Volume 1: Act 1 – Chapter 5 | Time is Tearing Us Apart

Linkin Park | Minutes To Midnight - Given Up

Dipper was fading in and out of consciousness as the bus rumbled forward, each lurch pulling him back just enough to confirm his surroundings. When he closed his eyes, vivid visions and dark shapes beckoned him to stay adrift, cradled by the warmth of his hoodie. It felt like hours of tugging between wakefulness and dreams before he finally kept his eyes open.

To his left, Mabel was sound asleep, snoring softly, curled up like a little bundle of warmth. The gentle rhythm of her snores almost sounded like a quiet purr. Waddles nestled contentedly in her lap, soaking in her warmth. Dipper chuckled—who would have thought someone as endlessly energetic as Mabel could look this peaceful?

He turned to the window, watching as they left the city behind and hit the highways of Oregon. With every mile, the ache grew, a mix of eagerness and uncertainty settling in his chest. Gravity Falls was getting closer, and with it, the strange longing he hadn't been able to shake in Piedmont. The bus was starting to get cold, which only made him pull his hoodie closer.

As Dipper settled deeper into his seat, his fingers brushed over the soft, worn fabric—a familiar comfort. Memories began to creep in, almost uninvited, as his mind drifted. He wasn't on a bus anymore; he was back in the endless hallways of Piedmont. Logan's voice echoed faintly from somewhere, and Dipper's grip on the hoodie tightened instinctively.

It was the same hoodie he'd worn that day—the day that left a mark he hadn't quite shaken.

He started to daydream, memories and past experiences tearing at him, drifting through his mind like fragmented flashes of a half-remembered dream.

The next thing he knew, he was back in Piedmont, second period, world history. His teacher was droning on about the economic collapse of Germany after World War I. History was one of the few classes that kept him engaged, a break from everything else that felt distant or faded, like echoes in a canyon. But even here, something else always lurked in the background. Someone else.

Logan.

Sitting across the room, Logan was staring right at him, not even pretending to hide it. That sharp, too-casual look that made Dipper's skin crawl. He had never known exactly what he'd done to provoke it, why Logan singled him out. But there it was—something that had started as teasing, as jokes in the hall, little shoves between lockers. Then, it escalated.

Logan was someone he could recall in sharp, uncomfortable detail. He'd seemed so ordinary at first, just a regular guy trying to get through high school like everyone else.

Everything shifted in front of him, warping. Before Dipper knew it, he was walking through the crowded halls, the sound of lockers slamming and voices blending around him. It was winter semester last year. Students were bundled in puffy jackets and flannels, the faded buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. His trucker hat sat snugly on his head, carrying the weight of memories from Gravity Falls. In his mind, a quiet promise, a reminder of everything he'd survived—and of her.

Then he heard, "Hey, Dipper!" Logan's voice was bright and insincere as he clapped a hand on Dipper's back, causing him to stumble and drop his books. His heart sank as he watched his blue journal hit the floor with a loud, attention-drawing thud.

The surrounding students turned, some snickering, others staring blankly. Dipper's stomach twisted. Of everything he was carrying, that journal was the last thing he wanted exposed.

Logan loomed behind him, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. "Oh, what's this?" Logan's hand shot out, snatching up the journal with ease. "Whoa, a pine tree? Gotta say, it screams Dipper Pines."

Dipper's hands clenched. "Logan, give it back," he muttered, reaching for the journal.

Logan only laughed, lifting it out of Dipper's reach. "Relax, man! I'm just taking a look. What's this full of, huh? Notes on dumb ghost stuff? You gonna put the class to sleep again?"

A harsh laugh escaped Logan, echoing down the hall. Dipper felt his cheeks flush, a wave of anger and shame mixed with something he couldn't shake—a hollow kind of helplessness. He knew he was different, but did that mean he was meant to feel so alone?

Every experience, every victory from Gravity Falls suddenly felt distant, like a dream slipping away. He'd fought through worlds, stared down unimaginable threats. It's not like anyone in his school could live through that like he did. Yet here, he felt like all of it was… insignificant.

As he bent down, trying to gather his books, the scene around him began to blur. The cool winter air shifted, replaced by the warmth of the spring semester. Decorations for a pep rally lined the walls, and he rose to his feet, looking around at the familiar sight. But something was wrong—the clocks on the wall ticked faster and faster, each second feeling like it was pulling him farther from the things that made him…

him.

He turned down the hall, watching as memories flooded through, seasons shifting out the windows like rapid snapshots of time passing by. The hallway stretched longer, warping as he stared down at it, a feeling of dread creeping over him. He knew where it led.

