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Full title:
We Need to Talk about Greg (Cus' Be Ackin' Cray-Cray)
On a side-note, all P.O.F. labels signify a change in Point of Focus. It's basically a point of view/pov alternative I (unoriginally) made up for third-person narrative. The Passage of Time label is to signify skipping ahead in time longer than an average time lapse interval.
"Sorry, Norman. Did I sleep in?" Dipper asked, using his arms to lift himself into a sitting position.
Norman shook his head, "No, it's not even noon yet. Your sister is watching TV downstairs with Greg. I'll help you put the bed back into the couch if you want to."
"If you don't mind," Dipper rubbed his eyes sleepily, "but I think I am going to change first."
"Yeah," Norman sighed, "Sure. I'll go ahead and put the blanket back in the closet."
"I guess Coraline and Wybie left," Dipper said absently, pulling the shirt over his head, bending over and tossing a tee into his other hand. He used his left hand to get his blank journal from his bag.
Norman caught sight of the journal out of the corner of his eye, "Your sister was right, you do seem very attached to the journaling thing."
"Well," Dipper started, tossing his journal on the bed to pull a fresh shirt over his head. "I used to keep a journal when we first visited Gravity Falls." He pulled a pen from his jeans pocket, using his teeth to pull off the lid. "Although it was more of a... wildlife guide than a journal."
Dipper smiled to himself, as though he'd said a funny joke. Norman was lost upon its humor.
"So, your journals now are more like a diary?" Norman asked, moving his eyes back to the task at hand, folding the blanket across his chest.
"I always liked calling it a Captain's Log," Dipper joked, "Sounds more manly. But yeah, they're in-depth diaries."
"I never wrote a diary, I just tended to read my sister's." Norman reached to the top of the closet, barely tall enough to reach, and placed the blanket on the shelf, turning to face Dipper as the boy took his time writing his words the way he wanted.
"I never wrote one until we left Gravity Falls, and even before then I never read Mabel's. Since we're twins, we kind of have to share everything so we decided that it was the one thing we could have that was sacred, you know?" Dipper confided, taking pauses between every few words he spoke to write the passage in his journal. When he finished, he put the cap back on his pen and stuck it in his pocket. "Once I unpack, I can put all of my journals in my little backpack. I carry it pretty much everywhere, with all the journals inside."
"Scared someone will read them?" Norman asked.
"Yes and no," Dipper shrugged, putting the notebook away and saddling beside Norman to help fold away the bed. "Partially it's that someone will read them, the other part is what they will think whenthey read it."
"What do you mean?" Norman asked, slipping forward as he lifted the heavy frame and hit his ribs against the metal frame with a painful thud.
"You alright?" Dipper asked, eyes searching Norman's face for a sign of pain.
Norman's expression twitched only for a second before returning to his neutral expression.
"I'm okay, just a bruise."
"Do you bruise easily?"
"Not really," Norman laughed, dropping the frame into the aging couch. "I just have pale skin, so every little bruise shows. I'm used to bruises... but, really, what are you hiding that you're so afraid someone will see?"
Dipper inhaled slowly through his nose and opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut, biting the inside of his bottom lip. "I wrote a lot about Gravity Falls, and what my sister and I experienced here. Some of the information I wrote down would be very dangerous for the wrong person to find. Plus, some of the things I wrote are very personal."
"Oh," Norman breathed out, the word almost indistinguishable from the sound of an exhaled breath. He wondered if the Wendy person Mabel had mentioned was featured in the journal.
Norman was at a loss of what to say, he didn't know whether or not to press further on the topic. So, choosing the safer route, he changed the subject.
"So I was wondering if Greg could come along when you show me around today?"
"Of course, that's fine. My sister loves kids, honestly she loves just about everything." Dipper picked up his bag from the floor. "I was also thinking I could introduce you to a friend of mine I kind of hung around with when Mabel and I were here a couple years ago. When we get back to the Mystery Shack, I can call you and we can all meet up and see the sights."
