissed, holding each other so tightly they’d bruise. Maybe later they’d fight, or Dipper would have a mental breakdown over this, but for now they opted to bask in each other’s radiance and drown in the feeling of each other’s bodies. 

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            Dipper woke up feeling disgusting. Physically, of course, but mentally it was worse. Pacifica was in the dirt, and he'd fucked the monster who killed her. Again. Willingly, this time. The psychopath who'd been terrorizing him for months, who killed Paz, who killed Wendy, and he was laying in bed next to him. He rubbed his eyes, staring at the ceiling, then shifted to look sideways at Dib. The idiot fell asleep with his glasses on, which were now skewed at an awkward angle where his face met the pillow. A spike of fury and hatred stabbed through Dipper’s chest. At himself, at Dib, Dipper wasn't sure which, but he needed to get away from him before he fucking strangled the bastard in his sleep.

            Miraculously, he managed to get up without waking Dib, and dragged himself to the shower. He turned the temperature up as hot as he could bear in an attempt to burn away Dib’s fingerprints from his skin, scrubbing at the bruises on his hips and arms as if they could be washed away. Physical evidence of this encounter that would take time to fade. He grimaced. 

            Dipper tried to fight away the memories of the night before, shame flooding through him as he recalled the things he did, the things he felt, the things he said. He’d left marks on Dib just as much as Dib had marked him, he was not innocent in this at all. He had wanted it, fantasized about it, and deserved no pity for what he’d done. He'd needed control, a distraction, and that's exactly what he got.

            Hearing the door handle jiggle brought Dipper out of his spiral. He narrowed his eyes, pulling back the shower curtain just as Dib managed to open the door. He gritted his teeth at the sight of Dib's naked body, gripping the curtain in his fist. 

            “Can I get no privacy?” he growled. 

            “I just wanted to join in the shower.” Dib gave a lopsided grin. “I’m all gross.”

            “That’s not my problem, now is it? Get out and wait your turn,” he spat venomously as Dib kicked the door closed behind him and approached the shower. 

            “Actually, it kinda is your problem, seeing as this mess is your fault. Anyways, this’ll save water, babe. And what, it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he purred the last bit of his sentence, staring at Dipper with lidded eyes. He reached for the curtain, and Dipper snatched his wrist, holding it in a grip so tight it might shatter the sharp bones that pressed angles into Dib’s skin. 

            “I said go away,” Dipper said through clenched teeth, staring Dib down with a gaze so vicious Dipper wished it could kill. He wanted Dib to drop dead where he stood. 

            Dib looked mildly surprised by this action, thin eyebrows shooting up as he glanced at the fist gripping his arm before his eyes met Dipper’s again. 

            “What, having morning after regrets, are we? Bit late for that, babe—” 

            “Shut UP!” Dipper exploded, stepping one foot out of the tub before shoving Dib so hard the boy fell, his body hit the tile with a smack. “Get away from me! I’m tired of your smug fucking attitude, you don’t take anything fucking seriously! Get out of my fucking hotel room, get out of my fucking LIFE!” His voice had raised to a hoarse shriek, fists balled at his sides as he shook with rage. “This is all your fucking fault!” He probably looked pathetic, eyes filling with tears, trembling and dripping on the bath mat he stood upon. Dib gazed up at him, bewildered. 

            For once, Dipper had rendered the smug asshole speechless. 

            “Leave,” Dipper’s voice dripped with poison. 

            Dib stared at Dipper for another beat before his face hardened. Anger flared in his eyes as he got back to his feet. 

            “Having regrets, huh?” He sneered, approaching Dipper until his face was inches from the other boy’s. “I don’t know about you, but I seem to fucking recall you were just as willing of a participant as I was, babe.” He grabbed Dipper’s jaw, harshly jerking the boy closer. “You think this is my fault? Really? After all this, after attending that bitch's funeral, after lying to the police, after cleaning up a dead fucking body, you still insist on blaming it all on me?”

            It was Dipper’s turn to be speechless, a pathetic breath leaving his lips was his only reply.

            “What, you don’t like the truth?” Dib continued. “Because face it, Dipper, I know you. I watch you jerk off while whining my fucking name, I listened to you call me yours last night. You can’t deny this shit forever.” His voice was harsh, flat in tone and deadly. “You want me to take this seriously? Fine. Quit denying this.”

            Tears managed to leak out of Dipper’s eyes. He tried to avoid Dib’s intense gaze, his words twisting his stomach into knots. He felt like throwing up, like disappearing, like curling up and dying. The room seemed to shrink in around them, the only thing left being Dib, the feeling of his fingers digging into his cheeks, and the white noise of the shower muddling his thoughts. He felt his knees grow shaky and finally give out beneath him as he fell to the wet floor. 

            “I’m disgusting,” Dipper whimpered. 

            “Quit the fucking self pity.” Dib stared down at him. He didn’t move.

            “What do you want from me?!” Dipper wailed, gripping his wet hair in his hands. 

            “What do you want from me?” Dib still didn’t move. “Cause you can’t get rid of me, and I don’t think bawling like a baby over the fact you like me is gonna get us anywhere.”

            “I don’t like you! I don’t want to like you!” Dipper cried. “You’re disgusting! You’re a fucking monster! You killed Paz and Wendy! You—you—“ He screamed in frustration when the words didn't come. Dipper choked on his tears as he kept his eyes trained to the floor, refusing to look at Dib. He was seething with all the anger and grief that had refused to come the day before.

            Dipper was met with silence, until he heard Dib step across the puddles on the bathroom floor as he walked past him and got into the shower. Dipper didn’t move, just stared at the ragged edge of the bath mat while he shivered from cold and disgust. Dib was right, he didn’t deserve pity, not even self pity. He’d gotten himself into this mess and then dug himself deeper. They were tied to each other like a sinking anchor.

            Dib didn’t take long in the shower, just rinsing himself off with soap before getting out again. He glanced down at Dipper as he grabbed his towel, wrapping it around himself before opening his mouth to address Dipper again.

            “You know, someday you’re gonna have to accept you like me, that you aren’t the innocent, virtuous angel you think you are,” Dib quipped, crouching back down into Dipper’s space and tilting his chin to force their eyes to meet. “I said I was gonna make you mine, though it seems you beat me to it!” He humorlessly blew air out of his nose, a crooked smile blooming on his face as he searched Dipper’s eyes for a reaction. He was silent for a beat before continuing. “Hmm. Tough crowd. I guess I’ll be off then.” He leaned forward and kissed Dipper, and much to Dipper’s dismay, he didn’t pull away. Just like the day Wendy died, Dipper thought bitterly.

            Dib stood back up and opened the door. The cold, dry air from outside rushed in, sending a violent chill through Dipper. 

            Absurdly, Dipper started laughing. His shoulders and chest shook with the ridiculous sound. He couldn't tell if it was laughter or crying or something else, but he doubled over, clutching his face, and laughed and laughed, like he was fucking insane.

            “...What?” Dib paused in the doorway, suspiciously side-eyeing him.

            “You...” Dipper giggled, not looking up at him, “You actually think you love me, huh?”

            Dib's eyes narrowed. “Yes, I do. And you love me, too.”

            “Ha. We'll fucking see.” Dipper dug his fingernails into the meat of his thigh, so hard it nearly drew blood. He looked up at Dib, eyes burning, his lips twisted up in an expression that was halfway between a smile and a grimace. “Get the fuck out.”

            Dib scoffed. “See you back at home, babe,” Dib said scathingly and shut the door behind him without another backwards glance.

            Dipper fell silent and stared down at the tiled floor for a long time, until he heard Dib leave through the front door, and then for several minutes after that, too. His mind was reeling, his thousands of conflicting thoughts and feelings clashing inside of him, battling to reform and take back control of the husk that was Dipper’s body. 

            Dipper died the day Wendy bled out between his fingers. A great crack formed within him, an opening for something new to crawl inside. But Dipper wasn’t sure what it was, yet. The broken pieces were still settling and gathering themselves back together again, and Dipper had a sinking feeling that the transformation was going to be painful and bloody and difficult. As of late, that was nothing new, though. He just wanted to make sure the process was just as grueling for Dib as it was for him.

            Dipper raised his head to look around the tiny hotel bathroom, and realized Dib had taken his towel. Asshole. He grimaced as got up and shuffled across the wet tile of the bathroom to go look for a spare. He pushed the door open to find the room empty, the only evidence Dib had been there was his towel hung up on the hook on the door of the closet. At least he was slightly considerate, Dipper thought to himself as he opened the closet to grab a fresh towel, wrapping himself in it and beginning to dry off.

            A few moments later, his phone buzzed and vibrated. Messages. He picked it up and the screen came to life, illuminating his face in the darkness.

            Mabel: i'm catching an early flight back. Are you ok? i havent heard from you since you left yesterday. Rude, btw

            Mabel: You didnt tell me Dib was coming, is that why you got a hotel? why didnt you just tell me?

            Mabel: you were acting weird all day and then you ran off, what is going on with you???

            Dipper just stared at the messages for a long time, unmoving and unresponsive.

            Mabel: Dipper stop ignoring me!!!! I can see that ur reading these

            Mabel: I dont care that u ran off with your boyfriend, just fucking talk to me!

            Dipper: I'll see u back in rocksburg mabes

            Mabel: what?!? Dipper what the hell???

            Dipper clicked his phone off and tossed it aside. A slow exhale escaped from his lungs, he listened to the buzz of silence that filled the moment in between, until he breathed in once more. He walked over to the bedside table, taking the cool glass bottle in his hands. He raised the whiskey to his lips and drank and drank until his mind became fuzzy, relishing in the burn as it went down his throat. 

            Dipper laid down on the plush hotel bed and stared up at the ceiling. The room was pitch dark around him as the sun had not yet risen. He laid there for what felt like hours, still as death, hunger gnawing at him, and as the pale blue of winter dawn slowly spilled into the room, he still did not move. He laid there like a corpse and thought of Pacifica in her casket in the ground, all dolled up with makeup and a dress that hid the hole carved in her chest. He thought of Wendy, who would never have a funeral, and would never have her place in Gravity Falls’ graveyard next to her family. 

            And here he was, falling in love with their killer. 

            But if there was one aspect about Dipper that persisted, it was that he was a stubborn motherfucker. If Dib truly did love him, Dipper was going to make him fucking suffer for it.

Chapter Text

            “Why are you being so difficult?” Dib grumbled as Dipper once again pulled away from his grasp. 

            Soft brown curls fell into the boy’s eyes as he shifted, and he blew out a puff of air to move them back into place over his birthmark. Dipper settled back into the cushions of his couch, folding his arms over his chest in a slouch. He stubbornly stared at the TV with bored eyes, taking another swig of beer, just to piss Dib off. Which seemed to be working, because Dib huffed a breath of annoyance. Dipper felt the tiniest twinge of satisfaction—it was nice to be the one toying with his feelings for once.

            “Are you still hung up on your little temper tantrum in the hotel? It’s been like a week, I told you—”

            “Just fuckin’ forget about it,” Dipper snapped. He turned and fixed Dib with a glare. “What the hell do you even want? Do you want me to punch you? Wanna beat the shit out of each other again? I’m pissed at you, I’m not gonna roll over and fuckin’ cuddle with you, asshole.”

            Dib rolled his eyes and shifted over to Dipper’s side of the couch again. Dib held back a chuckle at the low growl Dipper made, like a dog warning someone to back off. Instead, Dib leaned forward and put his arms on either side of Dipper to trap him so he could get close.

            “I told you I’m not—” Dipper started to snap at him but Dib closed the distance and kissed him. As he pulled back, Dipper opened his mouth to berate him, but Dib spoke first.

            “I love you,” Dib said, staring straight into Dipper’s eyes. The other boy’s eyes widened for a beat, and then narrowed in displeasure.

            “Stop saying that. You don’t really—”

            “Don't really mean it?” Dib finished for him. He scoffed. “Your stubborn refusal of reality doesn’t change anything, Dipper. I love you, I love you, I love you, and you're mine.” Dib accentuated the possessive growl with another kiss. This time, Dipper twisted his head away to break it off, jamming an elbow painfully into Dib's stomach. Dib winced.

            “Then you must be deluding yourself if you really think that,” Dipper glared at him, inches from his face. Dib just barked out a laugh and sat back, giving Dipper his space again. Dipper shifted and side-eyed Dib cautiously.

            “Maybe! I am a bit insane,” Dib smirked. Dipper rolled his eyes as if to say duh. “But this is different,” Dib’s voice became a bit more serious, almost genuine, and Dipper furrowed his brow. His upper lip twitched into a snarl.

            “If your love language is brutally killing everyone I care about and making me an accesory to their murders, then I don’t fucking want it.”

            “Oh, this again,” Dib sighed and reached out to play with the hem of Dipper’s sleeve. “All of that didn’t need to happen, you know that. Besides...” Dib’s eyelids drooped smugly. “You certainly wanted it when I was sucking you off—”

            “Oh my fucking god, get OUT!” Dipper threw the near-empty beer can right at Dib’s stupid face. Dib ducked and jumped off the couch as Dipper lunged at him. 

            “Okay, okay!” Dib grinned as he backed towards the glass sliding doors, pulling them open while still facing Dipper. “I’ll leave you to your pathetic day-drinking, babe. Let me know if you want me to bring you anything next time I come over~”

            “I hope you fucking slip and crack your skull open,” Dipper replied.

            “Love you too, baby!” Dib waved goodbye as he slid out onto the balcony and disappeared down the fire escape, leaving it open for cold winter air to rush in.

            Dipper grumbled and heaved himself up onto his feet. He walked over and put his hand on the white plastic handle, but hesitated before pulling it closed. He looked out and saw Dib’s dark form darting away down the alley. So he didn’t slip and die. Bummer. Dipper pulled the doors shut and locked them.

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            A few days later, Mabel rapped her knuckles loudly on Dipper’s apartment door. She waited a beat, and then knocked again. 

            The sun had set hours ago, but Mabel was wearing clothes that showed off a lot of skin despite the freezing weather. She wore a short, light teal skirt that snapped around her waist with an extra belt harness and heart-shaped buckles. Her shirt was a tight little cropped yellow tee with a pink heart on front. Her waves of hair sported a big pink bow in the back, and her cheeks were dusted with glitter.

            When Dipper opened the door, a series of emotions flashed across his face. First, surprise. Second, slight panic. He hadn’t seen her since the funeral, and had been purposely avoiding her. Annoyance twinged within her as she noticed this. Then, third, bewilderment as he took in her getup. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mabel just pushed inside without giving him the chance. He stared at her, dumbfounded, while she pulled off her winter coat.

            “Well, shut the door!” she said impatiently. Dipper blinked out of his stupor and shut the front door, locking it with a click.  

            “Uh,” Dipper said. “Mabes, wh...what’re you doin’ here?”

            “Yeah, I know you’ve been avoiding me, Dipper, but I’ve had a really bad fucking day.” 

            Dipper flinched at her words and looked away. Mabel sighed. Classes had started back up again, and she couldn’t stand the way everyone looked at her. Pity and knowing—Mabel was now the girl with death hanging over her. She just wanted to spend the night with her goddamn brother, even if he was being a distant prick and drinking himself stupid.

            “I’m sorry, I just...”

            “I don’t need to hear it, Dipper.” Mabel interrupted. Dipper frowned, it was rare where Mabel was this snappy and impatient with him. He supposed it made sense, though. Neither of them were acting like their ‘normal’ selves anymore. 

            “Okay. Then, why’re-are you... here...?” Dipper stumbled over his words.

            “Have you been drinking?” Mabel suddenly got in close and sniffed him. He indeed already stank of alcohol. She glanced over to the living room and saw cans and bottles littering the floor. 

            “I-I... uh...” His face looked haggard and guilty.

            Mabel’s expression softened. They had both lost a lot, and even Wendy had apparently gone silent, which was super unlike her. She knew Dipper had been leaning on her a lot for emotional support, so... Being drunk must have been what he fell back on to cope in her sudden absence. She understood it, the pain of Pacifica’s loss was huge.  They couldn’t let it destroy them, though. 

            “This may be irresponsible and a terrible idea, but I know we are both fucking miserable,” Mabel said, a hard edge to her voice. She sighed. “Let’s go out.”

            “Wha...?”

            “To a club. Why do you think I’m dressed like this?” Mabel motioned to her outfit. Dipper’s eyes dragged over it slowly again, his mental processing slow from the booze in his system. Dipper’s brow furrowed. Mabel took a step closer. “Just... please?”

            Dipper exhaled, letting the tension in his shoulders fall. His face hardened.

            “Yeah...Yeah, shit sucks,” he said quietly. His eyes became distant as he mulled something over in his head for a moment. A spark glinted in his eye. “Sure, fuck it. Let’s do this. Gimme a few minutes.”

            A small smile lit up Mabel’s face. Mabel needed this, they both needed this. She was going to dance and drink until she passed out or threw up, or both. She didn’t care, she just needed to be gone, doing something aside from wallowing in grief. She desperately needed to just feel alive again, at least for a night. 

            Dipper came back and handed Mabel his keys.

            “I know of a place we can go. Can you drive? I'm kind of already...” He motioned to the empty bottles.

            “Of course!” Mabel giggled. They pulled on their coats and stepped out into the frigid night.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Music pulsed in Mabel’s ears as she made her way across the club, the pounding bass reverberating deep in her chest. She stepped onto the dance floor, leaving her brother to his own devices at the bar as she let herself get swept up in the beat. She needed this, needed to be swaying to music with her head swimming in alcohol, pushing away memories of Pacifica, letting her forget that she never even told her she loved her.

            Mabel danced her heart out, letting her feelings evaporate with the sweat that beaded on her forehead. She nearly collided with a few people in her drunken haze, but no one seemed to fuss about it, and Mabel would forget their faces seconds after they turned away. She was surrounded by blurry people she didn’t care about, alone, simultaneously feeling like the only person there and just a tiny speck in the crowd. 

            Her heart pumped blood through her veins, reminding her she was alive and this is what Paz would want for her. For her to be happy, and to dance and smile and feel alive. Even in her drunken stupor, she could feel the tug of grief in her heart, wishing she could share this moment with her. She quickly pushed that thought away, stepping off the dance floor to go get another drink and find Dipper. 

            She barely made it two steps before she got distracted. A girl, leaning against the wall in the corridor that lead to the bathrooms, caught her eye. She wore a simple black top and jeans, showing off her wide hips and bust. Her short purple hair curled around the nape of her neck and her bangs cast shadow over her dark-rimmed eyes. Mabel bounded up to her, watching the stranger rake her gaze up and down her form before putting a sneer on her face, as if to tell Mabel to back off. She ignored it. 

            “Hi! I’m Mabel!” She giggled, the dim hallway much quieter than the main area of the club. “You can also call me the girl of your dreams~” She batted her lashes. 

            The girl furrowed her brow, but her sneer dropped, replaced by an expression of hesitant intrigue. 

            “Well, aren’t you forward,” she grunted. 

            “Of course! When I see a pretty girl, I have to tell her she’s pretty. That’s the Mabel way!” She gestured to herself, swaying slightly in her chunky heels. “What’s your name?“

            “Gaz,” she replied, seeming to unfold herself from being shrugged against the wall, turning a bit more towards Mabel in a less protective and hunched over position. 

            “Oh, that’s pretty! Gosh, everything about you is pretty!” Mabel gasped delightedly. “Are you here alone? What’s a beautiful girl like you doing alone?”

            Gaz couldn’t help but smile softly at the excitable girl’s compliments. She thought Mabel was rather pretty herself, tall and managing to pull off colors and accessories that would clash on anyone else. 

            “I could ask the same thing to you,” she replied nonchalantly, noticing the red rising on Mabel’s cheeks. 

            “Oh, what? Pshht, you’re just saying that.” She swatted at Gaz’s chest, and surprisingly, Gaz didn’t shove her away. She hated being touched, but Mabel had piqued her interest in such a way that she decided to make an exception for her. “My brother and I came here to blow off some steam. I dunno where he went, though.”

            “My brother dragged me here,” Gaz said. “This isn’t really my scene. Not anymore.”

            “Oh! My brother normally hates this place too, I dunno why he suggested we come. But I’m very glad he did, cause I got to meet you~” Mabel shamelessly flirted. Gaz found herself agreeing. She had been pissed at Dib for forcing her to come with him, but maybe Mabel would make it worth it. “Do you like to dance?”

            “No, not really.” Gaz shrugged, turning her attention back to the club beyond the hall. She couldn’t see Dib anywhere. She jumped when she felt Mabel’s warm hand cup her cheek, gently making Gaz look at her. She felt an indignant rage build up in her chest before she caught sight of the look on Mabel’s face, her eyes bright and sparkling in the neon lights. 

            “I can teach you!” Mabel suggested, trying to be coy but probably coming off as simply drunk. Gaz rolled her eyes. 

            “I’d rather not be trapped with a bunch of sweaty people knocking into me and shit.” She bristled when Mabel placed a hand on her shoulder, about to lash out before the girl spoke. 

            “We can just dance here, if you like,” she suggested, so earnest that it made Gaz relax enough for Mabel to run her fingers down her arm and take one of her hands.

            “Oh,” Gaz murmured softly.

            “Here.” Mabel took her other hand and guided her as she rocked in front of her, keeping her movements small and gentle. Gaz found herself beginning to sway along with Mabel, the brunette’s aura infectious. “See? It's fun!” Mabel giggled, but Gaz was only focused on taking in the sight of this gorgeous girl in front of her, so much brighter than anything in Gaz's life.

            “I suppose,” Gaz mumbled, letting Mabel pull her in closer. She smelled sweet, some kind of floral or sugary perfume probably, and also of alcohol. The neon lights made the light coat of glitter on her skin sparkle as she swayed, her long hair swishing back and forth in waves. She was like nothing Gaz had encountered before, especially not in a place like this. She’d had her share of sleazebags and drunk men approaching her and commenting on her large tits, sure, but never a girl practically glowing with life, telling her she was pretty and then dancing in the corner, far away from everything else. 

            “I want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?” Mabel blurted out suddenly. Gaz blinked in surprise and then let out an amused chuckle at the big-eyed expression Mabel was giving. 

            “You're drunk,” Gaz replied with a smirk, and put her hand on Mabel’s small waist as she swayed. Mabel pouted.

            “So? I don’ need to be sober to know I wanna kiss a pretty girllll,” Mabel slurred and leaned against Gaz with a giggle. “Your eyes are incredible,” she breathed, staring into Gaz’s stunning amber eyes. Gaz’s eyebrows knitted together—she was most definitely attracted to this girl, incredibly so. Would it be so bad to play along?

            “Okay, but not out here. I don’t wanna give creeps a show.” Gaz raised her eyebrows as Mabel bounced out of her arms with an overjoyed shriek, but then froze and looked at their surroundings with confusion.

            “Wait, then where...?” Mabel trailed off as Gaz got in close, pressing in to murmur with hot breath into Mabel’s ear.

            “Follow me.”

            Mabel shuddered and nodded vigorously. The girls moved down the hall and through an employee-only door, heading into darkened empty corridors. Mabel’s heart skipped a beat at the anxiety of going somewhere they shouldn't, but the thought of hearing Gaz’s smoky voice in her ear again far outweighed any reservations she had. Gaz pulled them both into what appeared to be some kind of storage room. The lights were out, but by the red glow of an exit sign Mabel was able to see the outlines of boxes and tables and shelves.

            Gaz turned to Mabel and opened her mouth to speak, but then felt soft lips press against her own and arms wrap around her shoulders. 

            “Eager, are we?” Gaz laughed in a low voice. Something fluttered low in Mabel’s stomach.

            “Yes,” Mabel replied. Gaz backed up and sat down on some flat surface in the darkness, pulling Mabel with her as she went.

            Without another word, Gaz began to kiss her. Mabel felt herself melting into the other girl’s touch, their bodies pressed together and Mabel blushed at how Gaz’s large soft breasts squished against hers. Their lips moved against each other, sucking and lapping and tasting each other’s flavored chapstick, before Gaz slipped her tongue into Mabel’s mouth and the other girl moaned softly into it, spurring her on. 

            Mabel lifted a knee onto the table holding them up, getting up into Gaz’s lap. They kept their mouth’s locked together even as Mabel’s head rose a little higher from the new position. Mabel wrapped her arms around Gaz’s wide shoulders, feeling the tickle of the girl’s short hair against her forearms. She giggled into the kiss. Gaz’s hands roamed elsewhere, one cupping Mabel’s lower back and getting it to arch under her touch, as the other snaked up one of Mabel’s bare legs before resting at her hip, just underneath her little skirt. 

            Mabel panted into the kiss, her face and body getting hot with arousal. Her eyes glazed over and she bent her head to suck needily on the side of Gaz’s neck where it met the bare shoulder. Gaz’s laugh turned into a low groan, the noise went straight between Mabel’s legs. 

            “Fuck,” Gaz hissed. She gave Mabel’s ass a squeeze, eliciting a whine from the girl in her lap. Gaz wanted so badly to pull more of those sounds out of her, to have Mabel crying and begging underneath her. “I think we should get out of here maybe?” Gaz probed to see if Mabel wanted to go further as well.

            “I think so too,” Mabel replied breathlessly, her lips red and shiny with saliva. Every vein in her body thrummed with desire.

            “C’mon,” Gaz grabbed her hand again and Mabel was happy to follow her wherever she led.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Mabel stumbled up the stairs behind Gaz, keeping a tight hold on her hand as she was dragged through the large house. She couldn’t help but gawk. Everything seemed so pristine and fancy, even in the dark. 

            “Your house is so cool!” Mabel giggled, as she watched Gaz peek into a room before continuing down the hall. “Now I’m glad we didn’t go to my place.” 

            Gaz nodded. “Yeah, and we’ve got the house to ourselves,” she hummed, pulling Mabel into her bedroom and shutting the door. 

            Red LED strip lights ran along the top of the walls, bathing the room in crimson. Mabel smiled to herself when she caught sight of the lesbian flag hanging on the far wall, beside a desk with a sleek gaming setup that was also trimmed with LEDs. Gaz took her hand again after shucking off her coat and throwing it over her desk chair, pulling Mabel towards the large bed. 

            “Oh my gosh, your stuffies are sooo cute!” Mabel squealed, crawling onto the dark comforter and pulling two of them towards her, a teddy bear and a puppy. 

            “They’re nothing, just…” Gaz reached to push them out of Mabel’s hands in embarrassment, but upon seeing the adorable look on Mabel’s face, just looked away. Thankfully the red light in her room masked the dusting of blush across her cheeks. Mabel squeezed the toys before neatly putting them back against the pillow where she grabbed them from, giving them both pats before turning around and looking at Gaz with a goofy smile. 

            Gaz chuckled and joined Mabel on the bed, leaning forward to catch the girl’s lips in a kiss. Mabel instantly threw her arms around Gaz’s shoulders, pulling her closer before falling backwards, giggling as she broke the kiss. Gaz ran her fingers through Mabel’s hair, pushing some of the stray strands out of her face. She watched her eyes flutter shut from the gesture, a content smile stretching across her face. 

            “You want me to take care of you?” Gaz murmured, settling above Mabel with her knee very obviously left between her thighs. Mabel nodded, leaning into Gaz’s hand as she continued stroking her hair.

            “Yeah, I—“ She interrupted herself with a hiccup, before laughing. “I’d like that…”

            Gaz gently pushed her knee up a little bit, giving Mabel just a bit of friction to gauge her reaction. 

            “What kinda things do you like, honey?” she purred, watching Mabel suck in a breath.

            “I dunno... I just wanna let go right now,” she replied, twirling her hair with a finger. Gaz smiled, leaning down and kissing her as she slipped her hands under Mabel’s shirt, pushing it up until she felt the lacy fabric of her bralette, cupping her breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze. Mabel moaned into the kiss, arching her back to send the message she wanted more. Gaz smiled against her lips and obliged, slipping her hands under her bra and gently rubbing her thumbs over the girl’s nipples. Mabel sharply inhaled, and Gaz could feel her heartbeat flutter beneath her fingers. 

            “You wanna sit up for me so you can get this off?” Gaz said softly, and Mabel nodded, dizzily lifting herself just enough to wrestle her top and bra off and fling them somewhere off to the side. She then fell back against the mattress, chest rising and falling as the cool air of the room made her shiver. Gaz noticed this and leaned down, lips connecting with Mabel’s soft skin as she gently kissed at her chest and collarbones while she continued to squeeze and pinch at her nipples. Mabel’s mouth being free made it a lot easier to hear the whimpers and moans getting drawn from between her lips, which increased in volume as Gaz began to suck and bite at her skin. 

            “Gaz—nngh—!” Mabel arched her body to press her chest closer to her, biting her lip as Gaz left a particularly dark mark below her collarbone. Gaz peppered kisses down her chest before dragging her tongue across her right nipple, Mabel drew in a sharp gasp as she started to suck. She continued to squeeze at her left breast, feeling the quickening beat of Mabel’s heart beneath her hand. 

            “Aren’t you sensitive?” Gaz teased lightly as she lifted her head, still pinching Mabel’s left nipple between her fingers. Mabel swallowed, looking up at Gaz with an owlish stare. Gaz’s lips quirked into a smile. “Cat got your tongue? You were so talkative at the bar, now you’re all shy.” She punctuated her sentence by pinching her fingers harder, while Mabel bit back a moan and squeezed her eyes shut. 

            “S-sorry,” A shudder wracked her body. “It’s just hard to know what to do when, like, a literal goddess is on top of you...” 

            Gaz laughed, making Mabel feel even hotter beneath her. 

            “A goddess? Are you trying to get suck-up points?”

            “N-no!” she said quickly, an indignant blush painting her face as she looked away. “Unless that’s a good thing.” She sheepishly looked back up at Gaz. “Cause I’m not lying, I can’t wait to see what’s underneath your goddess robes.” She ended the words with a drunken giggle, knowing the sentence was silly, but too inebriated to care. Gaz laughed as well, making Mabel feel a rush of pride. 

            “Oh, you are precious,” she cooed, pulling off her shirt to reveal an intricate white bra with red lace trim, along with a white leather harness that only served to accentuate her already full chest. Mabel’s eyes bugged for a moment, an expression which Gaz caught and laughed at. 

            “What? You’re pretty!” Mabel pouted, sitting up and pressing her face between Gaz’s breasts before looking up at her. “I am not immune to boobs.”

            The gesture and Mabel’s statement only made Gaz laugh harder, enough to snort, which made Mabel’s heart flutter. She pressed her lips to Gaz’s chest, feeling the vibrations of her gentle laughter as she dragged her teeth across her skin, sucking at it to leave bruises that mirrored her own. She smelled like honeysuckle and smoke from the club, the scent made Mabel feel dizzier than she already was. Her breath hitched when Gaz’s hands trail up her sides, caressing her breasts again before squeezing and kneading at them.

            “You’re so sweet, Mabel,” Gaz purred, making Mabel preen under the praise. “Do you want more?”

            Mabel released Gaz’s skin with a soft pop, looking up at her with curiosity sparkling in her eyes. As much as she despised leaving Mabel’s warmth, Gaz got up, digging around in a drawer and pulling out a couple things, most of which she hid behind her back in one hand as she approached the bed again. In her other hand, she presented a small bundle of purple rope to Mabel, whose eyes flicked between it and Gaz’s face. 

            “I’d just tie your wrists to the bed, if that’s alright,” Gaz explained. “The rope’s soft, it doesn’t hurt a bit, and it makes stuff extra fun.” She grinned, and Mabel felt like prey under the intensity of Gaz’s gaze, though that didn’t mean she didn’t like it. 

            “That sounds cool...” Mabel reached out and touched the rope, and true to Gaz’s word, it didn’t feel scratchy or harsh like she expected. 

            “Here, give me your wrists.”

            Mabel stuck her hands out towards Gaz obediently, watching her expertly tie them together before giving them a soft tug. Mabel felt her heart speed up. Something about this felt dangerous, sinful, her stomach twisting with arousal as Gaz checked that the knots weren’t too tight.

            “Tell me if you want out, okay?” Gaz met Mabel’s gaze, her tone becoming serious. Mabel sobered up slightly to pay attention, nodding. 

            “I’ll tell you,” she promised. 

            “Good. Now,” Gaz moved, gently guiding Mabel over to the headboard and letting her lie down comfortably before securing her wrists to it. She checked Mabel’s face for any signs of discomfort before continuing, raking her fingers down Mabel’s chest and stomach to meet the waistband of her skirt. Mabel bit her lip as Gaz’s fingers left trails of fire across her skin, then a sudden realization washed over her as Gaz’s fingers undid the buckles, grasped at the waistband of her skirt, and pulled it down. 

            “Aren’t you adorable!” Gaz cooed as Mabel cringed. She’d forgotten that she had been wearing her Hello Kitty panties, since she didn’t exactly expect to get laid tonight. Embarrassment washed over her before she felt Gaz’s hand rest on her cheek, her eyes cracking open to look at her. 

            “You okay?”

            “I-I’m just kinda... Well, I’m not exactly dressed super sexy or anything, and—“

            Gaz cut her off with a snort. “I just called you adorable.”

            “Huh?”

            “What, you don't think Hello Kitty underwear isn’t fuckin’ adorable?” She snapped the elastic waistband against her skin, making electricity crackle where it landed. “I love it. I mean it in a good way, you have amazing taste in lingerie.” She gave Mabel a smile before getting up, making her whimper from the loss of contact. 

            Mabel tried to watch what Gaz was doing, but the girl had her back to her and all she could hear was rummaging. Gaz returned after a moment, holding a massage wand in one hand and a pink bullet vibrator in the other, placing them on the bed beside Mabel while she took off her own jeans, revealing red and white lacy panties that matched her bra. Mabel followed Gaz’s hands with her eyes as she picked the toys back up. 

            “So, what should we play with?” Gaz teased, sitting on the bed beside Mabel. Mabel swallowed.

            “U-um...” Heat flushed through her, tingling between her legs. Her mouth hung open. “That one, I suppose...” She stared at the wand. Gaz smirked. She set the toys back down and ran a hand up Mabel's leg, gently pushing her thighs apart. Mabel couldn't help but squirm in anticipation, relishing in the unfamiliar feeling of her bound wrists. Gaz was right, it did make things more fun.

            Gaz gingerly pulled Mabel’s underwear off and tossed it to the floor, before she picked up a little bottle and slathered her hand in lube. Mabel shivered as the cool air met her bare skin, now exposed to Gaz’s gaze. She blushed when Gaz’s eyes made their way between Mabel’s legs. Gaz smilled. Mabel opened her mouth to start nervously rambling, but it cut into a needy whimper as Gaz’s slicked fingers pressed against her hot skin, rubbing up and down her already dripping slit. 

            “G-Gaz!” Mabel let out high-pitched gasp. That was all the encouragement Gaz needed. 

            Mabel cried out when two fingers easily slipped inside her. Gaz pressed her knuckles deep into the wet warmth of Mabel’s pussy, and promptly began to rub and thrust her fingers in and out. Mabel didn’t hold back her cries, moaning and yelping shamelessly. 

            A loud buzzing filled the air. Gaz used her other hand to grind the vibrating head of the wand down onto Mabel’s pink clit. Mabel practically screamed, writhing as the muscles in her legs spasmed. Electric heat pulsed through her hips and inner thighs in waves, rocking her body and numbing her mind. It was the best she’d felt in a long, long time. 

            Mabel peered up at Gaz through tear-filled eyes, barely able to focus. Gaz sat between her legs, perched over her, a smile on her lips while she watched Mabel come undone beneath her. She was stunningly beautiful, just like Paz. Tears spilled down her cheeks as Mabel gazed up at her like she was the only creature in existence. Her warm skin bathed in an otherworldly red glow, the white of her lingerie shining ethereally, her strange amber eyes practically devouring her—Gaz was breathtaking. Through the haze of pleasure, a strange thought popped into Mabel’s mind. Staring up at Gaz, she didn’t know whether she was looking at an angel or a devil. Gaz was somehow both—and even though that uncertainty should have scared her, Mabel only felt a deep thrill of excitement bloom in her heart. 

            She threw her head back and let the ecstasy rush through her, screaming out Gaz’s name until she could no longer form coherent words. 

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Mabel’s eyelashes fluttered. She stirred, groaning at the sliver of warm sunlight glowing red through her eyelids. She rolled away from the light and snuggled back into the plush blankets, pulling them tight around her. She splayed her legs out, stretching contently across the large mattress. 

            Mabel’s eyes flew open suddenly as a distant realization came to the forefront of her mind. I don’t own a queen bed.  

            She sat up, hair messy and sticking up at random angles, and looked around. Her mind reeled while taking in the strange surroundings. For a terrifying few moments, she had no idea where she was (even if the nearby stuffed animals offered some comfort). Then she realized she was naked under the blankets, and everything came back all at once. Mabel squeaked in alarm and pulled the blanket back up to cover herself, before staring around to see if the girl from last night was in here. Gaz, the name came swimming back to her in her hungover mind. 

            She groaned at the piercing pain behind her eyes, and raised the blanket to peek at her own skin. She felt herself turning red with embarrassment as her eyes raked over the numerous hickies all over her freckled skin, even down by her inner thighs. Oh god, what the hell did I get myself into!? And...shit. Mabel glanced off the sides of the bed, looking for her clothes to no avail. 

            “No, no, it's fine,” Mabel muttered to herself in an effort to quell the rising panic. She reasoned that Gaz would have kicked her out if she didn’t want her here... or what if she was just being polite? Mabel didn’t remember them going to sleep, did she just... did she pass out on Gaz!? Should she sneak out now, even though Gaz wasn’t here? Gaz had to still be in the house, there's no way someone would leave a stranger alone in their house after having a one-night stand... What the hell do people do after they hook up!?

            After several long minutes of deliberation, Mabel noticed a thin silky bathrobe hung on the back of the closed door. She blinked once, twice, then flushed pink again. Oh my god, she must have left that there for me. Is she waiting downstairs? Oh god... Mabel stood, reluctantly leaving the cover of the blankets behind. She scanned the floor one last time to look for a familiar teal or yellow cloth, but instead saw the small pile of purple ropes that Gaz had used to tie her to the bed. Mabel squeaked in embarrassment and covered her face.

            “Oh my fuckin’ christ, get it together you gay disaster!” Mabel hissed at herself. She pulled the robe down from the hook. Instead of exiting the room, she turned back and gave it another once over. It looked very different in the day, without the glow of red LEDs. It looked so normal and cozy, if a bit goth (black curtains, black accent wall, black blanket) and way larger than any room Mabel had ever owned. Mabel pulled the bathrobe around her body. It was refreshingly smooth against her somewhat tender skin, and a gorgeous rose gold color. She tied the front off with the strings, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the room as silently as possible.

            She found herself in a gray hallway. Dimly lit, by what looked to be natural light shining up from a staircase to the far right. She passed a few closed doors she didn’t dare open, and turned to look down the stairs once she was at the end of the hallway. Mabel started slowly stepping down each one, the black marble was cold against her bare feet. Nerves rose in her throat the farther she went—everything was so sleek and spotless and monochrome. Seriously, a marble fuckin’ staircase? I’m in a goddamn rich girl’s house, fuck.

            It wasn’t as if she’d never been in a mansion before—she’d stayed over at Pacifica’s parents place a few times—but she’d never been in one after hooking up with the person. The brief thought of Paz made Mabel frown, an unpleasant twinge of guilt itched under her skin. She was at her funeral not terribly long ago, and was now going home drunk with strange, albeit very hot, girls. Was it a rebound? A coping mechanism? Whatever it was, it felt fucked up, not to mention unfair to Gaz. 

            Thinking of Gaz brought a new wave of anxiety, but a different kind. How do you face someone who just the night before had you tied to their bed and screaming their name in delirious pleasure? Like, ‘Oh hello, it’s me! The girl who cried because you fucked her within an inch of her life!’ This was going to be awful, but Mabel supposed she had to face the consequences.

            If she could even find Gaz in this huge-ass house. 

            Mabel kept wandering room to room, creeping quietly and hesitantly, trying to remain hidden—she didn’t know if other people were here and she would die on the spot if they saw her like this, sneaking around their house practically naked. Her surroundings  were all made of whites and blacks and grays, with some touches of gold here and there. Empty and quiet. Mabel’s eyebrows furrowed when she saw a row of awards high on the wall of a living room whose ceiling opened up to the second floor. A big crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling but cast no light. Everything was just so over-the-top—even many of the windows weren’t actually windows, but rather massive panes of glass that were sometimes nearly floor to ceiling in height. 

            Then, finally, Mabel heard the sound of a chair scraping on the floor. She froze for a moment, before heading towards the noise, hugging her arms around herself. Through an open archway, she spotted what looked to be a large black and white kitchen. Mabel walked forward and found herself standing just within the arch now, and was staring wide-eyed at the purple-haired girl pouring herself a mug of coffee from the pot on the counter. She froze.

            Before Mabel’s brain could catch up with her and think of what to do or say, Gaz turned. Her striking eyes met Mabel’s wide deer-in-headlights stare. They moved down, scanned Mabel’s robed form, and then back up to Mabel’s face. Mabel’s eyes similarly darted across Gaz’s body, but more frantically for fear of being caught staring. Gaz was wearing a striped long-sleeve sweater and very short black silky sleep-shorts that showed off her bare legs. Mabel averted her gaze.

            “I...uh... I-I... Good morning?” Mabel forced out, mouth opening and closing like a fish, to which she thought she heard a tiny chuckle from Gaz, but by the time Mabel looked back over to the girl, she looked as she had before, with no evidence of laughter or even a smile. At least she didn’t look openly hostile or disgusted, but the hard-to-read expression made Mabel shift from foot to foot. She hesitantly stepped forward and winced at the bright beams of sunlight streaming into the room.

            “Coffee?” Gaz finally said. Something in Mabel’s chest fluttered at her voice, low and smoky like it had been last night, but with a slight hoarseness to it from sleep. Ough, she’s so fuckin’ hot, goddamn, Mabel you can really score—

            “Yeah!” Mabel’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I’ve got a nasty hangover, ahah...” She cringed at how lackluster and nervous the chuckle came out, but Gaz only turned back to the cupboards and reached up to get a mug for Mabel as well. Mabel, still slightly hesitant, stepped further into the kitchen, a few feet behind Gaz. Gaz turned back to her and extended the mug to Mabel. 

            “Here, have this one. Thought you might enjoy it,” Gaz said. Mabel took the big mug in her hands and inspected it. She did like it, as it was a Hello Kitty mug, with nubby ears poking out the top and everything. She grinned.