This was where everything started to fall apart.

It was like he was lifted, floating forward from one end of the hall to another, memories rushing around him. He was at a lunch table, idly passing time between Trigonometry and Environmental Science.

Then he heard Logan's voice again.

"I mean, yeah, I used to like the guy," Logan was saying. "He seemed unique. Weird, but unique." That laugh—casual, dismissive—pierced through him, like nails on a chalkboard.

"But I figured out pretty fast he's just another weird kid, following me around like a lost dog. Obsessed with stuff that doesn't even exist." Logan paused, voice mocking. "Have you seen his journal?" His friends burst out laughing as they passed.

They're just jerks, Dipper thought, don't let them get to you.

But he could feel the tears pressing behind his eyes, clawing for a way out. He blinked, watching a tear slip down, splashing onto the tabletop. Their reflection, a blurred and hazy image. It was like 2 different versions of himself —one looking back in Wendy's hat and that weird flannel he would wear, the other, just a boy of twelve. He couldn't tell anymore what he was, who he was. It was like he was being torn apart by time itself.

He was losing himself, torn in all directions.

His vision was absorbed by the tears, causing the reflection to melt, and the memory shifted. This one was painful and bitter. He was in gym class, standing on a football field. He'd tried to get better at sports, but it never felt right, his "noodle arms" being an easy target for every passing insult.

Logan was their running back, and was given the ball, he ran through the seam so effortlessly. Dippers heart sank as he sped past him, taunting him.

"Looks like you've seen a Ghost again journal boy!" One of the many insults Logan threw in Dippers' direction that game, but this time he snapped.

Logan ran a couple of yards before his flag was pulled. The play should've been over, but Dipper didn't care anymore. He charged at him, tackling him to the ground. The tears dropped on Logans chest as he straddled himself on top of him repeatedly slamming his fists into his face. He was full of frustration, that aching feeling of hopelessness. Absolutely bitter with the world, and this was his way of lashing out against it. Fists flying, each swing carried everything he'd felt—every snicker, every hollow taunt, the endless ache of loneliness.

A moment later, Logan shoved him off with ease, barely exerting effort. Then Logan's fists met his face—one hit, then another, then another. Dipper barely registered the pain as classmates gathered, watching, but doing nothing. He could see Logan's mocking grin through his tear-blurred vision. His fists were a returned invitation of a game, a game full of bitterness and resentment, one that Dipper had no chance of winning.

Logan continued wailing at him as others eventually realized what was going on, rushing over around them to watch the fight unfold. Only several students brave enough tried to try to get Logan off him, although he pushed them away.

Dipper could see it, his tears and blood slightly splattered on Logans face as he laughed at him, mocked him. Weak, tiny, out of place. Those tears and blood reflected the regrets and pain he felt. They were a reminder of how out of place he was in this world, in school, in Piedmont. He was always the outcast, always the one out of place.

I don't belong here, I never did.

The memory blurred, colors washing together, and then he was in the nurse's office, sitting silently as his wounds were treated. The overhead lights buzzed quietly, flickering as the nurse's office began to shift into another memory. He was now standing in the doorway of his room.

Mom and Dad were working late that night. Earlier that week they had been unusually distant from one another. Dipper was positive they had some sort of conversation about the divorce. He couldn't help but notice that his door was slightly cracked open already.

He walked in and noticed something dark on his bed. He flicked on the lights and a dark hoodie was lying on the bed. He wordlessly walked over to it. There was a sticky note on top. He bent down to read the note's scrawled handwriting.

When your world feels like it is falling apart, I'll hold you. No more fights young man! Love, Mom

He stared at the sticky note. He hadn't told his parents the full story. It felt pathetic, explaining it all. But Mabel…she must have told them everything.

He ran his fingers over the hoodie, letting the fabric brush his fingers. He grabbed the ends, so soft, so secure, he thought. In his hands, the gentle weaving of the material beckoned him. He slipped it on and felt it wash over his skin. For once, he felt…

safe.

He took the sticky note off the hoodie and read it to himself one last time, its words burned into his eyes, creating a profound emotional statement, something he didn't know he needed until now.

When your world feels like it is falling apart, I'll hold you.

The tears came like a breaking dam, spilling over. They ran from his eyes effortlessly, like a chaotic stream that had been torn apart, and redirected into unknown waters. He cried into this hoodie, this gift. Even though his life was so uncertain, feeling so fractured, his parents so far from him, Gravity Falls a distant memory, this was a reminder that someone, something would hold him. His parents' support was an anchor he hadn't realized he needed.