"Sounds like fun." Norman responded half-heartedly, taking the outstretched phone from him and saving his number under Norman Babcock with a zombie emoji beside the name. Norman held out his phone and Dipper took it doing the same. "Do you need a ride? I have my license and I think Wirt would let me borrow his van if I hurried back."
"Don't worry about it," Dipper smiled, "I think I wanna walk to the Shack, get the whole feeling of being back here again. Mabel may want a ride, though."
Norman glanced at his phone absently, and could suddenly feel the distance between them. Norman wondered, deep down, if it may have had something to do with his silence when everyone shared their summarized versions of their supernatural experiences. Norman couldn't help but wonder if his silence had assured Dipper they could never truly be friends. He exhaled, telling himself he was being stupid and pressed forward with the conversation.
"Dipper," Norman said the name without realizing it while putting the cushions back on the couch. Dipper made a noise to show he was listening. Realising he'd spoken, he decided to just say what he was thinking. "I know we've only known each other for literally less than twenty-four hours but do you think you could consider me a friend?"
Dipper was so shocked by the question, he even lost his balance for a moment.
"I mean, I guess so, Norman." Dipper took a moment to change his tone, afraid he'd sounded too blunt, he took a softer voice. "I mean, like you said, we don't know each other very well."
Norman shrugged, "Just wondering."
He tried to hide the hurt he felt by exiting the room and heading back to the tv where Greg sat. The two of them sat on the couch and Greg looked at him observingly. As if deciding something, Greg wrapped his arms around his cousin's arm and leaned his head on his shoulder.
"I missed you, Mr. Normal," Greg whispered.
"Missed you too, Farmer McGregor." Norman smiled, consoled by the boy's obvious attempt to cheer him up. Mabel padded quietly upstairs so the boys' conversation did not get interrupted.
"Your voice sounds better now," Greg said plainly, still interested in his show. "You don't sound as upset as you do over the phone."
"Yeah," Norman said more to himself than to Greg, "Here, I don't have to bend over backwards to make everyone happy."
"Wirt says that at the end of the day, as long as you're happy, your loved ones should be too." Greg looked over to Norman, his mouth forming the words, mind disconnected from the adult words he was reiterating (even though he knew exactly what they meant for him in his healing from The Unknown).
"Do you like it here?" Norman asked, making sure Wirt was not in the room before looking back at Greg for the answer.
"People here are nice, they care more," he scratched an invisible itch on the back of his left hand. "The town is smaller, Wirt said that's why."
"That's not what I mean," Norman frowned.
"I don't miss Mom and Dad, if that's what you mean." Greg was perceptive as always, but according to Wirt he only became blunt after the divorce. "They have their own problems, Wirt and I were just another one... At least, that's what they said."
"They said that?" Norman asked, too surprised to restrain himself from asking the invasive question.
"The day we left," Greg moved his eye contact from Norman to the tv, his gaze glassy. "Wirt was in the car. I don't think they know I heard them. Years ago, after the thing in The Unknown... we told them what happened and they sent us to therapy. Wirt got out faster since he lied about it, but I told them everything. They said I was pa-para-" Greg got frustrated, his face scrunched. "I don't know how to say it."
"Paranoid schizophrenic." Wirt muttered, leaning against the doorframe nearby. The two's heads snapped up quickly, uncomfortable that they'd been overheard. "They said he'd hallucinated the whole thing and that I 'encouraged his fantasies' about The Wood."
The door upstairs closed and the twins came downstairs with their luggage. Reading the atmosphere, both said an awkward thank-you before speeding through the front door. Silence ensued for several more seconds after they left before Wirt sighed, he sat beside the two boys on the couch.
"We should tell him now," Greg told Wirt, leaning over Norman, as if Norman had dissipated into thin air within the past five seconds.
"It's a long story," Wirt told Norman, gauging his reaction.
Norman nodded patiently as the boys steeled themselves to tell the story. The boys were right, Norman would soon find out, it was a long story.
...
P.O.F.