            “Ah, it’s so cute! How did you know I—” Mabel’s face turned pink and she froze again. Oh my fucking god, that’s right, my underwear...

            Gaz laughed. Mabel blinked and broke from her momentary humiliation to stare awestruck at the girl who made the sound. Gaz’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and a hand raised to partially cover her smiling face. The white sunlight glowed from behind her, illuminating stands of her hair that stuck out from the rest. Mabel’s stomach twisted into knots.

            “Creamer is on the counter, let me know if you use anything else,” Gaz said and walked off. Mabel’s eyes followed her over to a kitchen island, where she pulled up a stool and settled in. For a horrifying moment, Mabel thought she was just going to sit there and watch her, but thankfully she pulled out her phone and started scrolling, taking an idle sip of steaming coffee here and there.

            “O-okay, thanks,” Mabel said, trying not to voice-crack again. She swallowed and turned her back to Gaz to pour some vanilla creamer into the mug, followed by the dark coffee.

            Behind her, Mabel did not see Gaz’s eyes lingering on her, nor her expression ever so slightly souring with disappointment. It figured that Mabel would be acting embarrassed and ashamed, she probably just wanted to get out of here and away from Gaz as quickly as possible. It was silly to think things would go differently. At least she hadn’t just stolen some of Gaz’s clothes and bailed without saying goodbye. 

            Mabel crept over to where Gaz sat and pulled a stool out, not next to her, but with an empty seat in between them. Mabel climbed up and settled in, resting her elbows on the stone countertop and wrapping her hands around the mug. She stared into the now light brown liquid within and said nothing, and neither did Gaz. The girls sat not-quite-next-to each other in silence for a long few minutes, each sipping at their drink. Fuck, what do I say? Mabel chewed her bottom lip nervously. 

            “Uh, it’s really goo—” Mabel started to compliment the coffee, but Gaz spoke up as well.

            “Your clothes were in the wash and should be done by now,” she said, short and to-the-point. Mabel flinched. 

            “Oh...” she mumbled and looked back into her mug. Mabel squeezed her eyes shut and took a breath. “Hey, I... I’m sorry for this. I-I’ve never... I haven’t done this sort of thing before.”

            “This sort of thing?” Gaz didn’t look at her.

            “Yeah,” Mabel ignored it, she was good at ignoring the ways Gaz deterred people. “Y’know... going home with someone from a club.” Mabel saw a scowl forming on Gaz’s face and she quickly said, “Not that it was bad! God, it was anything but bad! I, uh... sheesh, ” Mabel laughed weakly. “How does someone say thank you for a hookup? I feel silly.”

            Gaz’s eyebrows furrowed and she turned her head sideways to meet Mabel’s eyes. Mabel couldn’t help but swallow nervously and chuckle again. 

            “God, you’re really pretty, you know that?” Mabel whispered under her breath. Then her eyes widened and she coughed awkwardly. “Uh, maybe I shouldn’t have said that out loud, haha! Hah...uh... Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.” Mabel quickly went to remove herself from the kitchen, but was stopped once her feet touched the floor.

            “Wait,” Gaz said. She turned in her seat to face Mabel. Mabel stared at the dark eyelashes framing Gaz’s mesmerizing amber eyes. “You don’t know where the laundry even is.”

            Mabel blinked. 

            “Oh. Oh! Uh...” she said dumbly, blushing in embarrassment and looking away. Dummy.

            “Also... I haven’t either,” Gaz continued, glossing over Mabel’s floundering. 

            “Wha?” She looked up. Gaz met her eyes again.

            “I haven’t done this sort of thing either.” Gaz tilted her head slightly, inspecting Mabel’s face. “Well, not exactly. You're the first stray I've brought home.” 

            “Uh—!” Mabel squeaked. Gaz shifted, turning her back to her but continuing to speak.

            “Sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I knew you were drunk, it was a mistake.”

            “No!” Mabel jumped forward and grabbed the back of Gaz's sleeve. Gaz whirled on her with a look of outrage at the touch, ready to snap at her, but her words died on her tongue. “It wasn't! I don't regret it! You're lovely and I'm so so sorry if I'm making you feel guilty about it, please don't be! That was... uh...” Mabel blushed and her words dropped into a shy mumble, “...one of the best nights I've had, maybe ever...”

            Goddammit, why is she so cute? Gaz thought with a heavy sigh. She had never been a people person, and had only dated once—someone barely worth mentioning for how brief and long ago it was—yet this ridiculous freckled girl had somehow snuck past Gaz’s walls. It was an incredibly disarming feeling, but Gaz was older now. She wasn’t some foolish teenager, and Mabel wasn’t either. Gaz had spent her whole life trying to please others at her own expense, while ignoring her own feelings. 

            “Me too,” Gaz said softly. When Mabel looked up at her in surprise at the admission, she was met with an alarming intensity in Gaz’s eyes. Mabel was taken aback at first, mistaking it for something like anger, but then Gaz hopped down from the stool and stepped towards her. Mabel watched Gaz’s eyes trail down Mabel’s neck to her exposed collarbone, tracing the marks left there. Mabel felt herself blushing under the scrutiny.

            “G-Gaz...” Mabel whispered, unsure of what to say but unwilling to move away. Being held in her gaze felt... intoxicating. 

            “Can I kiss you?” Gaz asked, inclining her head forwards but never removing her eyes from Mabel’s. Mabel’s eyebrows raised. She remembered asking Gaz that same thing last night, and now it seemed the roles were reversed. 

            Mabel simply nodded and let out a shaky exhale as Gaz’s hands grabbed her hips and pulled her in. Their mouths locked together in a kiss, the taste of coffee and the scent of lavender shampoo filled Mabel’s senses. Mabel gasped when she felt a hand slide easily into the silky robe and trace over her ribs. Heat rose to her face, but she pulled back. Gaz retracted as soon as Mabel showed hesitancy. Mabel was relieved to see Gaz didn’t look annoyed or offended, though. 

            “Sorry, uh... I really like you.” Mabel swallowed. 

            “I like you too,” Gaz responded patiently, letting Mabel gather her thoughts. Mabel chuckled nervously, her eyebrows knitting, and she frowned.

            “I...” Mabel didn’t know what she was trying to say. It was so complicated... She really really liked Gaz, but at the same time it made her feel guilty. Guilty because she was in love with Pacifica not that long ago, and probably still was. She shouldn’t lead someone on into liking a girl with as much baggage as Mabel had. 

            “Mabel,” Gaz jumped in, seeing Mabel become upset. She gently grabbed both of Mabel’s arms. “I’m not going to pressure you into anything. I don’t usually like people, not like this. This is new to me, but my feelings are strong enough that I am willing to pursue them. You are extremely cute and funny, but if you don’t feel the same way, we can part ways amicably as adults.” Mabel blinked and stared at her, her shiny pink lips slightly ajar. As her brain processed, her ears turned red at the compliments and directness of her words. Mabel took a deep breath.

            “I-I do feel the same...” Mabel shifted in Gaz’s grasp and felt a twinge of longing when the girl pulled away, thinking that she may have been uncomfortable. Gaz is so caring and attentive, I have to be honest with her too.  

            “We don’t have to commit to anything right away. Just let me know if you’d like to see each other again, because I would very much like to.” Gaz gently grabbed Mabel’s hand, making the girl inhale sharply. 

            “Yes! Wow, uh, yes.” Mabel gave Gaz’s hand a gentle squeeze and looked down at their hands for a moment. “I just...” She moved her eyes back up to Gaz’s face. “You’re so perfect, I don’t want to lead you on or hurt you. I... I'm... I was in love with a girl who died a few weeks ago. I don’t... I don’t know if I’m handling it very well.”

            Gaz was silent for a beat and Mabel worried she was going to lash out or become distant again, but instead Gaz remained calm. It unnerved Mabel how hard Gaz was to read sometimes, or maybe she was just too thoroughly distracted by how gorgeous she was. There was a strong possibility of the latter.

            Gaz nodded. “Probably not handling it very well, considering you got drunk and hooked up with a stranger,” she said.

            “I-I’m sorry! I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have...” Mabel hurried to say. You fucked it all up! She’s going to hate you for using her like that— 

            Gaz laughed. Mabel stared at her, stunned.

            “It’s okay,” Gaz said with a gentle smile. “We all have our baggage. I can handle yours if you can handle mine, and then we can see where this goes. Deal?”  

            “Wh... What’s yours?” What kind of baggage could a gorgeous, perfect, rich girl like this possibly have...? Gaz smirked. Mabel’s stomach fluttered at the expression.

            “D’you think you can deal with not only extreme daddy issues, but big brother issues as well? Not to mention generally having a sour, people-hating personality, and still sleeping with stuffed animals, and having no friends,  aside from aforementioned stuffed animals, and...” Gaz said, but humor laced her voice. 

            Mabel laughed out loud and quickly slapped a hand over her mouth to hide the grin there.

            “Sorry!” Her shoulders shook slightly with laughter. “I don’t mean to laugh!”

            “It’s fine,” Gaz laughed too and Mabel felt her own grin growing brighter. “Is that a yes, then?”

            “Yes!” Mabel giggled. “Those are definitely things I can handle. And...” She leaned in to whisper, “I sleep with stuffies too, of course.”

            The corner of Gaz’s mouth quirked up into an affectionate smile. While Mabel was leaned in, she closed the gap to peck a kiss on Mabel’s lips and delighted in the squeak of surprise the other girl let out in response. The two girls stood smiling at each other for a moment, staring into eachother's eyes, before colliding again with renewed fervor. 

            They feverishly kissed, bumping back up against the counter and groping across each other’s bodies with desperate touches. Mabel ran her fingers through Gaz's soft hair. For the first time in so long, her heart felt light. This right here, simply being with Gaz, was better than anything Mabel had tried in her attempts to make herself feel better these past few weeks. She would have gladly stayed like this for hours, smiling against Gaz’s lips, humming happily into the kiss. 

            Mabel let out a shriek of surprise when her elbow bumped one of the coffee mugs and it splashed out a bit. They both burst out laughing. 

            “You hungry?” Gaz asked, rubbing a tear from her eye. “I'll make us breakfast, if you'd like.” 

            Mabel’s face glowed. “I can help! I make insane pancakes!”  

            Gaz laughed, and the sight of her filled Mabel with warmth, thawing the chill that had settled around her heart. 

Chapter Text

            “Took ya long enough.” Dipper grunted as he felt Dib slip into the seat beside him at the bar. 

            “Huh?” 

            He didn’t even have to look at him to visualize the confusion on his face, mildly proud of having caught Dib off guard. He rubbed his finger along the rim of his empty glass, the remnants of whisky at the bottom catching the pulsing lights of the club.

            “Well, Mabel just ran off with some girl, and she’s the one with the car, so I made it easy for you to find me. Take me home.” Dipper finally turned to look at him, the lights around him spinning for a moment before he focused on Dib’s face. He watched as Dib’s eyes flicked from his face to the multiple shot glasses beside his hand. 

            Dib sputtered for a moment, before looking up at Dipper. “Is this a joke?” 

            “I wish. This bar charges way too much for shots.” He snorted, leaning back in the stool for a moment before slipping off of it. “And now I wanna go home. You have a car, and you definitely know where I live.” Dipper was standing a lot closer to Dib than he normally would, leaning into his presence rather than pulling away. Dib could smell the alcohol on his breath as he swayed slightly in front of him. 

            “So you want me to drive you home cause you’re too broke to afford a taxi?” Dib searched Dipper’s face for any sign of insincerity, but from what he could tell Dipper was just lopsidedly smiling at him and flushed from the alcohol.

            “Yes.”

            "You think I’ll chauffeur your drunk ass around for free?” 

            “I know you would do it for free if I asked,” Dipper snickered, trying to contain himself but failing as he broke out in a huge grin, “but I won’t make you.” He watched Dib intently as the boy put two and two together. 

            “Finally warming up to me?” Dib smirked as he got up, taking Dipper’s wrist and leading him to the exit. 

            “Oh, I still hate you, don't worry.” Dipper laughed as he stumbled along behind him, narrowly avoiding people in the cramped club. 

            They emerged into the parking lot, the cool night air providing a refreshing escape from the oppressiveness of the bar, though Dib still felt a lingering weight around him. He helped the brunette into his car before getting in the driver’s side. Dib let out a startled grunt when his face was grabbed and he was forced to turn as Dipper planted his lips squarely against Dib’s. 

            He almost jerked away in surprise as Dipper messily kissed him, his grip in his hair too hard to feasibly pull away. Dipper eagerly ran his tongue along his lower lip before slipping it into Dib’s mouth, drawing another squeak from the other boy. Dib was starting to feel as lightheaded as Dipper was, when he finally pulled away, collapsing back into the passenger seat and starting to laugh again. Dib was stunned speechless, hesitantly grabbing his keys and turning the car on. 

            The unexpected kiss had shaken him so much that he found it hard to focus on the road. Every time yellow street light washed over the interior, he’d quickly glance over at Dipper to check on him. Dipper squirmed in his seat, cheeks flushed red as he watched Dib drive with glossy eyes. Dib couldn’t see how much his pupils had blown from the driver’s seat. 

            “Are we there yet?” Dipper asked, his own restlessness rubbing off on Dib, who was now tapping the steering wheel with chipped black nails. 

            “Well we’re going to your place, don’t you recognize it?” Dib replied, trying to toy with him in his inebriated state. 

            Dipper replied with a noncommittal noise. “If you’re kidnapping me, you can only do it for the night. I’ve got shit to do tomorrow.” 

            The reply sent Dib for a loop. It was as if Dipper expected—and accepted, his fate in Dib’s hands. It then dawned on him that he did. Dipper knew to go to that club to find him, he got himself drunk enough to let his inhibitions go and act on his feelings, and waited for Dib to catch him. Dib realized with smug satisfaction that Dipper had planned this. Even if the boy couldn’t admit it to himself while sober, he at least had half a brain to acknowledge the fact that he liked Dib, and to a certain extent, had embraced the elaborate game of cat and mouse they were playing. 

            Dib stopped in the parking lot of Dipper’s apartment complex, getting out and watching the drunken boy stumble out of the car to join him on the walk to his apartment. Dipper grabbed his wrist, pulling him along and through his front door, rather than his usual reaction of slamming it in his face, a welcome change in Dib’s opinion. 

            “You didn’t kidnap me,” Dipper said as he kicked off his shoes, though his voice lacked the relief one would expect. Dib followed suit, about to reply when Dipper whipped around to face him. The dopey look on his face had evaporated and he reached out and grabbed Dib by the collar of his shirt. “What a shame,” he hummed, beginning to drag him down the hall towards his room. 

            Dib made a noise of shock, unable to formulate words as Dipper shoved him on his bed and straddled him, using his weight to make sure Dib wasn’t going anywhere. Dib looked up at him in the dark, bewildered by his actions but not opposed to them in the slightest. The air between them was tense as they locked eyes, Dib becoming hyper aware of the weight of Dipper’s hips on his crotch. The few seconds they spent motionless felt like hours to Dib, and when Dipper finally moved the tension cracked like lightning between them. Dipper leaned down and kissed Dib furiously, their teeth knocking thanks to the drunken incoordination of the boy above him. Dib reached up to try and touch Dipper, but Dipper grabbed his wrists and pinned them beside his head with a growl, pulling away from the kiss. 

            “No, you’re gonna be patient.” Dipper narrowed his eyes, looking down at Dib. The rush in his body from seeing how adorable Dib looked while caught off guard was definitely not the alcohol. 

            “What—?“ Dib’s indignant reply was cut off when Dipper dug his nails into Dib’s wrists, making him gasp from the slight pain.

            “No more talking.” A shiver ran down Dib’s spine as Dipper all but growled the command. A soft whimper left his lips when he felt Dipper begin to grind his hips against his in an agonizingly slow movement. 

            “I think you’ve lost your mind, babe.” Dib snickered, moving to buck his hips against Dipper’s in order to overpower the boy. “This isn’t how the game is supposed to go.”

            “This isn’t a fucking game,” Dipper hissed as he grabbed Dib’s hips and pushed them into the mattress, digging his thumbs into the skin just above his hipbones, making Dib’s guts tie into even tighter knots. Dipper leaned down, growling in Dib’s ear, “Behave.” 

            Dib shuddered, drawing in a breath as he struggled to pull his head out of the clouds. He felt drunker than Dipper, words were failing him as the boy loomed over him, hands moving to his chest for balance. Their eyes met again, but this time Dib had to look away, the sheer intensity of Dipper’s gaze felt like it was burning him. He leaned back, seemingly taking this as a victory, before shuffling back to sit on his thighs and slip his hands under his shirt. 

            Dipper could feel Dib’s ribs rapidly rising and falling beneath his skin as he pushed the fabric up his chest, running his thumbs over his nipples for good measure as he pulled Dib’s shirt off. Dib bit back a moan, the calculated nature of Dipper’s movements made it hard to believe he was drunk. 

            “Oh, don’t hide it. Don’t you want this? Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

            “Well—I-“ Dib stammered.

            “Say you want it.” It came out as more of a command than anything else, and Dib’s eyes widened. 

            “I—yes...” Dib breathed. Dipper’s fingers played with the hem of his jeans. 

            “That’s not what I told you to say,” Dipper hummed. 

            “I—fuck, Dipper, fine, I want it!” he said, whinier than intended. His cheeks burned, he sounded so pathetic. “I want you...”

            Dipper tilted his head, pretending to think while Dib bit his lip. He was completely at Dipper’s mercy, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. 

            “Hmm. Okay,” Dipper looped his fingers in Dib’s belt loops, “but don’t think a lame ass reply like that is gonna get you very far,” he said threateningly as he pulled off his jeans, ghosting his fingers across the thin fabric of his boxers, watching Dib’s cock twitch at the touch. His insides felt like they were melting as Dipper continued his lazy, feather light strokes. Dib gritted his teeth and moaned, trying to buck his hips but being stopped by Dipper’s other hand. However, the soft moan drawn from between his lips did seem to get Dipper’s attention, as the boy pulled his boxers down to let his cock spring free. He furrowed his brow when he saw the crooked smile painted on Dipper’s face.

            “What’s so funny?” Dib narrowed his eyes.

            “You want control back so bad, it’s adorable.” Dipper leaned forward, hovering above Dib on his hands and knees. Dib whimpered as all contact between them was lost, cringing to himself at the involuntary sound. He searched Dipper’s face, and when the boy opened his mouth to speak again, Dib’s hand shot forward, grabbing him by the collar and using the relative freedom he had between them to throw Dipper off balance and switch their positions. Dipper’s eyes glazed over in dizziness from the force of being slammed chest-first into the mattress, the rickety bed beneath them squeaking in protest. Dib dug his fingers into Dipper’s shoulder blades, holding him down much harder than he truly needed to.

            Dipper started laughing from the outburst. 

            “Oh my god, is that all it takes to piss you off? You really are fuckin’ fragile,” he slurred, head still spinning. He felt Dib grab the back of his pants, roughly pulling both his jeans and boxers down in one movement. Dipper gritted his teeth, kicking out one of his legs and knocking Dib off balance, so he had to lean forward to steady himself against Dipper’s body. Dipper saw the opening he had and threw his arm back, elbow colliding with Dib’s face and making him cry out and fall to the side.

            “Fuck! What the hell has gotten into you-?!” Dib spat, the metallic taste of blood washing over his tongue. Dipper was steadily growing dizzier, the combination of alcohol and arousal seeming to make his movements even less coordinated, so he ended up with his knee on Dib’s chest, miscalculating how far he had to move to straddle him. Either way, it was making Dib struggle to breathe, which was fine by him.

            “Not having fun getting a taste of your own medicine?” Dipper teased maliciously, finally managing to slide and sit on his chest. “Poor baby.” He sat forward and pressed their lips together, leaning on his elbows and grabbing Dib’s hair so hard it actually hurt. Dib gasped, letting Dipper shove his tongue in his mouth, blood and spit frothing at the corners of his lips. He tried to moan, but they were just swallowed up by the intensity of Dipper’s kiss. He pulled away to breathe, strings of red connecting them to one another. They broke as Dipper panted, falling and shimmering against Dib’s lips. 

            Dib had to cough, wondering how much mouth wounds were supposed to bleed as the blood and saliva caught in the back of his throat. Dipper’s head lolled to the side as he gave him a smug, bloodstained smile. He was ripping Dib’s control away from him. Dib felt like he was drowning, struggling to keep his head above water as Dipper worked to break him, and he knew it.

            “You look cute like this.” Dipper reached for the bottle of lube on his bedside table, which had been suspiciously left out and within reach. He really did plan everything out, Dib realized incredulously as he spread his legs. “I can almost understand why this gets you off.” Dipper’s words snapped him out of his thoughts, and the cold lube against his entrance made him even more aware of what was happening. The words rang in his head, he could almost understand. Maybe he was closer to breaking Dipper than he thought.

            Dipper’s finger sunk into him, eliciting a whimper from Dib as he drew a sharp breath. He stared at the ceiling, swallowing the thick bloody spit in his mouth, paradoxically finding that his mouth felt dry. Dipper clumsily fingered him, Dib had almost forgotten he was drunk, gasping and moaning when he added a second finger, a little too early but Dib wasn’t going to protest. His fingers finally found his prostate, ripping a moan from his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut.

            “Dipper...ngh, Dipper...” He reached out for the boy, wrapping his fingers around the fabric of his shirt and weakly tugging at it. Dipper leaned forward curiously, but didn’t stop thrusting his fingers. Dib managed to pull Dipper over him enough to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as the residual taste of blood washed over his tongue. His heart slammed against his ribs, breaking the kiss to cry out when Dipper added a third finger. He met Dipper’s eyes, his pupils almost swallowing the green of his irises as he looked at him with something Dib could only describe as pure, concentrated desire. The lack of restraint and complete lapse of inhibitions Dipper displayed was pulling at the seams of his composure. He let another wanton moan slip past his lips as he arched his back, neglected cock twitching and heavy between his legs as Dipper’s fingers slowly rubbed circles against his prostate. 

            Dipper pulled his fingers away, unsteadily rising to his hands and knees above Dib, stopping to almost fall on him but catching himself with his elbow. It was so close to his face, Dib almost found himself wishing it’d hit him in the teeth again. Dipper used the fall to his advantage though, teeth sinking into Dibs neck as he quickly slicked lube along his shaft and pushed inside of Dib with a quick, sharp thrust of his hips. The shock of his actions made Dib gasp loudly, hot tears pricking at the corner of his eyes from the pain of the teeth sinking into his neck and the fact he was forced to take Dipper to the hilt the second he thrust inside of him. Everything was so hot, Dipper was like fire, fire that would burn away all of the strings Dib used to jerk him around, and Dib was in a tailspin, falling and bracing himself for impact. 

            “Fuck,” Dipper growled, pulling away from Dib’s neck, bloody spit dripping from his lips. He looked downright animalistic as he swayed above Dib, trying to steady himself before he pulled his hips back and thrust back inside, aiming deep and filling the sinking pit in Dib’s stomach. “I should have fucking killed you, god, I should have killed you that night,” he practically snarled as he grabbed Dib by the jaw, smearing blood up his neck. Dib shuddered, trembling and trying to control his breathing, though the admission made him smirk.

            Dipper hadn’t managed to take all his control just yet.

            “You know—ngh, ffff-fuck,” he stammered, releasing Dib’s jaw from his grip and sinking back down, having to bury his face in his neck to balance himself as he continued to thrust into him, clenching his fists into the sheets. Dib reached up, hesitating for a moment, but Dipper didn’t stop him. He buried his fingers in Dipper’s curls, hiking his legs up to wrap them around Dipper’s hips. 

            “Getting dizzy?” Dib teased, and that’s when Dipper snapped at him again, nipping at his neck with his canines and managing to pierce the skin again, catching the rest of Dib’s teases in his throat.

            “F-fuck off,” Dipper sped up his thrusts, finding his prostate and aiming for it as Dib cried out and tightened his grip on Dipper’s hair. Dib was using his sass to mask the fear he felt of letting go, and Dipper wanted him to completely break under his hands. He finally lifted his head, digging his nails into Dib’s cheeks as he forced him to look at him. “C’mon, how-howsit feel? I-I’m drunk and you’re not even fighting! You could easily- easily stop me but you won’t.” Dib looked up at him in bewilderment, Dipper’s words were not a challenge, but a command. He wasn’t going to stop him, not because he couldn’t, but because Dipper told him not to.

            Words failed Dib as all he could do was whimper and squirm beneath him, moans of Dipper’s name the only thing that spilled from his lips. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t, he promised in his head, unable to admit it out loud as he slipped his hands from Dipper’s hair to dig his fingers into his back, raking his nails across his freckled skin. If Dipper was going to leave marks on him, he might as well leave some of his own. It was only fair.

            “Dipper, Dipper I wanna—” He was cut off before he could even finish the sentence.

            “No,” Dipper growled in his ear, eyes narrowing. Shock was written all over Dib’s face, how the hell was he supposed to respond to that?!

            “B-but—”

            “I said no!” Dipper lifted his head, dizziness swirling in his head before he regained a semblance of his senses. “What part of that don’t you understand?!”

            Dib gritted his teeth, unsure if he could even follow Dipper’s command, heat flaring in his gut as he squirmed, his neglected cock throbbing and hard between his legs. 

            “But—please !” Dib’s voice broke in desperation. Dipper raised an eyebrow, silent encouragement for Dib to continue. “Please, please Dipper, please let me cum!” He begged, words only fueling the fire raging inside him as he struggled for purchase on anything, with only the grip he held on Dipper’s hair to ground him. He could tell Dipper was getting impatient, even though he was trying to hold back. His hips stuttered and he started to succumb to his own desperation, falling into an unsteady rhythm as he chased his own high.

            “Wait your turn and then you can cum.”

            It didn’t even sound like Dipper’s voice. His pace was brutal and he couldn't concentrate, he wasn't even concerned with Dib’s pleasure at this point, simply focused on using him to bring himself to orgasm. The tipping point wasn’t far, especially when all he could hear was Dib’s shattered voice begging for more. He grabbed Dib’s hips with enough force to bruise, bottoming out before pleasure crashed over him so violently he saw stars. Dipper shuddered as he released into Dib, making the boy below him arch his back with a loud moan, the heat enough to break him.

            “Fuck, Mason!” Dib cried out, the coil in his guts snapping as pleasure filled him, skin burning and electric beneath Dipper. He felt something hot and sticky splash onto his chin as he curled into Dipper, keeping his fingers buried in his hair, as though the brown strands were all that tethered him to reality. Dipper crashed into his chest, too blissed out to care that he got cum smeared on his cheek as he panted and tried to clear the cloudy haziness in his head. He didn’t know if it was from the orgasm or the alcohol, probably both. The electricity in the air slowly dissipated, leaving only gentle buzzing against the two’s glistening skin and the sound of them trying to catch their breath.

            “Don’t—” Dipper panted, finally lifting his head, “Don't fuckin’ call me that.”

            Dib was still reeling, and didn’t really comprehend the words. “Call you wha?”

            “My name, dipshit.”

            “Aw, but it's such a cute name, babe!” Dib replied breathlessly, running his fingers over Dipper’s back, soothing the red lines he’d criss-crossed into his skin. Dipper remained quiet, before his head fell onto Dib’s chest, shifting slightly as he pulled out. Dib tried to suppress a whimper as he realized how empty he felt. Dipper didn’t even notice the noise, too caught up trying to process how he felt about Dib calling him his real name while climaxing. He was too drunk for this, he thought, before Dib’s voice resonating through his chest caught his attention. 

            “So are we just gonna sleep like this, or are we gonna, like, clean up?” Dib asked, toying with a piece of Dipper’s hair, shuddering as he felt Dipper’s cum drip down his thighs. Dipper lifted his head, grimacing at the sticky fluid on his cheek. He leaned forward and nearly lost his balance thanks to how shaky he was, before swiping his tongue across Dib’s chin. He then fell to the side and rested his head in the crook of Dib’s neck. 

            “There. Clean.”

            Dib laughed, but realized Dipper was practically half-asleep from the exhaustion and alcohol. He was drained as well, both emotionally and physically, and moving seemed like an impossible task. Losing the ability to care, he grabbed Dipper’s comforter and threw it over them, the discomfort subsiding as he shut his eyes. They could deal with this in the morning.

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            Dipper cracked his eyes open when he felt Dib move beneath him, a headache pulsing behind them thanks to the light in the room. He groaned, lifting himself off Dib’s chest, and immediately regretted it thanks to the wave of nausea that crashed over him. Dib turned to look at him.

            “You okay?” he murmured.

            “What do you think, dumbass?” Dipper responded rather aggressively to Dib’s gentle question, though Dib didn’t react to the hostility in his voice.

            “Need medicine?” he asked as he sat up. Dipper threw his arm over his eyes and groaned. Dib took that as a yes, getting up and going to the bathroom to grab the bottle of ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet. He glanced in the mirror as he did so, he looked pretty worse for wear considering he hadn’t even killed anyone last night, the wounds Dipper left him with were painful and sore. Grabbing a half-full water bottle from Dipper’s nightstand, he patted the boy’s shoulder and handed him the pills. Dipper lifted his arm, squinting at Dib in the low light of his bedroom, gaze flicking from Dib’s hand to his face. Dib sighed. “It’s literally just ibuprofen.”

            Dipper frowned and sat up, taking the pills from Dib’s palm and tossing them in his mouth. Dib handed him the water bottle and Dipper washed them down before realizing how dehydrated he felt. He downed the rest of it, gasping for air when he lowered the bottle from his lips, panting for a second before glancing up at Dib’s face.

            “You can leave now,” Dipper said flatly.

            Dib furrowed his brow. “I know you’re hungover as shit, but listen.” Dipper glared at him and rolled over, curling up with a pillow over his head. Dib sighed as he sat on the bed, grabbing Dipper’s shoulder and pulling him to lie on his back and face him. “What the hell was that?”

            “Was what?!” Dipper snapped. “Leave me alone, my head hurts!”

            “Last night, what the hell was that?” Dib replied, tone becoming slightly more aggressive.

            “I am not having this conversation.” Dipper shook him off and rolled back over. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. If you roll me over again I will throw up on you.” 

            “Seriously?” Dib balked, frustration evident as he stared at the mop of Dipper’s hair poking out from under the covers.

            “Oh, what? Sad that I’m playing with your feelings?” Dipper said harshly. He really didn’t want to have this argument. The two of them had nothing, were nothing. Just because he’d fucked him didn’t mean jack shit in Dipper’s mind. It was payback and nothing else.

            “You know what, yeah! I fucking am!” Dib suddenly snapped, and Dipper stiffened. Slowly, he rolled over, despite his head spinning.

            “Do you really think there’s anything between us?” Dipper growled. “You use me as some kind of fucked up plaything, I’ll do the same to you. Eye for an eye.” 

            “You do realize you’re in deep shit, right? I know you’re not fucking stupid,” Dib replied. “Or maybe you are, considering the bullshit you’re saying right now.”

            “Aww, is the ruthless psychotic serial killer in love?” Dipper cooed mockingly, gaze cold as he sat up. “You’re just freaking out because your little plaything gave you a taste of your own medicine. You’ve deluded yourself into thinking you could manipulate me into loving you and now you’re throwing a tantrum because it didn’t work. Get over yourself. If you don't like it, then fucking break up with me, pussy!”

            Dib grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, the statement enough to infuriate him. He knew Dipper was just pushing his buttons, and this was just proving his point, but before Dib could fire back a retort Dipper made good on his promise and vomited all over their laps.

            Dib immediately jumped off the bed, disgust rising in his chest as he felt stomach acid run down his leg. He watched Dipper cough and gag, debating for a moment whether he should help or not, before snatching his glasses and clothes off the floor and leaving the room. If Dipper wanted to be a jackass, Dib wouldn’t be giving him any sympathy either. He used one of the kitchen towels to wipe the multiple fluids from Dipper off his skin before throwing on his clothes, leaving the towel on the floor just to inconvenience him further. 

            He knew it was petty and childish, but Dib had no reason to act like he wasn’t. He was fuming, it was embarrassing, Dib was supposed to be the one in control, he was the one supposed to be pulling the strings, he was supposed to be the predator and Dipper was supposed to be the prey. His skin crawled. Dipper could take blame for anyone who lost their life tonight.

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            Dipper moped around for most of the day, only getting up once to rinse himself off, throw his sheets in the wash, and grab water, and another time to pee. He napped on and off, scrolling on his phone during the times he was conscious. Dib didn’t text him or try to contact him, thankfully.

            Or so he thought.

            He woke up from a nap after the sun had gone down, grabbing his phone and blearily checking the time. 11:32pm. He groaned, knowing he had slept the whole day away and would have to catch up on all his homework tomorrow, or tonight, since it didn’t seem like he was going to sleep again anytime soon. His headache had thankfully dissipated, and his stomach mostly hurt from being empty rather than from a hangover. He got up, pulling his shirt off and tossing it away in disgust, and went to the bathroom to take a proper shower. 

            Being alone with his thoughts felt like a new layer of hell. He watched the warm water stream down his skin, running over bruises and cuts from previous altercations and ones from last night. Dib had feelings for him that ran deeper than just a toy to play with, and the thought didn’t completely disgust him. An icy chill dripped down his spine despite the hot water of the shower. If he really wanted to get Dib out of his life, why was he constantly dragging him back? He could use the excuse of revenge, or toying with him, but he had to admit to himself those were excuses and that he couldn’t imagine life without Dib’s pestering at this point. Bile rose in the back of his throat as he tried to keep calm, he had to lean against the wall of the shower to steady himself from collapsing.

            Dib’s voice rang in his ears. Quit the fucking self pity. Someday you’re gonna have to accept you like me, that you aren’t this innocent, virtuous angel you think you are. Dipper stared blankly at the tile in front of him, holding back tears he didn’t deserve to cry. He had no one to blame but himself for getting into this mess, if he hadn’t gotten so caught up in their fucked up game, he might have been able to find a way out. It was too late now. Dib was right, he was in deep shit. 

            Drawing in a shuddery breath, he grabbed his shampoo, hoping to wash away the thoughts plaguing him. God, the way Dib looked at him last night. The way he whimpered and called Dipper’s name from beneath him. It felt good to knock Dib down a peg. Dipper hung his head and balled his fists against the shower walls. He was hopelessly attracted to that stupid, evil bastard. What was done was done. He dug his grave, and now he must lay in it. It helped to fade away in intoxication, though—easier to swallow all of this when he was drunk out of his fucking mind. 

            Rinsing himself off and getting out, Dipper grabbed his phone off the counter and wrapped himself in a towel, going to check his notifications. His heart dropped to his knees.

            There was a news alert on his phone.

            Rocksburg Reaper strikes again: 2 new murders tied to elusive serial killer

            Dipper’s mouth went dry and he almost felt the urge to chuck his phone across the room, until he felt it vibrate and lifted it to look at the screen again.

            Dib: feel guilty, babe?

            Dipper stared stone-faced at the attached pictures of severed limbs strewn about a patch of cracked pavement. The red smears of blood and gore seared into his retina’s. Without realizing, he licked his lips once, recalling the taste of Dib’s blood on his tongue briefly. His jaw tensed angrily. 

            Dipper: looks sloppy. I guess you really were pissed off lol

            Dipper watched the dots dance on the bottom of the screen as Dib began to type back. No reply came through, and the dots vanished. Dipper felt the smallest twinge of satisfaction, sneering as he put his phone back down. Dib could throw all the tantrums he wanted, Dipper wasn't going to give him the satisfaction anymore.

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            Dipper tiredly walked out of his apartment, going downstairs to meet Mabel in the parking lot. He needed the car today, and since Mabel had basically stranded him at the club a few nights ago, she owed him it today. But that meant he had to drive her. His twin greeted him as he slipped into the driver's seat, adjusting the seat slightly. 

            “Geez, you look like hell, what happened, bro-bro?” Mabel asked as he shifted the car into gear and pulled out of his apartment complex. 

            “I dunno, we could start with you ditching me at that bar because you wanted to fuck some girl,” Dipper replied callously. Normally he wouldn’t be so snippy, but after sleeping all day yesterday from a hangover, and then barely sleeping thanks to the text from Dib, he was in no mood to make small talk. 

            “I said sorry about that.” Mabel pouted. “I didn’t mean to, and the club isn’t too far from your house...” She tried to rationalize it, but Dipper just narrowed his eyes. 

            “You know fucking some rebound chick isn’t gonna make you feel better about Paz, right?” he suddenly blurted, looking over at her as they came to a stoplight. Mabel’s eyes widened, confusion and hurt flashing across her face. 

            “Wh—don’t lecture me on shitty coping mechanisms when I can see hickies on your neck, too!” She crossed her arms, slumping in the seat. 

            “I fucked someone for a different reason than you did,” Dipper defended himself, though he was lying through his teeth. “I’m worried about you though, you’re, like...trying to move on without processing anything.”

            “People grieve differently, Dipper! Not everyone wants to mope around forever and drink themselves to death. Maybe I wanna party and fuck girls because it’s what Pacifica would have wanted me to do! She’d want me to be happy!”

            “Are you happy, or are you just doing shit to distract yourself?” 

            “Dude, what are you, my fucking therapist? Let me live!” Mabel snapped, turning to glare out the window. The tension in the car was palpable as Dipper got off the highway, the GPS breaking the silence with its robotic voice to tell him to take a right. He stared at the road absently, wondering why he had even chosen to bitch at Mabel for doing something so innocuous. Lack of sleep, guilt, grief—he had a lot on his plate and the stress was probably getting to him, but that was no reason for him to attack the only person he knew he could trust.

            Dipper exhaled the tension in his body and hung his head, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Mabel spoke up.

            “We've still never talked about that night, Dipper.” Mabel’s voice was low, she didn't look at him. Her bottom lip trembled. “You... Where did you even go? Why weren't you there? ” 

            Dipper grit his teeth, his heart sank. “I...” Guilt chewed at him, and he fell silent. Mabel watched him expectantly. “I'm sorry.”

            “I don't want you to apologize, Dipper! I want you to talk to me!”

            “I don't want to talk about it, Mabes!” Dipper’s voice cracked. He squeezed the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip.

            “If you hadn't left, maybe she'd still be—!” Mabel clamped her mouth shut. Dipper turned to look at her, stunned. Tears pricked her eyes, her mouth moved as if she were trying to take it back, but couldn't. Or wouldn't.

            “I was with Dib,” Dipper forced out, glaring ahead at the road. Mabel was silent for a long moment. Dipper nervously continued, filling the silence. “H-he, uh, he called me away. It was just supposed to be for a moment, it was important, it... I, um...” Not a complete lie, but it still filled Dipper with a dirty feeling crawling over his skin.

            Dipper regretted turning to glance sideways at Mabel. Her eyes were wide with a mix of disbelief and anger. 

            “You fucking ditched us for your boyfriend?! Just like you ditched me at Paz’s funeral!”

            Dipper's face paled. “It's not like that! It—” 

            “You left me ALONE!” Mabel practically screamed. “I couldn't find you, I couldn't find her... And then Pacifica was killed! And I—!” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You just disappeared, Dipper! You were supposed to be there! Why would you fucking leave me, why werent you there!? Why didn't you just talk to me!?”

            “If you had just fucking told Paz you liked her ages ago, we wouldn't have been there doing some elaborate bullshit plan in the first place!!” Dipper exploded. The car fell dead silent. If Mabel and Paz had been dating, Dib wouldn't have seen her as a threat... He wouldn't have... Dipper grimaced. “It's pointless talking about what-ifs. We can't change the fact that she's dead—”

            “Pull over.”

            “What?” Dipper scoffed. “No.”

            “Pull over! I'm walking the rest of the way.” Mabel fixed him with a glare that stabbed painfully into his heart. “Now, Dipper!”

            He hesitantly pressed the brakes and pulled up next to the curb. The street was lined with large, fancy looking houses. It reminded him of the richer parts of the city, similar to the block where Pacifica lived. He had no idea why Mabel would be coming out this way. His brow furrowed.

            As soon as the car slowed to a stop, Dipper turned to Mabel. “Mabel, I'm s—”

            SLAM! The passenger door shut loudly. Mabel was already out of the car and storming down the sidewalk. Dipper thudded his forehead against the steering wheel, frustration and guilt squirming in his gut. It wasn't fair to put any blame on Mabel, she couldn't have known Paz was in danger. And Dipper saw what trying to warn someone about Dib got them—a knife to the throat. Paz was doomed from the start. All of them were. 

            Dipper lifted his head to watch Mabel walk away, and his heart stopped. 

            Is that...

            He could have sworn he saw a familiar black coat dart between two houses. 

            “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dipper swore under his breath as he put his car in gear and began a slow crawl down the road, following Mabel at a distance and only taking his eyes off her to scan their surroundings for a spot of black. What the hell were the odds of running into him by accident? Was Dib fucking planning something, did he know Mabel was being dropped off here? Dread squirmed in Dipper’s gut. Finally, Mabel turned and ran up a long walkway to the front door of a big, blocky monochrome house. He watched intently, making sure Dib didn’t jump out of a bush to swoop his sister up and attack her, but a girl with purple hair answered the door and let her inside. He was about to relax when a knock on his window made him jump in his seat. 

            “Hey there.” Dib grinned as Dipper glared at him through the window. He got out of the car, angrily throwing the door open. Unfortunately for Dipper, Dib managed to move before it struck him. “Saw you creeping along in your car. What brings you—“

            “Am I not enough?! You gotta stalk my sister too?” Dipper spat. “Look, I don’t care if you fucking creep on me, but Mabel is off-limits, motherfucker-!“

            “What the hell are you talking about?” Dib cut him off, genuinely looking confused.

            “Why are you hanging around here?”

            Dib paused for a second. “This is my fucking house.”

            Dipper let out a humourless laugh. “Okay, great joke. Now seriously, are you stalking my sister too?!”

            “Dude, I fucking live here! I dunno what else to tell you!” Dib gestured to the house they were in front of. 

            Dipper glanced at the property, and then back to Dib. “I find that hard to believe.”

            Dib rolled his eyes. “No. I'm not stalking Mabel.” 

            Dipper pursed his lips, fixing Dib with a scrutinizing glare, but strangely Dipper didn't think he was lying. About stalking Mabel, anyway. That didn't mean he could be trusted, though. 

            “Get in.”

            Dib blinked, then laughed. “What? Come to steal me away~?”