Then he felt a warmth pressing into his shoulder. He was back on the bus, Mabel's head resting against him, her drool soaking into his sleeve as the bus rumbled quietly down the road. He glanced at his hoodie, at the words etched in his memory.

When your world feels like it is falling apart, I'll hold you.

But what if Gravity Falls rejected him, what if it wasn't the same? What if he didn't fit in over there either?

Who would hold him then?

Mabel stirred awake, disoriented by her surroundings. She looked down at Waddles, still asleep in her lab. She smiled at his position, curled between her legs. As she moved her head to look at Dipper, he was staring off into the tree lines whizzing by the bus. Such a distant expression, his eyes glued to imagery outside. He looked unnaturally silent, contemplating something, lost in that overactive mind of his. This wasn't completely new to Mabel, as Dipper was usually lost in thought, running around the thoughts that formed in his head. But he was unusually quiet in this moment, intent on just staring out the window.

Mabel couldn't stand seeing Dipper like this. He seemed so unnatural in his own skin. His silent demeanor piercing through her eyes. He looked so lost, so unsure of something. She could sense that something was weighing on him heavily. She wondered to herself, could he be thinking about the same thing as me? Is he scared that it might be different, that it won't be the same?

She tapped his shoulder, with her voice lowered.

"Dipper, is everything okay?" She gently asked him with a concerned plea.

He kept staring out the window, without looking back at her. It made her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach.

"I don't know, Mabel" Dippers voiced silently screamed with uncertainty.

Mabel wasn't sure what to do at this moment, but felt the overwhelming urge, and aching need, to consul her brother. As she looked at him, she noticed how his face was set, like whenever he was deep in thought that summer 2 years ago, reading the journals looking for any kind of clue, any kind of evidence for a mystery to explore.

She giggled a bit. "You have that mystery-solving face right now bro-bro."

Dipper quickly turned to her, embarrassed. "What? I don't make a face when I'm thinking about mysteries. Do I?"

Mabel's lighthearted laugh confirmed his suspicions. He wiped his hand over his face, and breathed out, clearly embarrassed. Her laugh subsided after a moment, and was replaced with a soft, concerned look towards Dipper.

"Dipper." She beckoned him softly, getting his attention. "You can tell me."

Dipper looked at Mabel, slightly taken aback about her proactiveness. He wasn't sure if his problems were worth it, he felt so pathetic just thinking about them. But he figured if Mabel was this adamant about getting him to open up, maybe it wasn't a bad idea.

His mind suddenly sparked back to that summer 2 years ago. He thought of the times he did open up to her, and how they turned out. He had to admit that some of those times didn't really turn out the best. There was he countless times with Wendy, that time when he struggled with his own manliness, even what happened at the end of summer with the rift. Each time, it didn't seem to end well. His confidence started waning until he was taken, practically pulled out of his thoughts by a touch on his shoulder.

It was Mabels hand, gently placed on his shoulder. She looked at him with silence, such a desperate plea. She was trying to reach out, and Dipper couldn't tell if she knew what he was thinking, what slide his thoughts were spiraling down. He looked into her eyes, the way she looked at him, so pleading, so demanding, such an aching need. He started to think about everything else that happened that summer.

Not only how she treated him, but how she apologized to him on countless occasions. Admitting her faults, how hard she was on him, how regretful she felt. The one that seemed to stand out the most was proven by one of the items in his suitcase, that journal. It was a reminder, proof of her reflection, living and breathing proof of her faults, her memories, her love, her falls. She apologized to him, because she loved him, because she loves me.

Dippers mouth had such a subtle smile at this thought that it was so easy to miss. Mabel just sat, staring, waiting. She didn't know what he was doing, she was nervous, scared she did something wrong. But she was reaching out, as nerve wracking as it was, because she wanted to help her brother, she wanted him to be happy, she wanted to make everyone happy. She had always felt like that was her purpose, like she couldn't be happy if everyone else wasn't.

It's my job, she thought.

Dipper broke the silence between them. "Mabel, do you think it would be the same? What if we don't fit in there? What if it's changed? I need to fit in there, because I don't know if I'd…." He trailed off towards the end, uncertain if he should reveal more.

Mabel quietly listened to him as he trailed off, letting him air out the room with his most inner thoughts, his worries, his expectations, all of it. After a couple of moments, she opened her mouth.

"I know what you mean… but part of me thinks it might be better, even if it's a little different."