Pines Twins
"Well, that was weird." Dipper muttered, glancing back at the inn. "All I heard was something about some woods."
"You mean The Wood," Mabel corrected.
"What?"
"Greg said something about it earlier, the way he said it sounded like a proper noun, not a regular one."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Dipper asked confused.
"Well, it means something important," she answered, adjusting the hem of her sweater. "Greg seemed off when he mentioned it."
"What do you think happened?"
"It's none of our business," she answered pointedly, shrugging before scurrying up the Mystery Shack stairs.
Dipper sighed. She was right, he told himself, it was none of his business. The sound of Mabel squealing, screeching, and jumping to hug Soos, then coo over his newly-wed wife Melody, made him exhale a sharp sigh. Sometimes, he found his sister's constant exhuberance to be exhausting.
Dipper dropped his bags at the door when he walked in, giving Soos a quick hug before giving a friendly but awkward hello to Melody. Mabel ran upstairs to put away her things, which left him with the couple. They were cute together, Dipper conceded, Melody making a vague reference to something and Soos responded in kind before she returned to the cashier's counter.
"So, how's everything?" Dipper asked weakly, his lack of communication with Soos extended to not knowing much more than his recent wedding 2 months prior.
"It's alright, everyone really likes the new upside-down room." He says proudly, not catching on to Dipper's awkwardness (much to Dipper's silent relief).
"That's great, Soos." Dipper sighed, smiling. "You seem happy."
"Yeah, your uncles should be here in the next few days. They didn't say when, they said something about wanting to play it by ear." Soos muttered, "whatever that means."
"I'm gonna put my stuff away," Dipper said more to himself than Soos, picking up his things and moving to his shared room with his sister.
"Dip! Dip! D-D-D-Dip!" Mabel muttered as if rapping, sunglasses upside down on her face.
"That will never be funny," Dipper chastised, smiling anyway.
"Yeah but it makes you smile!" She grinned, "You should be happy we made friends before we even got here! We don't have to worry about the old gang being too old to hang with us minors."
"Wendy's not like that," Dipper defended, sliding his stacks of clothes onto a nearby shelf.
"Things are different, Dipper," Mabel admitted, her voice dampening with sadness. "We've all changed."
"Not Wendy," he continued weakly before dropping the subject entirely. "So, Norman and the Coraline/Wybie combo... what do you think?"
"Coraline is fun," Mabel stated, "Wybie is quirky but in a good way, and Norman seems a little... quiet?"
"Yeah, I thought so too..." Dipper agreed, "He asked me if we were friends this morning."
"What did you say?" Mabel asked disappointedly, knowing where the conversation was going.
"I said we didn't know each other very well."
"Dip-per!" Mabel yelled scoldingly.
"What?!"
"This is why people won't be friends with you!" Mabel rolled her eyes, hanging her head in exaggerated disappointment before looking at Dipper again. "You don't just feel things like you should! You have to overanalyze everything!"
"When we were kids, things were different."
"If you say 'Trust no one' I will actually sock you in the kisser." Mabel grunted, unamused and crossing her arms.
"Well-!"
"Well, nothing! That was so mean! You're supposed to say 'Sure, Norman! Maybe we can be even closer friends over this summer!' No wonder he was so bummed when he came downstairs. You don't have to be able to pass a pop quiz on them to consider them a friend!"
"You're a pain," Dipper pouted petulantly.
"That, my brother, is the pain that comes with knowing the truth. The truth hurts." Punching her twin in the arm, then, laughing to herself distractedly, her seriousness left her voice. "I really wish I had my bubble pipe, it would've been perfect just now."
Dipper's mind drifted off and he checked his phone, then sent a text to Norman.
(A.N. The emoji of a zombie is poorly replicated below, my apologies. Pretend it's decent.)
- To: Norman (×_×*) 9:41 am
Hey. Sorry I was harsh earlier. I just don't make or keep friends very well, so I get defensive.