            “Just get in the car, idiot. I'm not leaving you here with Mabel.” Dipper hopped back into the driver's seat. He put his hands on the wheel and waited expectantly. Sure enough, after a moment's hesitation, Dib slid into the passenger seat and kicked his heels up onto the dashboard. Dipper didn't look at him as he began to drive. 

            “Soooo,” Dib said, “Where're ya taking me? Somewhere romantic, I hope.”

            Dipper scoffed. “What, like a cemetery?” 

            Dib grinned. Dipper rolled his eyes and ignored the twinge in his chest. Truthfully, he wasn't going anywhere in particular. He had no plan, only to get Dib far away from his sister and whoever that stranger was. His heart ached when he recalled the argument he and Mabel had. God, he was so, so stupid. His grip tightened around the wheel. Dib silently watched the way Dipper’s jaw flexed. 

            “Something happen?” Dib mused. “Is that why I'm here, trying to blow off some steam again?” Dipper couldn't help but smirk at the trace of bitterness in his voice. But Dib looked out the window in confusion when Dipper pulled to a stop. He narrowed his eyes at the sign hanging over the little storefront. “Knickknacks? Why—?” The car door slammed behind Dipper as he turned the car off and got out, pocketing the keys. Dib followed suit, stepping onto the sidewalk and watching Dipper approach him with a dead-eyed expression. 

            Before Dib could open his mouth to speak again, Dipper grabbed his wrist and pulled Dib towards the store. 

            “Why are we here, babe?” Dib asked with a chuckle. 

            “You don’t remember?” Dipper replied. 

            “Uh,” Dib faltered, “No? I think I’d remember going on a little date to a knickknack store.” He laughed, but it trailed off when Dipper veered away from the front door and lead Dib down a narrow, overgrown alleyway. Dead brown weeds clung to the concrete and grew out between cracks. They emerged in a rundown little clearing behind the shop, with a big locked dumpster out back. Dib was growing more and more confused, until suddenly Dipper turned on him and slammed a fist into his jaw. 

            “Ow!” Dib stumbled backwards, clutching the side of his face. He glared at Dipper. “What the fuck was that for!?”

            “This is the spot you sent me on a wild goose chase that night, asshole,” Dipper snarled. His breath came out in a cloud of steam around his face. Dib thought for a moment, before it dawned on him. Ah, this is the address he sent Dipper to get him to leave long enough for Dib to lure Pacifica away and butcher her in the park. ‘Behind that cute little knickknack store. Run fast!’

            A smile slowly spread across Dib’s features. “Oh yeah, I remember. Were you disappointed when you didn’t find me here? I would have loved to see the look on your face.”

            “Yeah, I'm sure it would've been hilarious,” Dipper deadpanned. He jammed a thumb over his shoulder at the dumpster. “I even hurt my foot kicking that thing.” 

            The admission took Dib off guard for a moment and he laughed incredulously. “Really? Aw, did you bring me here just to reminisce? How cute.” 

            Dipper charged him and swung a fist towards his already bruised face. Dib barely dodged out of the way, dancing out of reach as they traded places and turned to face each other once more. Dipper’s chest heaved. Hatred burned in his eyes. 

            He lunged forward again, not giving Dib time to question his sudden hostility. Dib’s mind was reeling, was Dipper trying to kill him? Or just hurt him a little? Maybe he wanted Dib to fight back? Dipper was becoming harder and harder to read, and Dib didn’t like how disarming that felt. He instinctively threw out his leg as Dipper ran towards him and tripped the boy, sending him sprawling onto the pavement. Dipper pulled himself up on his arms and turned back towards Dib. Bleeding scrapes marked his palms and chin.

            “Shit, sorry—” Dib yelped when Dipper scrambled towards him and tackled him, throwing him unceremoniously to the cold, cracked cement. His breath was knocked out of him, and he wheezed as he rolled away from Dipper and stumbled back onto his feet. Dipper was relentless in his attack, immediately slamming into him again, this time they both collided against the brick wall of the building's rear.

            Dib gasped breathlessly. Dipper grabbed the front of his shirt and reeled a fist back, ready to strike. But the punch didn’t land, and Dipper watched Dib with dark, burning eyes. A trickle of blood dripped from Dib’s lips and down his chin.

            The two boys collided in a feverous kiss. 

            Dipper’s tongue pressed into Dib’s mouth hungrily, chewing at his bloody lip and making him hiss and squirm in pain. He clutched Dib’s clothes tightly, pressing him hard against the wall. Dib slid his ice-cold hands up underneath Dipper’s shirt, caressing his bare stomach, and smiled at the way the shorter boy shivered at the touch. Dib pulled away from the kiss and pressed his face into Dipper’s throat. He peppered kisses and bites across the dotted freckles of his neck and collarbone. Dipper panted and arched his back, pressing his body against Dib...

            And then he kneed Dib in the gut. Dib doubled over, falling to his knees and coughing. Dipper crouched down in front of him and watched the bewildered expression on Dib’s face with satisfaction. He smiled.

            “See you again soon, babe,” Dipper said pointendly, stood up, and walked away. Dib watched him go, too stunned to speak. Finally, his voice returned to him a few moments after Dipper disappeared down the alleyway and out of sight.

            “Hey! What the fuck, you think you can just leave!? You—” Dib called after him, scrambling to his feet. A car engine rumbled to life, and Dib rounded the corner in time to watch Dipper drive away, leaving him behind. 

            A couple leaving the small shop looked at him oddly, standing there and gawking after Dipper, blood smeared on his lips. He began to laugh out loud, and the pair quickly walked the opposite direction, exchanging worried glances. Dib paid them no mind. He rubbed his aching jaw absently, grinning wickedly.

            “Oh, you wanna play like that, do you?” Dib laughed to himself. Pure manic delight glittered in his eye. “Okay, Dipper Pines! I can play dirty~” 

            “Sir,” a voice spoke, “you're scaring the customers. Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?” 

            Dib blinked out of his stupor and looked sideways at the older man meekly wringing his hands. Dib rolled his eyes and stalked off down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, grumbling under his breath. 

Chapter Text

            Mabel fell fast, and she fell hard. Like a spark landing on a pile of dry kindling, her passion for Gaz exploded into a raging inferno. 

            She didn’t care if it was unhealthy, or a result of grief, and Gaz didn’t seem to mind either. Where Mabel used to go out with Grenda and Candy after class, or have study groups, Mabel instead found herself tangled in Gaz’s bedsheets into the early morning hours, and then stayed the next day to do it over again. It was intoxicating, it was all-consuming, it was like some kind of hot and heavy romance novel. It was so far removed from the gloom of the rest of Mabel’s life, so she kept it hidden away as her own little slice of paradise.

            In class, Mabel sat in front of blank paper with a hand under her chin and stared off into space, lost in thought. Gaz's scent danced in her mind, forever lingering. Her sweet kisses and touches lingered on Mabel’s skin and Mabel found herself absently running her fingers over the (hidden) marks. She was someone’s. It felt good, better than Mabel imagined, especially considering it was with someone who she met so very recently. And that someone had no stakes in the death that lingered in Mabel’s life, Gaz never knew her before it all happened, and there was a kind of relief in that sense of anonymity. 

            She didn’t even tell Dipper, not that he was asking. She barely saw him nowadays. Surely he was holed up in his apartment drinking or spending time with his own partner, and Mabel would much rather spend the time with Gaz. The chill of the grave felt so distant when she was bathed in the glow of Gaz's attention. It was all she needed. It was enough.

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            Gaybel: Dipper can I borrow the car

            Dip: why

            Gaybel: I dont get more money until later this week

            Dip: hm

            Gaybel: cmon. Please, its not as if youre using it

            Gaybel: unless you are???

            Dip: that doesn't matter its still my car

            Dip: but sure whatever

            Gaybel: I'll be over in a bit

            Mabel heaved a sigh and clicked her phone screen to black before shoving it into her pocket. She slipped her feet into some pink Converse with doodles all over them and pulled on her winter coat. She tossed a scarf around her neck and stopped halfway out of the door to the hall. 

            “I’m going out!” Mabel called into the dorm room. 

            “Again?” Grenda’s head popped out from around a corner. “You didn’t come back last time.”

            “I did eventually.” She waved and took another step out of the doorway, wanting to avoid this train of conversation. 

            She saw Grenda’s brow furrow and her gruff voice spoke again. “Are you sure you're okay, Mabel?”

            “Perfectly,” Mabel smiled a bit too widely. “Bye, girls!”

            “Bye, Mabies!” Candy called from out of sight. 

            Mabel quickly shut the door behind her and sped off down the hall, passing doors covered in nametags and decorations. She usually liked living in the dorms, surrounded by her friends and other students. She liked to see them milling around in groups of friends, getting dressed up to go out, or sitting in the hallway playing games because they got locked out of their room and had to wait for maintenance. It was like being in a little community, but lately Mabel just wanted to escape it all. Being seen and having to force her normal bubbly self when talking to people—because that's what they knew her as, the colorful, peppy fashion major—was exhausting. She didn’t have to pretend around Gaz as much, Gaz didn’t know that version of her, the version of Mabel from before she laid eyes on the mutilated body of someone she loved.

            Today wasn’t as cold out, and it hadn’t snowed in a few days, so Mabel was perfectly happy walking to Dipper’s. His apartment wasn’t terribly close, but it was still nearby some of the campus halls. It was good to walk and breathe the fresh air into her lungs. She was alive, and the warmth of new love bloomed in her chest to fight back the cold and the dark. 

            She smiled to strangers as she passed them on the sidewalk, and it didn’t feel as strained. Salt crunched underfoot as she walked, and the sun was beaming through the mostly overcast sky. As she approached Dipper’s small apartment complex, her eyes lingered on the memorial set up on the campus lawn. Pacifica was just another student casualty now, a place to lay down flowers and little notes that blew away as trash in the wind. She tore her eyes away and crossed the street. She entered the front, holding open the door for a woman exiting with a friend. She bounded up the stairwell and knocked on the door right at the top.

            “Hey, Dipp—!” She greeted as Dipper popped open his front door.

            “Here.” He shoved the car keys into her hand through the crack of open doorway. “Have fun or whatever,” he mumbled and went to shut the door.

            “Hey!” Mabel caught it and pushed against it. Dipper stared at her, almost offended, and Mabel scoffed at the expression. He barely spoke to her, tried to shut the door on her, and had the audacity to look at her like a struck puppy? “Dipper, what the hell?”

            “Fuckin’ what?” Dipper’s fingers curled around the door to keep it held against Mabel’s would-be intrusion. 

            “What is up with you? Why are you being like this?” Her nostrils flared and the scent of alcohol reached her nose. Figures.

            “You know why.” Dipper glowered at her and Mabel frowned, shrinking ever so slightly back from him.

            “Right. Fine. Later, then.” Mabel sighed. We can talk about your depressive alcoholism as a result of Pacifica’s death later, because I’m also trying to not fuckin’ think about it.  

            Dipper stared at her and blinked. Mabel wasn’t used to this dynamic, of them being annoyed and short with each other, waiting for the other to leave them alone. It stung, but she didn’t want to face that right now, it just needed time to breathe. 

            “Okay well, before I go...” Mabel bit her bottom lip. Yet another unpleasant topic... They only ever seemed to have unpleasant things to talk about now. “Have you heard from Wendy? Ramona has been texting me and is really freaking out, no-one has heard from her in almost two weeks now.” Mabel’s brow furrowed. “She... Did you see her at the funeral? She was supposed to be there.”

            Something unfamiliar flashed in Dipper’s eyes, and was gone just as quick. Before she had time to figure out what that look was that just crossed his face, Dipper spoke.

            “I haven’t, no.” 

            Mabel chewed her lip.

            “Well, that’s...” Uneasiness squirmed in her gut. “That’s worrying, no? She just... disappeared? There’s a killer around, you know that! He—” She swallowed back the rising emotion. Dipper took the moment of pause to respond, still with that dreary look in his eyes.

            “If she got killed by him, we would know,” Dipper said. His voice was cold, matter-of-fact. “He likes to make a show of them.”

            Mabel’s face twisted up, appalled by the simple statement even if it was true. He was so... uncaring. She hadn't ever seen him like this, especially concerning someone she knew he viewed like family. He had just been acting so wrong lately.

            “Okay, but she’s missing, why don’t you give a shit?!” That got a rise out of him. She watched his hackles raise defensively and his eyes widen in anger.

            “Of course I fucking do! I—! She...” A muscle in his jaw flexed and he retreated back into himself, the brief flare of anger simmered down into a tiny ember behind his eyes. “I’m sure it's fine. There's probably something Ramona overlooked.” 

            “Wha—!?” Now it was Mabel's turn to snap in outrage. “How can you just say that? This isn't like Wendy at all! She wouldn't just fucking leave—!”

            “Sometimes people aren't what you thought they were.” Dipper’s growl interrupted her. “Drive safe,” he mumbled as he quickly shut the door in her face. She heard the click of the chain lock, and his footsteps padded off into silence. She stood there in front of his shut door for a long, stunned moment.

            “Asshole!” she screamed suddenly, and gave his door a furious kick before storming back down the steps and out to Dipper’s car. 

            She was fuming the entire car ride, and had managed to calm down only slightly by the time she parked in Gaz's driveway. She stomped up the now-familiar front steps of the big modern house and rapped her knuckles harshly on the door, waited a few moments, and then kept knocking. Her hand hit air as suddenly the door popped open inward, and standing there was a bewildered Gaz. Mabel’s bottom lip pouted a bit and she rushed forward to hug Gaz without a word, then pulled away and quickly entered the house. She tugged her shoes off and hung her coat up, looking around the big, open landing of the house, with sleek floors and a huge area rug. Light streamed in from the adjoining room which had floor to ceiling glass windows on the wall facing the street. Mabel whirled back around to face Gaz with a distressed huff, waiting for the other girl to ask her what was wrong.

            Sure enough, Gaz looked over Mabel’s flustered form and asked, “Mabel, is everything okay?” Just hearing Gaz’s voice—calm and mature (and incredibly sexy)—had Mabel melting. Gaz approached her and Mabel eagerly let the larger girl pull her in by her waist. Mabel buried her face into Gaz’s shoulder and balled her hands up between their chests.

            “No! My brother is an idiot!” Mabel let out a childish whine. “Ugh! I don’t know why he’s being like this, it’s so frustrating!” Gaz reached one hand up to cup the back of Mabel’s head comfortingly running her hand over the soft brown waves of hair.

            “Here,” Gaz said as she gently led Mabel farther into the house. She took her by the hand and they moved to a large, high ceilinged living room. Gaz guided Mabel to the couch and they sat down, Mabel immediately leaning her head onto Gaz’s shoulder. Gaz stayed quiet, silently giving Mabel permission to continue talking. 

            They had kind of worked out a dynamic this way in the time they were spending together—Gaz offered comfortable silence and careful words, while Mabel was allowed to speak freely and hyperactively. Gaz liked to watch Mabel speak—she herself was used to wearing masks and hiding her emotions, opting for expressions of neutrality or ‘resting bitch face’ in an attempt to seem less approachable (though this had not worked on Mabel). But Mabel lived a life where she didn’t need to carefully conceal feelings and passions, thus she was overflowing with them. Her words always tumbled out, and her body and expressions reflected it perfectly: animatedly waving her arms, scrunching her nose in distaste, or grinning with sparkling eyes. Now, though, Gaz was seeing Mabel’s face twisted up in a disgruntled pout. 

            “I don’t know what’s up with him lately! He’s been avoiding me, he’s being an asshole, he’s drinking all fuckin’ day and barely answering my texts...” Mabel ranted, growing more and more heated until she sat back up and threw her arms outwards in a motion of disbelief. “He completely dismissed me when I asked about our missing friend, and then he slammed the door in my face! Like, un-fuckin-believable!”

            “And this isn’t like him?” Gaz asked gently. Mabel had kind of picked up on the fact she had a bit of a rocky relationship with her own brother, who she’d not met, and thought for a moment that maybe Gaz argued with him all the time and didn’t know it wasn’t normal for other siblings.

            “No, sorry...” Mabel deflated a bit and turned to look sideways at Gaz. “It’s not like him, or me. We have always been the best of friends, but lately he’s being so cagey and distant. I mean... I haven’t been the best lately either, but it’s just... He’s acting weird.”

            “How so?” Gaz leaned back and pulled Mabel with her—gently, as most of Gaz’s touches and gestures were. Mabel sighed and relaxed, letting her weight sink against Gaz’s soft form. Gaz trailed her fingertips over Mabel’s forearm, tracing the freckles back and forth rhythmically, like rubbing circles into someone’s back to calm them down. The sensation felt good, intimate. Mabel flushed a bit, but continued.

            “He...” It felt so complicated to talk about, because it all tied in with the death and gloom she was trying so hard to avoid when coming to Gaz. But, maybe it was fine. Gaz was, after all, completely removed from the whole situation anyway. “Dipper has always been kind of paranoid and weird with things. He likes investigating stuff, he’s a journalism major, and the Final he was doing for it was on the Rocksburg Reaper.” Mabel, looking straight ahead, did not see Gaz’s eyes narrow just the tiniest bit at the mention of that name. “Ever since he started it he has been a bit twitchy, but he still hung out with us and stuff, if a bit less than usual. But it was fine, and then...” Mabel’s eyes pinched together and she fought against the lump of emotion in her throat. “And then Paz died,” Mabel said very quietly. She stopped speaking for a long moment and let her eyes follow where Gaz’s dark nails were tracing across her arm. “Um. Yeah. She was killed by, uh, him.” 

            The frown on Gaz’s face deepened and her hand stopped moving. 

            “The serial killer?” Gaz asked quietly after a moment.

            “Y-yeah...” Mabel noticed her sudden trepidation and worry clouded her mind. She sat up and turned in her seat to face Gaz, folding her legs up underneath her. “I’m sorry, I know it’s fucked. I should’ve said...” She laughed nervously, and cringed at the sound.

            “What, you think that changes things between us?” Gaz said. Whatever had made her pause before seemed to have been quelled. “Because it doesn’t. Mabel, something terrible happening in your life does not become a stain on you as a person.” Gaz reached to Mabel’s lap and took both of her hands in hers, looking directly into Mabel’s eyes. “This girl’s death is not your fault, and you don't need to carry that with you as if it makes you lesser.”

            “But...” Mabel’s bottom lip trembled. She knew factually Gaz was right, of course. Paz’s death was not her fault. She didn’t cut her heart out and leave her hanging from a tree... but how does someone just continue living life after something like that? How can someone ever try to be normal and have normal relationships? The guilt of having survived when Pacifica didn’t was like a haunting. It was both her pain and also just a ghost of someone else's pain. Did she have any right to claim it, when she was alive and Pacifica wasn’t? Mabel let out another humorless breathy laugh. “I know that’s all everyone else sees.” Her lips tightened into a thin line. “The girl who found her best friend dead. The girl who was in love with a serial killer’s victim, as if that’s all Pacifica will ever be now. Who would ever want to date someone like that?” 

            “Fucked up things happen to people. It’s how life is, we have to just bear it and keep living.” 

            “How, though?” Mabel cried. “How am I supposed to just... be normal again?” 

            “You don't have to be.” Gaz cupped a hand on Mabel’s cheek as the girl took a breath that made her body shudder. “ Fuck being normal.” Mabel was surprised to hear a sudden hard edge to Gaz’s voice. “Have you ever been considered normal? Have you ever wanted to be, before now? Society can eat a fuckin’ dick, fuck being normal! You just need to be you, no matter how much terrible shit might happen around you or change you, you can still just be you in all your fucked up weirdo glory. Other fucked up people will find you, and they will love you.”

            Mabel was quiet for a very long moment, her eyes glassy and swimming but fixed onto Gaz’s intense ones. She was beautiful when she was calm and collected, taking control and being strong. But she was beautiful when fiery emotion shone through too, an inferno in her eyes and furious rebellion on her tongue so hot it felt like Mabel would burn up in her presence. Gaz was incredible. She was so so strong, stronger than Mabel could ever hope to be, and even though she was frequently so put together and reserved, she was also ready to snap and tear someone’s throat out at a moment’s notice. Mabel loved to see her angry, but also loved when she laughed loudly and tried to cover her smile, or when she tossed her head to the side in amusement and sent her purple hair fluttering around her face. Other fucked up people will find you, and they will love you. Mabel sharply inhaled and heat rose through her body. 

            “Like you?” Mabel’s voice was barely a whisper. Gaz blinked twice and her brain turned over the question. A tiny hint of pink dusted her cheeks, her eyes widened.

            For once, Gaz was unsure of what to say, so Mabel took the lead—something new, in a relationship that was new. Mabel tightened her grip on Gaz’s hands as it seemed like she was going to pull away.

            “I think I love you,” Mabel whispered fervently, leaning forward to keep her eyes locked with Gaz’s. Tiny movements in expression crossed the other girl’s eyes and twitched under her skin as the words sunk in. It felt almost foolish, how quickly this had come about. They weren’t even dating, and had only really been seeing eachother to feed the fire of attraction that raged in their bodies and into the nights, but it felt true to Mabel. Maybe love was a fickle and tricky thing, maybe she was diving in without knowing what she was doing, but... life was short, and Gaz was here with her in this darkness and she was a burning light. She was everything.  

            Mabel leaned in and pressed her lips to Gaz’s slightly parted ones, not waiting for an answer. Gaz immediately responded, rising into the embrace and grabbing Mabel with a feverish urgency. Her hands fell on Mabel’s lithe body, dragging down the soft curve of where her ribs went to stomach, and then down to hip. Mabel arched into the kiss and put both hands on either side of Gaz’s face, opening her mouth and letting Gaz’s tongue enter, lapping at each other, pulling back, nipping at each other’s lips, and then diving back in again. Gaz leaned forward, supporting the small of Mabel’s back as she guided the girl down against the couch, moving to a position halfway on top of her.

            “Gaz...” Mabel gasped, her voice raised with need. She moved her hands to Gaz’s back as the girl on top of her lowered down to lock their reddened and shiny lips together again. One of Gaz’s hands trailed down Mabel’s leg and then pulled it up to lift towards Gaz’s hip, where she then pressed herself down in between Mabel’s legs. Mabel moaned in a high voice and wrapped her leg up around Gaz, arching into her touch. 

            “Ah—!” Mabel squeaked and then rolled her hips when she felt Gaz’s fingers slide under the hem of her shirt and trail across bare skin. Mabel was hot to the touch, her heart pounded, and she gasped when Gaz’s hand closed around one of her soft breasts. Gaz’s head swam and her lungs swelled with rapid breaths.

            “You're so...” Gaz’s voice trailed off into a groan and she squeezed Mabel’s breast just to hear another of her wonderful sounds, which she let out easily. Mabel squirmed and panted, trailing a hand up to Gaz’s neck and through the short purple hair that curled there. 

            “I—hhn! I-I,” Mabel squeezed her eyes shut momentarily. Her mind was burning up, and she wanted nothing more than to let this desire consume her completely, like a match burning bright. “I love you, Gaz—”

            Mabel’s voice cut out into a soft mewling moan when Gaz sucked at the tender flesh of her neck and collarbone. Mabel was happy to be marked, happy to be used by this goddess of a girl on top of her. Gaz’s tongue swirled against Mabel’s soft skin, leaving blooming red and purple marks on her pale complexion. Gaz hoped people saw. She hoped that they saw that Mabel had someone, that she wasn’t alone and she wasn’t destroyed by what had happened. Gaz didn’t want that, she didn’t want this incredible, weird, adorable girl with her bright smile to be ruined by the darkness that prowled the city. She didn’t know at first that the girl Mabel first spoke of was one of his , and despite her saying otherwise, Gaz may have hesitated to pursue this thing they had if she had known. But now....

            “I think I love you too,” Gaz breathed reverently, hovering above Mabel’s lips before closing the gap and kissing her with a need and passion she never had in her before. 

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            “Mabel asked about Wendy again. They’re starting to consider her actually missing.”

            Dipper swayed on his feet slightly as he spoke. He leaned his hand on the back of the sofa next to him, steadying himself and watching Dib with hazy eyes. Dib frowned. He pulled the sliding glass door shut behind him, having just entered. Once again it seemed that Dipper had been expecting him, as he stood before him now in the living room facing him directly and speaking without even waiting for a greeting of any kind. 

            “Are they filing a missing person report?” Dib asked. His eyes scanned slowly around the room, passing over scattered beer cans and dirty dishes. 

            “Dunno.” Dipper grunted and lifted a can to his mouth that Dib hadn’t noticed he was holding. Dipper turned away and shuffled over to the kitchen. Dib followed.

            “Well, what did you say?” 

            “Deflected and said fuckin’ jack shit, as planned.” Dipper downed the rest of the beer and chucked it with a bit too much force towards a bin in the corner. It missed and went ricocheting off of the wall and skittering loudly across the tile. Dib narrowed his eyes. Dipper was clearly drunk again judging from his slumped shoulders, the slight slur to his words, and the loose, uncaring attitude he spoke with. It reminded him of that night... Slight redness rose to his cheeks to match Dipper’s drunk flush, but for entirely different reasons. 

            Dipper pushing him down, using him, and then discarding him had been a much more disarming experience than Dib ever thought the boy would be capable of. Dib felt weak. He had always been the one in control, the one pushing Dipper’s buttons, orchestrating his emotions and guiding him where Dib wanted him to go. And then Dib fell in love with him. The intensity of it was a bit alarming, but especially now that Dipper might have caught on and decided to try manipulating him with it. God though, the sound of Dipper’s growling voice commanding him as he held him down was the hottest thing he’d seen Dipper do. He couldn’t help but worry about how much of an effect it’d had on him.

            So, Dib nearly jumped away in shock when Dipper suddenly turned and grabbed him by his trenchcoat collar. The shorter boy roughly pulled him in and clumsily collided their lips together. Dib found himself taking a few steps backwards, distantly cursing himself for their roles seemingly being reversed again—Dipper had always been the one to flee from his advances! He stank of alcohol and Dib could taste the shitty beer on him as Dipper forced his mouth open with his tongue. Dib choked back a small noise and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt his back hit the fridge, but Dipper just pressed in closer, sucking and biting at his lips. Good god, Dib balled his hands into fists against Dipper’s shoulders. 

            “Dip—Dippe—” Dib gasped out his name, trying to speak but getting continually cut off by Dipper’s persistent kissing. A hand moved downwards and Dib felt fingers dig hard into his hip. 

            “I want you,” Dipper murmured into the kiss and Dib felt an electric shiver shoot down his spine and between his legs at the ragged sound of his voice. 

            “F-fuck...” A shaky, aroused whisper slipped past Dib’s lips. Then he gritted his teeth and pushed against Dipper’s chest to get the boy off of him for a moment. “I’m not—! I’m not gonna do this shit again,” he snapped. He wasn’t about to let Dipper just repeat the other night, using him and then ditching him like a piece of meat. Dipper’s eyes narrowed.

            “Then fuck me instead, I don't give a shit,” he responded, tightening his grip on Dib’s hip. Dib’s eyebrows rose in bewilderment.

            “Wha—huh?” Before Dib could continue, Dipper roughly grabbed him by the front of his clothes again and started dragging him down the hallway towards Dipper’s bedroom. Dib blinked and his brain caught up to him. “Dipper, wai—Do you know what you’re saying!? You're fucking drunk again, idiot! Oof—!” Dipper roughly threw him onto the bed, immediately crawling up next to him.

            “Stop being such a bitch. You want this, right?” Dipper fixed him with a dark gaze so filled with lust that it sent a thrill through Dib’s body. For a moment he almost wanted Dipper to hit him and force himself on him again, but he cleared his throat and sat up, holding the drunk boy at arm’s length. 

            “No. You’re wasted, and a total mess. I mean, look around! Goddamn, babe, alcoholic much?” Dib gestured at where there was indeed a mess in Dipper’s room. Dipper’s eyes lazily glanced around at the empty cans and dirty pile of clothes in the corner.

            “So?”

            Dib rolled his eyes and got up off of the bed, leaving Dipper sitting there, dejected, on his hands and knees. Dipper started to glare at him, but Dib stood his ground and folded his arms over his chest. As sexy as Dipper was, Dib had expectations.

            “It’s not supposed to be like this,” Dib snapped. “You're not supposed to...” Dib gestured towards Dipper, at a loss for words. 

            “What?” Dipper growled angrily. “Now I’m not good enough? This is what happens when you ruin people’s lives, asshole! They become a ‘mess’.”

            “Depression mess aside, I’m not just gonna roll over and be some fucktoy for you to get wasted and use as you will. That’s not what is supposed to happen here.” Dib watched Dipper clumsily turn back towards him and kick his feet off the side of the mattress. 

            “You keep saying s’pposed to.” Dipper swayed as he got to his feet. “You don’t fuckin’... control everything. You don’t control me. I don’t care what you want.” Dipper’s angry gaze met Dib’s, inches apart. 

            “You obviously like me and can’t admit it to yourself, the faster you get over your own bullshit the better.” Dib raised his chin at him in annoyance. 

            “Better for who?” Dipper scoffed. 

            “Better for us.” Dib reached forward and grabbed Dipper’s jaw in his hand, not too harshly, and leaned in to be eye to eye with him. “We can be perfect, babe. We can be a proper couple, in love.”

            “That’s not what I want,” Dipper tried to put a scowl on his face, but Dib just squished his cheeks. “Stop tha’!” Dipper swatted at him and Dib couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the petulant whine. Dib exhaled and released a bit of tension from his shoulders, letting Dipper out of his grip. Dipper was stubborn, but he was cute and Dib still liked him way more than he initially thought possible. He just had to get Dipper to see that. Maybe he needed to change tactics a bit, now that Dipper wasn’t as flustered by his old ways of being the one forcing himself on Dipper. Dipper fixed him with a suspicious glare when he saw Dib’s face relax into a smile. Dib’s eyelids drooped a bit and he cocked his head at Dipper with a smirk.

            “Alright,” Dib said, a new silkiness to his voice. “Let’s do it at my place this time then, if you really want to just fuck so bad.” Dib watched Dipper’s eyebrows furrow suspiciously, but his eyes were still clouded over with intoxication. Dib closed the distance between them and took Dipper in his arms, sensually running his hands down the cloth of his shirt, down his back, and to the denim of his pants. He palmed at Dipper’s ass and leaned into his ear. “I’ll do whatever you want if you come with me.” He felt Dipper shudder.

            “Fine...” Dipper muttered after a moment, trying and failing to keep an indignant edge to his voice. Dib smiled with satisfaction and led Dipper back down the hall. He helped the drunken boy pull his shoes and coat on, and then led him outside while letting Dipper lean against him for support. He paid no mind to anyone who might look at them oddly for Dipper being so drunk, but at least the sun had set and it was nearing eight at night. He noticed Dipper’s car wasn’t around, so he walked them down to where his own car was parked a few blocks away. He was glad he decided to take it this time, and distantly wondered if Dipper was also planning for this. It didn’t matter, Dib wanted this too.

            Dib helped guide Dipper into the passenger seat and they drove off. Dipper’s eyes wandered, shutting for extended periods, and then opening again to stare at Dib. The boy mumbled to himself off and on, and sometimes Dib recognized curses being muttered under his breath. He chuckled to himself. Was Dipper staring at him and still trying to be dedicated to hating him, even while drunk and driving to hook up with him? Dipper never ceased to amuse. 

            Dipper’s eyes were out of focus when Dib pulled into the driveway, and he immediately grabbed Dib’s shirt when he opened the car door for him. He used Dib to pull himself up, making the other boy stumble, and buried his face in Dib’s shoulder while giggling deliriously. Dib smirked and guided him to the front door, entering quickly and pulling Dipper up the stairs. Dib had just a moment to hope that Gaz would remain in her sound-proof room for the night, before the two boys went crashing through his door in a stupor. The room was dark save for a nightlight next to a large messy desk on the far wall, covered in several dark monitors. Dib let out a delighted noise as Dipper wrapped his arms around Dib’s shoulders, digging his nails into his back and kissing him like he was drowning. Stumbling under Dipper’s weight, Dib kicked his door shut with one foot and wrapped his arms around Dipper’s waist as they spun like dancers.

            Dib directed them in a stumbling line across his large room and twirled to collapse onto his bed in a heap. Dipper felt Dib’s weight crush on top of him and he moaned against his lips, immediately raising his legs up to lock his knees around Dib. Jesus fucking christ, Dib thought, arousal ignited inside him at the blatantly wanton action. Dipper, when ignoring all of his inhibitions—self-forced through intoxication or not—was the hottest thing to Dib. This boy would be his fucking downfall, he knew it. And Dib was fine with that, as long as he could see more of this side of Dipper, the one that knows what he wants and doesn't care about what he thinks he's supposed to do. 

            “Do you want me to fuck you?” Dib asked breathlessly, looking down into Dipper’s eyes. The black of his pupils were large disks, reflecting Dib back at him. His freckled cheeks were flushed red, and his lips were pink and full and covered in his saliva. Dib felt another surge of arousal in his gut at the sight. And Dipper... Dipper let out a shaky exhale at the question. A thrill shot through the boy’s body—Dib was asking him what he wanted, giving him permission to decide, and god yes he wanted it. He had fantasized about Dib’s body, heavy on top of his, pressing him down and slamming deep inside of him. His drunken mind discarded the anxiety of never having bottomed before, and instead he nodded eagerly.

            “Yeah, fuck yes, pleas—Dib, please, fuck— ” Dipper tripped over his words in his enthusiasm. Dib grinned. 

            “Whatever you want, baby.” He delighted in the way Dipper groaned just from hearing his voice and rutted his hips against him, desperate for any friction. “Be patient.”

            “F-fuck you!” Dipper spat. “I don’ wanna be fuckin’ patient, just—” Dipper angrily reached for the hem of Dib’s shirt and tried to pull it up over his head, ignoring how Dib’s trenchcoat was still on. Dib laughed at the action and disentangled himself from Dipper’s legs. Then he pried Dipper’s hands from his shirt and stood up. “Where th' fuck are you going?!”

            “Why don’t you get undressed for me, babe? I wanna see you.” Dib stood back and locked eyes with Dipper. Dipper felt dizzy when he saw the heat behind Dib’s eyes. He wanted to drown in it, he wanted to burn up in it and never feel anything else except the heat of Dib’s touch again. He sat up, compliantly pulling his own shirt up over his head, if a bit unceremoniously. Dib didn’t comment on it though, only happily watching as Dipper threw the piece of clothing aside and began fumbling with his zipper. Dib hung his trenchcoat over the back of a chair at his desk and slipped his own jeans off. He rummaged through the drawers for a moment and pulled out a small plastic container of lube.

            He returned to the bed and held back a laugh when he saw Dipper writhing, having only managed to get his jeans over his hips. He set the container on his bedside table and picked up a little remote, clicking on a strip of LED lights behind his bed frame. He landed on a deep purple glow and smiled to himself before grabbing the end of Dipper’s jeans and helping the struggling boy by pulling them down his legs for him. Dipper let out an annoyed huff that Dib thought was adorable. Unable to resist, Dib ran a hand up Dipper’s now bare leg, leaning a knee onto the mattress as he did. The bed dipped under his weight and Dipper shuddered in anticipation when he closed in and gave him a kiss, squeezing Dipper’s smooth pale thigh as he did. Dipper groaned into the kiss and readily opened his mouth to let Dib’s tongue press inside. Dipper moaned again, louder, as he felt heat squirming low in his body. An erection strained against his boxers. 

            “Dib, please, please,” Dipper begged, eyes swimming with arousal. Dib looped a finger past the stretchy waistband of his boxers and pulled them down. Dipper laid back and lifted his hips to allow Dib to remove the pesky clothing item, freeing his erection. Dib stared at Dipper’s face, his mouth going dry at the primal want there, the desperation and desire. Dib felt himself getting hard as well. 

            “What do you want, baby?” Dib tried to keep his voice steady. He wanted to just descend onto Dipper and take him, but he needed to remain patient. Dipper wanted some control, so Dib would relinquish some to him, under his own terms this time. Dib would be both in control and not, a good practice for them both. He knew Dipper wanted to be dominated, but he had to coax it out of him by his own admission. Dipper needed to just admit it. Dipper let out a whimper, eyes fixed on Dib. Dib watched Dipper buck his hips a bit, but he tore his eyes away from the sight of Dipper’s erect and leaking cock laying on his belly. 

            “Hurry up!” Dipper whined. Dib smirked and leaned over Dipper, hovering just out of reach when the boy tried to rut against him. Dipper curled his fingers into the fabric of Dib’s tshirt, and stole a hungry glance towards the tent in Dib’s boxers. Dipper groaned again, this time in what sounded like frustration or impatience. “I f-fuckin’ hate you.” Dib laughed.

            “You gotta tell me what you want me to do to you, love.”

            “As if consent has ever stopped you before...” Dipper grumbled and glared up at Dib, but moved his hands down towards his dick. Dib snatched up the straying hand and pinned Dipper’s wrist up by his head. Dipper sputtered.

            “Ah ah!” Dib tutted, a smug grin on his face. “No touching yourself, that’s only for me to do.”

            “Then—then do it!” Dipper pulled against Dib’s grip half-heartedly. 

            “Is that what you want? Just for me to jack you off?” Dib probed. He smirked when he saw Dipper’s drunken brain turning gears in his head, thinking on this. Dipper paused, then seemed to deflate.

            “N-no...” 

            Dipper gasped when he felt Dib’s other hand brush over his skin and trail his fingertips down across Dipper’s hipbone, tantalizing close to his neglected cock. Dib watched Dipper’s eyes screw shut and his chest flutter with quickened breaths. The boy underneath him squirmed, trying to get a harder touch from Dib, but Dib kept it featherlight and even leaned in to suck a little bit on Dipper’s throat for good measure. Dib loved the sound of Dipper’s moaning, and the boy didn’t hold back.

            “F-fuck, plea—nnh!” 

            “Tell me what you want, Mason,” Dib murmured into the little bruise he left on Dipper’s neck. Heat flared through him at the sound of his name leaving Dib’s lips. 

            “I-I...” Dipper, even drunk, stubbornly bit back the words. Dib used his knee to nudge Dipper’s legs open ever so slightly. “Fuck, I w-want you inside of me, please jus’ fucking... Dib, ah!” Dipper cried out when Dib released Dipper’s wrist and instead grabbed his bare leg, lifting his knee up and spreading his legs wide. Dipper’s eyes glazed over. “Please, please...”

            “Anything for you.” Dib pressed a kiss to Dipper’s lips, planning for it to just be chaste and quick, but Dipper’s now freed arm wrapped around the back of Dib’s neck and pulled him in hard. Dib felt light-headed from his own arousal. One hand fumbled sideways for the container of lube and seized it after a few missed swipes. He snapped the lid open with his thumb and squeezed it into his hand, dragging his knees up farther to support his bent-over body. Dipper’s thigh on the outside of Dib’s legs lifted up farther, he bent his knee and draped his leg over Dib’s. 

            “Ah! Hhah—holy fuck—!” Dipper broke away from the kiss to gasp and writhe when he felt one of Dib’s slick fingers invade him. Before Dipper could hesitate at the strange feeling, Dib began to massage around his sensitive insides with his fingertip. Dipper’s eyes blew even wider and he choked on a moan, squirming under Dib. 

            “Feels good, right?” Dib slid another finger inside and grinned at Dipper’s strangled gasp. The boy’s voice rose in pitch and tears sprung to his eyes. “Holy shit, you're really enjoying this huh? You sure you're a virgin? Oh, wait. I already made you come with my fingers once, haven't I~” 

            “F-fuck off—ahn!” 

            Dib thrust his fingers in and out, fucking him and prodding at his prostate. Dipper’s hand tightened in an iron grip on Dib’s shoulders, digging his nails in, and he writhed and bucked his hips into Dib’s touch. Dib stretched him, pressing in a third finger and moaning at the sound of Dipper’s cries. He pulled out before the sounds Dipper was making became too desperate. Dipper whined at the sudden loss of the pleasure he was riding. He gave Dib an accusatory look of betrayal and Dib laughed. He pulled out of Dipper’s hold and sat up, wiggling out of his own boxers and tossing them away. He didn’t miss the way Dipper stared at his erection sitting between his legs. 

            “Do you want me to fuck you now?” Dib breathed. Dipper chest expanded with each rapid breath. He nodded, and for Dib that was enough. Dib hastily poured out more lube onto his hand and slicked it over his own erection, groaning and shuddering as he did. “Spread your legs,” he told Dipper, and he obeyed. Dib hungrily stared at the boy splayed out before him and roughly grabbed Dipper’s legs before pushing them up towards Dipper’s bare chest. Dipper squeaked in alarm, but the noise shuddered out into a sharp inhale when Dib poured lube onto his ass. And then Dib sunk into him. Dipper nearly screamed and his legs wrapped around Dib’s thighs. 

            “H-holy—!” Was all Dipper could utter before Dib was already moving. Dipper cried out loudly, clenching his fists into the blankets to hold on as Dib rocked back and forth with purpose. It was better than either of them had imagined. Dib squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering at the heat of being inside Dipper, finally. And Dipper was completely lost, drunk and seeing stars as Dib pounded into him, grabbing his hips to pull him down on his cock at the same time and hitting impossibly deep. The feeling of being so completely full was overwhelming Dipper’s hazy mind and all he could do was scream incoherently.

            Dib looked down through unfocused eyes to watch Dipper’s face. His brown curls bounced with each of his thrusts and his back arched up, his knuckles were white where they clung desperately to the blankets under them. He was gorgeous. 

            “G-god, Dip—hha! Dipper you’re—nngh!—s-so—!” Dib could barely speak, instead he reverently ran his hands over Dipper’s bare body, flushed with heat. There were dotted freckles everywhere, so much skin to explore. Dib panted heavily, bucking into Dipper particularly hard and eliciting a yelp from him. Dib ran his hands up Dipper’s chest and kneaded his hands there, squeezing and rubbing his pink nipples. Dib watched Dipper’s teeth grit and heard a keening moan escape him. “You like that?” Dib gasped, managing a cocky smirk. One of Dipper’s hands reached up and held one of Dib’s, pressing it against him. Dib felt heat coil in his belly at the way Dipper looked at him, a hunger in his gaze that threatened to devour Dib in an instant.

