Chapter Text
cover art by me, @artsyacorn on tumblr
Times Square, New York City
28 August 2019, 11:37PM EST
Rain slicked the Times Square pavement, turning it into a mosaic of blurred lights. Blinding colourful lights from the billboards spilled over every surface, shimmering like spilled ink in the downpour. Mabel’s grip on her suitcase tightened trying not to lose it in the crowd. The chill sank through her coat as the damp air clung to her skin. Her phone was pressed to her ear, the faint ringing tone almost drowned out by the chaos around her: the loud honking of yellow taxis, the overstimulating ads surrounding her, and the endless impatient yells of New Yorkers weaving through the crowd.
'The person you are trying to call is unavailable. Please try again later.'
"What the hell? Did he block me?" She cursed under her breath as she ended the call.
The screen dimmed, showing only her reflection—a fleeting glimpse of tired eyes and wet curls plastered to her cheeks. She sighed, sliding the phone into her pocket and dodging a stranger’s umbrella that nearly jabbed her shoulder.
How could it have all come to this?
Now she was here, standing in the heart of the city, surrounded by strangers. The crowd felt like a living thing, its noise and movement almost too unbearable for her. Fluorescent screens flashed ads for Broadway shows, luxury brands, music videos, their mixed hues staining the rain-soaked streets. The purples and blues of the billboards painted the world in a haze, the atmosphere electric yet suffocating – something she wasn’t used to. Sure, LA was loud but not this loud.
Mabel pushed forward, her gogo boots splashing through shallow puddles. She tried to focus on the rain, trying to get it to calm her overstimulated nerves, but it wasn’t working. A vendor shouted something about hot dogs; a group of teenagers laughed too loudly nearby. She felt like a lone thread in a tangled tapestry, pulling tighter with every step.
Suddenly, the sight of a less crowded coffee shop caught her eye. Her breath hitched as she rushed over to the curb, raising an apologetic hand at every taxi cab that almost ran over her. She fumbled for her phone again, her thumb hovering over Dipper’s old number. How many times was too many to call? How many text messages would it take before he gave up trying to ignore her? And why the hell was she even trying to reach out to a number that he clearly wasn’t using anymore?
She didn’t know.
The rain grew heavier, streaking down her cheeks like tears she refused to cry. Somewhere in the distance, a street musician played a mournful tune on a saxophone under a shelter, its notes weaving through the chaos like a thread of melancholy. She’s given up.
As soon as she stepped into the coffee shop, she grabbed onto the nearest empty chair and slumped against it in utter defeat. High heeled gogo boots, back-to-back flights, and running through a crowd was a deadly combination that she was never going to try again. Why couldn’t she have packed a pair of better shoes in her briefcase?
Mabel stared at the phone’s black screen, her reflection staring back at her. Maybe Dipper didn’t want to be found. But maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for her to keep trying.
The coffee shop hummed with noise—the low murmur of conversations, the clinking of ceramic cups, and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. Mabel sat hunched over her phone, her fingers scrolling aimlessly through messages from her parents asking about her whereabouts and how she should come home now instead of wasting her time trying to find her lost brother.
A sudden roar of laughter broke through the atmosphere, pulling her attention toward a group of college kids crowded around a corner table. Their carefree energy only made her migraine worse. Great. Another bunch of loud, annoying university jocks in purple varsity jackets that brandished ‘NYU’ in a white bolded font.
Wait, NYU?
Her eyes squinted as she took a closer look at the words on their jackets– they all had smaller words written beneath the logo, stating their different departments.
Bla, bla, bla, Arts, Business, Law, STEM–
STEM. A STEM student!
She hesitated for a moment, gnawing at her lip, before pushing herself up from the chair. Slinging her carry-on briefcase over her shoulder, she approached the loudest one—the guy wearing the NYU STEM jacket and a crooked grin.
“Hey! Hey, sir!” she called, her voice shaking slightly but determined.
The guy turned, his friends quieting as they noticed her standing there. His eyebrows shot up. “Uh, yeah?”
“Sorry, I know this is a little random and you don’t know me at all, but do you know anybody from your school named Dip— Mason Pines?”
His expression shifted at the name, recognition flashing in his eyes. “Mason? Like 4.0 GPA Mason Pines from The Bay Area?”