After a few minutes of Dipper waiting silently for a response, he turned off his screen and glanced at his sister who was turning her phone off and putting it away in a drawer, muttering to herself that she didn't need it anyway. The twins eventually made their way to the kitchen, pouring each of them a bowl of cereal to eat. Dipper kept his phone on the table, waiting in hopes for an acceptance of his apology.
-
P.O.F.
Coraline & Wybie
Having settled at Wybie's grandmother's, Coraline put her things away in the various nooks and crannies lurking about while Wybie left her alone to give her privacy. Coraline had steeled herself for weeks before this move while all her files from her doctors, her schools, et cetera, were transferred to those in Gravity Falls. However, when she woke up that morning in a strange bed, Mabel's face beside hers, a sudden fear instilled its quivering of her heart into her stuttering hands. She managed to keep them from shaking too noticably but her fingers twitched every time she glanced at a door or window, begging her to run away.
She didn't want to be unwanted, although she knew she wasn't unwanted per-say. Coraline knew, however, that somewhere along the way her parents no longer enjoyed being parents and she blamed herself for that. She blamed herself for her parents not getting better jobs that paid more and left them with less stress, she blamed herself for their financial problems because they had one more person to take care of, and she blamed herself for their constant moves but she knew that those things were out of her control. No matter how happy her parents were that she was alive and well, deep down, Coraline knew that once she was an adult their relationship would change to something less painful. She hoped that would be the case, anyway.
Wybie's grandmother had entered the room silently, watching Coraline stare at a old family portrait from when she was a child. After a final look, Coraline threw the framed photograph into a drawer and slammed it shut, wincing at the sound of glass cracking from inside the drawer.
The old woman clicked her tongue at the girl, whose shoulders promptly sagged.
"Can you blame me?"
"The question should be 'Do you blame them?', shouldn't it, Coraline?" The woman responded. "They couldn't do it alone."
"Yeah, and now they don't have to do it at all."
"Give it time, Coraline," the woman smiled sadly, patting the girl's shoulder. "Just think about it."
Coraline nodded, Wybie's grandmother leaving the room to usher Wybie in (who stood silently at the door after hearing his grandmother's voice), his face downturned in a rare sad expression. Wybie stepped in when she left and hugged Coraline tightly from behind, his body towering slightly over her as he hunched to lean his cheek on her head. Coraline cried silently, thankful that the arms around her tightening their hug.
After a few minutes, Coraline wiped her eyes and forced a smile, "We should call Mabel."
It took a few rings before the line went to voicemail. "Drats," Coraline muttered foully as if she had cursed. "Her phone must be off. We don't have Dipper's number."
"We can call the Shack, where they're staying, it should be in the phone book." Wybie mentioned, "I'll bring you the phone book. Do you want some breakfast?"
Coraline nodded quietly.
"Oreos and root beer?"
Coraline nodded again, smiling a little, "You know me so well."
"Coming right up." Wybie said with a smile, racing out of the room and down the stairs.
Coraline took her moment alone to open the drawer she had just slammed shut. The photo was cracked in a zig-zagged L-shape, decapitating her head from the rest of the picture. She sighed, fighting back tears, and slid the drawer shut with all the care she could muster. She had to check in once she got there over the phone, and once a week thereon. Taking her phone in her hand she made a quick call to her mother's cell, then her father's, both to no avail. She left a message on their home phone's answering machine.
"Hey, it's me... Coraline... your daughter. I'm here okay and I made some new friends... Talk to you soon... Bye."
After exhaling she looked up to see Wybie's serious expression become a smile, "How long were you standing there?"
"Long enough for your root beer to no longer be hazardous to open."
Coraline, despite herself, laughed, "You're the best."
"I know," he smiled, setting the phone book on her bed, handing her her breakfast.
"Where's your breakfast?"
"You and me live together now, we share everything~!" He cooed.
"Except clothes, I hope, you'd stretch out my jeans." Coraline laughed.
"Fine but my clothes are fair game, have at it... except my underwear, obviously."
Coraline laughed, choking on her drink, "Wouldn't dream of it, Spooky."