            “I-I wann—ah, fuck!” Dipper threw his head back. “Hah! I wanna k-kiss—” Dib immediately leaned down. Dipper reached up and wrapped his arms behind Dib’s shoulders and held on, fingers curling into the fabric. “Take the stupid f-fucking shirt off.” Dipper growled at him and Dib hurriedly pulled it up and Dipper yanked it off the rest of the way, before they collided back together in a feverish kiss. Dipper moaned loudly against Dib’s lips and tongue, gasping and crying out every time Dib hit the spot inside him that sent waves of pleasure through his hips and stomach. Dib moaned too, especially when he felt Dipper lift his legs and wrap them around Dib’s waist.

            “Ah, hah, Dipper, I-I,” Dib gasped and moaned between Dipper’s desperate kisses. Dipper held him against him, bucking his hips up to meet Dib’s increasingly frantic thrusts. “I-I love you. I—Nngh, ah! Dipper, I fucking love you, I—!?” Dib yelped in surprise as Dipper suddenly threw him to the side, using his weight to roll up on top of him. Dib suddenly found himself on his back, looking up at Dipper with huge, bewildered eyes. In a single moment, he was again completely at Dipper’s mercy, too stunned and aroused to do anything but stare at the absolutely angelic fucking sight above him. A dark look burned in Dipper’s eyes as he stared down at Dib. He sat up straight, never breaking eye contact, breathing hard, and kept rocking himself on Dib’s cock buried inside of him. “H-holy fuck, Dipper—” Dib breathed, watching Dipper fuck himself on his dick. Dib felt his brain short-circuiting at the sight. 

            “Sh-shut the fuck up and keep moving,” Dipper responded, but there was a hiss of arousal in his voice as if he was barely keeping it together. Dib closed his hands on Dipper’s hips and pulled the boy down onto his cock. Dipper cried out and clasped a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut for a second and then looking back down at Dib with tears in his eyes. Th-this is... so fucking insane, Dipper thought, his mind clouded with pleasure. 

            Dipper listened to Dib’s cries of pleasure each time they rocked together, mixing with his own loud moaning. Had he not been drunk and deliriously aroused, Dipper may have been embarrassed by how he was acting. But right now all he cared about was the desperately intense pleasure tightening in his body, ready to snap. His cock bounced as he fucked himself on Dib’s cock with more urgency. Dib’s hands dug into his skin. He was chasing orgasm, he needed it, he needed it so bad—

            Dib yanked him down and wrapped his deceptively strong arms around him, pinning Dipper flush against his chest. Dipper squirmed, but his arms were trapped at his sides and Dib was holding tight. Dipper sputtered for a moment, the momentum he was building was suddenly cut off. He struggled against Dib’s grasp, feeling his skin rubbing against Dib’s bare chest. 

            “You’re not doing that shit again,” Dib growled in his ear. Dipper felt a throb of arousal and stilled. Dib could tell that Dipper was trying to just use him to get off again, but he wasn’t going to allow that. He was taking control this time, he was the one giving Dipper pleasure, not letting him take it. 

            Slowly, painstakingly, Dib moved his hips, still trapping Dipper tight against him. Dipper whined at the resumed movement and tried to buck his hips down against it. Dib sunk his teeth into Dipper's shoulder, but not enough to draw blood. The sudden pain made Dipper yelp and forget himself for a moment, where Dib then roughly snapped his hips up and into Dipper. Dipper cried out, and Dib moved slowly again. Tears pricked at the corners of Dipper’s eyes.

            “Please,” Dipper whined. He rutted against Dib, trying to at least get friction on his dick trapped between their bellies. One of Dib’s hands roughly grabbed the back of Dipper’s head, tightening as a fist in his hair. Dipper’s winced and hissed in pain, then Dib once again took the chance to slam his cock hard into Dipper. Dipper moaned and shuddered in Dib’s gasp, panting like an animal in heat. The juxtaposition between slow movements, a burst of pain, and a burst of pleasure was making Dipper’s head swim. Dipper folded his arms up and grabbed onto Dib, but didn’t try to break away. He laid on Dib’s chest and relished how hard Dib was holding him there. They felt each other’s hearts pounding through their ribcages, melding together as if there was only one beating between them. 

            “Tell me that you love me,” Dib demanded, accentuating it with another hard thrust. Dipper yelped and hung his head against Dib’s bare shoulder. He ran his tongue over a mark he had left there when he had been the one ruthlessly fucking Dib, causing the other boy to shudder and groan slightly. Dipper smirked.

            “No—ghh!” Dipper cried out again and gritted his teeth as Dib’s fingernails dug hard into his back and dragged. “Dib! Fuck, sto—ah!”

            “Tell me what you already know is true, and I’ll make you cum.” Dib thrusted slowly into Dipper, holding him in place and relishing in the frustrated moan he let out in his ear. The slow pace was killing him. He resisted for a while longer, trying to buck against him and get more movement, but being met with a harsh pull of his hair, or a bite, and then a taste of the rough fuck Dipper was wanting, before going back to the excruciatingly slow movements. Slow enough for Dipper to be painfully aware of everything, he could plainly feel Dib’s cock burying itself inside him, slowly, deliberately, over and over, and he wanted it so fucking bad. 

            “I-I...can’t,” Dipper hissed under his breath, but his face was in Dib’s shoulder and the other boy could clearly hear him. Dipper let out a choked moan when Dib gave a quick thrust. Dipper writhed in his arms. Just fuck me, please just fuckin’ take me and destroy me, just— “Hah-gh! Dib!” Dib’s fist tightened in Dipper’s curls again and pulled Dipper’s head up. He pressed his face in against Dipper’s mouth and slowly sank into the boy again, listening to the low whine in his throat as he did. 

            “It’s so easy.” Dib murmured against Dipper’s cheek, giving Dipper a few hard thrusts this time. Dipper cried out. More, more, please, s-so bad—!

            “It’s not,” Dipper hissed, barely hanging onto rational thought. His senses were being burned away with each time he felt Dib pressing into him.

            “I love you.” A hard thrust.

            “Ah! Dib—”

            “I love you, Dipp—nng!” Dib gritted his teeth and thrusted into him again. Dipper choked on a gasp, Dib held his head in place, fingers tangled in his soft hair.

            “N-no, hhgh! H-aah, please!” Dipper felt tears slip down his cheeks and his vision go blurry.

            Dib sunk his teeth once more into Dipper’s shoulder and Dipper screamed as he drew blood. Fire ignited in his veins, mixing pain and pleasure and overloading his mind.

            “I-I love you! Dib—ghh, please!” Dipper cried out desperately, tears in his eyes, fingers digging into Dib’s arms... and that was all Dib needed. 

            In one swift movement, Dib rolled them over once more, pressing down on Dipper and holding him down on his back. Dipper gasped and screamed in pleasure when Dib leaned forward and began fucking him rough and fast into the mattress. Dipper’s senses exploded. Electric pleasure shot through his body, seizing up his muscles. He arched his back and cried out, clenching his fists in the blankets once more. He felt Dib’s hands holding his waist, not gentle anymore but with a possessiveness to them. He thrust into Dipper over and over, hitting the sensitive spot deep inside of him to draw out the delicious screams from his lungs. Dib heard his name mixed into the delirious and broken cries of need. Dib’s voice raised as well, he breathed hard.

            “Dib! Ah—!” Dipper wailed to the ceiling, writhing, but Dib held him fast and didn’t let up. He shuddered and cried tears freely, egging Dib on with delirious cries of desperation. 

           “Dipper, I’m—hha!” Dib’s movements became stuttering and full of need. His eyes closed, he leaned down towards Dipper, delighting in the feeling of his nails raking across his bare back to leave red marks, and he came hard. Dipper’s legs locked up and he went rigid, letting out a loud choked noise as he orgasmed between their stomachs. Dib thrusted a few more times, pumping into him and riding through the tidal wave of pleasure rocking through their bodies. 

            The last things Dipper felt before he passed out was the heat of Dib’s breath against his cheek, saying something that his overstimulated brain couldn’t comprehend, and endless warmth blooming inside him.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Dipper woke up the next morning with an absolutely killer hangover. He groaned when he came to consciousness and felt pounding pain in his skull and behind his eyes, rolling over and bumping right into another body. Dipper startled for a moment, before realizing he was tangled up with Dib’s long limbs and blankets. Fuck, he became annoyingly aware of his naked body pressing against Dib, bitterly remembering what they did. He glared at Dib’s sleeping face and sputtered in shock when he saw the other boy staring back at him.

            “Mornin’ babe!” Dib grinned, an edge of raspiness to his voice from sleep. Dipper’s stomach fluttered, he pushed away the sensation. 

            “Get the hell—fucking goddammit!” Dipper grumbled, becoming frustrated while trying to extricate himself from Dib’s bed. Dib propped himself up on his elbows and watched Dipper struggle with a smirk on his face. 

            “Aw, leaving so soon?” Dib said, but amusement laced his voice. He mock-pouted and brushed his bare leg against Dipper. “No round two?”

            “Fuck off,” Dipper huffed. He did not want to deal with this when his skull felt like it was going to split open. He almost wished it would, if only so he would be saved from having to talk to Dib after what happened the night previous. Being sober fucking sucked.

            Dipper got out of Dib’s large bed and stumbled as soon as he stood up, catching himself on the edge of the mattress. His face turned bright red, Dib laughed loudly behind him. Dipper did his best to ignore him and shuffle around to find his clothes, but embarrassment burned through him.

            “Does someone’s hips hurt from the pounding he took last night?” Dib teased from where he laid in the bed. 

            “Shut the fuck up!” Dipper snapped, wincing as he pulled his boxers on and his hips and ass did indeed ache sharply. He grabbed a tshirt and yanked it over his head, not bothering to check if it was even his, and hurriedly tugged on his jeans that laid in a pile at the foot of the bed. Dib crawled over on his stomach and propped his chin up on his hands. Dipper did a double take upon seeing the curve of his naked body, fully bare. 

            “You're so fucking cute, you know that?” Dib purred, watching how Dipper blushed and tore his gaze away from the lines across Dib’s shoulders where Dipper had clawed him. 

            “And you are the most infruriating person I’ve ever met, and I grew up with Mabel!” Dipper turned towards the door to the bedroom, I need to get the hell out of this house. He heard the mattress creak behind him as Dib also stood and pulled on some pants. Dipper’s hand closed around the door handle and he pulled it open, exiting into the hallway.

            “Dipperrrr!” Dib called lazily from behind him. Dipper grit his teeth and leaned on the railing as he went down the stairs, trying not to limp. God, look at this fucking place, Dipper thought with a hint of annoyance, looking around at the marble floors and high ceilings. Light snow drifted leisurely outside of the huge windows, the sun casting pale light through the large open rooms. Just find your coat and shoes, Dipper urged himself, and then paused to swear under his breath. He forgot that he wasn’t the one who drove here, Mabel had his car and she was—

            Dipper froze in his tracks. 

            He had stepped into the open doorway of what appeared to be a big kitchen with dark countertops, and in it... First he locked eyes with a stranger, a curvy girl with short purple hair and cat-like eyes that widened in surprise, eyes just like Dib's. Then Dipper’s gaze met Mabel’s, who was in the other girl’s arms mid-embrace. Both twins, with messy bedheads and obvious marks on their necks, stared bug-eyed at each other in stunned silence. 

            “Oh, Gaz, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!” Dib’s cheerful voice came from behind Dipper where he'd followed him. Dipper, frozen in place like a deer in the headlights, didn’t move when Dib wrapped his arms around his waist from behind. “Hi, Mabel!”

            “Wha—bwuh—!?” Mabel sputtered uselessly, staring at the two of them who had interrupted she and Gaz’s morning.

            “What the hell?” Gaz hissed under her breath, eyes darting between her brother and the brunette stranger who'd walked into their kitchen.

            “Dipper!?” Mabel exclaimed. Dipper winced at the loud shriek. 

            “Dib, what the hell is this?” Dipper spat.

            “I don’t know what you mean—” 

            “What the fuck are you doing here!?” Mabel’s bewildered yell interrupted Dib. She pulled away from Gaz and stared at Dipper wild-eyed and conused. 

            “Mabel, this is...?” Gaz’s voice trailed off and her eyes moved to Dipper. The horrified recognition in them made Dipper shiver uncomfortably. He wriggled out of Dib's grip and turned towards him. He was bare-chested but had put on his trenchcoat, idiot.

            “Dib, we are leaving,” Dipper choked out, voice thick with panic.

            “Wha—oof!” Dipper suddenly grabbed Dib by the arm and dragged him quickly through the room, giving the girl’s a wide berth. He ignored Mabel’s bewildered cries and fled, quickly finding the big entrance room and front door. He yanked his shoes and coat on blindingly fast, yelling at Dib to do the same, before dragging Dib outside into the snowy morning.

            “Dipper, what are we—?” Dib stared bewildered at Dipper, who ripped open Dib’s car door and practically shoved him inside. Dipper ignored the pain shooting through his tailbone as he ran to get in the other side. 

            “Drive!” Dipper practically screamed at him. Dib fumbled for the keys in his pocket and turned the ignition, before speeding off out of the driveway at Dipper’s insistent urging. 

            As they drove back towards Dipper’s place—a very familiar route to him—Dib shivered and stole a glance towards Dipper. 

           “That's my shirt, by the way...” Dib chuckled, cranking the heat with one hand. 

            “Just be quiet and drive,” Dipper grumbled. He slumped in the seat and folded his arms over his chest, turning to look out the window at the city streets whizzing past, slowly becoming white with snow once more. 

            I told Dib that I loved him. Dipper squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. That was coerced, it didn’t count... but as he told himself that, it felt like he was lying. Even if he was drunk and out of his mind, that sex was consensual. Dipper knew what was happening and he had wanted it, and... He stole a glance towards Dib and raked his eyes over the soft features of the other boy’s face, while rubbing absently at the painful bite he had left on his neck. His black hair was sticking up in the back from where he slept, and his chest was bare under the trenchcoat. Dipper watched the warm tan skin there slowly rise and fall with each breath, and Dipper felt an undeniable pang in his chest. He really did love him, didn’t he? 

            Dipper frowned and turned back to the window, resting his forehead on the cold glass. If he loved a monster, then what the hell did that make him? Did it even matter anymore? 

            Back at the house, Mabel and Gaz were left stunned and alone. Mabel, in her frantic explosion of confusion, did not see the expression on Gaz’s face. The girl remained mostly silent, but despite a lifetime of hiding her emotions, she could not now hide the absolute horror she felt. Mabel’s brother was the one Dib was obsessed with. Mabel knew Dib. Dib knew Mabel.  

            Everything crashed down around Gaz, and Mabel was too caught up in her own distraught raving to notice how scared Gaz was. By the time she calmed down, Gaz had put the mask of normalcy back on. Mabel couldn’t know anything. She had to protect her. 

            She and Dib needed to have a conversation.

Chapter Text

            It had been raining off and on all week, but the air was warm with summer fast approaching and the end of the school year on the horizon. The days were long, the California sun was bright, and Gaz could not fucking wait for her Sophomore year of highschool to be over

            She was never one to have friends. She was too weird, too hostile, too goth and nerdy... and she was Dib’s younger sister—a badge of shame to all the other kids. Dib was an outcast too. He always had been, with his unusual obsessions and violent tendencies. The Membrane siblings were just the freaks that hung on the edges of teenage society. Gaz was content to sit by herself and play her Gameslave, and for the most part she was left alone. Where Dib was bullied all throughout school, the other students tended to leave Gaz alone because she was scary like her brother, but didn’t bother them as Dib did.

            That changed when one of the asshole jocks from school found one of her online gaming profiles, on which she openly displayed her status as a lesbian—a dirty word to the general student body—and he spread the information like a California wildfire. 

            Gaz—with her purple hair that hung to her shoulders, her black baggy shirts and hoodies, her painted nails and striped leggings—suddenly found herself on the receiving end of her peer’s mockery. She knew Dib had been subjected to similar, being called queer and faggot while getting shoved into lockers, but he always rose to fight back, constantly getting into fights and subsequently suspended. Gaz supposed the only reason he wasn’t expelled was because their dad was rich and famous. But now, as Gaz walked through the halls putting on her best glare, she still was pelted with laughs and whispers about her sexuality. 

            “I bet she looks at us in the locker rooms!” Gaz heard a nasally female voice snicker. Without turning her head, Gaz’s squinting eyes flitted over to where a group of girls with bleached hair were loudly ‘whispering’. 

            “Eww! Fucking nasty.” Another girl giggled and made a fake gagging noise.

            “It’s probably only because she can’t get a boyfriend. I mean, who would ever date that!” 

            Gaz’s expression soured and she shot a venomous glare in their direction. If looks could kill they would all drop dead in an instant, but, unfortunately, instead they all burst into laughter and scampered away down the hall, satisfied with their shit-talking having been overheard as intended. Gaz’s hand tightened on her lunch box and she just looked ahead and kept walking until she got to the exit next to the English classroom. She pushed through the mostly glass door and stepped out, grimacing at the unpleasant warmth in the air. At least it was quiet.

            This place behind the school had become her safe spot. She came out here every day for lunch now, sitting in the grass with her back against the cool and rough brick wall, eating her lunch and playing her Gameslave. Occasionally Dib would join her, but not for terribly long because he was a Junior and their lunch period started a bit later than the younger grades. She would mostly ignore him as he raved about various things: paranormal tv shows, true crime, dissections he had enjoyed in science class, fights he got into that left his knuckles bruised and cracked (he seemed to like this, though, which creeped her out).

            She couldn’t remember a time where they were on particularly friendly terms. She tolerated him at best. Dib was weird. It annoyed her how much he got in trouble, because then it would cause issues with their father and reflect back on her. She resented Dib for that, she fucking hated him. But he was also the only one who would listen to her when she decided to vent her emotions on rare occasions, something she could never do with their father. Today, though, she was glad to be alone. The sounds of lasers firing in her game filled the silence, harmonizing with a soft breeze and the clinking of the chainlink fence some feet away, but then she heard gravel crunch with approaching footsteps and she sighed heavily.

            “Dib, I’m not in the fucking mood today—” She stopped short when, in her periperal, she saw a much broader and more colorful figure than Dib’s. She clicked her game off and set it aside, immediately bristling defensively. 

            “Hey Gazlene.” The boy said her name in a mocking voice. Gaz’s lips twitched with rage. She stood up and faced him. Why is he here? This was the fucker who had outed her to the whole school, and he was now just standing in front of her as if he didn’t ruin her already fucked up life. She could see moisture in his short dark hair from the heat, and he had his varsity jacket tied around his waist.

            “Get the fuck out of here,” she snarled with all of the vitriol she could muster. Her eyes burned, she could feel her face growing hot. He ignored her and stepped closer, casually and confidently. 

            “You and your freak brother don’t own the back of the school,” he chuckled. She eyed him nervously as he blocked her against the wall with his approach. Between the wall and the chainlink fence there wasn’t a very wide open space, and he was much bigger than her. He had a built frame from playing sports basically all his life, and could easily overpower her if he tried. 

            “I have nothing to fucking say to you, Justin. Get. The fuck. Away from me.” 

            “Aww, but I’m here to help!” He opened his arms and took another step. Gaz felt the heel of her boot bump against the brick behind her. She bared her teeth at him like a cornered animal. 

            “With fucking what?” Gaz’s vision wavered slightly under his shadow. She felt her heart beating in her ears. Am I... scared? Her palms felt sweaty, but she kept them balled into fists. She hardened her eyes and voice, she could not give away her fear, that’s what this asshole probably wanted. “What could you possibly help me with? All of my grades are leagues better than yours will ever be.”

            Justin’s cocky expression twisted into a scowl. His hand slammed into the wall next to Gaz’s head suddenly and he leaned in. Her eyes widened in disbelief. 

            “What the fuck do you think yo—!?” Gaz’s voice cut off into a yelp of pain when his hand clamped hard around her upper arm. 

            “I can help you with your dyke problem, stupid bitch,” Justin snarled in her face, but a smarmy smile snaked back onto his lips as he continued speaking. “Everyone knows you’ve never had dick, that’s your problem! I'm feeling generous, so I'm gonna help fix you.” Gaz’s mouth fell open when his implication clicked in her mind.

            “Fucking excuse me!?” Gaz practically screamed, eyes wild. “I would never fuck you in a million years! You’re fucking deranged!”

            “You’ll change your mind once this cock is in you,” he said. Gaz’s mind lit up in panic and adrenaline when Justin’s fingers gripped the waist of her shorts. “And I know you won't tell anyone. We don't want daddy finding out, do we?” He grinned.

            “GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!” Gaz’s fingernails flew up to claw at his face. Justin hissed in pain and flinched away, before rounding back on Gaz with fury and intent in his eyes. Her breath momentarily left her when he struck her across the face painfully. Gaz screamed, thrashing like a wild animal when his hands came down on her again. She wondered if anyone would hear her screaming all the way outside, or if anyone would even fucking care.

            Then suddenly Justin was torn off of her.

            Gaz panted heavily, her blood surging with adrenaline. Her dark purple hair was disheveled, her cheek ached where he hit her. She watched as a dark blur wrapped itself around Justin’s shoulders and dragged him away in a fury. The stumbling pair collided backwards into the chainlink fence with a metallic clang. Justin reached over his head to claw at the person wringing their arms around his neck, grabbing the scruff of their jacket and throwing them off in one motion. Gaz watched Dib hit the grass, wheezing with the force of it. Their amber eyes met for a fraction of a second before Dib was scrambling to his feet, darting away from Justin’s attempts to kick him. 

            “Dib...!?” Gaz choked out. He... saved her. He...

            Dib grunted as Justin’s fist collided with the side of his head, and then again with his mouth. Even as a trickle of red blood dribbled from Dib’s lips, he had a rage in his expression that Gaz had never seen before. She had witnessed a few of his stupid fights with other boys in the halls, but this was different. His face was twisted up into a snarl, his eyes burned with murderous intent, a vein in his neck bulged, and he surged forward at Justin. 

            Dib was one of the taller boys in the school, but he was thin and lanky. Justin was huge compared to him, and the pair furiously exchanged uncoordinated blows that reminded her of a cat and dog fighting, spitting and snarling at each other in a whirlwind. Dib grappled Justin around the middle and ignored the two blows the taller boy slammed onto his spine, though Gaz could see his bloody teeth grit in pain. Dib kneed him in the crotch, before taking the moment Justin howled in pain as a chance to kick his feet out from under him.

            “I'll fucking KILL YOU!”

            Gaz couldn't tell which one had screamed it at the other, but she saw Dib raining punches down on Justin now that he was on his back and being straddled. Blood flew from his knuckles, dotting the grass with red. Gaz’s breath caught in her throat when Justin managed to throw him off, sending Dib rolling on his side. They both scrambled in the grass for a moment. Justin's hands closed around Dib’s throat, Dib kicked him off. They both rose to their feet and charged each other.

            “Get the hell out of here, Gaz!” Dib’s wild eyes darted to her, frenzied and urgent. She stared, wide-eyed and frozen in place. Dib’s back was facing her, still with his stupid trenchcoat on even with summer approaching. She saw him pull something from within his coat, and then his hand slammed into Justin’s gut. The breath audibly forced its way out of Justin’s lungs, but that wasn’t anything unusual for a gut punch. But, behind Dib’s hair, Gaz saw Justin’s jaw slacken in shock and his eyes bulge. Something dripped onto the grass.

            Gaz turned and ran.

            It had only been their lunch period, but she clambered over the fence and sprinted into the suburban streets, heading for home. Her boots pounded on the pavement, her breaths heaved with effort, her heart thudded in her chest so loud she thought it would burst, and then she saw the familiar driveway of their two story house with its gray walls and well kept little lawn. A veneer of normalcy; a regular house for kids to grow up in, according to their father. Gaz practically exploded through the front door, ran up the stairs to her room, and then collapsed onto the floor. 

            Tears fell from her eyes, hot and overflowing. The young girl wrapped her arms around herself as she began to shake violently. She didn’t know whether to be glad or upset for their father not being home. She wanted someone to comfort her, to console her for the terrible violation inflicted on her, or nearly inflicted... but she feared that he would simply chastise her for causing a scene. Dib got in another fight because of her, and it looked like a bad one this time. That look in Dib’s eye had disturbed her, but at the same time she felt... protected. He threw himself into danger for her. It was the closest thing to an act of love Gaz had received in a long time.

            The sky was turning orange by the time Dib returned, the school day had long since ended. Gaz was holding an ice pack to her bruising cheek and sitting in the living room, watching one of her favorite gaming channels on the TV. She paused it when she heard the front door open and shut, and turned in her seat to look. She froze. Her heart stopped.

            “Hey,” Dib greeted her, his voice ragged with exhaustion but sounding weirdly upbeat, satisfied. Gaz stared at him, unblinking.

            He was covered in blood. 

            Gaz could see it, the dark patches in his shirt, staining his hands, his face, splattered on his shoes... but, he was smiling. His lip was busted, but it was obvious that most of the dark, dried blood wasn’t his. Almost none of it was, and there was so much. So much that she could smell the ripe metallic tang from here.

            “What the fuck happened?” Gaz breathed, barely daring to even ask for fear of actually getting an answer. 

            “I won.” Dib kicked his shoes off as casually as if it were any other day. She watched him set her Gameslave down on a nearby table and then walk towards the stairs. He paused, sensing she still wanted to talk. Gaz blinked twice and felt her heartbeat quicken. She wondered if her fear was obvious.

            “Justin?” she asked. “What happened to—?”

            “Don’t worry about him,” Dib said. “I made sure he can never hurt you again.” A shiver went down Gaz’s spine, both at the words and at the expression on Dib’s face.

            Dib grinned widely, the dried blood on his face cracking a bit and his busted lip leaking more bright red as it pulled open. His eyes were wide and shining with an intensity Gaz hadn’t seen in him before. He was fucking delighted. His face was flushed with excitement, and his eyes glittered like how she'd imagine someone falling in love for the first time would look. He was bruised and battered but he looked like this had been the best day of his life. 

            He didn't wait for another response or question from Gaz. Instead, he gave her a pleasant wave and bounded up the stairs to his room.

            It wasn’t until a week later that Justin’s body was discovered, gutted and cut to pieces, on the rocks of a nearby cliff. It was all over the news—the brutal murder of a star athlete from a local high school, a tragedy. The manhunt was on, the public demanded answers from the police. 

            Though she never asked, and Dib never outright said it, she knew that he did it. Dib killed him, and he'd done it for her. 

            So, that night, Gaz’s hands shook as she turned on the PC in her room, the screen glowing in the darkness. With expertise beyond her age, she hacked into any nearby security footage recordings to delete them, and Justin’s killer was never found.

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            Gaz’s eyes opened and she was greeted with darkness. Her breath came out ragged, and she felt a sheen of cold sweat upon her skin. She sat up, ripped her blankets off, and stumbled over to her window to pull the blackout curtains aside. Pale dim light fell upon her body. The sky was mostly dark, but the blue of an approaching sunrise glowed across the horizon, a promise of daylight returning to the world once more. Gaz let out a shaky breath of relief. She found comfort in the sight.

            It had been a long time since she had dreamed of the moment Dib and Gaz’s unspoken pact came to be. And it wasn’t a pleasant memory by any stretch of the word. Gaz didn't want to think about it, not now. She needed to have a talk with Dib later, but for the moment she simply stepped into her bathroom, exhaled, and turned the shower on to let the bad memories wash down the drain.

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            Gaz looked up from her Gameslave when she heard the front door slam, followed by Dib’s clunky footsteps. She threw the console onto the cushion, following him upstairs to his room, and leaned against the doorframe. She watched him throw his things beside his desk and sit down, slumping in his seat as it rolled slightly back from the force of him lazily sitting down. After a moment of annoyance from Gaz, Dib noticed her standing in the doorway. 

            “What?”

            “What do you mean, what?” Gaz replied snarkily. “The little creep you’re obsessed with is my girlfriend’s fucking twin?!” Dib raised his eyebrows, swiveling in his desk chair to look at her.

            “Girlfriend, huh? So I was right.” He chuckled. “What happened to your dedication to being single?”

            “Shut up,” Gaz snapped, watching her brother stare at his chipped nail polish, seemingly ignoring her hostility.

            “Congrats on the girlfriend. Why are you telling me this?” His brow furrowed in confusion. Gaz realized how weird this conversation probably seemed from his point of view. It wasn’t like they ever told each other anything, or talked much aside from tense conversations, which were usually about their father.

            “You hang her life over Dipper’s head to keep him in line, don't you?” Gaz growled. “You hurt a hair on her fucking head and I swear, Dib—“

            “Whoa, whoa,” Dib sat up straighter, “I wouldn't dream of it. I like Mabel!”

            “Forgive me for not trusting you,” Gaz replied sarcastically. “Look, I know what you're capable of—“

            “Yeah, yeah, you know I kill people for fun and don’t go to the cops because you have some weird loyalty to me. I’m sure if I lay a finger on Mabel that pact’s broken and you’ll go straight to the authorities, is that what you’re about to say?” He dismissively waved his hand in her direction. Gaz balked, taken aback by Dib’s words. 

            “First of all, I just don’t want to get involved with all your bullshit more than I already do with your fuckin’ favors, and it’s not ‘some weird loyalty’, you freak!” She bristled, probably sounding overly defensive. “Secondly, yeah, I guess. Hurt Mabel and I’ll go to the cops, even if I get incriminated as well.”

            “Sounds like a deal. Just don’t tell Dipper. Like you said, I gotta keep him in line somehow.” He winked, turning away from her to look at his computer and put his feet up on his desk. Gaz stared at the back of his chair for a moment before silently nodding and leaving, shutting the door behind her. She kept her footsteps light as she slunk back to her room, slightly conflicted by Dib’s words. She wasn’t weirdly loyal to him, it was just…

            She sighed, falling on her back in bed to look at the ceiling. She cringed when she heard the front door open again, knowing it was a rare visit from their father. She didn’t want to deal with him, certainly not now. Grabbing her headphones, she put them on and was in the middle of trying to find a song to listen to when she heard her father’s muffled voice from downstairs. 

            “GAZLENE!”

            She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes. Tossing her headphones to the side, she pocketed her phone and slipped off the bed. 

            No, the reason she kept Dib’s secret was because, as far as she was concerned, he was the only real ‘family’ she’d ever had. 

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            The silence hung heavy in the car. Mabel’s eyes were on a swivel, moving back and forth in slow intervals between the snowy cityscape past the window and to her brother who was driving. She appreciated that he was still willing to drive her places despite everything. ‘Everything’ being the multiple arguments they’d had recently, the most explosive having been on a ride just like this. Mabel’s face scrunched up with displeasure thinking back on it, on how she had been so mad she got out of the car. Then, they snapped at each other over Wendy being missing. And the next morning...

            Mabel heaved a loud sigh. Dipper’s eyes flicked over to her for a fraction of a second before returning to the road, but his lips tightened in a line. He was dreading talking to Mabel just as much as she was, but her voice broke the quiet nevertheless.

            “Are we going to talk about it?” 

            Dipper didn’t respond for a long moment. What was he supposed to say? Assuming she was referencing the most recent debacle: seeing each other in their partners house, the same house, because Dib apparently had a sister and Mabel somehow met her and started... dating her? Dipper thought Mabel had just had a one-night stand with some stranger, but she had apparently been hanging out with this girl for days at a time over the last few weeks, and Dipper had no idea. Some brother he was.

            “Dipper.” Mabel’s voice held an edge of annoyance in it. Dipper swallowed back a sigh.

            “I don’t know, Mabel. I don’t know what there is to say,” Dipper replied. Mabel shifted in the passenger seat and started fidgeting with her painted nails, something she did when she was nervous. 

            “You could try...” Mabel murmured, not looking at him. 

            “I assume I’m taking you back there, to their house?” Dipper stole a glance over at her. Her long hair tumbled out from her coat hood and splayed over her chest. A cute stars headband sat on the crown of her head, with matching star shaped earrings.

            “Yeah.” Mabel’s brow furrowed slightly.

            Neither of them said anything for a moment. Dipper slowed to a stop and waited for a traffic light to turn green. The route certainly felt a little bit familiar. Dipper frowned to himself. This girl—Gaz—was probably the same girl Mabel met at the club, the one he gave Mabel shit about for leaving with. But Mabel had continued seeing her, over and over, it seemed.

            “Sorry I called your new girlfriend a rebound,” Dipper said. “That was... I was an asshole.”

            “Yeah, just a bit,” Mabel huffed, but she finally turned to look at him. “But I don’t... We aren’t really girlfriends, I think. We’re just... testing things out.”

            “Do you like her?”

            “I... Yeah. Very much.” Mabel felt a pang of sadness. She imagined a better world in which she was raving excitedly to Dipper about her new love. A world where they weren’t so fucked up and mad at eachother. She wanted her brother back, he wasn’t the same. He hadn’t been the Dipper she knew ever since Pacifica was murdered. Her eyes swam momentarily and she pushed away the painful memory. She took a deep breath. “I told her I love her.”

            “Oh shit!” Dipper smiled a bit. Mabel felt lighter at the sight. “That’s fast. You’ve known her, what? Like two weeks now?”

            “Oh, shut up,” Mabel chuckled. “Don’t you give me shit! I really do think I love her, it’s...” Mabel looked down at her hands. “She’s amazing.”

            Dipper looked over at his sister, a softness in his gaze. It wasn’t his place to give her shit for it, or hypothesize about how it might be a bad coping mechanism. Mabel had called him out on his hypocrisy before, and she was right, more than she knew. The messiness of Mabel’s relationship was nothing compared to Dipper’s getting drunk so he could fuck the serial killer that killed his friends with less guilt. 

            Dipper nodded to her with a small smile and returned to watching the road. He let the silence hang between them, but this time it had settled into something comfortable. Mabel understood that he had acknowledged it, and was happy for her. He just hoped she wouldn’t press about he and Dib’s relationship in turn.

            Mabel’s phone buzzed and she took it out of her pocket, frowning and typing out a reply. She waited, typed another reply, and then sighed. 

            “Everything okay?” Dipper’s eyebrows furrowed.

            “Ramona filed a missing person’s report,” Mabel replied. She frowned at her phone, reading and rereading the messages from Wendy’s partner. Mabel told them she thought it was a good idea to take it to the police. They both knew Wendy well, she had always been reliable and down-to-earth, she wouldn’t just up and abandon everyone without a word. Mabel had even reached out to some of her family members and none of them had heard anything either. It was just one more horrible thing after another. Mabel could feel in her gut that something terrible must have happened. Pacifica was dead, and Wendy was missing, all within the span of a month. 

            She looked up at Dipper and froze.

            “...Dipper?” Mabel’s voice came out as a whisper. Her vision tunnelled in on his hands. Why? Why is he reacting like this? Dipper said nothing, but his hands were wrapped in a death grip on the steering wheel, so much so that his knuckles were white. She watched his face as he cleared his throat, trying to regain composure, but she saw the look in his eyes. The muscles in his face were tight, and his eyes were wide, staring ahead in something like horror.

            “That’s...” Dipper’s voice was strained. He’d gotten control of his expression a bit, now it just looked unsettled and stressed, but Mabel’s heart was in her throat. “I hope they find something.”

            “Dipper, what the fuck?” Mabel hissed, causing him to look over at her in confusion. 

            “What?”

            “You... acting like this! You—!” Mabel growled in frustration, searching for what to say.

            “Mabel, I don't know what you mean by that, I'm—”

            “Do you know something about what happened to Wendy?” She watched him nearly choke as the words left her mouth. He whipped his head sideways and stared at her in appalled shock.

            “Wha—no!? What the fuck, why would you—?”

            “You’ve been so goddamn against considering her missing, when that’s WHAT SHE IS! You have been acting so fucking weird, Dipper! Even at Paz’s goddamn funeral, which Wendy was not at, by the way—!”

            “I DON’T KNOW WHERE WENDY IS!” Dipper roared at the top of his lungs. The car fell silent. Dipper glared out at the road, breathing hard, and Mabel stared, stunned, at her brother. She deflated in her seat a bit, but Dipper couldn’t tell if she had given up or if it was for something else. She shifted to look out the window and said nothing for a long time. 

            “That’s not what I asked,” she finally said in a low voice, with her back to him. 

            “What do you want me to say, Mabel?” Dipper snapped as he turned onto a familiar street. Large houses loomed on either side; this was where Dipper had driven her the last time they fought like this in the car. He almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous that deja vu was. Then he swallowed hard. “It’s like you think it’s my fault.”

            “I don’t know, Dipper. I don’t know what to think anymore,” Mabel retorted. Dipper felt stomach acid burn the back of his throat. It was his fault, but never in a million years did he think his own twin would... Did she really think he had something to do with it? It hurt. The thought of Mabel looking at him like a monster hurt, unlike anything he could imagine. He didn’t know if it was unfair of him to feel that way, considering she was absolutely right to distrust him and be mad, but he foolishly expected her to simply believe him, as her brother, her twin.

            As he pulled into the driveway, Dipper’s mouth was stark dry. His mind swam, horrified and shattered at the realization that Mabel could really figure out his hand in all of this, and that she would never forgive him. 

            “Mabel, I—” His voice was barely a whisper, but the sound of Mabel throwing the car door open the instant they stopped cut him off. She stepped out.

            “Don’t bother picking me up.” Mabel slammed the door and ran to the front of the house, darting inside and disappearing. Dipper sat in the car for a few long minutes, staring off into space. Could she see the way he was different now—broken? They had always known each other better than anyone else, but still Dipper thought that things would be different. She thinks he knows something about Wendy. She suspects him.

            Dipper’s breath quickened, rising in panic, but then his passenger door opened again. Dipper startled, wondering if Mabel had come back, hoping that she had come back and would tell him she didn’t really think he was capable of being a terrible person, but instead...

            “Hey, babe!”

            “Dib...” Dipper replied dully, still halfway somewhere else in his mind. “Why are you...?”

            “This is my house, and I noticed Mabel come in so I figured you were here too. She looked pissed!” 

            “Right.” Right, he wasn’t lying about living here that one time. Silly. Dipper felt so completely foolish. “And why are you in my car?” Dipper’s eyes finally focused on Dib as he spoke. Dib, in the black jeans and trenchcoat he always wore, with a glowing smile on his face. Dipper felt almost glad for the distraction of his presence, but that thought just made him feel guilty again. Finding solace in the one who caused all of this? But really, wasn’t it he who truly caused it all? Whenever Dib told Dipper that this was all his fault, he’d thought Dib was just being a victim-blaming asshole, but now... Maybe he was simply telling the truth, because none of this would have happened if not for Dipper. He was the one who hunted down a serial killer, who got Dib’s attention, led him back to his place, talked with him instead of fighting right then and there, and then started playing their stupid game of cat and mouse until Dib got what he wanted and made Dipper fall in love with him. All of the choices Dipper had made, all of them led to this—to Wendy and Pacifica’s death, to Mabel starting to hate him, to a crack forming within him, letting Dib’s darkness into his heart. If he had only done anything differently. But it was too late now. Pacifica was in the ground, Wendy has been reported missing, and Mabel suspected his involvement. 

            Dipper still clung to the ridiculous hope that somehow he could manage to hold onto his old world while moving into an entirely new one. It felt as if he and Dib were in a car together racing towards something that neither of them fully understood, speeding ahead to the inevitable crash.

            “Do you actually love me?” Dipper asked suddenly, his voice devoid of emotion as if he was simply making small talk. Dib raised his eyebrows in momentary surprise, before falling into an easy smile. 

            “Of course. More than anything!”

            Dipper’s bottom lip trembled and he looked away. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment.  

            “Let’s go back to my place.” Dipper pulled out of the driveway.

            “Oooo~! Dipper, are you hitting on me?” Dib cooed. Dipper’s eye twitched.

            “I fucking hate you,” he replied, and Dib laughed as they drove off into the snow. 

            Dipper may feel some fucked up form of love for Dib, but that didn't mean he could completely give in. Dib was tricky, he was manipulative and cunning, and Dipper didn't know what else he may be planning. Dib tried to get Dipper to kill someone in the past; who knew if Dib would even be satisfied with only having Dipper’s begrudging love. Mabel—hostile or suspicious as she was—was still in his life, and that meant she would always be in danger. For the moment, Dipper still had his sister, and that had to count for something. If they could get through this, everything might still be okay. As long as he had her he still had a foothold in a normal life, and because of that he could never fully trust Dib. 

            As Dipper thought this, he looked over at the boy in question and choked back a snort of laughter when he saw Dib sprawled out ridiculously in the passenger seat. It looked like he was trying to lean sideways with his leg up on the dash seductively, but he was far too tall to fit. That didn’t stop him from shooting Dipper his best suave grin though.

            “Idiot,” Dipper chuckled, and Dib grinned even brighter at having caused the noise to escape him. As much as Dib liked the scared or angry expressions Dipper so frequently wore, he was beginning to crave his smile and laugh even more. 

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            “Gaz!” Mabel shrieked with delighted laughter. Gaz scooped her up in her arms, sending Mabel’s wavy hair spinning in the air as they both collided onto Gaz’s bed with a bounce. Mabel giggled loudly and squealed at the way Gaz pecked kisses up her stomach, across her freckled shoulders, up her neck, before finally pressing their lips together. Mabel smiled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Gaz and holding her close, before they broke away a moment later. 

            “You’re cute,” Gaz said simply, a small coy smile on her face as she looked down at the girl under her.

            “No you!” Mabel giggled and playfully swatted at Gaz’s arm, before they both sat back up, smiling at each other. Gaz rolled her eyes good-naturedly as Mabel began poking her while saying “Cute, cute!” over and over with each gentle prod. Gaz suddenly wrapped Mabel up in her arms again and rolled over, eliciting another shriek of laughter from her. “Okay, okay! I surrender!” Mabel laughed. Gaz took a moment just to stare at the sight, feeling warmth like daylight seep into her. 

            Gaz never thought she’d be where she was right now: giddy in love, and playfully rolling around with a girl whose smile was brighter than a summer sun. It was a dream. But with all dreams, there was always the risk of it twisting and transforming into a nightmare at any unsuspecting moment. Luckily for Gaz, the biggest risk to shattering this fragile happiness was her own brother, and that had seemingly been handled. He’d never been outright cruel to her, despite her admittedly having been cruel to him in their youth. She didn’t know whether he forgave her for it or simply never cared, and she didn’t care either. Things were the way they were, and she could not fret and feel guilty over things she had no control over, like who she was related to. 