“Yes!” Mabel’s words tumbled out in a rush, her eyes beaming with hope. “Yes, him! Please, I need to find him. Do you know where he lives?”
The guy chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Man, Mason Pines… yeah, I remember him. Some random apartment around here near Times Square. Went to his place once for some group work in our first semester. Never talked to him again after that assignment ‘cuz bro was pissed I contributed so little to the workload.”
“Oh my gosh. Oh gosh— O-Okay,” Mabel stammered, her pulse quickening. “Do you, um, do you still have his address?”
He scratched the back of his head, thinking. “Yeah, still do. I can give you his contact details too if you’d like.”
“Yes, please!” Relief flooded her voice. “Oh my gosh, sir, you’re a lifesaver. You have no idea how much you’ve helped me.”
She quickly opened the Notes app on her phone and handed it to him. His fingers flew across the screen as he typed.
“It’s chill,” he said, smirking as he handed the phone back to her. “What’s your relationship with Mason though? I’ve never seen a pretty face like yours around here. Are you his girlfriend?”
Mabel froze, her fingers hovering over the screen as she copied the address into her maps app. “Um…” She cringed internally, realizing that the stranger had added his own contact details in another paragraph beneath Dipper’s, “I’m just, uh, someone… special to him.”
His smirk faded upon hearing that, but she didn’t wait for his reply. “Gotta go! Bye!”
Without looking back, she bolted for the door, her cheeks burning as she stepped back into the heavy rain. Her phone buzzed in her hand as she mapped the route—ten minutes on foot to Dipper’s apartment.
As she walked briskly down the busy street, clutching her bag, one thought echoed in her mind: I’ll see you soon, Dipper.
LAX, Los Angeles, California
28 August 2019, 11:05AM PST
Mabel never thought coming home after completing her first year of art school would have been this much of a mess. What more, it was the twins’ birthday week. Mabel had missed out her 18th birthday celebration with Dipper last year to focus solely on her projects in Paris. Now, she’s back in homeland to surprise her family with her presence after a long time.
The moment Mabel stepped off the plane, the familiar smell of jet fuel and salted coastal air filled her lungs as she stretched her back. It was a long 12 hour non-stop flight, but nevertheless–she was finally home. She reached out for the phone in her brown coat, dialled a number and pressed it close to her ear as she began walking towards the arrival hall’s exit.
“Hey, Dad!” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic besides the exhaustion from the long flight. “I’ve landed back in LA. I can’t wait to see you, Mom, and Dipper! Where is my favorite brobro? Can you pass the phone to him?”
There was a pause on the other end–a pause that was way too long. Mabel frowned, stopping in the middle of the crowded terminal as travelers rushed around her.
“Mabel…” Her dad’s voice hesitant. “Dipper, he— He doesn’t live here anymore.”
Her grip on the phone tightened. “...What?”
There was a brief pause before she heard the phone being passed over, her mother’s voice echoed, “Hah! That useless brother of yours? He’s moved all the way to New York! Studying some STEM course at NYU, or whatever. He changed his number and never bothered to give us a call once he moved.”
“What?!” Mabel’s voice rose, earning a few judgemental glances from nearby passengers. “Why didn’t you and Dad say so?!”
“Mabel…” Her dad’s tone softened, carrying a weariness that made her stomach sink. “We don’t know ourselves either. We thought— We thought you wouldn’t be back for another two years and only wanted to tell you then—”
“Save it.” Her voice cracked, the frustration cutting through her words like glass. “I don’t want to hear your explanation. I need to find my brother. Bye, Dad.”
She ended the call before he could respond.
Standing there in the middle of LAX, Mabel felt the world tilt slightly on its axis. She stared at her reflection off her phone screen that was distorted by her shaking hands. Her heart hammered in her chest, each beat heavy with anger, disbelief, and betrayal.
Mabel was lost, lightheaded from the sight of the overwhelming airport crowd and the news she had just heard. She only had enough money in her card for a one-way ticket to New York and a few on hand for transport and food — She was going to gamble it all into trying to find her brother. She had no address, no number, nothing. All she knew was that he was an NYU STEM major living in some apartment somewhere in New York.
Her brother, Mason ‘Dipper’ Pines. The one who had walked with her to school every day when they were kids. The one who used to stay up with her watching movies until their parents yelled at them to go to bed. The one whom she shared unforgettable memories with in Gravity Falls when they were 12. The one who had disappeared without a word.