Dipper listened to Mabel's reply, full of worry and uncertainty. But something about her words seemed to ground him a little bit. They seem to pull him out of the ocean, that is his hyperactive mind.

"It's terrifying" Dipper said curtly.

"I know Dipper, but we get to make new memories, we can meet everyone again! They haven't left, they're there, they have always been there, waiting for us to come back." She paused.

"Isn't that exciting?" She nudged Dipper.

Dipper had to consider Mabel's offer. It was appealing. He missed Gravity Falls and everyone that lived there. Its memories were practically part of the natural hue of his skin at this point, etched in his memory, a reminder of the time he spent while he was there. Something he'll never forget.

He wanted to believe, to dive into what Mabel was saying. It was so appealing, something he wanted, something he needed. But his mind ran in circles. He was scared. They haven't been back in 2 years; things were bound to change. And if his own home, the place that he spent most of his life growing up in, a place full of fond memories and wonderful experiences, could change in a matter of years…

What is to say Gravity Falls as well? This echoed in his mind like the ringing of a gunshot.

Still, he had missed his friends, and even though he was full of that uncertainty, that different interpretation than his sister, Gravity Falls was the only place left. The only place he could really call…

home.

"It is exciting. Every day I think of everyone we met, everything that happened. Wendy, her friends, Soos, Grunkle Stan and Ford. I miss it. I miss Gravity Falls Mabel, I miss….

I miss home…"

Mabel sat in silence. Dipper calling Gravity Falls home was nothing surprising, it was just that she was astounded. Dipper sounded so alone, so lost when he mentioned home. Like he didn't know what home was, what it entailed, what it kept in its halls. And that hurt her, not only because Dipper seemed so obscured in his surroundings about their home, but because she realized what he met.

After everything that had happened the past 2 years with their parents, she realized why Dipper said what he said. Their home, it would never be the same, it would never exist, never to be roamed through again. She could imagine her younger self, running down the halls from her dad as he played tag with her. It was like she was riding a magical railway, moments and memories passing by as they played in the background. Like a wonderland that she could always visit, but never stay.

She felt her eyes swell, tears screaming, fighting, trying to find a way out. She held them back, trying to stay strong. She looked at Dipper.

"I…I miss home too…"

She sat in her seat, looking at the trees whiz by with Dipper. She felt like, finally, for a moment, she understood her brother.

She missed home, and he missed home. They both missed it.

"But…"

She paused, holding on to that optimism, that natural, energetic personality that she always had, pushing through any negative thought or experiences that were thrown at her. She held on to it and spoke to Dipper. Hoping to alleviate his worries. To convince him, to convince herself, that it would all be okay.

"Even if it is different, even if we don't know where home is, we can find it together. We are the Mystery Twins, after all bro-bro. We can do this"

She looked into his eyes, trying to prove her point with the determination that radiated from her pupils. Dipper stared back, seemingly moved by her words, words that grounded his reality. She was always there at the moments he needed most. Always ready with some quippy reply, some stupid saying, or some emotionally meaningful message.

She always knew what I needed. And this thought, made Dipper smile.

"Yeah. We can do this." Dipper pushed his doubtful thoughts away in that dark corner of his mind. He would deal with them later. He pulled up his fist, waiting for her to accept his invitation.

She smiled, bumping her fist at him, as they both pulled their fists away and made silly noises with their tongues.

"Besides, I think there probably is someone who misses you Dipperrrrr." She starts bopping him with her fingers. Implying some deeper, romantic meaning. Dipper laughed, like that could happen.

"What? Mabel who could even…hey stop that!" Even though Dipper protested, she kept going as they both laughed.

"Oh, I know, I've read your journals, I'm onto you, Dipper. I even have these bad boys!" She took her hands, turning them upside down, making too eye holes with her index fingers and thumbs.

"Skepticlesssss."

Dipper rolled his eyes at her, laughing as he shoved her playfully.

"Seriously Mabel, I don't think there is someone in Gravity Falls that would feel that way."

He sat in his seat, content with what he said to his sister, seemingly shooting down her objection. His mind wandered to his blue journal. No, I didn't even write that much in there, he thought. Just notes about anomalies and his own personal theories. Then he thought about Journal 3, all the notes he had. Its thick, degraded ledger resonated in his mind, like he could look at his hands and still vision it resting in them. He had a lot of notes (secret ones too) of all kinds of things he had seen. They were about all their experiences that had taken place during that time, during that life changing summer, about all the people he met, and about…. oh

Oh no…