            Gaz’s eyes refocused with a start. Mabel had slipped away while she was momentarily lost in thought, and had sidled up in front of Gaz’s computer. Panic lit up in her chest and she darted forward, reaching out in preparation to drag Mabel away from the monitor, but then she realized how silly that was. She didn’t have anything up that needed hiding. It was not often that she did in the first place, only when Dib shot her a message with times and locations to ask for a little ‘favor’ as he liked to call them (signed with dumb little begging emojis). He’d been more active in recent months, however, and that made Gaz nervous. She didn’t like to get involved, she didn’t like to know anything about what she was helping disappear. She never asked, and Dib never said—a perfectly fucked up symbiotic relationship. 

            “What're you looking at?” Gaz asked softly, coming up behind Mabel. She dipped her hands through Mabel’s long hair, running her fingertips through the softness of it. Mabel hummed in response, dragging the mouse around the screen.

            “You’ve got a lot of weird fancy things, what even are these programs?” The cursor hovered over a little dark icon and Mabel squinted as she read the nonsensical string of letters and numbers that was the file name. Gaz pursed her lips, thinking about lying for a moment, before deciding that it didn’t matter. She had been doing this long before that day in Sophomore year of high school. 

            “It’s a coding program. I dabble with hacking into things, I’ve done it since I was a kid,” Gaz answered nonchalantly. She rested her chin on the top of Mabel’s head and reached her hand forward, laying it on top of Mabel’s and guiding the mouse to cursor over another program on the desktop. “This one helps me test robotics coding, and then this one here is where I implement it when I hook up the—”

            Mabel’s loud gasp of genuine awe made Gaz stop talking, instead chuckling a bit at the reaction. 

            “Robotics!?” Mabel twisted to crane her neck at Gaz, her eyes blown wide. “You make ROBOTS!?” Gaz laughed again and nodded.

            “Kind of! Nothing like my dad does though, just little things for fun—”

            “Your DAD MAKES ROBOTS!?”

            Despite the topic changing to her father—something that usually made unpleasant feelings squirm in her gut—Gaz felt herself grinning so wide it was beginning to hurt her cheeks. 

            “You really don’t know who Professor Membrane is, huh?” Gaz asked, but there was a liquid sweetness to her voice. Gaz loved that Mabel didn’t know who her father was. It pissed her off when people who were impressed by him only associated her with his accomplishments, but Mabel was impressed by her, by the fact that she knew hacking and robotics. 

            “Sweet jeebus, you are so cool,” Mabel breathed, eyes still wide and glittering with awe. Gaz’s lips quirked upwards in a sly smile.

            “Wanna see?” 

            “UM, YES?” 

            Gaz laughed and helped Mabel out of the swiveling chair, before grabbing a little metal remote and clicking a button. Out from under the bed, a handful of old and worn stuffed animals—rabbits and bears and puppies in shades of black and purple and red—waddled out into the open with a mechanical whir. Mabel gasped so loud that for a moment Gaz thought she was going to pass out, but the girl remained standing and staring at the little stuffed animals marching across the carpet. Mabel squealed when some circled her, practically vibrating with excitement, before they all trailed back into their hiding place under the bed. Mabel slowly turned back to Gaz with her jaw dropped. 

            “That... was the coolest most magical thing I have EVER seen!” Mabel shocked Gaz by suddenly bounding forwards and wrapping her in a tight hug, bouncing up and down and shrieking, but Gaz didn’t find it annoying one bit, blushing pink at the praise. She smiled and gently peeled away from Mabel.

            “I’m glad you like them! They don’t come out often anymore, I used to use them to chase Dib out of my room as a kid.” Gaz’s voice faltered for a moment, but Mabel didn’t catch it, she was already excitedly going back to the sleek computer. She looked up to Gaz, eyes bright.

            “And you can hack stuff too? What do you... what do you hack, like... the government?” 

            Gaz snorted. God knows what I did to deserve such a cute girl...

            “No, silly,” Gaz chuckled as she stepped closer to Mabel. “I can just... get into systems I want to. Like company records, people’s internet history, phones, security cameras—just a lot of things that aren’t too crazy, not the government!” 

            “I bet you totally could though~” Mabel grinned mischievously. Gaz looked away as if in thought, but couldn't help a smug grin stretch her lips.

            “...Probably, yeah,” Gaz conceded. Mabel whooped and descended into a giggling fit, thrilled by her not-girlfriend being so talented. 

            “Show me, show me!” Mabel bounced on her heels. “Pleeeeeaaase!” Gaz stifled a snort when Mabel gave her puppy-dog eyes that reminded her of the stupid begging face emoji she would use in their texts. 

            “Alright, alright.” Gaz stepped past and sat down in the computer chair. “C'mere.” She motioned for Mabel to sit in her lap and the girl flushed pink, but grinned and happily snuggled in. Gaz scooted them forward, peeking around Mabel and clicking open a few different programs until her lines of coding glowed on the screen along with an interface. “What do you wanna do?”

            “Oh gosh, I don't know! Uhh...” Mabel thought hard, holding the uh out in a long hum. “Can you use this stuff to mess with people? Like, in the funny way.” Gaz smirked. Of course Mabel’s first thought would be harmless mischief. Even in the face of something that could be used to hurt—or help hurt—people, she was still just thinking about lighthearted things. The darkness hasn't poisoned you as much as you think, Gaz thought fondly.

            “Mess with people? Hmmmm...” Gaz thought for a moment, and then rapidly clicked over, typed some lines, and opened up data from a nearby cafè. She pulled open the security camera feed so they could see the people inside, and Gaz smiled at the impressed gasp Mabel let out. “Watch this,” Gaz said and quickly started typing out more lines in multiple popup windows. Faint sound from the live camera feed came from Gaz’s computer speakers. A generic pop song was playing over the cafè's speakers. “It looks like they're playing music from a queued playlist. Wanna change it to something more fun?” 

            Mabel giggled. “Oh my gosh, um... Ooh! How about...” Mabel twisted and displayed a song on her phone screen, grinning as evilly as a girl in a big pink kitten sweater could. Gaz chuckled and typed in some overrides, pulling up the store’s playlist queue and overriding it. Gaz then queued up the song Mabel picked out, over and over and over again on repeat. The girls laughed as the new music suddenly cut in and started playing, making the workers and customers alike furrow their brows in slight confusion.

            A high tempo, unnaturally fast-paced Japanese voice started to sing. Gaz recognized it easily as Miku, but the folks in the Cafè turned their heads up towards the speakers in puzzlement. Mabel shrieked with laughter when the lyrics continued into a robotic string of chanting, and the worker started to panic, jumping over to the ipad they used to queue the music on an app and scrolling through. The discordant blare of instruments and singing had people exchanging disturbed glances.

            “Okayokayokay!” Mabel choked out between laughter that shook her whole body. “That's enough, I don't wanna get them fired or anything!” Gaz complied and cut the song off short, returning it to the original list. 

            “People have no taste,” Gaz chuckled. 

            “Right?! How have you never heard of Miku before!”

            “In their defense, that was certainly a chaotic song!” Gaz let out a snort and Mabel grinned, cheeks pink. 

            “Oh!” Mabel perked up, another idea having seemingly struck her. “Can you get into campus cameras? Penny Hall, floor three. I wanna see if we can spot Grenda and Candy!”

            “Grenda....?”

            “My best friends! Also my dormmates,” Mabel smiled brightly. A piece of her hair brushed against Gaz’s cheek. Gaz relished the comfortable warmth of Mabel’s back leaning against her, and she could feel the girl's faint heartbeat if she wrapped an arm around her. The comfort of her presence banished the chill of an unpleasant dejavu feeling. She'd hacked into cams at Rocksburg University before, but thankfully an entirely different dorm than the one Mabel apparently lived in. Gaz made a mental note of the location.

            A string of camera feeds soon opened on screen, showing different hallways and doors with colorful nametags taped to each. Gaz clicked through the tabs, pausing when spotting a pair walking down the hall. 

            “Oh hey! That's Dimitri from—HE'S WITH JESS!?” Mabel suddenly exclaimed and leaned forward to peer closer at the blurry camera feed as if not believing what she was seeing. She let out a scandalized gasp when she noticed the pair were holding hands. “I KNEW IT! I knew she liked him!” She watched the pair disappear around a corner. Gaz continued clicking around the different camera feeds but nothing else seemed to pique Mabel’s interest. “Aw... damn, they must just be inside or something,” Mabel mumbled to herself as she snuggled back into Gaz’s lap. “Hmmm, oh! Can you go to past dates with these?”

            “Yes, why?” Gaz smirked at the giggle Mabel let out, as if laughing at a joke only she heard. Mabel directed her to a date over a month prior, and then clicked around until they found a hallway familiar to her.

            “Here it is, I think it was around this time of day...” Mabel watched the grainy little screen intently, going silent with anticipation until a trio of girls walked into view, heading towards a door. Mabel grinned. “There we are!” She pointed and Gaz recognized Mabel’s tiny form in the camera feed. She was flanked by a wide shouldered girl with brown hair, and a shorter black-haired girl. Mabel descended into a giggling fit when the mini-Mabel on screen stumbled around as if drunk, and then abruptly rushed for the door. Gaz sputtered in surprise as the Mabel in the recording ran full speed at the closed door and slammed into it hard enough to send her falling backwards onto the floor. 

            Mabel erupted in laughter, holding her stomach. The Mabel in the recording also burst into laughter, rolling on the ground and kicking her legs. Her friends came over to check that she was okay, and began to share in her humor when they realized she wasn’t too damaged from the collision. 

            “I had a huge bruise on my forehead for a few days after that!” Mabel said in between fits of giggling.

            “What was the plan there exactly?” Gaz smiled, amused by the display and the girl’s reaction to a video of her running face first into a door. 

            “I dunno, I guess I figured the door would open something!” She giggled and turned back to the screen, her face out of Gaz’s view. Gaz liked when Mabel sat in her lap, but it was a shame when she couldn’t always see her smiling face. 

            “Do doors usually throw themselves open before you?” Gaz wrapped her arms around Mabel, feeling her warmth beneath the cotton sweater.

            “No! Pshh.” Mabel took the mouse in her hand and rewound the recording a bit to rewatch the moment she hit the door and fell over, letting out a renewed fit of laughter. “No, no, I was drunk off my ass! That was a good night.” Mabel was grinning, fondly remembering the group of them dancing wildy under neon lights, becoming more and more uncoordinated with each glass they drank but not caring. Then Mabel’s eyes glazed over and the smile dropped from her face.

            “Hey, can you...” Mabel started slowly. Gaz thought she felt her heartbeat quicken for a moment. “Can we look at footage from this club?” Mabel quickly found the location on her phone and showed it to Gaz.

            “Uh, yeah, I’m sure I can,” Gaz said with a hint of confusion in her voice. All of the cheer had melted from Mabel’s voice, leaving her feeling almost cold despite the girl in her arms. With a few clicks, Gaz pulled up a nightclub in the city Mabel directed her to, and as she got into the security cams she felt a horrible sinking realization in her gut. She'd hacked into these cameras before, not too long ago, on....

            “December sixteenth.”

            Fuck. She couldn't say anything, she would have no real reason to recognize what Mabel was looking for, without outing herself as knowing more than she let on. So Gaz humored her and pulled up the security footage from that night. They both stayed silent as footage from the main floor played out, at a bit of a fast forward. Mabel's eyes were glued to the screen, watching the flitting movements of sped up people closely.

            “Pause,” Mabel said, leaning in slightly. Gaz held back a sigh as she hit play again, this time at regular speed.

            “Mabel, dear.... what are we looking for?” Gaz asked gently, innocently. 

            “I just wanna see!” Mabel felt a little bit guilty that she was using Gaz to look into the murder of the girl she used to (still did?) love, but... how could she not take such an opportunity that was handed to her? She could look for something the police missed, she could see where Pacifica went that night, who she talked to, where her stupid brother went. Maybe she had been wrong in assuming the footage was gone; the police officer never confirmed it, after all. There had to be something, something they missed, anything.

            “Mabel, I don’t think that’s a good idea...” Gaz started to rub comforting circles into Mabel’s arm, like she did when trying to calm the girl down, but Mabel sat forward suddenly, pointing to the screen.

            “There we are!” 

            Sure enough, amongst the crowd a trio filtered in and settled around a table, dropping their coats off before heading out to the dancefloor. Gaz could sense Mabel’s growing anticipation practically burning her skin. She stared and waited, but suddenly the footage cut, as Gaz knew it would. The image changed to the same interior room with its scattered tables and cushioned benches, with the bar and bathrooms in the far edges, but it was dark and completely empty save for some sunlight faintly streaming inside from windows out of view—the next morning.

            “Wha...” Mabel’s eyes darted over the image and Gaz frowned sadly. “What happened, what’s this? Go back!” They rewound, watched the little Dipper, Mabel, and Pacifica, in her lavender crop top, head through the crowd and out of sight, and then the image cut back to the empty room the following day. “Where is it!? What’s happening?” Mabel’s voice rose with growing frustration and Gaz winced. Mabel turned her frantic eyes to Gaz, pleading, panicking as her hopes of finding any answers slipped away like sand through her fingers. Gaz knew that catching Dib was like trying to grab smoke with your hands—hopeless and pointless. Mabel clearly still clung to the hope that her friend’s murderer would be found, but it would just be another case like all the others, like Justin; unsolved and abandoned. 

            “It looks like the footage is corrupted or something, I’m not sure,” Gaz lied. She remembered sifting through this footage herself, erasing everything starting from right before her own brother entered the building. Meticulous and deliberate, but not so specific that it looked glaringly suspicious, which is why she cut every single camera in the place up until the next morning, even ones that never spotted Dib in the crowds. 

            “No, no, it can't just be gone,” Mabel rewound again, and again, always with the same cut in the video. Her eyes followed Pacifica. She was there, alive, walking around and smiling and alive. Mabel touched her fingertips to the screen, on the tiny picture of Pacifica walking off to the dancefloor. Mabel felt sick to her stomach. She wished she could dive into the footage and save her, change what happened, rush in and whisk her away from the club before she fell victim to some psychopath. She was right there, but... it was just a recording, and Pacifica would die not long after. Mabel could do nothing, it had already happened.

            “I’m sorry,” Gaz murmured and pressed a kiss into Mabel’s hair. Mabel didn’t need to know exactly what she was apologizing for, but Gaz wanted to say it nonetheless.

            “What... What the fuck...?” Mabel’s voice cracked as angry tears welled up in her eyes. “It’s all erased... Someone erased it!” Mabel suddenly stood up and the cold air rushed into the spot she left. Gaz frowned. “S...Someone must not want us to see what’s on that tape! Why else would it be gone!?”

            “Mabel, sometimes the systems that back up security footage just crash. Technology isn’t perfect,” Gaz said in the steadiest voice she could muster. No nervousness came through, there were no cracks in her armor. Mabel visibly deflated for a moment at her words. It was probably easier to think that there was some grand scheme, that there was a reason for all the pain. “Sometimes bad things just happen.”

            “No! It’s not... It’s...” Tears slipped down her cheeks and she grabbed her hair in fists. Gaz stood up and went to her, and she let herself get wrapped up in a hug. Gaz felt Mabel’s shoulders shake slightly, but no noise escaped the girl from where she buried her face in Gaz’s shoulder. Then, she spoke, her voice soft and sad. “It feels like I’m always a step behind. People know things I don’t and I’m just... flailing in the dark like some idiot.”

            Gaz’s frowned and guilt prickled across her skin. She hated that Mabel was right, and that Gaz was part of that category whether she wanted to be or not. How could she have known that one of the people in those videos would soon become a girl she loved? A girl who fell into her arms because her brother killed the person she loved before. It felt wrong. Even though Gaz had had no part in planning it, it felt like somehow she had done this to Mabel, and now had her because of it.

            “What do you mean? You know police don’t share things with people, even if they do know anything,” Gaz said. Mabel pulled back slightly but stayed held in Gaz’s arms, looking glumly to the side.

            “I dunno, it’s... it’s probably nothing,” she mumbled. Gaz frowned, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

            “Your brother?” Mabel bit her lower lip as the question left Gaz’s mouth. Gaz led her back over to her bed and the two girls sat down, the mattress sinking slightly under their weight. Gaz kept one hand on Mabel’s side, a comforting touch.

            “I blew up at him on the way here and asked if he knew anything about Wendy,” Mabel said. 

            “Your other friend that’s missing, yes?” Did Dib do that too? Did I erase footage of that girl’s last moments as well? Gaz felt her stomach clench, and a bit of hatred bubbled up in her chest. Dib was family, but she knew he was a monster, and she hated herself for pretending to be blind to it. 

            “Right. I... I don’t really know why I said it, it feels ridiculous.” Mabel fidgeted with a long strand of her hair, pinching it between her fingertips. Gaz watched her chewing on her lower lip, turning it pink. “There’s no way he would have had anything to do with it, but...”

            “But?” Gaz probed. Mabel was silent for a long moment, averting her eyes, but then she looked back into Gaz’s face. Mabel drank in the sight of her, her feathery purple hair, lidded eyes, curved lips... Her heart ached.

            “He’s acting different, and I-I... don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think, he’s my brother, I know him! ...Right?” Mabel’s breath shuddered out of her and she didn’t know if she was asking Gaz or herself.

            “Brothers suck.” Gaz smiled a bit when Mabel snorted at the blunt statement. “I know you are way closer to...Dipper...than I have ever been with Dib. Even though someone is family, you can never know everything that goes on with them, or everything that goes on in their head. I don’t...” Gaz hesitated, searching for what to say. “I used to hate him, and he’s done fucked up things and I’ve learned stuff about him that I never thought could be possible. Sometimes family can surprise you like that. It doesn’t mean you have to stop loving them though, if you could even choose something like that.” Gaz’s voice turned bitter for just a moment. She ran a hand across Mabel’s wrist and linked their fingers together. “Talk to him.”

            “I’ve tried to, he just... shuts me out. It's like he's keeping secrets, and we never do that!” Mabel sighed. Gaz gave her hand a squeeze.

            “I’d say give it another try. He’s family, that’s important. Go to his apartment and sit him down and just... try to process everything.” Gaz brushed a strand of Mabel’s hair behind her cheek. “You’ve both been through a lot. That can fuck with people.”

            “Yeah... I'm probably worried over nothing, I mean, he's only ever been my paranoid, nerdy brother! Not some shitty...”

            “Not a shitty brother?”

            “Pff, ha! I was gonna say something more like ‘shitty person’, but that works too!” Mabel laughed. “Ugh, brothers.”

            “Ugh, brothers,” Gaz agreed. She leaned in and gave Mabel a chaste kiss. “I'll buy you an Uber.”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Mabel knocked firmly on Dipper’s apartment door and then stood back, shifting her weight from one foot to the other nervously. She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger as she waited in silence. Gaz was probably right, Dipper was her family and she knew him, they just needed to properly talk. He would never do anything to harm Wendy, and it was fucked up of her to think he was hiding something about it. Her brother wasn’t a monster, and they never lied to each other about important things. They were a team.

            The door opened and Mabel lit up, opening her mouth to greet him but sucking in a breath when she saw black hair and glasses. Dib peered out at her, eyebrows raised in surprise, but then he smiled easily and opened the door wider for her.

            “Oh, hey!” he greeted and stepped back to let her pass. Mabel returned his smile and walked inside, looking around the place. There were still cans and bottles strewn about, but there was also a trash bag in the middle of the living room. “Don’t mind that, I’m just trying to clean up a bit.” Mabel turned to look at Dib as the tall boy closed the door behind them, not bothering to latch it. He wasn’t in his trenchcoat this time, just a simple dark tshirt that exposed his wiry arms. Her vision swam. He’s taking care of Dipper...? Warmth bloomed in her chest.

            “Is Dipper in his room? Sorry if I’m interrupting,” Mabel asked, relaxing into his presence. She was glad Dipper had someone so caring in his life. If she couldn’t be around, she was comforted by the thought of someone else being there for her brother. She wondered why Dib and Gaz’s relationship seemed so strained, but he must not be so bad if Gaz still admitted to loving him as family.

            “Not at all!” Dib chuckled and waved her off. “Dipper is just running to the gas station, I’m sure he’ll be back in a bit, so you can wait around if you’d like. It’s been a while since we talked—not through text, that is.” Mabel nodded in agreement. She remembered a while back, before Pacifica was murdered, she and Dib had run into each other and exchanged information. They messaged each other here and there, but not too much. It was probably weird to befriend your brother’s boyfriend, after all. 

            “Yeah, I haven’t seen you since, well...”

            “My house?” Dib’s lips curled up in an amused smile. Mabel flushed.

            “Right!” She laughed with him at the ridiculous memory. “I mean, what were the odds of our brothers dating eachother too? It’s crazy!”

            “Small world,” Dib chuckled. He moved into the living room and began tossing discarded alcohol cans into the trash bag where they collided with tinny clangs. Mabel blinked.

            “Oh yeah, and before that it wasn’t since... the funeral.” Mabel’s face fell. Dib stood up straight, sensing the mood shift. 

            “It was a nice spot. Suited her. I think she would've liked it.”

            “I didn't know you knew Paz...?”

            “I didn’t, not really.” He wiped a hand on his black jeans. “That’s why I tried to hang back. I was there for Dipper, but I didn’t wanna impede or anythin’...”

            “I’m glad you were, though. I’m glad Dipper has someone." She paused. "Did he talk to you?” She took a step toward him, her expression turning sad. “He’s been avoiding me. I mean, before the funeral we kinda talked and cried once, but after that he’s just...” She motioned at the mess around them. Dib exhaled and ran a hand through his dark hair.

            “Yeah, he’s definitely not acting the same. He’s really messed up.”

            “I know!” Mabel exclaimed. “He’s not his usual self, we’ve barely talked about that night, or about Wendy... Well, we’ve argued a few times, but when I ask he just shuts me down! I asked where he went when he left the club that night, he said he was with you, but then got mad right after, I just don’t get it! And I—”

            “He said what?” Dib interrupted, brows furrowed in confusion. Mabel paused.

            “The night Pacifica was killed, he left the club to go somewhere. He said you called him away to go do something...?”

            “That’s weird.” Dib tilted his head. “I didn’t see him that night at all. I think I might’ve texted him earlier that day? But he said he was busy doing something with you all and wanted to be left alone. He seemed kinda... I dunno, angry?”

            Mabel’s eyes glazed over as she tried to process this. She searched Dib’s face for any trace of joking or lying or anything, but he just looked confused, tapping a finger on his chin as he tried to recall events. Dipper... lied to me...? Why.... why would he...?

            Dipper lied to her about why he left the club that night. He lied about why he was missing when Pacifica was killed. Why would he lie about that!? So... what had he actually been doing?

            “Hey, what’s wrong?” Dib asked, breaking her from her shock. She blinked and her eyes focused on him. She didn’t even notice that she had been holding her breath. The floor felt suddenly unsteady beneath her feet, the thought that he lied to her was echoing through her mind on repeat. It didn’t make sense. None of his behavior had been making any sense, not from the Dipper she knew and loved. He was like a stranger now almost, he never used to hide stuff like this, she knew him! He was someone who cared fiercely for his friends and family, and he would fight for them. He wouldn’t abandon Mabel, or Wendy, or...

            “I-I don’t understand...” she whispered, mostly to herself. Her world was shattering around her and her mind was trying to keep up, but she was also terrified suddenly. Terrified of the dreadful feeling creeping into her skin, into her lungs, threatening to suffocate her. She was scared to death of the sudden possibility that Dipper was part of this, not just knowing something about Wendy, but Pacifica’s murder too. It felt impossible. It was impossible, the concept of Dipper having something to do with the death and disappearances of their friends—but what were the odds? Two of their best friends having something terrible happen within less than a month of each other? And the whole time Dipper was acting weird, distant, depressed.... guilty.

            This can’t be real, it can’t be true. Dipper had said multiple times that Pacifica’s death was his fault. Did he mean that in some literal way? Did he cause this? Did he... did he mur—?

            “No, no, no!” Mabel said out loud, her voice hoarse with her sudden distress. The thought was too horrible to even finish. It was not compatible with her brain, it couldn’t form the words. And yet, that horrible sickening dread of suspicion was filling her veins. It was true, she knew Dipper terribly well, they had been inseparable all their lives. But because of that, she knew that he was acting incredibly wrong. She had just been subconsciously trying to ignore it because how could that alternative ever be real? That he was guilty? 

            The front door opened and Dipper stepped inside. Their eyes met, Dipper’s filled with confusion, Mabel’s wide and shaking with horror. His face was flushed pink from the cold, he had a plastic bag under one arm.

            “Mabel...?” Dipper started to speak. The blood drained from her face. She dashed towards him, but only roughly pushed past him out the door, and sprinted down the stairs. Dipper watched her go, frozen in place and shocked. Then he turned on Dib, anger and accusation in his eyes.

            “What the hell did you say to her!?” Dipper snarled at him, marching up to get in his face. Dib only shrugged innocently, but Dipper could see the smugness in his smile. He had done something, he was playing a game again. Something was in motion and Dipper was once again in the dark, waiting to see where the pieces fell.

Chapter Text

            Dib stepped in through the glass sliding doors, a gust of cool air following at his heels. Dipper lazily regarded him from where he was slumped on the couch, and had been staring at the black screen of his TV. Dib was smiling with a strange softness and cheer that had Dipper furrowing his brow suspiciously. 

            “Put your jacket on and come here,” Dib called to him from the open doorway. When Dipper didn’t move, Dib rolled his eyes, but it was playful and patient. He entered the living room and pulled Dipper from his spot. Dipper grunted, but let Dib lead him over and tug the jacket over his arms, patting Dipper’s shoulders to smooth the fabric. He smiled, and took Dipper’s hand. 

            “The hell are you up to?” Dipper grumbled softly as they stepped out onto the fire escape and shut the doors behind them. It was already mostly dark outside, and the lights of Dipper’s apartment glowed across the dark metal and cast the boys’ faces in warm colors almost like fire glow. The weather had thankfully gotten warmer in the past day or so, melting most of the snow and leaving just small patches in the grass here and there. Dib reached over to where he had left his phone sitting on the railing nearby, and tapped the screen. Slow, romantic holiday music drifted from his speakers, and Dipper arched an eyebrow. “What is this?” He asked again, with more life in his voice. Dib grinned and took Dipper's hands in both of his. 

            “I figured we should make up for lost time,” he said. He gently guided Dipper’s hands to rest on his hips, and then hung his own over Dipper’s shoulders. “I didn’t get to see you for Christmas or New year’s.” 

            Dipper hummed in acknowledgement. The weeks had certainly blurred together. Everything had happened so fast, he hadn’t even considered the holidays and the turn of the year, when his mind was more focused on death. 

            Dib swayed with the music, and Dipper fell into the rhythmic movement along with him. Despite himself, it felt nice, and his chest bloomed with warmth. Dib was being... oddly romantic. Dipper’s mind pulled out of its fog of apathy and he watched Dib attentively. Dib’s eyes never left Dipper, drinking in the sight of him, with his wide glittering eyes and pink cheeks dusted with freckles. Dib leaned in and pressed a kiss to Dipper’s forehead, where his birthmark was peeking out from under his bangs. Dipper’s heart skipped. 

            “I love you,” Dib said, smiling, and put one hand on Dipper’s waist to help pivot their dance. Dipper followed him, letting himself go and fluidly moving with each slow, circling step Dib led them in. Warmth spread through his skin where Dib’s hands touched him, and he found himself sinking into Dib’s presence. They slow-danced, alone together, on his shitty apartment balcony, and it seemed so absurdly romantic and spontaneous and out of place that Dipper couldn’t help but chuckle. 

            “This is ridiculous.” The corners of his eyes scrunched up happily. Dib suddenly spun him and Dipper yelped. Dib caught him by the waist and kissed the boy’s neck. Dipper laughed loudly. “Stop! We're outside.” 

            “It’s just us, no one else matters,” Dib breathed. “We can do whatever the hell we want, forever.” 

            Energy thrummed through their bodies like a closed circuit, and they kept dancing together, as one. It felt good. It felt right. Dipper shut his eyes tight and frowned. Guilt always gnawed at him whenever he allowed himself a moment to feel comforted by Dib’s affection. Would he always feel this way?—like there were ghosts lingering any time he was with Dib, any time he felt a shred of happiness.

            Dib saw his pinched expression and pulled him in, wrapping his arms around him. Dipper buried his face in the slightly taller boy’s shoulder. They continued rocking back and forth as the playlist went through song after song. The words I love you hung heavy on the tip of Dipper’s tongue, but were left unspoken. 

            “Mm, Dipper,” Dib said his name contentedly, simply to feel it. The vibrations from his voice rumbled in Dipper's chest. “You're all I think about. Every moment, it's just you.” They swayed side to side, with Dipper’s head laid on his shoulder. Dib held him close and was silent for a long time. Do you know, Dib continued in his mind, how completely disarming it is to love someone so much, so much that you'd let it destroy you? Dipper felt Dib's fingers dig painfully into him as the boy tightened his hold on Dipper, despite them already standing flush against each other.

            “Good,” Dipper replied. Let him be haunted by me. Let him be driven insane by these poisonous feelings he calls love. Dipper’s eyes blazed, and he grabbed Dib suddenly and kissed him hard. Dipper wished Dib would pull them both over the railing to crack their skulls on the pavement together. What a beautiful scene that would be—holding each other in a death embrace while their blood mixed into one pool that spread beneath them. But he only returned the kiss, and flashed Dipper a grin that made his treacherous heart flutter.

            If Dib was trying to distract him from thinking too hard about Mabel, it was working. He had bigger things to worry about, after all, than his twin avoiding him. If something had upset her, he probably just needed to give her space. 

            Dib moaned when Dipper dragged his nails across the back of his neck, and the sound made heat pool low in Dipper’s stomach. Very distracting, indeed, Dipper thought. He pulled Dib back into his apartment and slid the doors shut behind them, not bothering to lock them. 

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            He lied to me. He lied to me.  

            Mabel splashed water on her face and groaned. She dabbed the tip of her finger into a little container of cream and gently patted her under-eyelids, then glared at the dark circles there. Somehow she'd been sleeping even worse these past few nights. She'd rather be spending the night wrapped in Gaz’s arms, but even then her mind was restless, and she had morning classes on some days of the week now which she insisted on leaving from her dorm for rather than Gaz’s place. She sighed and tossed her long waves of hair over her shoulder. Whatever, good enough.  

            Donning a pink sweater and a ruffled skirt over some leggings, Mabel stepped out of her dorm and swiftly walked through the halls and down the stairs to exit Penny Hall. The sky was about as dark and dreary as she felt, and halfway through her walk to class, raindrops began to hit the sidewalk around her. She scrunched her nose when a droplet smacked the top of her head. 

            “Are you kidding me...” she grumbled and hoisted her backpack up over her head, quickening her pace into a jog. As if this day needed to get worse.

            Her mind was elsewhere all throughout class. The professor's voice was just a far away droning to her ears, and her classmates were blurry indistinct shapes around her. Mabel stared ahead at empty space, twirling her pen between her fingertips. She had not spoken with Dipper since she rushed out of his apartment that day. She couldn’t stomach it, even though he’d reached out to ask what was wrong, she simply left him on read. Such horrible, horrible thoughts plagued her—how could she face him like this? How could she ever have begun to think such things about him could possibly be true? Yet... the feeling that something wasn’t right with her brother gnawed at her incessantly. 

            Instead of taking notes, Mabel popped open her laptop in class and started reading articles about the murders, about the Rocksburg Reaper. Maybe something would pop out at her, maybe it would be suddenly clear that Dipper obviously could never have had anything to do with it. She just needed to put her mind at ease, she just needed some peace. She was only paranoid from the trauma, that was all! 

            She scrolled and scrolled through different pages of search results and articles and videos. All the ones about Pacifica she’d already looked at, but there were several others spanning multiple months, even back before he (assuming the killer was a ‘he’, like Paz said was most likely) started being called the Reaper. Mabel opted to start with more recent ones. She grimaced as she skimmed through scummy True Crime nonsense and police statements about how their ‘best detectives are working hard to find suspects’. Then she opened an article from December. 

            Mabel blinked rapidly, staring at the screen in disbelief. She looked over the edge of her laptop and scanned the rows of seats around her. She’s not here. There’s no way... Mabel looked back to her computer screen and felt her mouth go dry. Staring back at her was a memorial photo of a blonde girl smiling pleasantly—a face Mabel had seen sneering at her cruelly just last semester. Mabel had no idea she died. Though, now that she thought of it, she hadn’t seen her in class at all since Winter break. When did this happen!? Mabel scrolled further down in the article, darting through bullshit lines about how much of a kind, bright young woman Macie was. Mabel tasted something bitter at the back of her throat.

            “Her body was found in a warehouse on the night of December 14th.” Mabel read the words in her head, and then over again twice more. 

            That was only a few days before Pacifica was killed. 

            But... no, she never told Dipper about Macie. He had no link to her, he didn’t know she’d been making Mabel’s life hell. He would’ve been pissed if he’d known, Mabel knew how Dipper could get sometimes. He didn’t know, though. It had to be a coincidence. 

            So many coincidences, that gnawing voice in the back of her mind said.   

            She pulled out her phone. 

            Mabel: Hey, Dib? Can i ask you smth mayb

            Mabel waited, staring unwaveringly at her phone screen. He answered after a moment. 

            Dib: ofc, whats up? 

            Mabel: Has Dipper ever... sorry to ask weird questions lol, has Dipper ever mentioned anyone named Macie to you?

            She chewed her lip pensively, watching the little dots of Dib’s typing dance at the bottom of the screen. She distantly thought that perhaps she shouldn’t be doing this: asking her brother’s boyfriend such questions to satiate her suspicion because she was too scared to ask Dipper directly. It felt like she was using Dib. It felt wrong. But, oh, the creeping feeling gnawing at her far outweighed any sense of guilt. She needed to know that there was no way Dipper was involved. 

            Dib: doesnt sound familiar..? a friend of yours?

            Mabel: ha! hardly

            Mabel: No she was a classmate, she wasnt nice to me at all lol, just wondering if he knew of her i guess. Sorry to trouble you! 

            Mabel let out a breath. 

            Well, if Dipper knew about her, he didn’t say anything to Dib apparently... Though, why would he? Some chick bullying your college aged sister probably wasn’t much in the way of romantic conversation topics. 

            Her phone vibrated with more incoming messages.

            Dib: hmmm

            Dib: actually that sounds a little familiar maybe, i think i remember him mentioning some girl giving you trouble on campus 

            Dib: well “some bitch” in his words haha!

            Dib: yo if you need help chasing off pricks at school ive been told i'm quite intimidating >;)

            Mabel stared at her phone for a long while, stony-faced. She forced her stiff fingers to move; she couldn’t leave him on read like that, it was rude. 

            Mabel: Haha nah i'm okay. Thanks, and sorry again

            Dib: no need to apologize! im always happy to help ^.^

            Mabel put her phone down a little too hard on the wood and dropped her head into her hands. 

            Dipper did know about Macie. 

            She focused on steadying her breathing, and returned to her laptop. It’s just a coincidence... She needed to research the other victims too. There’s no way anything else lined up like this. There's no way... there’s no way... How deep did this go?

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Grenda and Candy chanted in unison, egging on the actors in the movie as they leaned closer and closer to each other until they were practically inches apart. 

            “Robert...” the female lead whispered, her big wet eyes staring up at the man in front of her. She clutched her hands to her chest, her pink glossy lips parted in breathy anticipation, her perfectly curled hair began to drip with the rain pouring down on them both. Mabel watched the laptop screen from where she was curled up in a beanbag. She idly picked at her phone case and frowned. 

            Candy and Grenda shrieked when Robert swept an arm around the heroine and pulled her into a passionate kiss. The music swelled, the camera panned around triumphantly to show every angle. They broke away and stared into each other’s eyes. 

            “I love you, Analeise,” he said in a low, smoky voice. Grenda and Candy leaned towards the laptop, hanging on every word. “Run away with me. We can leave all this pain behind! Write your father a goodbye note. We can be out of this town tonight, we don't ever have to look back!” He took her hands in his.

            “Oh, Robert!” Analeise exclaimed happily, her eyes filling with tears. She threw her arms around him. 

            “YES!” Grenda punched the air.

            The camera cut to scenes of the lovers packing bags and preparing to get on a train together. Mabel looked down at her phone screen, where the top of another article detailing the murder of a Rocksburg University student glowed back at her. She felt bad that she wasn’t engaged with the movie like she usually was on Romance nights with the girls, but she just couldn’t get her mind into a place where she could squeal over a hot actor professing his love. 

            The movie finished with Analeise leaving a note for her family, telling them she was going away and not coming back, but that she loved them, even if she couldn’t see them. It was quite bittersweet, and Mabel fidgeted uncomfortably as the actress gazed wistfully out the train car one last time as it left the station. Would it be that easy for her to leave everyone behind like that, if it were Gaz who asked? The pang in her chest at the thought of Gaz made Mabel pull out her phone once more and message her girlfriend a quick heart emoji. Gaz responded while Candy and Grenda chatted enthusiastically about the movie as the credits rolled.

            Gaz: u still coming over tonight?

            Mabel chewed on her bottom lip, feeling a flutter in her belly. 

            Mabel: Hehe yessss! <3 <3 <3 if thats okay

            Gaz: let me know when to send an uber

            Mabel: U dont always have to pay for those yknow! 

            Mabel sent a begging eyes emoji and sad cat face. 

            Gaz: lmao my dad is rich, dw abt it

            Mabel: touche! X3

            Gaz: love u

            Mabel smiled and flushed pink. 

            Mabel: Love you! MWAH MWAH MWAH

            Gaz: haha! <3

            Even seeing it in text format, every time Gaz told her she loved her, Mabel felt like she could float away on a cotton candy cloud of happiness. I’m so lucky. She watched her two friends affectionately, who were now arguing about whether a side character was hotter than the main romantic interest. She was surrounded by so many good people. 

            Mabel closed the messages window and all the warmth immediately drained out of her again as the article she’d been looking at popped back up. Robert. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it throughout the whole movie because of that name. 

            “Girls?” Mabel called to Grenda and Candy. They both turned to her, immediately noticing her glum expression. 

            “Oh, Mabes, did you not like the movie?” Grenda pouted. 

            “I told you we should have watched a RomCom!” Candy exclaimed, giving Grenda a gentle smack with the sleeve of her oversized sweater. Her black hair bounced in a ponytail, tied back with a colorful scrunchie Mabel had gifted her when they first moved in together. 

            Mabel forced a smile. “No, it was good! I liked the part with the horses.” Grenda and Candy nodded their agreement. “I was just a bit distracted, sorry.” Mabel frowned. “Got a lot on my mind.”

            “You do not have to apologize, Mabel!” Candy's sugar sweet voice made Mabel feel a little bit lighter. 

            “Yeah! We're glad just to have you out here!” Grenda gestured to their tiny little communal living space. “You're not growing mushrooms anymore, are you?” 

            Mabel giggled at that and the girls smiled, but the weight of Mabel’s thoughts showed on her face, making her lids and shoulders droop. Mabel fiddled with her phone charm.

            “The main guy's name—Robert—just kept reminding me of something...” She looked up at Grenda and Candy's curious faces, paying full attention to her. They really were the best friends she could ask for. “Do either of you know a Robert that goes here? I think he stayed in Holmes hall.” It felt like Mabel was lying to them—she knew he had a dorm in Holmes. She started pulling on a strand of her hair.

            “Uhhhh,” Grenda’s gravelly voice dragged the word out for several seconds. “Nope!” 

            “I think I may have spoken to him once, if it is who I am thinking of,” Candy said after tapping her chin thoughtfully. 

            “Sandy hair, dresses like a 40 year old businessman,” Mabel prompted. 

            Candy nodded. “Yes, I believe that is him. Do you know him?” 

            “No,” Mabel said. “He was one of the Reaper’s victims.”

            Grenda and Candy exchanged worried glances. 

            “Mabel...” Candy’s voice was dripping with gentle concern. 

            “I’m just looking into some things,” Mabel said defensively. She did not need to be treated with pity right now. 

            “You should not dwell on these things, it is not good for you,” Candy continued. 

            Grenda nodded vigorously. “You're starting to act like Dipper when he gets obsessed with conspiracies!” 

            Mabel bristled and stood up quickly. 

            “It’s not a conspiracy!” she snapped. Grenda shrunk away, a look of hurt flashing across her face. Mabel never raised her voice at them... “It’s just... important.” Mabel clutched her phone tight. 

            “We’re worried about you...”

            “You don’t need to be,” Mabel tried to reassure them, but her voice came out snippish. Being compared to Dipper stung. It was somewhat true that she was now following his footsteps, researching the murders, but it was personal now! In more ways than one. Mabel exhaled and spoke more gently. “I just think I can relax a bit if I can understand more about what’s happened, you know? The victims, and the investigation, ‘n stuff...” 

            Grenda and Candy exchanged glances again and stood up. Mabel shifted from foot to foot. She didn’t like feeling judged by them, and they were clearly not saying something. They’d definitely had talks about her behavior when she wasn’t around; Mabel knew she’d been acting different ever since... Well, how could she not? But she didn’t like feeling disconnected from her best friends like this. There was no way they could possibly understand. 

            “So you're just... sleuthin’ for info?” Grenda asked. “Nothing dangerous?” 

            “Nothing dangerous,” Mabel said, and she hoped it wasn’t a lie. Candy pursed her lips and tilted her head, thinking. 

            “Maybe you can ask Dipper about him,” Candy offered. “I think they were in a class together.”

            Mabel’s face paled. She wobbled on her feet. 

            “Mabel?” 

            She couldn’t find her voice for a second. She forced on another smile that trembled like it would break at any moment.

            “Th-thanks!” she squeaked, completely non-convincingly. She cleared her throat. “I better... go get ready.” Mabel jabbed a thumb over her shoulder and started marching towards her room. 

            “Ready? Ready for what?” They called after her, alarmed at her sudden retreat. 

            “I’m going to Gaz’s.” 

            The silence she was met with was deafening. 

            “Oh. Alright.” 

            “What?” Mabel whirled on them. “Am I not allowed to hang out with my girlfriend?” 

            Grenda and Candy stared at her in shock. 

            “Of course you are!” 

            “We just...” 

            They both shifted nervously. 

            “You spend so much time over there, we miss you...” 

            Mabel looked at them staring at the floor guiltily, and she felt like a total asshole. 

            “Sorry...” Mabel mumbled. “Sorry, girls... I’ll be back soon. I just need to get away for a bit. Thank you for watching a movie with me.” 