Dipper, why did you do this?
Apartment in Times Square, New York City
28 August 2019, 11:50PM EST
Dipper stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung around his neck, beads of water dripping from his freshly showered hair. The cool air of his apartment greeted him, the faint hum of the city slipping through the window panes. He walked barefoot across the hardwood floor to the window, pushing aside the curtain just enough to take in the neon chaos below. Similarly, his room was bathed in a soft, neon glow—purple and blue LED lights lining the edges of his ceiling, casting a surreal vaporwave ambiance across the bare walls. The rest of his space was sparsely furnished: a simple bed, a desk cluttered with textbooks, devices and notes, and a sleek black couch facing the large window that overlooked Times Square.
Sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, Dipper watched as the rain cascaded down in sheets against his glass window, painting the city in a shimmering blur of vibrant lights and wet reflections. Even at this hour, Times Square was alive, buzzing with energy, the storm only adding to the chaotic beauty.
Dipper sighed, pressing his head against the cool glass. He loved New York for nights like this—far away from the quiet suburban streets of the Bay Area, far from the constant reminders of home. The LED lights flickered slightly as he walked back to his desk, the shadows in the room dancing with each step.
A warm cup of coffee sat by his laptop, untouched. He picked it up, blowing gently before taking a slow sip. His phone buzzed from the desk, and he glanced at the screen. The display showed a series of missed calls—all from the same unknown number. Dipper rolled his eyes. It’s been a while since he got a bunch of spam callers. He was pretty sure to have properly installed that spam-call-blocker app downloaded on his phone. How did this number get through the system?
Unless, it wasn’t a spam caller. Maybe, it was some old contact he hadn’t bothered to remember. But there was no way that was possible–He’d made it a point to cut off all ties with his past when he left California. Deleted all his social media, changed his number, and disappeared into the anonymity of New York City.
Walking back to the comfort of his bed, Dipper tossed his phone onto his bedsheets as he returned to staring out the window, trying to ignore that disgruntled feeling in his chest recalling his fallout with his family.
This wouldn’t have happened if his Mother had never made that discovery.
The faint hum of Dipper’s laptop filled the quiet bedroom. He sat cross-legged on his bed, the dim glow of the screen reflecting in his glasses as he scrolled through yet another college application website. The cursor blinked impatiently on a blank application form. Computer Engineering? Basic. Paranormal Science? Now that’s calling to him.
Oh, who was he kidding. He still couldn’t make up his mind.
Suddenly, the door slammed open, startling him. Dipper barely had time to look up before a flurry of ripped pages landed on his desk. His mother, Ella, stood there, her face a storm of anger and disbelief.
“Mason Pines! What are these?!” she shouted, holding up another crumpled sheet of paper. Her hand trembled from sheer rage. “What the hell have you been writing?!”
Dipper froze, his mind scrambling. He recognized the pages instantly—the personal essays he had been drafting, the ones where he spilled every raw, vulnerable thought and feeling. The ones he never meant for anyone to see.
“M-Mom, I can explain–” he stammered, scrambling out of bed to reach for the papers in her hand.
But his Mother wasn’t letting go. She shook them in his face. “You think I wouldn’t find out? Writing about… about your feelings for—” She paused, her voice breaking slightly as if the words disgusted her. “For her! Writing about how confused you are? This is what you’ve been focusing on instead of making a proper decision about your future?!”
“Hey, HEY! That’s enough!” Dipper’s dad, Tom, hurried into the room, his hands raised in a calming gesture. “What’s going on here?”
“What’s going on?” Ella rounded on him, her voice raising. “Our son, your precious son, is wasting his time on this—on this ,” she spat, tossing the papers back onto the desk.
Tom glanced at Dipper, his expression softening as he took in his son’s panicked eyes. “Ella,” he said firmly, turning to his wife, “you need to calm down. He’s just a kid. He’s still figuring things out.”
“Just a kid?!” Ella’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass. “He’s 17, Tom! Seventeen! He’s practically an adult. He’s about to go to college, and instead of thinking logically, he’s pouring his heart out in some disgusting diary entry about HIS SISTER!”