            Candy and Grenda smiled sadly. They wrapped Mabel in a hug. Mabel weakly patted them in return and then slipped into her small room, clicking the door shut behind her. She took a shuddering breath and looked up towards the ceiling, fighting back tears. Keep it together. Don’t break. You need to do this, you need to know. Mabel steeled herself, taking deep breaths and hardening her heart. She looked down at her hand and realized she had been clenching her fist so hard that her fingernails left painful red crescents in her palm. She lifted her phone up and typed a message out quickly. 

            Mabel: I'm ready to come over now

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            Mabel idly traced her finger up and down the purple-striped sleeve of Gaz’s black hoodie as she worked. Her expression was dull, almost sleepy, as she laid her head on Gaz’s shoulder and watched her computer monitor flit between lines of programming and complex interfaces and popup windows. Mabel could have fallen asleep laying against Gaz’s soft warmth, but she couldn’t allow herself to doze off. 

            “Oh my god,” Mabel mumbled with an amused sniff, “they’re doing it again!” They watched Mabel’s classmates Jess and Dimitri darting into a dorm room, hand in hand. “They think they’re so sneaky...” Mabel scoffed. Gaz smirked at the noise. They continued scanning through cams in Penny hall, sitting together in a comfortable silence, until Mabel grumbled. “Ugh, where is everyone? So boring...” 

            “Wanna look somewhere else?” Gaz asked. Mabel made a noncommittal noise, so Gaz simply pulled up the feed from the student dining hall. There were a couple people in there, but it was getting late at this point and they’d missed the rush. Gaz tapped a finger against her desk. “You okay?” 

            Mabel grunted. 

            “Is that a no? How was movie night?”

            “Mmmgh... I mean... It was fine. There were horses.” 

            That brought a small smile to Gaz’s face. 

            “Ah, well having horses in it gives it at least one bonus star right there,” she said. Mabel chuckled a little. 

            “They were pretty horses...” She frowned. “Have you ever thought about moving away?” 

            Gaz cocked her head curiously, glancing sideways at Mabel. “Moving away?”

            “Yeah, like...” Mabel pinched the fabric of Gaz’s hoodie between her fingers. “Leaving it all behind, this crappy city, your crappy dad, all of it. Just packing up and vanishing one day.” 

            Gaz frowned slightly. Her voice was gentle when she asked, “Where’s this coming from, Mabel?” 

            “Though I suppose that wouldn’t really work nowadays,” Mabel continued, ignoring her. “Everyone can just text and call each other and post pictures on Facebook and stuff, and it’d be too expensive to just up and leave; it’s hard to find apartments as is. Maybe that wouldn’t be an issue for you, though, since you're rich.” 

            “I’m not gonna leave you.” Gaz petted Mabel’s hair. Mabel shifted and removed her head from Gaz’s shoulder. She sat up, facing away from Gaz. 

            “That’s not really what I mean...” Mabel said slowly. Gaz watched the back of her head. She’s acting odd...

            “Do you want to move away?”

            Mabel was quiet for a long moment, until her voice came out in a tiny and fragile whisper. “Maybe...” 

            Then Mabel suddenly turned to face Gaz again, with a beaming smile and a laugh. 

            “I don’t know! I'm just real sick of this city, yknow? It's such a stinker lately. I’m just being silly ‘cause the movie ended with them running away together and I thought: Whoa! How wild is that!? To just leave a note and leave like that—I obviously can't do that, I’d have to drop out of college! And I've spent waaaay too much money on these dumb classes!” Mabel laughed again, and the sound made Gaz narrow her eyes. 

            “Mabel—” Gaz reached out for her.

            “Ooo, look!” Mabel interrupted, pointing energetically at the screen. The footage showed a couple of students, who looked tiny from so far away, seemingly in the midst of some kind of argument. “Oooo...” Mabel winced when one of the girls in the footage chucked a bottle of liquid at one of the others. They both lunged for each other but their friends held them back, and the first girl stormed off. “Dramaaaa,” Mabel said. Gaz studied her girlfriend’s face, but the moment to address what she was saying before seemed to have passed. Was she really thinking about leaving Rocksburg? Was it selfish that Gaz hoped she wouldn’t, even though it probably would be safest for Mabel to leave? 

            “Hey!” Mabel’s voice broke Gaz out of her thoughts. She put on a weak smile. 

            “Yeah?” 

            “Do all the campus dorms have cameras?” Mabel asked, clicking through the windows Gaz had opened. 

            “Yes...” she hesitated in answering. 

            Mabel hummed pleasantly in response. “Cool! Hey, can we look at Holmes hall?” 

            She’d said it so nonchalantly, but Gaz’s heart sank when Mabel supplied a date and instructed her to fast forward through the night. Gaz opened her mouth to protest, but what reason would she have for denying such a request, when they’d been snooping through footage for fun this whole time? Gaz had nothing to hide, she had nothing to hide, so why did it fill her with anxiety every time Mabel looked at footage she’d tampered with for Dib?

            Gaz watched Mabel’s expression out of the corner of her eye, but the girl’s plastered smile didn’t falter as the footage from a night in November cut to black and skipped ahead to the morning. It did, however, slacken in shock when she realized there was a commotion recorded from the cam at the front of the building. Police running in and out of the front entrance. This must be from when they were cutting down his body the next morning, Mabel thought. Gaz reached over and clicked the X in the corner of the window.

            “What’d you do that for?” Mabel twisted her head to peer at Gaz indignantly. She was met with an expression she hadn’t seen on Gaz before. Her eyebrows were pinched, and she stared sternly, almost angrily, at Mabel. 

            “What exactly are you having me look up?” Her voice was smooth, despite the lines of tension around her eyes. 

            Mabel faltered. “...I only wanted to check.” 

            “Check what?” Gaz shook her head. “I don’t want you to be looking at murder scenes.”

            Mabel flinched. “That obvious, huh?” She chuckled half-heartedly. Both girls went quiet. Gaz sighed, and gently pulled one of Mabel’s hands into her lap. 

            “I know...” Gaz started slowly, carefully, “I know it’s personal to you. You don’t want to feel like you're in the dark, but looking at crime scenes isn’t going to help. If the police haven’t gotten anything from them, then...”

            Mabel’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so dumb, you're right! Haha...” The police will have looked at all this, duh. What are you hoping to find that they wouldn’t have already seen? All the footage from these murders will be cut, because it’s where they happened, the obvious place to check. “I won’t ask you to look up any murder scenes anymore. Sorry Gaz.” Mabel bumped her head against her girlfriend. Gaz stroked her hair and rested her palm against the girl’s cheek. The relief and gratitude was all over her face.

            “Thank you.” Gaz kissed her forehead, but Mabel’s mind was still turning. 

            Maybe....

            “Can we... look at something on December 14th instead?” 

            Gaz looked at her pensively, but the address Mabel gave her did not immediately set off any alarm bells in her mind, so she quickly pulled up some footage from within what appeared to be a parking garage for an apartment complex. Mabel slowly searched the multiple angles, scanning over every car and minivan, until her eyes flashed with recognition.

            Once more, they fast forwarded through the afternoon and into the night. Mabel’s attention was fixed on only one spot, until... movement. She jumped up. 

            “Waitwaitwaitwait!” Mabel exclaimed, waving her hands towards the screen. “Rewind!” Gaz gave Mabel a sideways glance, and rewound until the car was back in its spot. “Okay, play!” 

            A few minutes went by before something happened, but Gaz had a sinking feeling in her gut. Would it be suspicious if she cut Mabel off from looking at security footage like this anymore? Would she be angry? Gaz didn’t remember hacking into this particular building before, but there’d been so many places she has cut cams for, meticulously combing through any little stores or offices across streets that may have seen something. Was this going to cut out as well? 

            But, it didn’t. Instead, a figure came sprinting full speed into view. Mabel’s breath hitched. The person practically threw themself into the driver’s side of a parked car, and the lights came to life a moment later. The footage was in greyscale, so Gaz couldn’t make out any familiar colors, but suspicion started to creep up her spine. 

            Mabel was staring, enraptured, at the screen. The car sped off. They waited. And waited.

            Mabel took the mouse from Gaz and hit fast forward. The car eventually returned. It was late at night. The figure exited the car, stumbling quickly back towards where Gaz assumed the entrance to the apartments must be, out of sight. Mabel paused the footage. 

            “Is there a way to zoom in?” she whispered. 

            “I don’t...” Gaz’s mouth moved but no words came out. “Mabel, I don’t think we should be...” Looking at this? Gaz finished the thought in her mind. You don’t even know what ‘this’ is.  

            Mabel clicked on the corner of the window and made it full screen, then leaned in until her nose was almost touching the monitor. 

            Her blood turned to ice. 

            What the hell is that? She stared at the grainy, barely legible image of her brother. His face was partially visible under his mop of curly hair, and there was something dark on his cheek. A glitch in the footage? She pressed play and then quickly paused again after he’d walked a few steps. The dark spot remained. 

            Mabel leaned away. All the blood drained from her face. Gaz suddenly snatched Mabel’s wrist away from the mouse. 

            “What is this?!” Gaz hissed. Why the fuck is she reacting this way?!

            “That’s Dipper...” Mabel said numbly. 

            Gaz felt her stomach plummet. 

            “What happened on December 14th, Mabel?” 

            Mabel's eyes finally focused on her, filled with guilt and fear. She didn’t reply. Gaz’s jaw flexed. She leaned back and let Mabel’s wrist drop. 

            With incredible control, Gaz said steadily, quietly, “What did we just get done talking about?” 

            Mabel fidgeted. “It’s not... It’s not a murder scene! I didn’t have you look up anything like that again...” Mabel’s eyes wandered back towards the screen. No matter her words, she still looked stricken. 

            “But it’s something related to the murders, isn't it?” 

            Mabel didn’t look at her. 

            Gaz placed her palms on either side of Mabel’s face and gently forced the girl to meet her gaze. 

            “Mabel, darling, you can’t be doing this.” Gaz stared pleadingly at her, and Mabel almost crumbled in the face of Gaz’s concern. But she pushed Gaz’s hands away suddenly, her expression twisting. She stood up.

            “Why not?!” Mabel cried, balling her hands into fists. 

            “It’s not healthy,” Gaz said after being momentarily stunned. “You shouldn’t dwell on things you can’t change.”

            “Healthy.” Mabel scoffed. The bitter bite to her voice stung. “You think any of this is healthy? No, it’s important! Why won’t you just help me!? Why is everyone getting on my fucking case—stop pitying me!” she snapped at Gaz, seeing the worry written all over her face. “I’m not a child!” 

            Gaz’s brows furrowed. “I’m allowed to be worried about you, Mabel.” 

            "Well, stop! I’m fine! I need to do this, you don’t understand—”

            “It’s dangerous!” Gaz raised her voice and stood suddenly, glaring Mabel in the eye. Mabel faltered. The tips of her fingers felt numb with the sudden chill that ran through her. 

            “So you won’t help me.” 

            “I don’t want you to get hurt.” Gaz reached for Mabel’s hand but the other girl snatched it away and took a step back.

            “I’m not crazy,” Mabel’s voice quivered in a mixture of anger and tears. 

            “I didn’t say you were, I’ve never said you were. Mabel, please, don’t go messing with this stuff. It’ll only lead to more darkness.”

            “I have to.” A resolute glint of steel flashed in Mabel’s eyes. Gaz felt a stab through her heart. She’d opened up, she’d become soft and vulnerable—and now the girl she loved was running into the jaws of a wolf and there was nothing she could do. 

            “I’m not going to help you put yourself in danger,” Gaz said. 

            “Fine.” Mabel’s lip trembled, but she squared her shoulders. “I’ll do it by myself.” She stormed off. 

            “Wh... Wait!” Gaz called after her and hurried to follow, but Mabel bound down the stairs, desperately holding back angry tears. If everyone wants to treat me like I’m helpless and delusional, so be it, she thought. She pulled on her coat, ignoring Gaz’s pleading to come back, to not leave, to stop chasing a killer—Mabel shoved it all behind her and stepped out, slamming the front door. She dashed away down the street. There’s something wrong, I know it. I have to find out what’s going on. Mabel knew what she saw on that footage. Pixelated though it was, what else could that dark spot have been but... blood. 

            A tear slipped down her cheek and she furiously wiped it away. She had to hold it together, she felt like she was ready to burst at the seams beneath the weight of her fear and suspicion. Even if Gaz didn’t want to help her, she’d managed to crack something huge. Dipper went out with his car in a hurry the night Macie was murdered, and returned with... something... on his face. She stumbled, another tear leaking out. She wiped it away. Hold it together, hold it together. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she really was being paranoid! I mean, Dipper killing people? 

            Somehow, the thought wasn’t as ridiculous as it once may have been, and that alone filled Mabel with a dread as heavy as cement. 

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            The branches of the skeletal tree looming over her swayed and moaned in the wind. Metal cords creaked where they were pulled taut. The black of night swallowed her sight from all sides, so all she could do was stare ahead at the sight of the body hanging before her. The head lolled, tossing short blond hair across bloodless cheeks and lifeless pale eyes. Blood gushed from an open chasm of gore in her chest, pouring and pouring down her lithe body to the ground. A glistening red human heart beat in the girl’s outstretched hands.

            Wake up, Mabel distantly thought to herself, but her body was locked up in a curled, kneeling position on the cold grass, her hands painfully twisting in her hair. She’d had this nightmare many times over the past month, ever since the night Pacifica was murdered. Wake up, please! Through her tears, the red of the blood morphed and swallowed up the pale figure of Pacifica’s body. The hair darkened and grew in length. Mabel raised her head and stared, horrified, at the form of Pacifica twisting and changing. This had never happened before. All at once, a new person hung by their neck from the tree. The dead eyes of Wendy stared at her. Her long red hair dripped with blood. The beating of the heart pounded in Mabel’s ears.

            Mabel screamed. She sobbed, and wailed, and wished this grief and horror would just leave her. She was alone, until she wasn’t. Suddenly, Dipper was there, pulling her into his warm arms, asking her what was wrong. She pressed into her brother’s embrace and cried, clinging to his coat. 

            It was wet. The warmth was wet. 

            She blinked open her eyes and looked down at the arms holding her. Red, red and coated in blood, grasping her arms, smearing across her clothes and hands. He held her tight when she tried to pull away, her grief twisting into fear. 

            “Dipper,” Mabel hiccupped in the dream. She looked up at him. He was smiling, but she couldn’t see his eyes. He was masked by shadow, as black as the night creeping in on them. “Wendy is dead,” Mabel sobbed. She tightened her grip on his sleeves. He turned his dark face towards the tree, then back to Mabel.

            “That’s not Wendy,” he said. 

            “What...?” Mabel looked. 

            A cold metal wire wrapped around her neck. Her scream cut out as it pulled tight, biting into her flesh. She choked, and clawed at it desperately, only managing to tear her nails across her own skin. She gagged as suddenly she was yanked high in the air. The moon shone down on her, her feet dangled weightlessly, blood poured from her neck—and there was Dipper, standing with the other end of the metal cord in both of his hands, raising her up. She reached out for him. He grinned up at her. She still couldn’t see his eyes. There was only darkness. 

            Mabel woke up screaming.

            She exploded upright, tearing herself out of the tangle of blankets threatening to trap her. Her breath sucked in greedily, filling her lungs with air. She toppled onto the floor of her bedroom and curled into a ball, sobbing loudly. She wished she was with Gaz, who would kiss her sweetly after having a nightmare and hold her against her soft chest. But she had been ignoring Gaz’s texts, and was in the dark of her dorm, alone.

            She couldn’t go on like this. Now she was having nightmares about Dipper killing her?! This had to stop, she had to do something. All this research and clue-finding was not giving her anything concrete, it was just more fears worming their way into her mind. She needed something real, something physical. 

            After Grenda and Candy, awoken by Mabel’s scream, came rushing into the room and comforted her as she sobbed, Mabel got dressed. The sun had risen, it was a gray and overcast day that lent an air of claustrophobia. Mabel pulled out her phone and stared at it with a hardened expression for a long moment. Her hands trembled. 

            I need to do this.  

            She opened Dib’s contact and typed out a message. 

            Mabel: I need your help

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

            Mabel gazed up at the rusted fire escape with a frown. 

            “Why shouldn’t I just go through the front door...?” she asked, shifting her sceptical gaze onto Dib. The tall boy all adorned in black laughed easily, his amber eyes (so alike Gaz’s that looking at them sent a pang through Mabel’s heart) crinkling at the corners. 

            “I don’t have a key to his place, and he always locks his front door when he’s out,” Dib replied. Mabel pursed her lips and once more stared unhappily at the thin metal of Dipper’s balcony. 

            They were, thankfully, alone. Not much foot traffic in the wide alleys behind apartments and student housing, Mabel supposed. If she turned the corner and walked further, she could see all the way to the campus yard, where a memorial still stood against the wind for a girl who died here, right next to where Dipper lives. A girl who, Mabel discovered during one of her investigative sessions online, looked unnervingly similar to her. Mabel pulled her coat in tighter. 

            Dib saw her expression and leaned into her vision, smiling in an attempt to alleviate some of her nerves.

            “Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it looks,” he said, approaching the partially raised ladder above them. As demonstration, he suddenly leapt and barely caught the bottom rung of the ladder in his hands, swinging there for a moment before dropping back to the ground. The loud bang as he grabbed the fire escape made Mabel flinch and look around, though there was no one to see them suspiciously scoping out the back of a building like this. 

            “Are you sure this is okay?” Mabel asked, wringing her hands. As if it actually mattered whether it was ‘okay’—she was still breaking into her brother’s apartment without his knowledge, and roping his boyfriend into it as well. She was thankful for Dib being so understanding when she explained what she wanted to do—what she needed to do. He was fully on board with helping her try to alleviate some of her fears, and had sent Dipper on some errands after class which would hopefully occupy him while she snooped. 

            “I come in this way all the time!” Dib grinned. “I’ll help ya, if you don’t think you can manage it.” 

            Mabel blinked at that, and raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean; you come in through the fire escape? Why?”

            “It’s romantic!” Dib winked at her. She giggled, despite everything. 

            “That's crazy! How'd you even decide to do something like that? I bet Dipper shit himself the first time you did it!” It felt good to laugh. Mabel could almost pretend things were normal and good again. The image of her brother getting jumpscared by Dib suddenly being on his balcony was amusing. Dib laughed with her.

            “I got the idea from him, actually! I saw him come in that way one night when I was hangin’ out here,” Dib said with a chuckle. “Can confirm: I nearly shit myself!” Mabel’s grin froze on her face and the lightness in her chest crumpled.

            “Ah, that's weird,” she muttered. 

            Dib only shrugged, seemingly oblivious to her sudden change. “He's a weird guy! That's part of why I like him.”

            Mabel gave him a half-hearted chuckle. Why the hell would Dipper need to sneak in through his own fire escape? She glanced around the surrounding walls. No cameras... She inhaled deeply, letting the chilly air fill her lungs and clear her mind. 

            She asked Dib for help getting up, and he obliged, linking his fingers and offering her a boost. Her heart leapt when he propelled her upwards and she clamped her hands around the cold metal rung of the ladder. It rattled slightly, but stayed locked in place. Then Dib propped her shoes on his shoulders to help boost her up further while she climbed until she could hoist the rest of her weight up onto the balcony. Must take a lot of upper body strength to do that by yourself, Mabel thought, and looked down at Dib. She was surprised Dipper had it in him, but that train of thought made her stomach turn, imagining implications of what else he could be capable of. She shook it off and stood up, resting her hands on the railing. 

            “Alright, looks like you're set,” Dib called to her. His long black coat whipped in the wind. “I’ll hang around and watch for Dipper. Text me if you need anything.” He shot her a thumbs up and Mabel gave him a weak nod in return. She turned and placed a hand on the handle of Dipper’s sliding doors. She took a deep breath, and opened them without resistance. 

            All the sounds of wind and traffic died as she stepped into the shadow of Dipper’s silent living room and slid the door shut behind her. It’s just Dipper’s place, why does it feel so... She shuddered. She tried her best to shake off her spiking anxiety as she stepped further into the place. Everything looked normal... 

            Instead of continuing ahead to the kitchen, Mabel turned left and approached his desk. His laptop wasn’t here, probably taken with him to class, but notebooks and loose papers littered the surface. She pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight, shifting through the papers with one hand. Most of it was notes for various classes, along with an old stack of articles about the Reaper (a few of which Mabel had read) and a list of local nightclubs. Right, Mabel thought, he was researching the murders for his Journalism class. It was a bit suspicious, sure, but Dipper had always been into researching mysteries and murders and the like. She dug through the various sheets and piles once more with growing frustration, not finding anything particularly alarming. What am I expecting to find, exactly? Detailed murder plots left out on his desk? Stupid... this is stupid.  

            Mabel huffed and turned away, heading to the kitchen. She rifled through a few drawers, finding nothing of interest. She glanced sideways at Dipper’s garbage and grimaced. No, digging through his trash was a last resort. 

            Mabel went to the hallway, turning off her phone light and flicking on the lightswitch in the kitchen instead so that some illumination cast down the hall. She wasn’t a burglar, she didn’t need to creep around in the dark. She passed his small hall closet and walked into his bedroom. 

            It was a bit of a mess, but Mabel didn’t expect much different. His bedsheets were unkempt and strewn haphazardly across the bed. The blinds were drawn. She imagined a scenario in which he overslept and tossed his blankets aside in a hurry, and she almost smirked. The conflicting feelings battling inside her were painful: love and affection for her brother, versus the fear of him being a stranger, something evil and cruel, instead of the goofy brother she grew up with. She loved him still, even through all this. Would that change, if she found something, if he turned out to be a monster? Would all of her good, loving memories of him die just like that? 

            Tears pricked Mabel’s eyes. Stop thinking like that. If Dipper was the monster, it would mean he was the one who took Pacifica from her. There was no way any love for him could survive such a blow, because what would that make her, to still love someone like that? Was that even possible? She thought back to something Gaz had said to her: ‘Sometimes family can surprise you like that. It doesn’t mean you have to stop loving them though, if you could even choose something like that.’  

            Mabel angrily set her jaw and chided herself, No, she wasn't talking about literal murder , though! This isn’t just some sibling drama. Thinking about Gaz sent another stab through her chest. She returned to her searching.

             With her emotions rising and boiling, Mabel tore through Dipper’s drawers, tossing aside piles of clothes and junk for school. The sweater she’d given him that he usually wore to Thanksgiving was nowhere to be found. Did he get rid of it? Bloodstains, her paranoid brain supplied her. She grit her teeth and shook her head. It could just be in the wash! She looked around the room, at the mess, and the full hamper she’d dumped out. Yeah, right, when was the last time he did laundry? She kept digging, fighting her growing despair, until her heart caught in her throat. She gingerly picked up an old trapper hat, tears swimming in her eyes. 

            “Wendy...” she whispered. Mabel held the hat to her heart for a long moment, running her thumb over a piece of patchwork, before reluctantly putting it back. Wendy and Dipper were so close, ever since they were kids... Mabel couldn’t imagine a world in which he would hurt her. “I’m such an idiot, what the hell am I doing...” She thumped the base of her palm against her forehead in frustration. She checked her phone, finding no new texts from anyone, then saw the time. It’d already somehow been so long, she needed to hurry this up. Mabel frowned at the mess she’d made. I’ll clean it later, if I have time.

            Her long hair swished as she stepped across the hall and into the bathroom. The light clicked on, and with it came a grating electrical buzz that was no help to her already frayed nerves. She went through the motions and opened all his drawers and cupboards, finding normal toiletries and appliances, including some that seemed to belong to Dib, which made her almost smile. Then she popped open the mirror cupboard above the sink. It was quite barren, aside from some general stock such as bandaids and pain meds and melatonin. She picked up a small makeup tube and cocked her head curiously at the container of dollar store concealer. 

            At first she may have thought perhaps it was Dib’s, as she’d seen him often wearing eye makeup, but Dib was far tanner than the pale shade that this concealer was. Mabel held it up against her arm. Why would Dipper need concealer? He never wears makeup. She blinked, scattered fragments slowly swirled and pieced themselves together in her mind. A memory came back to her, which felt like such a long time ago now. The first time she’d properly talked with Dipper after Pacifica died he’d been beaten to hell, covered in bruises as if he’d been in a fight. Her brows furrowed. The tube felt half empty, at best—certainly he had used it multiple times. Mabel’s heart thudded in her chest. 

            She set the tube of concealer back, and her eyes settled on an orange prescription bottle with no label. 

            “What the...” Mabel unscrewed the lid and peered inside. It was just... a single little plain white tablet. She fished her phone out of her pocket and set the bottle down on the counter.

            Mabel: Is Dipper on some kind of medication?

            After a few moments, his reply popped up on screen. 

            Dib: Uhhhhh aside from melatonin no not that i know of

            Mabel: I found a presicption bottle with just one ppill in it

            Dib: whats it look like?

            Mabel inhaled through her nose and shook out her trembling hands. Keep it together. She dumped the pill out into her palm and held it up to the light, taking a quick picture of it and sending it to Dib. She squinted and turned it in her hand, reading the tiny inscribed letters on the little white tablet: R O C H E.

            Dib: oh shit that kinda looks like rohypnol mayb????????

            Dib: i could be wrong tho idk why dip would have that lol

            Why does that sound familar? Mabel felt a headache coming on with how hard she was clenching her teeth together. She'd had a terrible sinking feeling the instant she read Dib’s message. She laid the pill on the counter and searched up “Rohypnol pill” online, where she was met with images of the same flat white tablet spilling out of bottles. She zoomed in on one, finding the same letters R O C H E written on each. The image linked to an article titled Dangers of Rohypnol. Mabel clicked. It was an addictive sedative, the article said, know commonly as ‘the date rape drug’. Mabel’s breath quickened, she scrolled down to the list of street names.

            Roofies.  

            She stared, horrified, at the innocuous looking pill laying in front of her. Why the fuck does Dipper have a roofie!? She stumbled out of the bathroom into the hallway, tangling her hands in her hair as she leaned against the wall. 

            Dipper and Pacifica had been at the bar alone together. Dipper had been ordering drinks, carrying them, he would have had ample chance to... 

            “Oh my god,” Mabel moaned in despair. 

            Dipper could have roofied Pacifica and lured her away to overpower and kill her! Why the fuck would he do something like that? Did he secretly like her? Did he see me and Paz kiss on the dancefloor and got angry? If Pacifica was drugged before being murdered, wouldn't they have found that in her system? ... Did they even check?

            Nearly hyperventilating, Mabel stumbled down the hall with one hand out to steady her. Her hair was messy where she’d been pulling at it, and her eyes were wild like a hunted rabbit. She stopped abruptly next to the hall closet. Slowly turning to look at the narrow door. The shadows almost seemed to be darker here. It was the last place. She almost didn’t want to check, but she had to, didn’t she? For Pacifica, at least. 

            The girl’s breath shuddered and hitched, she placed a trembling hand on the cold little knob, and pulled the closet door open with a click that made her flinch. Being right by the entrance to the kitchen, the light was pretty decent, and shone into the shallow closet, casting a sharp shadow through some of the shelves. Mabel shoved some spare towels to the side, rifled through a box of old notebooks from the previous school year, reached up on her tippy toes to pull out a few dusty board games. Then she got on her knees and dug through spare shoes and jackets lazily strewn on the ground in a pile. Behind them, her hand hit a large cardboard box. Mabel shoveled the jackets aside, not caring where they flew, and dragged the box into the light. 

            Plastic sheets, so many plastic sheets, and they were huge, enough to cover walls with. Mabel fished them out, needing to stand back up to unravel them. Soon the massive crumpled sheeting filled the hallway, and Mabel found several rolls of duct tape to go with it, as well as a long shining knife at the bottom of the box. She picked it up numbly and stared at it, almost not processing what it was, before her hand started to shake and she let it drop. She clutched her hands over her face hard enough to hurt. This can’t be real, hold it together! Her breaths came faster and faster, her eyes burned with brimming tears. The plastic sheets and tape around her were like something straight out of fucking Dexter! This was shit a serial killer would have! 

            With a choked sob, Mabel roughly hit the box out of her way, sending it careening loudly into the tangled pile of plastic. She went back into the closet, groping for anything else. Her hand closed around something cold and metal. She pulled out a bundled metal cord and froze, her blood turning all to ice, before suddenly recoiling with a scream as if it had burned her. Mabel threw it and scrambled backwards, putting her hands to her throat. She sobbed. 

            “No, no, no, no,” she whimpered, digging her nails into her arms, hugging herself and rocking back and forth. Gasping for breath, she rose unsteadily to her feet, wiping her tears with the back of her sleeve.

            As soon as she stood up, she went rigid and silent. It was as if all the air in the room was suddenly sucked out. 

            “...Mabel?” 

            The front door clicked shut behind Dipper and he hesitantly dropped his bag onto the kitchen island. His twin's whole body was trembling violently, but her back was to him, her head bent. He had but a split second to register the mess in the hallway before Mabel whirled on him. Her long waves of hair spun out behind her, her eyes blazed in fury and terror, streaming with tears that made her mascara bleed. 

            “YOU KILLED HER!” Mabel’s piercing shriek cut through his heart like a serrated blade. Dipper’s stomach dropped to the floor. 

            “Mabel, I didn’t! I—” His eyes darted to the piles of plastic sheeting behind her, the knife, the tape; the things he had bought when he planned to kill Dib. “I-it's not what it looks like! I promise—”

            “And the ROOFIES in your f-fucking bathroom!?” she screamed at him. Dipper’s face went white. “What the fuck is this!? Did you kill Wendy, too—!? GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, DON’T COME NEAR ME!!!” As he took a pleading step towards his sister, she recoiled violently, slamming her back into the wall. He raised both his hands in a show of surrender, but took another step towards her. She backed herself up against the fridge, knocking off a bunch of magnets that clattered onto the tile.

            “Mabel, please! Just calm down and listen to me—!”  

            “Everything! Everything points to you!” Mabel spat. Her body quivered with all the rage and terror flowing through her. “This whole fucking time, I was so stupid and blind!” 

            Dipper had never seen her face so contorted and twisted before, it was as if she’d completely snapped. He’d done this to his sister, he’d broken her. He hadn’t seen how paranoid she’d been, how she’d been unraveling, avoiding him. Mabel’s blazing glittering eyes, which were before unfocused and darting about the room, fixed on him. 

            “Mabel—” Dipper all but whimpered her name, reaching out for her, “Let me explain!” 

            “NO!” she screamed. “YOU KILLED PACIFICA! YOU KILLED HER, YOU MUTILATED HER! I—” she hiccupped, clenching and unclenching her fists, “I LOVED HER!! YOU FUCKING KILLED HER!!! ” 

            With an animalistic howl, she surged forwards and collided with him, clawing at his face. Dipper managed to raise his arms to block most of her vicious onslaught. He yelled her name out, but she didn’t pay him any mind, screaming her voice raw and ragged, ripping at his sleeves and leaving angry red marks where her nails caught skin. She swiped out and grazed his cheek. 

            “MABEL, STOP!” Dipper cried, tripping over his feet to get away from her. 

            “YOU KILLED HER!” 

            Dipper gasped when his back slammed up against the wall of the hallway entrance. Mabel shrieked and tore at him in a renewed flurry. Dipper couldn’t bring himself to fight back; this was Mabel, he would sooner die than hurt her. Dipper’s face slackened in sorrow, his arms dropped. Mabel’s hands immediately seized the front of his shirt, her nails tearing into his chest through the fabric as she pulled him forward to slam him back against the wall, knocking his head into the drywall. His vision swam. Whether from the tears in his eyes or the painful blow to his skull, he had no idea. Then, suddenly, Mabel was torn off of him. 

            The frenzied girl kicked and writhed in Dib’s arms, fighting against his hold. Dipper’s heart leapt in terror for a horrible moment, but he watched Mabel crack her skull into Dib’s teeth, making the tall boy wince and release her. As soon as Mabel’s shoes hit the floor, she took off running, sprinting straight out the now open front door and disappearing from view. As soon as she was gone Dipper sank to his knees and curled up, crying. Dib got down beside him and wrapped his arms around the boy. Dipper curled his fingers tight into Dib’s sleeve and cried with his face buried in his shoulder, letting Dib whisper soothing words into his hair.

            Outside, Mabel was running, and running, and running until her body was on fire and she thought her heart and lungs would burst and kill her. But even then, she didn’t stop. The world didn’t exist around her, she sped across streets, ignoring cars, ignoring other people, crashing through bushes and back yards and parking lots, until, finally, collapsing. She sobbed, curling up on the grass and letting her sobs wrack her body. 

            Eventually, the chill of the air seeped into her bones and she lay quiet and shivering on the grass of some empty park in a neighborhood she’d never been in. Her whole body was sore, even her eyes, and her fingers, which she didn’t dare look at for fear of seeing her brother’s skin and blood under her fingernails. 

            The sun was sinking below the horizon, turning the world blue. There was only one place she could think to go.

            When the driver picked her up several minutes later, he looked alarmed. 

            “Do you need to get to a hospital, or police station or something...?” he asked. Mabel only buckled herself in, staring dead-eyed into nothing. She couldn’t blame the man, she must look like hell with her running makeup and wild tangled hair and dirty, scraped clothes. 

            “No, please take me to the address I put in,” she replied robotically. 

            “Are you sure, miss?” The driver looked her over sceptically. Her eye twitched.

            “I’m fine.” 

            Mabel retreated into her mind during the drive, letting the drone of tires on the road lull her into dissociation. She barely heard the man speak when they arrived, she might’ve thanked him, she wasn’t really sure, but she stepped out of the car and darted up the driveway. Like ice melting, her horrifying reality came back to her all at once. 

            Gaz’s front door was locked, so Mabel sprinted around back where Gaz had shown her a backdoor she left unlocked when Dib was out. She burst inside, slamming the door behind her. Not bothering to remove her shoes, the girl frantically tore through the mansion and up the familiar set of marble stairs that led to the bedrooms. Mabel slammed into Gaz’s door at full speed. She pounded her fists against it until Gaz finally unlocked it, pulling the door open with a completely baffled expression. 

            “Mabel?!” Gaz exclaimed. “What the hell are you—?” 

            Gaz quickly darted out of her girlfriend’s way as Mabel tumbled into the room unceremoniously, gasping and out of breath, and said: 

            “I think my brother is the Rocksburg Reaper!”

Chapter Text

      “I think my brother is the Rocksburg Reaper!”

      Hearing those words from her girlfriend nearly made Gaz’s heart drop out of her chest. They both froze, staring at each other. Gaz snapped from her momentary stasis to dash forward and catch Mabel as the girl all but collapsed to her knees, wailing, as if simply speaking the words aloud had shattered her. The frigid tension in Gaz’s chest didn’t leave her even while she clutched Mabel to her chest in a tight hug. Mabel trembled and shook violently with her cries. Gaz busied herself stroking Mabel’s hair soothingly, picking out little pieces of leaves or grass. 

      “Shhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Gaz whispered softly against the crown of Mabel’s head. Mabel clung to her so tightly Gaz thought she may never let go. 

      She didn’t know how much time they spent huddled on the floor of Gaz’s bedroom, but Gaz eventually coaxed the red-eyed girl into the bathroom and started cleaning her up. Mabel’s crying grew softer and was replaced with a numb, faraway expression Gaz didn’t know if she liked any better than the sobs. Anxiety gnawed at Gaz as she worked, but she kept up the mask of calm because Mabel needed her right now. She had no idea what had happened to make Mabel believe her twin brother was the Reaper; any time Mabel tried to speak while sobbing it came out an incoherent babble, and now she simply wasn’t responding at all. 

      Gaz gently rubbed a warm plush washcloth into Mabel’s skin where scrapes and streaks of dirt marred her freckled pale countenance. Her hazel eyes were so dull and lifeless. Gaz frowned. 

      “Do you want to take a bath?” Gaz asked with a gentle incline of her head into Mabel’s unseeing eyeline. Her lids fluttered a little, struggling to focus on Gaz. 

      “Mm...” Mabel looked sideways at the bath, then down at her dirty clothes. 

      It was the most response Gaz had gotten since Mabel stopped crying. She wasn’t used to taking care of someone quite like this, but doing it for Mabel came naturally. The hot water rushed from the faucet loudly when Gaz turned the handle to let the bath fill. Then Gaz helped her strip slowly, placing the ruined outfit off to the side. Mabel’s hands shook. 

      “Can you... clean my nails? I don’t want to look.”

      Gaz nodded without a word. She took the cloth and wiped under the girl’s fingernails while Mabel looked away, lip trembling and tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Some red flecks came away on the cloth and Gaz tossed it aside so Mabel wouldn’t see. 

      Gaz dipped a hand into the water to check the temperature and then helped her girlfriend lower herself into the bath. Her long tangled strands of hair floated around her serenely, and Mabel looked up at Gaz with a silent plea for comfort. The bath was quite large, and Gaz understood what Mabel wanted. She breathed a laugh through her nose and pulled off her own hoodie and underwear, stepping into the bath to join her.

      Gaz sat at Mabel’s back as the girl pulled her knees to her chest and said nothing. Gaz used a cup to soak water into Mabel’s hair and then gently spread shampoo into her locs, threading her fingers gently through tangles to unravel them. Mabel leaned into Gaz’s warm touch and let her eyelids flutter shut. The scent of the sweet flowery shampoo filled Mabel's lungs with each breath. Gaz meticulously worked her fingers against Mabel’s scalp and all the way through the rest of her hair, until it was time to rinse it and move on to Mabel’s body. 

      It was perhaps the most intimate thing either girl had ever experienced, despite the lack of anything sexual. Gaz’s hands ran across Mabel’s arms with soap, across her collarbones, her shoulders, her breasts, her stomach, her legs. Mabel pressed a kiss to Gaz’s arm as it bent near her face. Gaz smiled and kissed the back of her head. Mabel’s shoulders shook as if she were silently crying, but no more tears came. 

      The water grew lukewarm and Gaz stepped out first, offering a hand to Mabel to help her out. Pools dribbled to the tiled floor beneath their feet. Gaz wrapped a towel around Mabel’s shoulders and used another to dry her hair for her. 

      “I’ll be right back,” Gaz said after she’d dried herself off as well, and left the bathroom. 

      She came back with a soft hoodie and sleep-shorts for Mabel to wear, with Gaz herself dressed in a tank top and black lace underwear. Gaz’s clothes were large and baggy on her, but Mabel didn’t mind. Despite the gravity of what was weighing on her mind, of what had happened, Mabel found herself feeling warm and cozy and safe. She stared at the curls of damp purple hair against Gaz’s neck as she led her over to her bed, where the two girls laid down and curled up facing each other.

      “I love you,” Mabel said softly, holding her hands to her chest. 

      “I love you too. Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Gaz brushed a strand of Mabel’s hair off her cheek. 

      “In a bit...” Mabel cuddled up into Gaz’s soft chest again and Gaz wrapped her arms around her. They laid like that for a long while, listening to each other’s breathing. 

      Gaz felt Mabel tense up before she spoke. 

      “My brother is the Rocksburg Reaper, I think,” she said, and a shudder went through her. “I... I went to his apartment to look for... I dunno, evidence.”

      Gaz fought to keep her breath steady. She knew Dipper wasn’t the Reaper, but obviously something must have happened for Mabel to come to her looking so utterly broken up and frantic. So she just listened.

      Mabel continued on, telling Gaz about how she’d been finding little connections some victims had to Dipper, and how she snooped around her twin’s apartment today, finding a bunch of creepy shit that made Mabel think Dipper had killed the girl she was mourning—Pacifica. And then... she recounted losing control to her rage and terror and attacking her brother. Gaz stiffened at the mention of Dib being the one to pull her off of him. God, what if it had gone differently, and Dib had simply killed her? Gaz held Mabel tighter and her stomach turned, remembering the little flecks of blood and skin she’d wiped from Mabel’s nails. It was hard for her to imagine Mabel being so vicious. The girl in her arms trembled violently with the tumultuous emotions welling up again like blood from a fresh wound. 

      “Shh, just breathe,” Gaz instructed. Mabel sniffled and tried to do as she was told. 

      They laid together in silence for a while longer, letting things sink in. Mabel wrangled her tears down and took slow, steady breaths, matching the rise and fall of Gaz’s chest. 

      Gaz didn’t know what to do. 

      She didn’t know what to say that would fix the situation. Dib had royally fucked everything up; Gaz was certain he’d had a hand in leading Mabel down this path of paranoia, after she’d mentioned seeking his assistance in getting into the apartment. Fury bubbled hot beneath Gaz’s skin, mixing with an ice cold chill of fear that would cause steam to rise from her if it could. 

      While Gaz’s mind was spinning with what her next move should be, Mabel’s tiny voice spoke.

      “I just don’t know what to do... What if he really killed her?” 

      Mabel tilted her face to look at Gaz, nearly forehead to forehead. Her watery eyes were a well of fear and sadness and the look made Gaz hate herself. And both of their brothers. 

      Gaz knew Dib was the killer the city was now calling the Rocksburg Reaper, but she could never tell Mabel that. And now because of Dib’s bullshit Gaz was tangled in this mess, trapped between protecting him and Mabel. You’ve really put me in a shitty position this time, brother. Gaz just wanted Mabel to be happy again, she couldn’t bear seeing her like this. Believing her twin was a murderer was clearly destroying her. 

      Calmly, Gaz guided Mabel in recounting each of her suspicions and paranoias and tried her best to sow doubt. Coincidences, is what Gaz said. Was he acting strange since the first murders at the start of the school year, or before? Did he act violent while growing up? The killer often targeted the school, yes, but there are many other students at the college who share classes or could have targeted fellow students, including Pacifica. Plus, there were several reported victims who weren’t from the University. 

      Gaz also reminded her of the gruesome killing of a couple on Thanksgiving night, which Gaz remembered well, as she’d been scrubbing street cameras in the area for many tedious hours that night—not that she’d had anything better to do. 

      Mabel’s brows pinched together. Dipper had been with her all day when that happened. She remembered how upset he’d looked upon seeing the notification. 

      Could she really be completely wrong about everything?

      “There’s just too much that doesn’t add up...” Mabel murmured. “I know there’s something fishy going on. He’s not acting right. There’s too many connections! I just...” Mabel grumbled unhappily. 

      Gaz’s lips pressed together in a thin line. The connections were probably from Dib being so close to Mabel’s brother. He’d been getting sloppier lately, messing with his new plaything. She’d thought Dib had just found someone new to obsess over and stalk, but now... Gaz secretly wondered if Dib had found a partner in another sense of the word. 