“STOP!” Dipper’s voice broke, loud and desperate, cutting through the tension like a crack of thunder. His fists clenched at his sides, his breath shaky. “Stop acting like I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to figure it out, but you—you just—” He broke off, turning away as his voice faltered.
Tom stepped forward, placing a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “Dipper,” he said softly, “it’s okay to feel confused. It’s okay to take your time.”
Ella scoffed, crossing her arms tightly. “Time? Time isn’t something he has, Tom. College deadlines are two days away. He doesn’t have the luxury to sit around and feel sorry for himself because of some sick fantasies about Mabel.”
“You’re lucky Mabel isn’t here to witness this. If she knew, your sister would hate you for the rest of her life. She’s dating that boy Ethan for years now, Mason!” She hits his head with the ripped journal, “What is wrong with your brain? Lusting over your sister when you could’ve used it for something good?!”
For a moment, silence hung thick in the room. his Mother’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at her son, her anger wavering but not gone.
Tom finally broke the silence. “Ella, maybe we need to trust him. Let him sort this out in his own way.”
“Tom!” she snapped, her tone icy. “Why are you defending him? You think a 17-year-old having feelings towards his sister is normal?”
Tom hesitated, sighing. “No,” he admitted carefully. “All I’m saying is that this is just a phase for him, and he’ll grow out of it one day. He just needs some help.”
Ella let out a bitter laugh. “Fine,” she said coldly, taking a step back. “I’d like to see you try and fix this illness your son has by the time Mabel returns.”
Dipper’s chest tightened at the mention of her name, but before he could say anything, his Mother turned to him. Her eyes were sharp and unyielding, her voice laced with finality.
“And you,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “If you don’t figure your feelings out, you’re out of this house for good.”
Dipper sank onto his bed, his head in his hands. Tom crouched beside him, his voice gentle. “You’ll figure it out, son. You’ve got more time than you think. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Dipper nodded weakly, his chest still tight. He glanced at the torn pages scattered across his desk, and for the first time, he wondered if he’d ever feel brave enough to write them again. What more, confess them out loud to Mabel one day.
No, it wasn’t worth the risk.
It had been less than 24 hours when Dipper finally made the decision for himself at breakfast.
It was his Father who finally spoke. “You accepted the enrolment to NYU?” His voice was calm but questioning as he sipped his coffee, his brow furrowed. “Why on earth do you want to move and study in New York? That’s all the way across the states.”
Dipper hesitated, his fork hovering over his plate. He had known this moment was coming but wasn’t prepared for the wave of emotions it brought. Slowly, he set the fork down and met his father’s gaze.
“If you and Mom want me to forget about my feelings towards Mabel for good,” he said evenly, his voice steady but tinged with pain, “then let me go.”
His Father blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of Dipper’s confession. His Mother froze mid-sip, lowering her mug as her eyes narrowed.
Dipper swallowed hard and continued, his gaze dropping to the table. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just let these feelings go—not when every day I wake up and the first thing I see is her empty bed right next to mine.” His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed on. “Not when I know that everywhere I’ve been with her here in the Bay Area, is just going to remind me of her.”
The room went silent. Tom set his mug down slowly, his brow knit in thought. Ella leaned back in her chair, her lips pressed into a thin line as she studied her son.
Finally, she sighed, her voice softer than Dipper expected. “…Fine. If that’s what you want and know would work out for you, then go.” Her tone was measured, but there was a trace of resignation in it.
His Father nodded reluctantly, his hand gripping the edge of the table. “Just remember to call us once in a while, okay, kid?”
Dipper’s chest tightened at the unexpected acceptance, but he nodded. “I will.”
The rest of breakfast passed in tense, awkward silence. Dipper excused himself first, retreating to his room. He tried not to think about the way his mother’s eyes lingered on him as he left or the way his father’s fingers drummed nervously against the table.
Days turned into weeks after Dipper left for New York. At first, there were texts—short updates about classes, the weather, the city—but the calls never came. Over time, even the messages slowed until they stopped altogether.
Dipper never reached back again.
With his GPA, he could’ve gone anywhere. Harvard. Stanford. But he chose New York. Far enough that they couldn’t reach him, couldn’t meddle, couldn’t make him feel like he was suffocating.
He set the cup down, rubbing his temple as the last few memories flooded back. His mom had cried the night he left. His dad had tried to reason with him, but the silence between them had spoken louder than words. The ache in his chest back then hadn’t stopped him. He wanted out. He needed to get out of that place. And New York had been his escape—bright, cold, and indifferent. It was perfect.
His phone buzzed again, pulling him out of the past. Another call from the same unknown number. He groaned, picking it up with a scowl.
"What the fuck is this guy’s problem?" he muttered under his breath, already swiping to block the number.
But just before he could, the phone dinged with a text.
Unknown Number:
dipper
it’s mabel
i’m outside your apartment right now
please, open the door.
His breath caught in his throat. Mabel? What the hell? His fingers hovered over the screen, disbelief coursing through him. Of all people—his sister, standing outside his door after all this time?
He cursed under his breath, staring at the message as his heart pounded. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not after everything he had to go through just to get away from her.
But his feet were already moving, pulling him toward the door.
Dipper hesitated as his hand hovered over the doorknob, his heart racing in a way it hadn’t in years. What is she doing here? He wasn’t ready to face her. He wasn’t ready to face anything he had left behind in California. His breaths came quick and shallow as his shaky fingers slowly turned the lock, the faint click sounding impossibly loud in the quietness of his apartment.
The door creaked open, and there she was.
Mabel stood in the dim hallway, soaked to the core. Her dark curls clung to her face, water dripping from her coat onto the scuffed floor. She was shivering, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her eyes were what struck him the hardest: red-rimmed, brimming with exhaustion, and sharp with anger.
“Mabel?” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her lips parted, but no words came at first. She simply stared at him, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. The sight of her was a punch to the gut. She looked so much different than he remembered—her face thinner, her posture more rigid, her hair got longer and… her face definitely prettier, but there was still that same fire in her expression.
“Are you just going to stand there?” she finally snapped, her voice trembling as much as her body. “Or are you going to let me in before I freeze to death?”
Dipper blinked, the words shaking him out of his stunned silence. “Yeah—yeah, of course,” he muttered, stepping aside and gesturing for her to enter.
Mabel brushed past him, the faint scent of rain and cold air trailing behind her as she stepped into the neon-lit room. She stood there for a moment, observing his furniture as the light reflected off her damp skin.
Dipper closed the door slowly, the click of the lock echoing in the silence. Yet, he never turned around. He continued to face the door, too afraid to confront his sister’s wrath. Maybe if he just won’t look into her goddamn gorgeous eyes, this way, he could talk to her without stuttering.
“What are you doing here, Mabel?” he asked, his tone sharper than he intended.
She rounded on him, her wet hands balling into fists at her sides. “What am I doing here? What am I doing here?! ” she repeated, her voice rising with each word. "I crossed the goddamn country for you, Dipper,” Mabel spat out, her voice trembling. “All the way from LA to New York. Do you have any idea how much I went through to find you?”
He swallowed hard, the weight of her presence suffocating him as he finally turned to face her. “I never asked you to come.”
It’s true. Dipper never expected anyone from his family to be able to find him. It was all part of his plan of moving away, deleting his social media and old number, disappearing so nobody back home in California and Oregon could bother him for the rest of his life — especially Mabel. To which, of course, that plan of his had to be thrown down the ditch with the sudden appearance of his sister at his apartment door.
“Never asked? You disappeared without a word! All while I was in Paris?! No calls, no texts—nothing. I had to find out from Mom and Dad that you were gone.” She walked into the apartment and placed her suitcase near the couch, her hands shivering. “Not like they were of any help. Mom talked about you like you were her sworn enemy or something.”
With her back still facing him, Mabel demanded with a stern tone, “You owe me an explanation.”
Dipper anxiously tugged at his curls, pacing around his apartment living room trying to come up with a good reason on the spot, and a way to kick his sister out of his apartment right after.
After much hesitation, Dipper’s gaze shifted back to Mabel, his jaw tight as he spat out, “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Pines stick together, Mason.” Mabel firmly replied, her fists balling up in frustration.
She took a step forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she closed the distance between them. The tension in the air thickened, their faces far too close for his comfort. “What is going on, Dipper?” she asked, her voice no longer a demand, but a plea. “What are you running from?”
“Or perhaps,” she paused, her eyes narrowing slightly, “Who are you running from?”
Dipper froze. The weight of her second question struck him harder than he had anticipated, the reality of what she was asking sinking in.
Was he ready to answer that?