      If that was the case, if Mabel kept digging, her suspicions may lead her straight to Dib. Gaz felt as if she was watching a train crash in slow motion that she could do nothing to prevent. The closer Mabel got to the truth, the closer they all got to disaster. And would Mabel hate her if she found out Gaz’s part in all this pain? Gaz hated feeling so goddamn helpless. She was used to keeping her head down and weathering whatever came at her, but this whole situation threatened to uproot everything she knew.

      “What will you do?” Gaz’s voice was barely a whisper. She stared blankly at the far wall over Mabel’s shoulder. “Will you go to the police?” 

      Mabel considered this. A heavy weight pressed on her chest. She’d attacked him, and yet the thought of possibly sending Dipper to prison for the rest of his life made her skin crawl. Surprising even herself, Mabel found that she still wanted to protect him, despite everything. Gaz was right; many things pointed to Dipper being the Reaper, but many things didn’t as well. Goddammit though, she knew there had to be something going on with him... Dipper, what in the world made you change so much these past few months...?

      “I...” Mabel said slowly, deliberating. Gaz didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she exhaled as Mabel said, “No, I don’t want to turn him in. Maybe he did kill her, but...” 

      “But he’s still your brother,” Gaz finished the thought. Mabel scooted away and stared into Gaz’s eyes almost pleadingly. 

      “Does that make me a bad person? To love him and want to protect him even though he might be a monster?” 

      “If that makes you a bad person,” Gaz traced a finger down the other girl’s soft jawline, “then it’d make me the worst.” 

      Mabel’s eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into Gaz’s touch. “I don’t think so...” 

      I hope you still feel that way if you ever do find out what I’ve done, Gaz thought. 

      “Give it time,” Gaz said. “Give your brother space and... take some time to think and rest. I don’t want you destroying yourself.” 

      Mabel smirked slightly, and the expression made Gaz’s heart momentarily glad.

      “Weren’t you the one telling me to ‘just talk to him’ in the first place?” 

      “I’m serious.” Gaz stroked Mabel’s soft waves of brown hair. “Please be careful. I can’t lose you.” 

      Mabel's smile fell. She said nothing, but snuggled back into Gaz’s arms and fell asleep listening to her heartbeat. 

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

      Dipper sat in class, his eyes unfocused and staring into nothing as he idly picked at thin lines of scabs on his wrist. It had been several days and, as much as Dipper tried to continue on as normal, he simply could not fucking focus on any lectures. With every night spent gnawing his teeth into pens unable to work on homework, Dipper could practically feel his grades tanking. It was all he could manage to not finally snap and have a mental break.

      Mr Schafer’s voice hardly penetrated Dipper’s brain fog, and he startled when suddenly the scraping of chairs and shuffling of books being stuffed into backpacks erupted around him. He quickly followed suit and scooped his untouched notebook into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and heading down towards the door. 

      “Mason,” Mr Schafer’s call stopped Dipper in his tracks. The Professor beckoned him over with a polite smile. 

      Dipper shouldered through the stream of other students exiting the room and stopped in front of the Professor’s large desk. Shortly, it was just the two of them left alone in the room, and he watched the man digging through a small stack of papers. Dipper figured he was only maybe ten years older than him, with his shaven face and dark flop of hair, but he dressed much older; today he was wearing a creamy buttonup under an earthy green knit sweater vest. 

      “Yes, Mr Schafer?” Dipper prompted when the Professor didn’t look at him. Mr Schafer’s head snapped up.

      “Ah, yes, Mason,” he said pleasantly, tugging out a couple of papers stapled together and passing it to Dipper. “I’ve finished grading your final project for last semester.”

      Dipper’s eyes widened. “Oh! Thank you again for the extension.” 

      Mr Schafer’s expression softened. “Of course, Mason! You were grieving, I completely understand. How are you doing now?” 

      “I’m doing...” Dipper trailed off when he glanced down at the front of his report and saw a big red B scrawled at the top. His face fell. His gut turned to ice and twisted up, simultaneously sending fire through his veins. “What’s this? Why is it a B?”

      Mr Schafer blinked a few times, taken off guard by the question and Dipper’s strained tone. “Ah, I made notes throughout the project on errors and things to work on—”

      Dipper raised his head and stared furiously, incredulously, at his meek Professor. 

      “A fucking B. Why?” 

      Mr Schafer looked flustered at Dipper’s extreme reaction. He indignantly leaned away from the shorter boy. 

      “Language, Mr Pines!” he scolded. 

      Dipper ignored him. 

      “This is a better investigation than any proper News stations or even the goddamn police have put out. How the hell is it a B!? ” Dipper slammed the papers back onto the desk. 

      A fucking B, are you kidding?! Dipper seethed. A B on this final will tank my GPA for sure. Anger like hot coals sizzled beneath Dipper’s skin. His Professor flinched and stared aghast at Dipper as the boy stalked around the corner of the desk right towards him. 

      “A B is a fine grade,” Mr Schafer huffed. 

      “No, it’s not!” Dipper yelled. He tore his fingers through his own hair, his eyes going wild. “This fucking project cost me everything, and it gets a B?! ”

      Mr Schafer’s voice lowered. “Mason, I understand you’ve been dealing with a lot, but I have to grade things fairly, regardless of such circumstances. It’s why you got such a long extension in the first place.”

      “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND SHIT!” Dipper punched the desk beside them. His knuckles exploded in pain but he ignored it. “What was wrong with it?”

      Mr Schafer’s eyes flicked fearfully towards Dipper’s balled up fist and then back to his face. He took another step backwards toward the chalkboard behind him. 

      “There are too many jumps in logic not backed up by any facts. It's too speculative,” the Professor said. “This is extremely inappropriate behavior, Mr Pines. I’m going to have to ask you to calm down.”

      Dipper laughed. It was a painful noise coming out, and his Professor winced. 

      What, was he going to call security on him? Wouldn’t that just be swell; maybe he’ll get fucking expelled on top of everything! 

      Dipper’s teeth clenched. Speculative, speculative! I’ve fucking LIVED this! My life is RUINED because of this stupid fucking final, and it doesn’t even get a good grade?! Dipper’s breath picked up. His heartbeat raged in his eardrums. 

      Mr Schafer was staring at him like he was insane, like he was rabid. It pissed Dipper off, it pissed him off so fucking much, he wanted to tear that expression off of his damn face. He had no fucking idea what Dipper had been through, all because of this fucking project. 

      “You should’ve stopped me,” Dipper snarled, half to himself. Mr Schafer looked shocked and confused. He was saying something, but Dipper couldn’t hear him. You’re a college professor, you shouldn’t have let me choose to do the final on an active fucking serial killer, Dipper thought. If he’d never started investigating Dib’s murders, he probably never would have met Dib, and Pacifica would be alive, and he wouldn’t have seen Wendy die in front of him. He wouldn’t have helped clean up her blood, or stuff her stiff body into a garbage bag to be hidden away somewhere. And he wouldn’t have his twin sister’s screams of accusation stuck in his head on loop, nor have marks from her fingernails crisscrossing his arms and chest. 

      Mabel’s screaming face burned behind his eyelids. You killed her, you killed her!

      Dipper screamed, baring his teeth like an animal. Fire surged through his limbs and propelled his arms furiously outwards to seize the front of Mr Schafer’s vest in both of his fists. Dipper slammed the man's back against the chalkboard. The Professor yelped. Dipper was seeing red. His fists tightened. Mr Schafer was panicked, calling out Mason, Mason! Dipper wanted to wrap his hands around his stupid wiry neck and—!

      Dipper suddenly jumped away from him, releasing his grip. The boy stared at his Professor in shock, who stared back, his shirt slightly askew. Breathlessly, Dipper mumbled an apology and dashed out of the lecture hall. 

      “What the fuck...” Dipper dragged his fingertips down his face. He laughed bitterly. 

      It was all for fucking nothing. All of it! Maybe he'd get expelled, but did it fucking matter anymore? Was he really going to get a degree and a job and live a domestic life with his serial killer boyfriend or some shit? It was laughable, it was ridiculous. 

      A few other college students veered warily around Dipper as he exited Webster hall, chuckling and giggling to himself. He looked down at where his knuckles were beginning to bruise. My hands are shaking. 

      Dipper walked briskly back to his apartment, ignoring the cold that wrapped around him. Even when he finally got home, the dark hallway and looming silence did not feel welcoming. All he saw in the dim light was ghosts of Mabel attacking him, screaming at him. God, he wanted it all out of his damn head. Dipper hissed through his gritted teeth, clutching his head in his hands. He scratched at the scabs on his arms again. 

      Everything had utterly fallen apart and Dipper was unraveling faster than he realized. Perhaps he would get expelled, or suspended, but either way Dipper didn’t think he would be going back to that class ever again. Perhaps he would stop going to any of his classes. At this point, being a college dropout was the lowest on Dipper’s list of things to be ashamed about. 

      It was all so overwhelming, and for the first time Dipper was totally alone with his issues—it wasn’t as if he could talk to Mabel about any of it, ha! His scabs started to bleed slightly. 

      Dipper just really needed to not fucking feel anything right now. 

      He pulled out his phone and texted Dib to come pick him up. He couldn’t bear being in his apartment for a moment longer.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

      When Dib brought out a little baggie of weed to smoke, Dipper noticed right away the splash of dried blood on the plastic. It occurred to him where in the past he would have probably freaked out, accusing Dib of stealing it off of someone he killed, instead Dipper was astoundingly apathetic. His dull lidded eyes drifted lazily from the baggie, not reacting in the slightest. Dib watched this with a curious twitch of his brow.

      “No comment?” Dib prodded the boy with a smirk. 

      Dipper groaned from where he laid on the carpeted floor. “Just hurry up.” 

      Dib sat next to him and Dipper lifted his heavy head to lay it in the other boy’s lap before settling back down. After a few moments, Dib handed a smoking roll of paper to Dipper. Dipper inhaled it deeply and coughed, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell. Dib chuckled. He carded his thin fingers through Dipper’s bangs as the boy took another drag. 

      The fireplace nearby danced and swirled. There was a couch behind them, but Dipper insisted he wanted to just sprawl out on the floor of Dib’s large living room, and Dib was all too happy to comply with whatever Dipper wished. He contented himself in watching Dipper smoke and grow languid. 

      In the days after Mabel’s outburst, Dipper had been coming to Dib for comfort more and more, just as he’d hoped he would. Dib had let Gaz know Dipper would be over, so that she could keep Mabel out of the house and away from Dipper. His plan to carve a deep wedge between the twins seemed to have worked perfectly. Dib smiled to himself. 

      “Better?” Dib asked. 

      Dipper blinked slowly and rolled his head to look up at Dib craning above him. 

      “Yeah, I guess.” He breathed out and lazily watched the smoke swirl and float up through the air to dissipate into lingering wisps. 

      “I fucked up,” Dipper said.

      Dib tilted his head curiously, petting Dipper’s curls. “How so?”

      “I sorta attacked one of my Professors today. Or, almost attacked? I dunno. I wanted to do worse.” 

      Dipper thought back to the scene earlier that day. He felt a familiar rush of blood through his body—murderous rage. He exhaled, letting himself forget it and relax once more. 

      “I wanted to kill him.”

      The admission hung heavy in the air and settled on Dipper with a weight he hadn’t expected. It was the truth, though, ugly as it may be. Dipper remembered the twitch in his fingers, wishing to squeeze Mr Schafer’s windpipe until the blood vessels in his eyes popped and he turned cold. A shiver ran up Dipper’s spine; he hoped it was disgust. 

      Dib kept his expression straight but his heart skipped. His predatory amber eyes lit up. “Oh? Why didn’t you?”

      Dipper rolled his eyes. “Because I can’t just go around killing people, especially not at a busy campus, moron. Don’t sound so happy about it.” 

      “I don’t know what you're talking about,” Dib said with a huge grin on his face. The corner of Dipper’s mouth twitched into a brief smirk and he reached up and gently swatted at Dib’s stupid face. 

      “I might get expelled, I dunno, but...” Dipper twirled the blunt between his fingers, “I think... I think I don’t care anymore.” 

      Dib hummed thoughtfully at that and leaned back, propping a hand on the floor. He looked into the fire, then back at Dipper, who was watching his smoky breath curl through the air again. 

      “Will you go to a different school?” 

      Dipper’s brows pinched together. Cute.  

      “I don’t know...” Did he even really want a degree anymore? It all felt so trivial now that he lived in a world full of murder and secrets. In a world with Dib in it. 

      Dipper silently grabbed one of Dib’s hands and pulled it onto his chest, linking his fingers and studying his tan knuckles dashed with a few barely visible pale scars. 

      “You ruined my life, you know that?” Dipper muttered, running his thumb over Dib’s skin in a featherlight caress. “I mean, look at me: about to be a college dropout, friends are dead, sister hates me, and these... violent urges.” A breath hissed through Dipper’s nostrils. “What is the end goal, exactly? You’ve ruined me.”

      “If it’s any consolation, you’ve kinda made my life complicated as well.”

      Dipper looked up at him with a disbelieving glare. 

      “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Dipper said in a deadpan voice. “It must be so hard for you.”

      “I never figured I'd have to factor someone else into my life. It's... a good feeling, but vulnerable too.” 

      Dipper’s breath caught. He quickly looked away from Dib's earnestly affectionate gaze. He squeezed his hand in his.

      “What life?” he asked bitterly. “Living in your rich dad's house and getting hunted by police?”

      “I was doing fine on that front, until you came along.” Dib pinched Dipper’s cheek, causing the boy to huff in annoyance. “I have some ideas I'm still working out, though. Weren't you the one who said transformation was a painful process?” 

      “Transforming into what, though? A depressed, high, college dropout?” Dipper snorted. “I feel so fuckin weak and pathetic...” 

      “You don't have to be. I've always said you're like me,” Dib said. “Not the depressed college student thing. The fucked up weirdo who kills people thing.”

      Dipper narrowed his eyes. “I'm not gonna kill people. I'm not a serial killer.” 

      “You've got the capacity for it, I know you do. You just got done telling me how you wanted to kill someone.” 

      Dipper squirmed under Dib’s confident smile. The bastard was so sure Dipper would be just like him, that he would just fold and do whatever fucked up shit he wanted. Dipper loved him, sure, but could he really willingly kill someone and just... give up on fighting to retain even a shred of his humanity? 

      “Having violent urges and fantasies isn't the same as acting on them.”

      “You're so stubborn.” Dib chuckled and rolled his eyes. “It’s a rush like nothing you've ever felt before. You'll see!”

      “It's not gonna fuckin happen. I'm not murdering anyone, no matter how much you want me to.” Dipper glared at Dib's hand where it was still held in his, over his heart. 

      “I want you to act on your ‘violent urges’. You'll see how freeing it is to let go of everything holding you back, to just do whatever you want! When you're the one holding the knife, the world belongs to you. ” 

      Dipper was silent for a beat. “You want me to act on them? Okay.” 

      He pressed the smoldering end of the blunt into the back of Dib’s hand, causing the flesh there to sizzle. Dib hissed and recoiled, but Dipper snatched his wrist and licked the burn. 

      “Jesus fuck!” Dib laughed with an edge of pain in his voice. “Careful, you're gonna get me all turned on acting like that~” 

      Dipper sat up and twisted to look at Dib from beneath the curtain of his bangs. He crawled forward and brushed his lips against Dib’s, but pulled back before they actually kissed. The burn mark on Dib's hand stung horribly, but it only added to his excitement. Dib hoped it would leave a scar. His breath quickened.

      “You think you wanna know where my mind goes? Even when it often involves you?” Dipper breathed the words against Dib’s lips. He grabbed Dib’s jaw roughly. 

      “I'd love nothing more.” Dib grinned manically.

      Dipper leaned back and stared hard at Dib with dark eyes like coals in the firelight. 

      “Maybe I'll just end up killing you , have you considered that?” 

      Dipper studied Dib’s expression behind his reflective glasses for a reaction, but he only continued easily smiling, unfazed by Dipper’s words. 

      “A few months ago I would've killed you if you tried it,” Dib said. “But now, I think I'd be fine with that.” 

      Dipper shivered at the look of pure worship in Dib's eyes. 

      “Do you have a knife on you?” Dipper asked.

      “Always.”

      “Good,” he said. “Take me up to your room.”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

      Dipper entered the bedroom slowly, taking in his surroundings leisurely, like he was drifting through a dream. He’d been in here before a few times now, yes, but it always felt surreal to be reminded Dib was a regular person who slept in a bed and had dirty laundry on his floor. 

      Dib busied himself with turning off his array of monitors (Dipper didn't know what the point of this was, as he’d already seen the live feeds from his apartment on them) and straightening the black, star speckled blanket on the large bed. He clicked on a few dim LEDs.

      “Where do you keep the stuff?” Dipper asked. 

      Dib turned to glance at him over his shoulder, then went back to kicking some socks under the bed. “Huh? Oh, lube? There should be some in the closet.” 

      Dipper turned to the charcoal painted closet door nearby. The doors unfolded as he opened them and he took a step forward. It was a large walk-in closet filled with hanging black trenchcoats (among other clothing items Dipper had never seen Dib wear) and boxes lining the walls on the floor. Dipper felt around for a lightswitch and the bulb flickered as it came on. 

      Dib suddenly shot upright in alarm. “Shit, wait, wait!  Don't go in there—!”

      Dipper’s face immediately dropped into an annoyed grimace.

      “The fuck is this?” Dipper groaned. If he could roll his eyes any harder they’d get stuck.

      At the very back of the closet there was what looked to be a small coffee table. Dipper knelt down and ignored the sounds of Dib’s footsteps and cursing rushing closer. He picked up a used toothbrush from the table. He scanned over an array of candid photos of himself taken from behind trees and corners, and a few from the cameras in his apartment of him sleeping and... in the bathroom. Oh, I’m gonna kill him.  

      Missing highlighters, a hairbrush, random trash from his apartment, a tuft of Dipper’s hair... It was an entire little fucking shrine filled with Dipper’s things. Under the short table, a familiar sweater was folded up sloppily. Dipper shot an accusatory glare over his shoulder at Dib, who meekly hid behind the door frame, peeking at Dipper while he took inventory of the collection. 

      “Mabel made this for me! You fucking prick, you had it it the whole time?!” 

      “Haha, yeaaaah... Oops!” 

      “And the rest of this shit...” Dipper waved the toothbrush at him. “I knew you were a creep but jesus fucking christ, what is this?” And he'd said the lube was in here. Dipper didn't want to think about what Dib had been doing with all this stuff. 

      “In my defense, most of this shit is stuff I nabbed while I was stalking you way back when, before we met face to face, and I thought you were cute so I wanted some of your stuff cuz I couldnt have you yet! Aaaand... I’m not helping.” Dib shrunk away from Dipper’s glare with a nervous chuckle. 

      “You are so...” Dipper huffed an exasperated sigh and stood up, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

      “But you love meeee!” Dib danced around him when he exited the closet. 

      Dipper rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately.”

      Dib fell silent when Dipper faced him, his expression turning dark and heated. A thrill raced up Dib’s spine as Dipper practically backed him into the wall and grabbed the angular collar of his trenchcoat, forcing Dib to look down at him. Dipper stared at Dib’s parted lips with intent. 

      “Get undressed,” Dipper said. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked away from him. 

      Dipper unzipped his own pants and let them fall, soon followed by his boxers. The cool air met his sensitive bare skin and Dipper shivered slightly, already feeling the blood rushing between his legs. Dipper pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He didn’t want any of his clothes getting stained tonight if he could help it. He didn’t even spare Dib a glance as he climbed on the bed to wait for the other boy to join him, relishing in the hot gaze he could feel on him from Dib hungrily watching his naked body. 

      Indeed, Dib was dumbstruck for a moment staring at Dipper easily shedding his clothes and crawling up onto his bed to drape himself on his side. His dark amber eyes traced freckles down his shoulder blades, down the small of his back, to the curve of his ass, and down his long, perfect legs. 

      He snapped out of it when Dipper’s eyes turned to watch him with an impatient arc of a brow. Dib hurriedly stripped and left his clothes on the floor in a pile, before scooping up some goods from the closet. He set the lube and knife on the bed next to Dipper, but deftly hid the other item in his hand under some sheets as he made his own way onto the mattress to join his boyfriend. Boyfriend, yes. 

      Dib smiled at Dipper and knelt in front of his reclined form, running a hand up his thigh until it dipped into the curve of his hip. Dipper inhaled at feeling Dib’s cold fingers glide across his hot skin. He gazed at Dib’s visage before him. He’d seen his bare skin before, of course, but there was always something breathtaking about the expanse of tanned skin marked with scars in the dim glow of his room. Dib had such a sexy, lithe body, with a perfect waist to grab onto, and a solid chest to run his hands across. Dipper sat up and kissed at Dib’s throat for just a moment, then laid down on his back. Dib picked up one of his legs to part them. 

      “No,” Dipper interrupted him. Dib paused at his command and looked at his face curiously. Dipper smirked to himself. He’s so obedient now. Let’s see how far that obedience goes. “I want you on top.” 

      Dib quickly realized what he meant and a lopsided grin curled across his face. He angled his head coyly. “Oh, you want me to ride you, do you?” Dipper said nothing, but Dib’s words sent a twinge of excitement straight to his dick. “Alright... but let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” 

      Dib uncapped the bottle of clear lube and let it pool in his hand, before slicking it onto Dipper’s half-erect member. Dipper suppressed a gasp and curled his fingers into the sheets, rolling his hips and letting the throb of pleasure race straight up the base of his spine. Dib was satisfied to feel Dipper’s erection immediately rise under his one stroke. 

      “Mm, pent up, are we?” Dib teased. 

      Dipper hissed through his teeth in response and peered up at him with a cocky half-smile that sent Dib’s heart racing. “You're one to talk. You got hard the instant I bossed you around. You like being told what to do, Dib?” 

      Dib blushed. “When it’s for you, sure. It’s hot when you know what you want. I like being in charge, too, but it’s fun to switch it up sometimes.” 

      He quickly wet his own cock with lube and rolled his hips forward to meet Dipper’s. Dib delighted in the way Dipper gasped and threw his head back as he rubbed their erections together. Slick and slippery, each slow movement of Dib grinding down on him sent coils of electricity through Dipper’s hips and thighs. Dipper shivered and his breath quickened. Dib screwed his eyes shut and bit his lip to keep himself from letting out a sound when he reached behind him and slowly fingered himself while rutting against Dipper in slow, steady movements. 

      Dipper exhaled shakily. “D-Dib...” 

      “Almost ready, babe,” Dib said. After a few more moments, Dib thought fuck it, it’s probably good enough. Who cared if it hurt a little, anyway? Dib was never one to shy away from pain. The little burn Dipper had left on his hand stung terribly; Dib loved it. 

      Dib clambered farther on top of Dipper until he hovered above Dipper’s waiting cock. He coyly positioned the tip against his dripping entrance, but only dropped down enough to prod it slightly. A growl rumbled from the back of Dipper’s throat. Bastard is going too slow. Dipper suddenly reached out and grabbed Dib’s hips, taking him by surprise and forcing him down onto his length. Dib choked out a gasp as it filled him suddenly and painfully, all the way. Mercilessly, Dipper bucked his hips upwards, making Dib bounce and cry out.

      “Hahh! Fucker...” Dib cursed, but there was a hint of a challenge accepted in his tone. 

      Dipper dug his fingernails painfully into the flesh of Dib’s thighs and bared his teeth in a grin. Dib ignored the sting of Dipper stretching him, and raised his hips to slam them back down roughly, letting Dipper’s erection hit as deep inside of him as he could. Dipper rose to match him, and each thrust and bounce had Dib gasping and moaning openly from the heat and pleasure tightening and tightening within his core. 

      Dib returned the favor and dug his fingernails as painfully as he could into Dipper’s waist, grinning down at the boy with a sadistic glint in his eye. Strands of black hair fell across his forehead. 

      Dipper grunted, but smirked through the pain. Dib rocked himself on Dipper’s erection. As he thought, the sting was soon overcome by the familiar coiling heat of pleasure. 

      “Fffffuck,” Dib groaned, his head rolling back. “You feel so good, babe.” 

      Dipper loved the sound of his voice. Stupid sexy bastard. And he felt damn good as well. Dipper’s eyelids fluttered. 

      Then, without warning, Dib reached back and pulled out the toy he’d hidden next to them. A little bullet vibrator attached to a cord that Dib quickly pressed deep into Dipper’s ass. Dipper flinched in shock and opened his mouth to ask Dib what the fuck he was doing, before the words died on his tongue. 

      “Hn—aah!” Dipper gasped when the device clicked on, thankfully at a lower setting, but nonetheless causing his legs to seize at the sudden stimulation deep inside of him. Combined with the tight heat of Dib’s hole wrapping around him, the lingering high, and the buzzing vibrations penetrating deep in his gut, Dipper’s mind was quickly becoming hazy with need. 

      Dib pressed his fingers roughly into Dipper’s waist once again as he continued rocking up and down rhythmically.

      “F-fuck! Ghh—!” Dipper barely had a chance to register the flash of pain as Dib dragged his nails across his skin to leave red marks. Dipper became distantly aware of the similar marks that were healing across his chest and arms and face, and he scowled. I don’t want to f-fucking think about that right now! He wanted to forget about his sister, about all the terrible shit that had happened. Dipper allowed a surge of anger to well up in him. He just wanted to hurt and be hurt, to forget about everything else except Dib. Sex felt good, and violence felt good, too. 

      “D-Dib,” Dipper called breathlessly. 

      “Yes?” Dib said, equally as worked up from the feverish pace. The sight of him deliriously fucking himself on Dipper’s cock was goddamn orgasmic, but Dipper wanted more, more, more.

      “I want you to bleed,” Dipper said, trying to keep his voice steady, never breaking eye contact. “Cut yourself for me.” 

      Dib’s breath caught. His already pounding heart quickened with renewed excitement. Dipper’s face, oh my god, his voice . This was everything Dib wanted. There was something dark and unhinged in Dipper’s eyes. Bloodthirst, mixed with lust. For him. 

      Dib moaned. “Ohhh god, fuck yes! You fucking freak, I love you.” 

      Way too eagerly, Dib picked up the knife and flipped the black blade open. Dipper wanted to see how far Dib would go to listen to him, and Dib showed not a single instant of hesitation as he dragged the knife’s edge across his left forearm. The two boys’ pace in thrusting into each other slowed, but, if anything, the arousal between them doubled at the sight of Dib’s scarlet blood welling up and dripping down his arm onto Dipper’s pale stomach. Dipper smeared it across his skin and shuddered. It was so warm. The metallic smell of it hit Dipper’s nose and made him dizzy.

      Dib raised his arm up to his face and lapped at the wound, coating his lips and chin in dripping red as he smiled, those lidded, triumphant eyes never leaving Dipper’s for a moment. Dib delicately traced the tip of the switchblade up and down Dipper’s stomach. Dipper’s cock twitched where it pressed inside of Dib’s tight warmth. The cold blade didn’t hurt at all, but Dipper panted at the sight of Dib’s blood all over him, and of Dib’s knife against his skin, the knife he’d used when he left the barely visible scar on Dipper’s cheek. Dipper bucked his hips up into Dib, crying out at the mix of pleasure and pain as the tip of the knife nicked his soft flesh. 

      “Careful,” Dib chuckled.

      “I don’t wanna be fuckin’ careful.” Dipper grabbed Dib’s hip and fucked up into him once more. Dib’s face, covered in his own blood, twisted up as he gasped. More blood fell from the slash in Dib’s arm, splashing onto Dipper’s thigh. “You’re so f-fucking hot, god—mmhn! Hahh!” 

      “D-Dipper,” Dib moaned his name. He needed more of Dipper’s warmth, more of his skin. He lowered himself to lay across Dipper’s chest. 

      Dib sunk the knife into the mattress next to Dipper’s head with a muffled thud. Dipper felt a thrill shoot down through his body. Dib kissed him with his blood slick lips, lapping his coppery tongue into Dipper’s open mouth. Dipper moaned into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Dib. Electricity shot through his limbs. Dib continued grinding down on Dipper’s cock, his own leaking erection now pressed between their stomachs. “Dipper, Dipper,” Dib kept mewling into Dipper’s mouth. 

      “Hhn, mmph~” Dipper’s noises grew louder and higher pitched with each movement from Dib. The new position pressing down on him made the vibrator rub up against his prostate and Dipper cried out loudly. He tossed his head back against the mattress, his curls falling away from his forehead to expose his constellation birthmark, and he dropped a hand to the sheets to curl his fingers into them. “Fuck, fuck!” Dipper all but screamed. He painfully grabbed a fistful of Dib’s hair. Dib responded by biting down on the crook of Dipper’s neck. Yes, yes, yes!  

      “H-harder!” Dipper cried. Dib dragged his tongue across the pink mark his teeth left, before digging them back in with a purpose until he tasted Dipper’s hot blood against his tongue. Dipper screamed. His legs seized up and he thrusted sloppily into Dib. Dib raised his head and looked at Dipper, his face and cheeks painted with Dib’s blood from their kiss, his throat and chest covered in blood as well. 

      Dib sat up slightly and pressed his full weight onto a hand wrapped around Dipper’s throat. Dipper gagged and choked, and felt the tip of Dib’s knife against his left cheek. Dib grinned down at him, his teeth all pink with blood.

      “Come inside me,” he said, and cut right into the old pale scar on Dipper’s cheek. New blood spilled from the cold sting of pain, and the coil in Dipper’s gut snapped. His scream came out as a wheeze from Dib’s hold on his windpipe. Dipper’s body went rigid and twitching. His vision went white as his nerves lit up with waves of pleasure. He spilled into Dib, his hips still twitching up into him, once, twice. Dib released Dipper’s throat and the boy gasped and coughed. 

      “Fucker,” Dipper spat as soon as he could force himself to form words again. Dib started to laugh, but Dipper reached up and grabbed his hair to roughly throw the taller boy sideways and off of him. Dib grunted when he landed on his side, and moaned unhappily when he realised Dipper had pulled out. The vibrator clattered to the floor, dropped from Dipper’s hand, and he turned his attention back onto Dib.

      Dib sputtered when Dipper flipped him fully onto his back and crawled over him. That fire in his eyes was alight again, and Dib’s heart hammered with renewed excitement. 

      Dipper violently grabbed Dib’s hair and slammed his head back down into the mattress, holding it there. Blood and saliva dripped from his lips. Dipper’s fist cracked into Dib’s ribcage, causing him to yelp in pain. 

      “I'm not satisfied yet,” Dipper said, leaning down to hover his lips above Dib’s. He didn’t look angry though, Dib realized. He was smiling, in fact. A coy lover inviting their partner into bed with them. “Please be sure to fight back for me, okay?” 

      Oh.  

      Dib’s face broke into a wolfish grin and his eyes flashed.

      “God, I love you so fucking much,” Dib said. 

      Then he kicked upwards and knocked Dipper off of him, and the two blood-covered lovers descended into a furious whirlwind: punching, pinning, clawing, and biting. Dipper's blood sang with adrenaline. He laughed and growled, baring his reddened teeth. Letting go of his inhibitions was better than he imagined. Wrestling with Dib, both of them covered in blood and unafraid to hurt one another... it was ecstacy. 

      Dipper had never felt more alive.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

      Dipper stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, rubbing a towel into his freshly damp hair. He shivered slightly as the change in temperature met his fully bare skin. The hot water had felt nice on all the bruises and bites Dib had left on his body, and now the various aches were returning with a vengeance. He almost liked the ache, but Dipper had no idea how Dib tolerated more pain than this. 

      Speaking of. Dipper’s face lifted and connected with Dib’s, but the other boy’s gaze was unabashedly directed at Dipper’s dick. Dipper instinctually curled inwards to shield himself. He glowered. 

      “What? Like twenty minutes ago I had that dick in my—”

      “Shut up, don’t be gross,” Dipper interrupted. Dib laughed and spread out sideways, propping his head up with an arm. 

      “You’re always so mean to me afterwards...” Dib fake pouted. 

      Dipper smirked at him. “Ha, as if you don’t like it~” 

      Dib threw himself backwards dramatically and clutched his heart as if he’d been shot. “Gah! You can't just look at me all sexy like that outta nowhere!”

      Dipper rolled his eyes but kept smiling. He approached where he’d left his discarded clothes on the floor. Dib jumped up to sit on the foot of the bed. Dipper paused, catching sight of the long ugly slice on Dib’s forearm. 

      “Geez, that looks bad...”

      Dib glanced at it and shrugged. “Whatever, I’ll just go to the hospital later. No big.” 

      “Won’t they question how you got that? And... everything else.” Dipper eyed the blooming bruises, scratches, and bites that marred his whole body. 

      “I’m not going in there naked,” Dib chuckled. Dipper glared at him. “It’s fine!” Dib stood and walked up to Dipper seductively. “More importantly... How are you feeling?”

      Dipper considered the question.

      “Sore.”

      “Aw, c’mon,” Dib grinned expectantly at him. “You’ve never gone that wild on me before~”

      Dipper blushed. “Yes, it was...” He trailed off, hesitating. What was the point in being cagey about it? Dib had pushed for it, he knew what he was doing when he asked for Dipper’s violence. 

      Dipper avoided Dib’s gaze but stared heatedly at a mark on Dib’s chest. “It was... intense. Thrilling.” He met Dib’s eyes. “It was fuckin’ amazing. The best I’ve ever felt.”

      Dib smiled knowingly. “Me too.” He leaned in to kiss Dipper but the boy dodged him.

      “Go get cleaned up! You're filthy.” 

      He kept dodging away from Dib as he reached for Dipper, making kissy noises. His face and arm were dark with sticky drying blood, as well as streaks of it everywhere Dipper had touched with his own bloody fingers and lips. 

      Dib relented and opted to just stick his tongue out at Dipper. 

      “Yeah, as mind-blowingly great as this was, I hate to break it to ya, but it's not really sustainable,” Dib said. “We're both beat to hell and need to heal before we can do something like this again. Plus...” Dib jammed a thumb over his shoulder at the mess they'd made of his bed. The sheets were torn and soaked with various liquids, and blood had even managed to fly up and stick to the walls. “Cleaning this up is gonna be a nightmare.” 

      Dipper visibly deflated. Damn. I mean, obviously they couldn't fight each other and draw blood every time they fucked, but Dipper still couldn't help but feel bitter disappointment. It had worked fucking wonders for all the pent up rage Dipper had been wrestling with. 

      Dib watched Dipper’s face tighten unhappily. He slunk up beside him.

      “You know how I get my fix for that kinda release?” he asked. Dipper gave him an annoyed sideways glance when a bloody hand touched his shoulder. “Killing. You don't gotta wait for them to heal up before you do it again! It's even more of a rush, honestly. That bloodlust, that drive to hunt,” Dib accentuated his words by suddenly scooping Dipper up in his arms and nipping playfully at his neck. Dipper sputtered and shoved him off. 

      “Eww, way too go, idiot...” Dipper grumbled. Dark red smeared across his previously cleaned skin. 

      “Damn, guess you'll have to... join me in the showerrrr~” Dib wiggled his arms as he backed up towards the open bathroom door. 

      Dipper huffed a breath that was half a scoff, half a laugh. He followed Dib. In the bathroom, Dib twisted a handle to start the shower up. Dipper looked at his vague, blood-smeared reflection in the fogged up mirror. 

      “I'm not killing anyone,” Dipper said. “We can find other ways to have fun that don't involve beating the shit out of each other.” 

      “Oooo~!” One of Dib’s arms curled around Dipper’s bare waist. “I like the sound of that,” he purred in Dipper’s ear. “I'll make a killer out of you yet, though, just you wait.” 

      Dipper opened his mouth to retort, but he just closed it and stepped into the shower with him.

      Dib was a crafty bastard. He was always a few steps ahead no matter what Dipper did, so maybe he really did have some grand plan to get Dipper to murder someone. He'd have to be more clever than simply asking him to, like he did the first time, back before Pacifica died. 

      The hot water cascaded over Dib's shoulders and the drying blood started to run pink down his front. Dipper’s hands slowly explored up the gentle curve of Dib’s chest. He imagined being able to reach in and pull Dib’s beating heart out with his bare hands.

      “You had something to do with what happened with Mabel, didn't you,” Dipper said. 

      Dib didn't respond right away. He paused to think about his answer carefully. He twirled one of Dipper's curls around his finger.

      “Of course,” he said simply. 

      Dipper nodded numbly. He didn't have the energy to get pissed at him. He was honestly more surprised that Dib didn't lie or dodge the question. And also...

      “Maybe it's for the best...” Dipper mumbled. “It would be safer for her if she stayed away from me.”

      Dib smiled while Dipper wasn’t looking. 

      “Yes, it would.”

      A twinge of annoyance made Dipper’s eye twitch. Manipulative bastard. Dipper pinched his nipple.

      “Ow!”

      “You're an asshole.” Dipper glared up at him. His spiky black hair bled droplets of water. 

      Dib laughed. “Yes, I am.” And he leaned down to kiss him.

Chapter Text

            Dib stalked through the shadows of alleyways, darting silently up to the rear of a darkened apartment building. Expertly, with barely a sound, he climbed up onto a second floor balcony using the raised fire escape ladder. He ducked around the rickety stairs leading to the next story and stood on the balcony facing a set of glass sliding doors. His reflection was a dark silhouette ring-lit by moonlight. Dib jimmied the cheap lock with ease and the doors slid open before him.

            It was dead silent and nearly pitch black inside the apartment, with just a sliver of white light slicing through the gloom from the glass door that Dib shut behind him. He was a shadow, a phantom, as he moved into the apartment and turned down the hall. His blood thrummed in his ears with anticipation.

            In the bedroom, a boy slept peacefully tangled in blankets, sprawled on his stomach. Dib quietly opened the blinds on the window across the room to let more moonlight in. He shunted his boots and padded back over to the sleeping boy. Dib leaned in to study Dipper's cute sleeping face: lips parted, snoring ever so slightly; soft brown curls splayed on his pillow; freckles dotting his pale cheeks. Dib smiled. Careful to not jar him awake, Dib pulled the blankets and sheets off of the boy, exposing his body to the air. He'd worn a loose t-shirt and boxers to bed, and the milky white of his long legs glowed in the moonlight.

            Dib’s fingers glided up the curves and dips of Dipper's calf and thigh with a featherlight touch. The hand kept travelling and dared to squeeze his plush rear. The boy stirred in his sleep with a soft groan.

            Dib pulled out some ropes and a gag from inside his trenchcoat. He grinned wickedly. 

            “Wakey wakey,” Dib whispered loudly in a sing-song voice. Dipper groggily opened his eyes. 

            Seeing Dib looming over him, Dipper woke fully with a start, jumping to flip over and sit up. Dib was on him in an instant. Dipper yelped as Dib jumped onto the bed on top of him and pinned him. 

            “Wh-what the fuck?!” Dipper yelled. Dib quickly wrestled him back onto his stomach and deftly tied Dipper’s wrists behind his back. Dipper struggled, but Dib worked with efficient speed. Dipper's heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline flooded his limbs. “G-get off of me! What are y—mmph!!?” Dib forced a gag into the boy's mouth and pulled it taut to latch behind his head. Dipper shouted around it in alarm, but all that came out were muffled noises. Dib pressed a hand down on the back of Dipper's neck to hold his face down. 

            Dib leaned down close to Dipper’s ear and whispered, “Can't have the neighbors overhear you screaming for help, now can we?” 

            Dipper whimpered, a hot shiver spread through his lithe body. The sound made Dib momentarily dizzy as blood rushed downwards. 

            Dib groaned low. “Oh, I'm gonna have fun with you~” 

            Dipper started to wriggle again, fighting his bonds. He tried to shout something when Dib sat back up and scooted backwards to yank Dipper’s underwear off unceremoniously. He roughly held Dipper's hips down when the boy started to buck and attempt to kick him. Dib's fingers painfully dug into his flesh and Dipper winced.

            “I've been watching you for quite a while,” Dib mused, ignoring Dipper’s muffled pleadings and cursing. “I just couldn't resist anymore, I had to have you.” Dib accentuated his words by pulling Dipper's legs apart, leaving red marks on his thighs. He palmed Dipper's ass and spread it, eyeing his hole greedily. 

            “This ass is just begging for my cock,” Dib taunted. “You want this too, don't you? Look how hard you are already, babe~” 

            Dipper whined needily at his words. His erection leaked onto the sheets beneath them. 

            “You want to be raped so bad, don't you,” Dib teased Dipper's entrance with his fingers. Dib unbuckled his own jeans and pulled his erect cock out to hover above Dipper’s ass. Dipper peeked over his shoulder and whimpered, feeling a rush of arousal tingle through his nerves and make his eyes tear up. 

            Dib slicked his cock with lube and pressed the tip into Dipper’s waiting hole. Dipper squeaked through the gag. 

            “What? Too much for you already?” Dib laughed cruelly. He propped one hand on the bed at Dipper’s side and the other on Dipper’s bound wrists, pressing them into his spine uncomfortably. Dipper shook his head frantically. Dib grinned and sank his cock into Dipper’s tight hole all at once. 

            “MMGH!!” Dipper cried out around the gag. Dib gave him a brief moment of reprieve, simply rocking his hips gently against Dipper’s bare ass. Little high-pitched noises spilled from Dipper’s throat with each small movement. 

            Dib chuckled. “Good boy, being such a good little fucktoy for me.” He thrusted hard into Dipper then, eliciting a sharp cry from the boy under him. Dipper’s skin flushed hot, his eyelids fluttered. 

            Dib started up a brutal pace, pounding rhythmically into Dipper, fucking him into the mattress. Dipper squirmed against the tight ropes tied around his wrists, tried to move away, but Dib held him fast. Dipper panted, his brain fogging up with hot pleasure that made his legs twitch each time Dib’s cock filled him and hit his prostate.

            “Mmh! Nngh, mmgh, mph!” Dipper moaned and drooled, his body rocking and bouncing with each of Dib’s thrusts. 

            Dib let out gasps and little groans as well, momentarily lost in ecstacy before he remembered himself.

            “How's it f-feel,” Dib said between pants, “to be raped by some stranger who broke into your place?” 

      Dipper could only respond with a muffled sob as Dib buried his cock in him over and over. His body was on fire with arousal and pleasure. Being held down, tied up, fucked relentlessly, still hazy from sleep, it was all so much.  

      Dib's hot breath ghosted across the back of his neck. 

      “Does my cock feel good, freak?” Dib tightened his grip painfully around Dipper's wrists. “Cmon, answer me babe.” 

      “Mm-mhm!” Dipper nodded his head best he could with it pressed sideways on the mattress. 

      “Nnghh,” Dib groaned, arching his spine to press downwards into Dipper, making the boy whine when his cock filled him entirely. “S-so sexy, it's like your body was m-made for me. Maybe I'll have to take you home with me and keep you,” Dib purred, beginning to fuck him hard again. Dipper gasped and moaned.

      “Mmh! Mm! MmMGH!! MHHN!!” Dipper’s moans got louder and more desperate. The sheets were a mess between his legs. He buried his face in the mattress and let out a muffled scream as climax tore through him. His legs seized up, he came onto the bed beneath him. Dib kept fucking him through his climax, making the boy see stars. Tears leaked down his cheeks. 

      Dib ignored Dipper's pathetic mewling and chased his own building pleasure, tightening in his gut ready to snap. He roughly pressed Dipper deeper into the mattress with both hands and rocked his hips down against him, once, twice, three times, and then pulled out to unload on Dipper’s ass. Dipper's skin still tingled all over from the after-buzz of climax, and a little moan escaped him when Dib yanked the ropes off his wrists. Dipper let his arms fall limply to the sides. 

      Dib flipped him over after undoing the clasp on the gag and tossing it over the side of the bed to join the ropes on the floor. Dib drank in the sight of him greedily, with his open panting mouth, glistening lips covered in his own drool, his flushed face, half-lidded eyes still dark with need. Dipper looked angelic. Dib couldn't help but crawl on top of him and start kissing him. 

      Dipper gasped, feeling Dib's clothes brush his exposed lower body. A hot shiver raced up his spine as Dib kissed him deeply and sloppily, sliding their tongues together. Dipper squirmed and moaned. Dib pulled away. He fixed Dipper with the most pleading, puppy-dog-eyed stare Dipper had ever seen, and Dipper snapped out of his daze to snort.

      “Did I do good?” Dib asked. “I've never roleplayed before, haha.” 

      Dipper smiled, letting out a satisfied breath. “Yes, that was hot as fuck.” 

      “Do you wanna... round two?” Dib looked at him hopefully and nudged his half-hard dick against Dipper’s leg. “The gag was sexy, but I wanna hear your voice some more~” 

      Dipper smirked and blushed. It felt good to have Dib smitten and wrapped around his finger. 

      “I suppose...” Dipper rolled his eyes, pretending to be reluctant. Dib grinned and pounced on him, dragging him into a passionate kiss. A cloud passed over the moon and cast the two boys in shadow.

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            Mabel: We should talk.

            When Dipper received the text from Mabel, he hadn’t replied right away. He didn’t reply for quite a while, in fact, simply staring at the message in his living room. After so many weeks of not talking, suddenly this? 

            His first instinct was almost distrusting, but that was just his paranoia. Mabel wasn’t Dib, she wasn’t scheming something nefarious. But still, after the disaster that was their last face to face encounter, Dipper had to wonder how this would go. Despite his worry, an ache of longing in Dipper’s chest propelled him to respond. He missed his twin.

            Dipper: Ok.. when?

            Mabel replied about ten minutes of pacing later. 

            Mabel: Well tomorrows valentines so i suppose the day after that? I’ll come to your place

            Dipper inhaled a deep breath. 

            Dipper: Alright

            And that was that. 

            Dipper set his phone down and tipped his head back, carding his fingers through his hair and sighing. Perhaps it wouldn’t go disastrously poorly this time. Maybe it'd even go well—was that too optimistic of him? These months with Dib had beaten him down enough where it seemed anything that had the chance of going wrong inevitably would. 

            As far as Dipper knew, Mabel hadn’t reported him to the police though, and that had to count for something. 

            He picked up his phone once more and looked at the date. Valentine’s tomorrow, huh? Mabel had always enjoyed that holiday; he hoped she had something fun planned for her day. Dipper, on the other hand, had no plans aside from lounging around in his apartment and ignoring emails from the University. Instead of going to classes, he’d spent his time drinking and hanging out with Dib. 

            Maybe Dib would visit him tomorrow and give Dipper a distraction. Ugh, I hope he’s not annoying about it though. Dipper could only imagine how a freak like Dib would bastardize such a romantic holiday.

            Dipper groaned, suddenly dreading what tomorrow would bring.

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            Knock, knock, knock!

            Dipper sat up attentively at the noise tapping on his front door. He narrowed his eyes and stood up from his place splayed out on his living room sofa. 

            So far today, Dipper had only received a few heart-filled text messages from Dib, and now with the sun sinking on the horizon, Dipper had started to think perhaps he wouldn’t show up after all. He walked towards the door and undid the chain latch. Pulling it open, he was greeted by Dib’s beaming face.

            “Happy Valentine’s, babe!” Dib said cheerfully. Dipper blinked like he was staring into the sun and stepped back to let Dib inside. Dib kicked the door shut with his boot and turned to Dipper. “I got you something!”

            Dib proudly held out a red heart-shaped chocolate box with the words My Heart Belongs To You scrawled on the lid in shimmery text. Dipper raised an eyebrow at Dib. Dib shoved the box into Dipper’s hands.

            Dipper didn’t mask his displeasure as he groaned, “Why is the box wet, Dib?” 

            Dib giggled. 

            Dipper grimaced and opened the lid, nearly dropping the whole box when he was met with the stench of cooling blood. He pressed the back of his wrist against his nose. 

            Dipper was no medical expert, but knowing Dib, this was definitely a human heart. Dark red and glistening with blood that dribbled from thick severed arteries. Dipper scrunched his nose up and held it away from him at arm’s length.

            “Ew! What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?!” 

            “Whatever you want, I dunno,” Dib replied, still grinning delightedly. “I hear hearts are really good if prepared properly~”

            “Prepared properly, what does—” Dipper paused mid-question. He glared venomously at Dib. “Nasty, I’m not fuckin’ eating this, freak! Where the hell did you even get this? Killed someone, I’m sure.”

            Dib laughed. Dipper hated how the noise softened him a little. 

            “Don’t worry about it, babe,” he said. Dib’s eyes positively glittered with humor and affection as he leaned in and stole a kiss from Dipper’s pouty lips. “Just thought it’d be a romantic gesture~”

            Dipper scoffed. He set the box down on the counter. This is the second time he’s cut out someone’s heart as a ‘gesture’ to me, Dipper thought bitterly. The image of Pacifica’s tableau forced its way into his mind and he quickly shook it off. He didn’t want to think about that right now. Or at all, really. 

            “So you decided to come over just to give me some dead person's heart?” Dipper folded his arms over his chest, his eyes following Dib's dark figure as he meandered through his kitchen. “I don’t want this shit here, get rid of it!” 

            Dib chuckled, circling back around to stand in front of Dipper. He pulled the shorter boy in by the waist. The scent of cologne reached Dipper’s nose. 

            “Nah, I came to ask you out,” Dib said with a lidded gaze and a lopsided smile. Dipper cursed his stomach for fluttering. 

            Dipper narrowed his eyes. “Ask me out...?” 

            “Yeah, let’s go out tonight! This whole time we’ve never gone on a proper date. I wanna take my boyfriend out for Valentine’s day, I got us a dinner reservation!”

            Dipper blinked in surprise. That was... unexpected. He side-eyed the heart on his kitchen island. 

            “It’s not at some cannibal restaurant or some shit, is it?” Dipper dead-panned, earning another laugh from Dib.

            “Totally normal restaurant, cross my heart.” Dib swiped an X across his chest. 

            Dipper fidgeted, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He averted his gaze. He wasn’t sure why, but the prospect of him and Dib going on an actual dinner date like a normal couple had him feeling nervous like a highschooler about to hold hands with their crush for the first time.  

            “I suppose I’m not doing anything right now... but you're paying,” he mumbled.

            “Of course~” Dib mock bowed. “Anything for my princess—ow!” Dipper punched him in the arm. 

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            When they arrived at the restaurant and walked through the crystalline doors, Dipper immediately knew they were underdressed. 

            Back at the apartment when Dipper was getting ready, he’d asked Dib what restaurant he’d be taking him to. Dib had waved his hand dismissively and replied: “I dunno, some pasta place with good reviews. Just wear something comfortable.” So he’d worn some jeans and a plain but nice t-shirt with a thick navy hoodie-jacket over it for the cold weather. Dib wore his usual black trenchcoat with black jeans and buckled boots. 

            Several eyes fell upon them as the out of place pair were led through a warmly lit fine-dining interior. Dipper curled in on himself self-consciously. Couples dressed in expensive suits and evening dresses spoke in gentle voices to each other, wine glasses glittered at occupied tables, dark wood rafters with beautiful staining shone in the light of many mini chandeliers dangling from the ceiling to light each table. The dim, orange-ish glow from the lights gave the space an impression of intimacy and firelight. The smell of garlic and spices and breads and meats wafted through the air. Even with his stomach working itself into anxious knots, Dipper felt his mouth water hungrily at the scents. 

            Dib and Dipper were led back into a somewhat private booth next to a window that looked out across a street lined with bare trees. The waiter set their menus down, took their drink orders, and left them alone. 

            Dipper gazed at their surroundings in somewhat of a daze, trying to ignore the self-conscious prickle of Dib watching him. Finally, he met Dib’s gaze.

            “This is... a lot,” Dipper said. “Not really my scene...” He tugged at his hoodie.

            Dib shrugged. “Not mine either, but I dunno, seemed like a special occasion and an excuse to spoil you~”

            Dipper flushed pink and kicked Dib under the table, not hard enough to hurt.

            They ordered some food and a special Valentine themed dessert and had an overall pleasant and relatively normal meal together (save for Dib’s flirting and Dipper’s shooting back insults at him). The portion wasn’t too large, like American meals tended to be, but Dipper was fine with that. His appetite hadn’t really been as present as it used to be, for quite some time. 

            The meal was delicious, though Dipper admitted this reluctantly. He rolled his eyes when the dessert was brought out: a pink and red swirled dish with two spoons set in it, to share. Finally when they were finished and the sky was jet black, the waiter brought the bill. Dipper nearly choked when Dib read the total out loud, but Dib slipped his card in without hesitation. Fucking rich bastard, Dipper watched Dib smiling smugly. 

            Dipper let out a held breath as soon as they exited the restaurant. His warm breath billowed out as a cloud in the air before being swept away by the wind. A full moon glowed brightly overhead, casting long shadows where streetlamps didn't reach. 

            “Are we going back to your place?” Dipper asked expectantly. 

            Dib smiled mischievously at him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking backwards, away from Dipper but still facing him.

            “The night is still young, Dipper Pines! We've got one more stop, somewhere special! It'll be fun, I promise.” 

            “Somewhere with drinks?” 

            “Duh!” Dib smirked.

            Dipper eyed him suspiciously, but followed him anyway. It's not like he had anything better to do, and he could use a buzz to get his mind off of Mabel’s visit tomorrow.

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            "So... we're back here again, huh?" Dipper took in his surroundings. 

            Dib had led him deeper into the city, until the streets weren’t as well lit and the sidewalks became cracked and uneven. It felt familiar, but Dipper didn’t quite realize where they were until the large, mostly abandoned building came into sight. He ran his eyes over the run down walls of the seedy underground club, once a commercial building whose windows were now smashed and its walls a peeling, cracked cement.

            The place Dipper had originally tracked Dib to and got the first glimpse of him from across the crowd. The first time they saw each other’s faces. 

            It seemed like a lifetime ago... He’d been a different person then. But here he was, walking the same path his past self took, now with Dib at his side rather than hiding within. 

            They walked confidently into the building and through the dark, dirty, and empty ground floor rooms, ignoring small groups of people smoking in dark corners, until they reached the mouth of a staircase where warm air and thumping music bled out of. Dib shot him a grin and bounded eagerly down the stairs. The huge basement opened up before them, washed in flashing neon lights and dancing people. The scent of booze and sweat permeated the air. The space was exactly as he remembered it. 

            Dipper chuckled dryly. "I hope you don't plan on killing someone."

            Dib looked at him wide eyed, pretending to be appalled. "Whaaat? What would make you think that?"

            "I know this was your main killing spot, dipshit. If you brought me here because you think I'll participate in your hunting or some shit, I'm leaving." Dipper glared at the tall boy next to him. Dib scoffed with a smile and linked his hand in Dipper's. 

            "Course not, babe. Gotta wait till the time is right for that." He chuckled and Dipper rolled his eyes. 

            "Right," Dipper grumbled, letting Dib lead him deeper into the club and to the bar. It felt surreal being here now, hand in hand with Dib in the place where it all started. The stalking, the paranoia, followed by the murders of his friends, and his own descent into darkness. 

            "Ow, hey. Never held hands before?" Dib turned from ordering drinks to berate Dipper. Dipper looked down to see he was unintentionally squeezing Dib's hand in an iron grip. He let go. 

            Dib watched him for a long moment. Dipper shifted uncomfortably, unable to read the expression on his face. Suddenly the bartender came back, setting two colorful drinks in front of her.

            "Here you are, boys!" She smiled cheerfully, cotton candy pink hair practically glowing in the red and pink light of the club.

            Dib lit up automatically, "Ah! Thank you!" He picked them both up and Dipper snatched his away from him. Dib looked at him quizzically. 

            "Before you decide to slip a pill in, or something," Dipper explained.

            "You're the only one who's ever drugged someone in this relationship, babe." Dib chuckled when Dipper indignantly flushed pink.

            "You know that's not the same!" he snapped. Dib just smiled and took a sip of his own drink. 

            The pair walked off together through the crowd. Dipper held his plastic cup in both hands, swearing when someone bumped into him and spilled a little. He tied his hoodie around his waist. 

            They settled in against a wall off to the side. The boys spent a long while in comfortable silence, not wanting to yell over the thumping music that resonated through the thick air. Dipper thought someday the place might collapse under the stress, eyeing cracks in the cement ceiling. He sipped his drink, finding it pleasantly sweet, filling his chest with a blooming warmth. He tipped his head back and downed the rest.

            Dipper looked sideways and his stomach flipped when he saw a sly smile on Dib's face, his eyes locked onto Dipper's.

            "W-what?" Dipper narrowed his eyes at him.

            Dib laughed and took Dipper's empty cup from his hand and tossed it without a care. He grabbed both of Dipper's wrists and dragged him out onto the floor, where others were dancing and bouncing to the music. Dipper's protests were entirely drowned out.

            Dib immediately swept in close to Dipper, pulling him in by the waist, and forced him to start dancing terribly along with him. Dipper was reluctant but quickly he found himself... actually having fun. He’d been to clubs before, but he'd never been out in a place quite like this with anyone, let alone Dib, and surprisingly the other boy was proving to be a fun date?

            Dipper watched, entranced at the way Dib threw his head back in laughter, all the color in the room dyed with the flashing neon lights. He swung his hips back and forth and spun Dipper around, catching him in his arms. Dipper couldn't help but laugh out loud with him.

            It wasn’t like the slow and sensual dance they’d shared on the balcony; this was wild and joyful and spontaneous and silly. Dipper tossed his hair back and forth to the beat, letting his heart thrum in time to the music. Dib pulled a dorky fist-pumping against his chest move, shooting Dipper a wink that made him snort. The music swelled, and the boys jumped at the drop alongside the swaths of ravers around them. 

            Dib abruptly put his arms around Dipper's shoulders. Dipper could feel his hot breath against his ear. 

            "Let's go get more drinks." 

            Dipper nodded and they wove through the crowd hand in hand so as to not get lost. 

            They ordered, and Dib leaned in to talk in Dipper's ear again. "I'll be right back, babe. Meet back where we were earlier." 

            Dipper opened his mouth to question him, but Dib suddenly pressed a quick kiss to his lips and took off. Dipper was too stunned to try and stop him, feeling embarrassed when he noticed the bartender with pink hair grinning at the display. 

            Dipper smiled sheepishly and thanked her when she set their drinks down in front of him. 

            “How cute!” The bartender cooed. “How long have you two been together?” 

            Dipper inwardly grimaced. 

            “Uh. A few months.” 

            “You make such a cute couple! How'd you meet?” She propped her chin on her hands to lean close. Her sparkly eyelids fluttered at him. She seemed genuine, if a bit too extroverted for Dipper's tastes, but Dipper wanted to escape this awkward small talk as soon as possible.

            “Well...” He considered the question. “I suppose we first met here, actually. In a way...” 

            The pink-haired girl's eyes lit up with stars. She squealed. It reminded Dipper of Mabel, causing a sting to lance through his heart.

            “Oh my god, for real?! No way! That's like sooo romantic that you guys are spending Valentine’s here then!” 

            Before Dipper could open his mouth to speak, the girl snatched a bottle and tipped another shot into both cups.

            “On the house.” She winked at Dipper. “Happy Valentine’s day!”

            Dipper chuckled politely and nodded his thanks to her, taking his chance to make an escape. He scooped up the drinks and carefully made his way through the outskirts of the crowd, heading back towards the spot Dib said. 

            A pair of girls in pink fur and glitter brushed past him, giggling. Dipper’s heart seized in his chest at the swoosh of blonde hair and long brown curls out of the corner of his eye. He grit his teeth, continuing on. Dipper brought the drinks over to the wall they were hanging out at earlier and leaned on the grimy stretch of cement against his better judgement. He was working up a sweat and would have to shower later anyway. 

            Dipper sipped his drink absently, losing track of how long Dib was gone. He drank Dib's, too. The extra shots in them burned pleasantly on the way down. His mind wandered, his face fell into a frown. Dipper rubbed his forearm with a thumb, remembering the angry red scratches Mabel left behind when she lunged at him. The look in her eyes... Dipper really was a monster, wasn't he? She thought he killed Pacifica, and was she truly wrong? He may not have wielded the knife, yet here he was, dating her killer, dancing without a care—Mabel and Paz should be the ones dancing happily like this. Like they had been the night everything went wrong. In another universe they'd be together, laughing through the night, instead of Dipper and Dib. And Wendy... When was the last time he'd thought of her?

            Dipper deserved every bit of guilt that tore at him. And he was a monster for getting better and better at ignoring it.

            He closed a fist over his cup and tilted his head back, relishing in the burn as it went down gulp by gulp.

            "Whoa there! You'll have to slow down or you won't be able to walk. Though I guess my place isn't too far..." 

            Dipper looked up at Dib approaching him, his ever present crooked smile directed at Dipper. Dipper stood abruptly.

            "Let's leave."

            Dib blinked in surprise. "Already? Babe, we practically just got here—" His protests died out when Dipper leaned forward to rest his head on Dib's shoulder, muttering into his ear. 

            "Please." 

            Dib grabbed his arms and nudged Dipper away so he could look in his face before closing the tiny distance to kiss him. He pushed him into the wall. Dipper's hand found its way to the back of Dib's neck. Dipper kissed him and tasted the sweet alcohol on his tongue, breathed in his cologne, relished the weight of his body blocking him in. Dib pulled away, admiring Dipper's red lips. 

            "Sure. Let's get out of here.” Dib flashed an amused smile as he wrapped his arm around Dipper's waist. They made their way back to the entrance, up the stairs, and out the front, passing a group of large men wreathed in smoke as they exited. Dib's eyes met one in a heavy dark coat and lingered.

            The cold quickly wrapped around Dipper and he pulled his navy hoodie jacket back on. Dipper's head was buzzing slightly, and his mood was unstable. One moment he was leaning into Dib's warmth and next he was grumbling and pushing him away.

            "Damn, you really are a lightweight," Dib chuckled, watching Dipper stalk off ahead of him, hands in his pockets.

            Dipper shuffled to a stop and turned. "I'm not drunk. I'm just..." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

            "Y'know..." Dib folded his arms behind his back and slid forward. "I know a great way to blow off steam."

            Dipper frowned. "I'm not... I'm not fucking you while drunk again." 

            "Thought you said you weren't drunk, babe." Dib smirked. Dipper sputtered. Dib continued, "No, no, I meant... something a bit different." Dipper saw a glint out of the corner of his eye and backed up. 

            Dib backed him into an alley lit only by the light of the full moon, until the two boys stood at opposite sides of a small alley between two darkened buildings. The moonlight shone down on them bright enough for Dipper to clearly see the knife in Dib's hand.

            Dipper gazed back at Dib, his expression deadpan. "And what are you going to do with that?"

            Dib cocked his head.

            "You gonna cut me? What happened to not injuring each other?" In the past Dipper might've thought Dib was planning to kill him in some alleyway on Valentine’s day—and maybe he was, as some kinda sick poetry—but Dipper didn't really care anymore. Dib wasn't going to kill him unless he planned on dying with him. So what was he playing at?

            Dib kept approaching Dipper, stopping in front of him. His shadow swallowed the shorter boy.

            “Ah, well I was only saying we can't do that all the time, but we're both healed up now,” Dib said casually. He spun the knife and pointed it at his own chest. “I'll let you cut me yourself this time~”

            Dipper stared at him, at the knife in Dib's hand, offering it to Dipper. Dipper hesitated. He imagined what it would feel like in his hand. He imagined dragging the blade across Dib's warm flesh, piercing the resistance of his skin, spilling the blood hidden beneath. His stomach did a flip. Dipper took a step away from him and shook his head. 

            The disappointment on Dib's face was obvious. He sighed loudly. 

            “No? Bummer, I was really hoping you'd indulge me after the amazing date I took you on.” 

            Dipper rolled his eyes. Dib slipped the knife back into his sleeve. 

            “What, don't wanna hurt me all of a sudden? Have you gone soft on me, babe?” Dib teased.

            Dipper huffed. “I just don't want to...” Even if Dib wanted it, Dipper didn't trust himself with hurting another person quite like that right now... not while he was trying to hold onto the remaining scraps of his humanity. If his hand got used to parting flesh with a blade, how long until he'd be willing to go further? No, he'd leave the knifeplay to Dib. 

            "Hey, prick!" 

            Dipper startled out of his thoughts and looked sideways, jumping away from Dib. The shout came from a hulking, rough looking man in a dark coat, stomping his way over to them. His hard eyes were locked onto Dib.

            Dib pointed to himself, an over exaggerated expression of innocent confusion on his face. "Huh, me? What'd I do?"

            Dipper stepped forward, immediately slipping into a placating demeanor. "Hey, I think you've got the wrong—"

            The man ignored him, grabbed Dib roughly by his shirt, and slammed him backwards into a dumpster, holding him up at face level. 

            "Whoah, buddy!" Dib chuckled. "I don't know what—" Dib winced when the man's fist slammed into Dib's stomach. He coughed and gagged for air.

            This guy was huge and apparently very pissed off. Dipper could hear his heart racing, rushing in his eardrums like ocean waves. His mind spun thinking of what to do. They were both no match for this guy. Even Dib with his knife... Dipper wasn't sure. 

            "Hey! I don't know what you think you're doing but if you don't get the hell out of here right now I'm gonna call the cops!" Dipper tried to say firmly, fighting a waver in his voice. 

            The man eyed him and turned back to Dib. "Maybe once I'm through breaking your bones, I'll move onto that little faggot cocksucker boyfriend of yours—" 

            The huge man gasped and stumbled backwards, dropping Dib to clutch at his stomach. He looked incredulously at Dib, expression dancing between disbelief and betrayal.

            "Watch your mouth, motherfucker," Dib snarled. Dipper saw the knife was back in his hand, and there was a flash of red on it. He'd never seen that look of venom in Dib's eyes before. 

            The man's face twisted up in rage. "You're fucking DEAD!" 

            Even Dib's eyes widened when the stranger surged forward and his fist cracked loudly across Dib's jaw, who nearly crumpled under the blow. He stumbled, knife skittering onto the shining pavement at Dipper’s feet. Another fist swung and thudded into Dib's ribs and then wrapped his hand around Dib's neck, pinning him up against the brick wall.

            "I'LL KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE FUCK!"

            "Stop!" Dipper screamed, watching this huge man holding Dib by the neck with one hand and slamming his fist into him over and over. Dib gritted his teeth, feebly trying to fight back but clearly losing. Blood frothed from his lips. 

            Dipper’s mind blanked out.

            He's going to kill him! He's going to kill him he's going to kill him he's going to kill—

            Dipper lurched forwards, then froze. The man let out a guttural roar and released Dib, who slid to the ground coughing flecks of blood. 

            When did I—?

            Dipper pulled the knife out of the man's lower back where he had stabbed him. His hands shook. Thick blood splattered onto the ground. 

            I stabbed him. I stabbed someone. Dipper's face slackened in shock.

            The hulking figure before him turned around and surged at Dipper. Dipper screamed in panic but the noise cut out into a strangled gasp as the man slammed into him, sending them both to the ground.

            Dipper couldn't breathe. He instinctively reached for his throat and found two huge hands squeezing the life out of him. He struggled. It was no use, he was tiny and weak beneath this guy. His attacker's face was a vicious snarl, he stank of cigarette smoke and beer and sweat. Dipper cast a desperate glance in Dib's direction, but the other boy was still slumped against the wall. Dib wasn't going to save him in time. 

            Dipper always thought if he was killed it would be by Dib's hand. Not like this... not like this.

            The knife was still in his hand. Dipper could feel himself clutching it so hard it was painful. He looked up into the eyes of his attacker—crazed, sweat dripping from his brow. 

            Dipper jammed the knife into the man's side, sinking meatily into his ribs. The hands around his throat did not release.

            Dipper still couldn't breathe. He wanted life so badly. 

            I don't want to die here. I won't die here. 

            Survival instinct raged through Dipper like an inferno. Dipper gritted his teeth and plunged the knife into flesh. And then again. And again and again and again. He wouldn't survive unless the thing killing him dies.

            Dipper was moving on pure adrenaline. He barely registered the man's hands finally slipping away from his neck, or the way Dipper went with him when he moved backwards, away. Dipper followed. The knife rose and fell. Into the man's shoulders, his neck, his arms, his chest. Dipper felt every time the blade hit bone, he felt every rush of warmth as blood surged out of every wound he made, he felt a slice of pain as he cut himself when his hand slipped on the hilt, now slick with blood. 

            Suddenly, Dipper could hear himself. Frantic deranged panting, screaming with every swing. And Dib, Dib was calling his name. He turned numbly to look at him. 

            "Dib?" Dipper croaked, his voice hoarse.

            "Dipper! Dipper, it's okay now. You did it. You saved us." Dib grinned, his lip bleeding but his eyes glittering, still slumped against the far wall.

            "I ..." Dipper stood up on shaky legs and looked down at what he did.

            A pool of blood crawled over the cracked pavement, so fresh that the heat from it turned to mist in the chill of the night air. It glittered black and red in the moonlight.

            Dipper's heaving breaths puffed out in clouds, his shoulders rose and fell. The muscles in his hand clenched so tight around the knife it felt as if they'd never let go. His hands were slick with the still warm blood of the person laying on the ground before him. The body was so completely still with the heaviness of death. Dipper's mind was struggling to process what had just happened and he barely registered the wiry dark frame of Dib sliding upright to lean heavily against the brick wall of the alleyway.

            The taller boy's dark amber eyes watched Dipper silently from where he stood off to the side, blood smeared across his cheek and mouth. He clutched an arm around his aching ribs, smiling breathlessly, triumphantly.

            Painfully, slowly, Dipper managed to unclench his fingers to let the knife clatter to the ground, scattering droplets of crimson.

            Dipper's face lifted and turned to finally meet Dib's, who greeted him with a crooked smile and lidded eyes behind his round lenses that reflected the moon.

            "Not so bad for your first time, hot stuff. What'd ya think?" 

            Dib wasn't sure what kind of a response he was expecting, but the one he got was far from what he would have guessed.

            Dipper stood for a moment, drinking in the overwhelming buzz of adrenaline thundering through his veins. He remembered now the moment the man finally let out a last gurgling breath and fell to the ground. Dipper’s breath quickened.

            Dipper had thought he was nothing, that he was frail and powerless. But look at him now, drawing breath and standing the victor. He didn't know if it was shock or what, but that moment, looking down at a person he had brutally stabbed to death, Dipper felt... powerful. Limitless.

            All at once Dipper crashed into Dib, knocking his shoulder blades against the wall and gripping his black hair with bloody fingers. He kissed him with such desperation and ferocity that Dib could not react for a long moment save for eyes blown wide with surprise. Finally, his body rose to meet Dipper’s  and their arms tangled around each other, grasping for purchase so hard they would leave blooming purple bruises later upon each other's skin, marks that proved tonight was not just a feverish dream. 

            Blood smeared across their lips, a bite of coppery tang on their tongues. Fingers brushing over cheeks left trails of red over pale and tan skin. Dib completely melted into his touch, letting Dipper pin him against the wall with his body. Their lips moved against each other, breaking away only to gasp for air like they were drowning.

            Dib groaned and moved his hips against Dipper, who answered with a hand tightly pressing against the other boy's hip. Dib relished in the sting of pain from his fresh wounds as Dipper kissed him roughly.

            "I think..." Dipper broke away and said breathlessly, his face inches from Dib's, "..that I want to fuck you now." 

            Dib bit his lip and looked at Dipper, a grin breaking over his face. The shorter boy’s eyes glittered with vigor, his face shining with brilliant crimson, panting and messy-haired in front of him. Those eyes seeing nothing but Dib, and Dib felt a thrill rush through him.

            He put a firm hand on the back of Dipper's neck and pulled him even closer, his lidded eyes glazed over with lust. 

            "Well then what are you waiting for, baby? I'm so fucking turned on right now."

            Dipper crashed into him again, feverishly, clumsily clawing at his pants and kissing him like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Dipper tore his pants down and Dib openly moaned out loud, hanging off of Dipper's shoulders. He was already painfully hard when Dipper's bloody hands touched him. Dipper was never usually so completely rushed like this and Dib was out of his fucking mind with excitement.

            "Do whatever you want to me, please, god." Dib's breath was hot on Dipper's face. Dipper slid his own jeans down, where they hung at his knees. His left hand held Dib's hip in a bruising grip and the other gave his own erection a few strokes. 

            Dib looked down and gulped, grinning wildly at the sight of Dipper's dick covered in blood. Dipper's eyes were lidded, he spoke in a low hoarse voice. "Lift your leg."

            Dib eagerly complied and Dipper forced it up higher with one hand. Before Dib could react Dipper positioned himself and rubbed their cocks together, thrusting against Dib and into his own hand. Dib threw his head back and bit down on his own wrist to muffle the strangled moan that came out of him. Dipper screwed his eyes shut and let out a low whine.

            Dipper rocked against him clumsily, desperately. His hand worked up and down both of their cocks, slippery with blood and precum. He buried his face into Dib's shoulder and they hung onto each other for dear life. Dib wrapped his arms around Dipper's shoulders and let out a constant string of praise and encouragement. 

            "Yes yes baby, please, oh god, you're so fucking good, ah!" Dib curled in on himself, his legs shaking. "I'm gonna fall, I can't—oh god." 

            Dipper backed up and spun them around. They lowered clumsily onto the pavement, Dib on his back, and immediately Dipper continued rutting against him. Dib cried out and dug his nails into Dipper's shoulders, watching his face hovering above him, his lips parted and moaning his name. They were both delirious with the feelings of pain and pleasure mixing into an unbearable force. 

            "Di-Dipper I'm gonna..." Dib gasped.

            They both came violently, their faces inches apart, vision going white as pleasure coursed through their bodies. Dipper collapsed on top of Dib and panted. 

            Dib was grinning, chest heaving. He was the first to speak. 

            "That was the best date I've ever had. You've been holding out on me!" He laughed weakly and winced. "Ow, though. Ribs."

            Dipper groggily sat up, his arms beginning to feel sore. "Sorry. Here." He leaned back, helping Dib slide his pants back up, then zipped his own as well.

            Dib grimaced. "Wow, we need to get cleaned off. And bring condoms next time. As fun as a little grinding action is, don't get me wrong!..." Dipper tuned his ramblings out.

            Next time... Dipper turned to look sideways at the person he killed but Dib caught his chin and gave him a kiss. 

            "I'll clean up here a little and we can go. Get the knife please, babe."

            Dipper stood on shaky legs, moving over to pick up the knife out of a pool of blood and slipped it into his pocket. He gazed down at the man, or what used to be a man—the corpse was a bloody torn up mess, filled with leaking gashes and holes all over his neck and torso. Dipper felt sick and looked away. His brain felt sluggish. Why wasn't he more disgusted with the fact they just had sex like a few feet away from someone he killed. What the fuck was wrong with him??

            Dipper looked over to see Dib wiping up some... DNA traces they left behind, before frowning. 

            "This is gonna be a tricky one," he said to Dipper. "You're really sloppy!" He laughed. Dipper pouted. 

            "Well, I wasn't exactly planning on... killing someone tonight. What the fuck..." His throat closed up. Saying it out loud was a bit too much. Reality gut-punched the breath out of his lungs.

            Dib waved it off. "Shit happens. I'm sure you also weren't planning on fucking my brains out, but I'm glad you did." He winked.

            Dipper opened his mouth and closed it again, blushing.

            "Don't worry, I'll handle it. And I'll get us a ride, I don't think either of us are up for walking." Dib put a hand on the small of Dipper's back and led him away from the body. Then Dib walked out of earshot and appeared to be making a quick phone call.

            Dipper's head was pounding and spinning. He was so exhausted he stopped even trying to question it. Sure, Dib was rich. Or rather, his dad was rich. And they were currently in a bad side of town, figures Dib would have some weird contacts or whoever the fuck that wouldn't question a dead body.

            Dib let Dipper sit and rest. He busied himself with picking his way around the body and assessing the scene he'd have to handle. He hummed thoughtfully to himself, scrutinizing the man's hands and wounds. Dib would probably have to make this one ‘go away’ as well, judging from the fact both Dib's and Dipper’s blood were all over the man and the alley itself.

            “Should we just...” Dipper’s low voice broke Dib from his thoughts. The other boy was sitting with his legs out, arms resting on his bent knees and dangling lazily. “I dunno... report it? I mean... he attacked us.” 

            Dib tilted his head. The adrenaline certainly must’ve worn off, because Dipper looked sluggish and completely out of it. 

            “Dipper, you turned this guy into mincemeat,” Dib chuckled. Dipper’s brows furrowed, he stared off into space. “Just let me worry about it, okay?” 

            Dipper grunted noncommittally, so Dib went back to work. He stood over the man and rifled through his pockets, fishing out a few wrinkled hundred dollar bills. “Yoink...” Dib stuck them back in his own wallet. “Sorry dude, just business,” Dib said quietly to the dead man and then giggled to himself.

            At the sound of tires slowing to a stop nearby, Dipper's head popped up in fear. But Dib just perked up and skipped over to him.

            "Alright babe, our ride's here." Dib extended a hand down to the slumped boy. Dipper looked up at him blankly. Dib pulled him to his feet. "Our ride, babe. Shall we go back to my place?" Dib smirked and slid his hand up Dipper's arm. 

            "I'd like... to go back to my apartment. By myself," Dipper said slowly.

            Dib's face fell slightly but he shrugged it off. "Alright, come on. I suppose I've got stuff I need to do, anyway."

            Dipper glanced back at the bloody scene. Cleanup... Dib was taking care of him now, wasn't he? He was cleaning up after him. Covering up something Dipper had done. I did this. Dipper looked down at his bloody hands, not hearing Dib talking to the guy who'd dropped the car off. Dib ushered him into the back seat of the junker car and they drove off with Dib at the wheel.

            In a very weird way Dib was protecting him. He could certainly elect to let Dipper be caught for murder, so he'd have no choice but to leave his life behind and go into hiding with Dib. But Dib was handling it. And Dipper had saved Dib's and his own life, hadn't he? That man was going to kill them both. Dipper’s fingers twitched.

            The car stopped. Dipper’s face lifted from the dark waters of his mind. Dib helped him out of the car and up to the side door of his apartment's parking garage. 

            “Wrap that up tight, okay?” Dib held Dipper's injured hand gingerly. Dipper nodded dazedly. “I love you.”

            Dib kissed him goodbye and drove away. Dipper watched the scarlet tailights until they vanished around a corner.

            Dipper hurried up to his apartment, careful not to pass anyone and to not leave any traces of blood. He shut the door behind him and put all his clothes into a trash bag to throw away or maybe burn later. Dib's knife was still in his pocket. He left it be, he could deal with it later. Without turning on any lights, Dipper numbly got into the shower and turned it on full blast. 

            He stood completely still for who knows how long, watching something dark swirling around his feet and down the drain.

            Dipper stared at the cut on his palm and let himself relish, just for a moment, the memory of the knife clutched in his hand.

Chapter Text

            Dipper woke up the next morning (more like afternoon) sore and aching all over. His eyelids felt so heavy... Dipper laid in bed for a bit longer before the buzzing of his phone prompted him to rise. He groaned as he forced his aching body into motion. 

            After removing a sorry excuse for a bandage, he tenderly touched the wound on his left palm, wincing. It looked red and painful, still leaking a slow trickle of blood when he flexed his hand. Dipper hoped it would be enough to just put cream and bandages on it... but it looked as if it would need stitches. 

            Dipper rubbed his neck absentmindedly and flinched. He stood and looked in the mirror at himself, face falling in horror. Oh man, that looks bad. Ugly dark bruising was clearly visible around his neck. Dipper rubbed his eyes. Today was going to suck.

            He picked up his phone to see texts from Mabel reminding him she was coming over later today. But the most recent text was from Dib. Dipper's eyes widened.

            Dib: Hope youre decent ;)

            He heard the sliding doors to his balcony open. He swore, quickly pulling on some pants and a loose tshirt. Dib barged right into his room. 

            "Good morning sunshine! Yeesh, we both look a little worse for wear, huh?" He smiled brightly and held his arms out. Dipper stared at him blankly. Dib's arms dropped. 

            "C'mon babe, no good morning kiss?" He tapped his slightly swollen lip. His cheek was bruised where he got punched last night as well. Dipper could imagine the other bruises under his clothes, including the one's Dipper left... Dipper turned away so Dib wouldn't see him blush. 

            "It's noon, jackass. And I'm not happy to see you. You almost got us killed last night, how am I supposed to explain these?" He turned back around and angrily gestured to his neck and his hand. Dib whistled at the sight of his hand. Looking at it, he knew that was something Dipper should probably go to a hospital for. But that's why he was here.

            "That looks pretty bad. You need stitches, babes." 

            Dipper groaned. 

            "I figured as much but... Isn't it pretty damning to go in the day after a murder with obvious injuries from an altercation?" 

            Dib smirked. "Smart boy! Although I've got it taken care of, but I like the way you think! You're cut out for this."

            "Cut out for what? Being a fucking serial killer?" Dipper bristled, fists clenching at his sides. Dib raised an eyebrow at him.

            "What, still acting all morally righteous over it? You've literally got blood on your hands, baby."

            Dipper faltered. 

            "It... It was self defense and you know it!" 

            Dib stepped forward, his face inches away from Dipper's. He grabbed his chin and forced Dipper to look at him. 

            "And you enjoyed every bit of it," he purred, the corners of his mouth curling up into a smile. He pulled one of Dipper's hands onto his hip. "I've got the marks on my body to prove it." 

            Dipper flinched, blushing furiously. So he did leave marks. He pulled out of Dib's grasp and stormed off into the kitchen. Dib laughed out loud and followed behind at a leisurely pace. 

            Dipper knew that Dib was right but he still had to at least try rationalizing it. He flexed his hand, feeling the pain but remembering why it was there. He had stabbed that man so viciously his hand slipped on the knife and he cut himself. The knife that he had cleaned off after showering last night and tucked away into a drawer. His mind kept wandering back to it like thread snagging on a nail. 

            Dipper snapped out of his brief trance and glanced over at Dib who was seated on the couch, pulling stuff out of a small pack and placing it on the coffee table in front of him. 

            "What are you doing?" Dipper hesitantly approached him. Dib didn't look up. 

            "Getting out some supplies. I told you, you need stitches." 

            Dipper's face went pale and he backed up. 

            "Hell fucking no. You think I'm gonna let you near me with a needle and thread?" 

            Dib laughed. 

            "Aww, I thought we were over the 'scared of Dib' phase. I'd love to know what's going on in your mind, imagining ways I'd torture you, ya little freak."

            "Hey! I—" 

            "Just come here." 

            Dipper paused when he looked at Dib and saw the boy actually looked like he was taking it seriously. He gazed at him expectantly and Dipper sighed.

            "Okay, I guess, but I'll punch you if you do something weird," Dipper grumbled and sat down, offering Dib his hand. Dib chuckled and placed a towel under it. "When did you—?"

            "I know where you keep everything, babe. I practically live here." 

            Dipper huffed and opened his mouth but all he did was yelp when pain seared through his nerves. Dib had poured some liquid over his hand and it hissed and fizzed in the wound.

            "Stay put." Dib got up and Dipper heard him turn on the sink, wash his hands, and come back with a glass of water which he poured over Dipper's injury. 

            Dipper watched silently as Dib worked, threading a surgical needle and disinfecting the string and needle. He was a little impressed. 

            "Why do you seem like you know what you're doing?" Dipper asked, beginning to feel nervous as Dib positioned the point against his skin. His eyes dragged over a fresh scar on Dib's arm where his sleeves were rolled up.

            "Well, where do you think I learned?” Dib replied. Ah, Dipper thought, obviously he must've done it on himself... or his victims, oh god—

            "Oh, this is gonna hurt by the way." He grinned at Dipper and pushed the needle in. Dipper bit back a scream. Tears pricked his eyes.

            He screwed his eyes shut and bit down on his shirt while Dib expertly sewed up the wound on the palm of his hand and snipped off the excess thread. His body shuddered in exhaustion from being tensed up in pain for so long.

            "There." Dib set his tools aside and wrapped a bandage around his hand, giving it a quick kiss. "All better. You handled it very well!"

            Dipper dropped the shirt from his mouth and looked at the boy in front of him. Dib playing caretaker made Dipper’s insides feel strange. 

            Dib stared back. He chuckled. 

            "Got a little drool there, dork. Let me get that." His eyelids drooped and he quickly leaned in and gave Dipper a messy kiss. Dipper pushed him away. 

            "Ew, you're making it worse!" He looked down at himself and the wet spot on his shirt. "I... should probably change. Mabel is coming over today." Dipper trailed off, nerves rolling in his stomach. He wasn't used to being wary around her but he didn't know what to think ever since she...