Chapter 4 | The Warmth We Leave Behind

Lord Huron | Ends of The Earth

Mabel bounced through the hall, nearly skipping as she dashed from room to room, gathering the last of her things. "I can't believe it's finally happening!" she grinned, tugging him along. Dipper followed, but the weight in his chest only grew heavier. Mabel was ready for the adventure, but for him… it felt different. Unsettling.

"Where are Mom and Dad?" he asked.

"They said to meet them downstairs. I'm just gonna check my room one last time!" Mabel dashed off, Waddles waddling after her.

Dipper nodded absently, his feet carrying him toward the stairs. His chest buzzed with unease, his thoughts tangled. The excitement, the uncertainty—everything had been set into motion, and his stomach churned at the reality of it all.

Then, he heard them.

His parents. Their voices, low but weighted. His mom—emotional.

A cold familiarity gripped him. Arguments, whispers, the sharp edge of silence that always followed. Déjà vu, but worse. The house felt suddenly foreign, the air tight. He froze at the top of the stairs, caught between dread and compulsion. He didn't want to hear—

But I have to know.

His feet moved on their own, slow, cautious steps down the carpeted stairs. His hand hovered above the banister, heart thundering. He felt like he was peering over a cliff's edge, knowing he shouldn't jump—knowing he shouldn't look. But he couldn't stop himself. His body wanted—no—needed to know more. To know the why behind everything that lay bare in front of him.

He was shouting into the void of his mind. The more he told himself to stop, his body marched onward. Down to the bottom of the stairs. His hand hovered over the banister, pulse pounding as he leaned forward.

In the sliver of view through the kitchen doorway, he saw them. His mother's eyes, red and puffy, his father's hand resting steady on her shoulder.

Richard's voice was calm but laced with something unspoken: "He's grown up so much. It's time to let him find his own path."

Dipper's throat tightened.

His father continued, his voice low, firm. "I know you're worried, Lauren. I am too. But they need space to figure things out… and so do we."

Lauren's voice cracked. "I know. It's just—everything feels so uncertain. Dipper says he's fine, but I see him, Richard. He wears his heart on his sleeve. And Mabel…" She paused, swallowing thickly. "Mabel bottles things up. She needs me. She needs us."

Richard's hand squeezed hers. "I know. I want more time with them too. But they loved Gravity Falls—probably for good reason. Maybe…" He hesitated. "Maybe it's where they can be themselves. And it gives us space to figure out us."

His voice dropped, heavy but certain. "If anyone deserves to know the truth, it's them."

Lauren's eyes searched his. A silence, weighted and raw, settled between them. Then she gave a small, weary nod.

"Okay," she whispered, wiping her face, steeling herself. "I'll freshen up. Then… we'll talk to them. Together."

Richard managed a chuckle, soft but wry. "A family meeting, huh?"

She swatted his arm lightly. "Don't make it weird."

She turned and walked away, leaving Richard in the kitchen, his expression unreadable.

Dipper's breath hitched. His pulse pounded in his ears. They're…

A sudden panic surged through him—Mabel! She'd be looking for him. And if Dad—

Without thinking, he spun on his heel, racing back up the stairs two at a time. His heart thudded as he reached the top—

And crashed straight into Mabel.

"Oof!" She staggered back, wide-eyed. "Dipper?! What are you—" She stopped, eyes narrowing as she put two and two together. "Wait. Were you—"

"I—" Dipper scrambled for words, his stomach flipping. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop! They were just… talking, and…" He trailed off, his voice tight.

He felt suddenly exposed, like every churned-up thought was on display. His pulse drummed in his ears, and for some reason, he felt… afraid.

But Mabel's eyes softened. She reached out, curling her hand around his. "I know," she said quietly. "You probably heard some things you didn't want to." She squeezed his hand, her voice barely above a whisper. "But we'll be okay. Right? We're Pines. Mystery Twins. We can solve anything. Together."

Dipper's breath faltered. He saw it—the flicker of uncertainty beneath her smile. She wanted to believe that. Needed to. But behind her usual brightness was a question, raw and fragile: Tell me we'll be okay.

His chest tightened—because he didn't know the answer.

But he did know her.

And he knew that they were stronger together than apart.

His father's voice, warm from their game of catch, echoed in his mind:

"Don't forget to look out for your sister, alright? She's got her own sunset to find, too."

Dipper swallowed hard, his own voice shaking but certain.

"Mabel…" He paused, steadying himself. "I don't have all the answers. I don't know what's going to happen. Or why any of this feels so scary…" His voice dropped, raw and real. "But I know this." He squeezed her hand tighter. "We have each other. I have you. You have me. And there's no mystery we can't solve together."

Mabel's lip trembled, and for a moment, her eyes searched his—searching for something real. Something she could hold on to.

And in his eyes, she found it.

Her grip on his hand firmed. The quiver in her smile melted into something warm, something true.

"Mystery Twins?"

Dipper's answer came without hesitation. "Mystery Twins."

Their fingers laced, a knot tied tight.

In the shifting ground beneath their feet, they anchored to the one thing they knew would never change—each other.

Mabel and Dipper sat on the living room couch, waiting. Their dad had called for a final family meeting. This is it, Dipper thought. The bus would arrive in about an hour and a half. They had time. He didn't mind the wait—if anything, he wanted it. Wanted to stretch out these last minutes because leaving felt... heavier than he expected.

Their dad bustled around, double-checking their things. No one had forgotten anything this time. But Dipper, knowing what he knew now, could see it—the weight behind his father's careful smiles. He was savoring the time, holding on before the tide came in and everything changed.

Where had all the time gone?

For once, he almost wished Blendin Blandin would burst through the ceiling, screaming about Globnar. He'd challenge him without hesitation—just for that time wish. Just for one more day. One more dinner table full of laughter and friendly banter. One more night playing Jario Kart with Mabel, laughing until their stomachs hurt.

But those days... they were grains of sand now. He could remember the warmth of them, but he couldn't reach out and hold them. He was fifteen. Fifteen, and those simple joys had faded into nostalgia—a warmth that lived behind glass. Yet, somewhere deep down, he wondered:

Maybe... Gravity Falls could still spark that same wonder.

The soft creak of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. Their mom entered the room, holding something wrapped in a soft cloth. She gave them both a warm, slightly tearful smile.

"I wanted you both to have something to keep us close while you're out there," she said, her voice tender.

She sat beside them and carefully unwrapped the cloth, revealing a framed photo. Dipper's breath caught. It was from their twelfth birthday—Mabel smearing frosting across his face mid-laugh, their dad cracking up in the background, and their mom, smiling with a hand on each of their shoulders. It was chaotic. Messy. Perfect.

Mabel's eyes sparkled. She practically tackled their mom in a hug. But Dipper... Dipper just stared. His fingers brushed the glass, memorizing every detail. He felt like if he blinked, the moment would vanish. His family—whole, warm, together.

"I thought... maybe it'd remind you of home," their mom said softly. She ran her hand through Dipper's hair, a gesture so familiar it ached. "Of where you started, no matter where you go."

Dipper's throat felt tight. "Thanks, Mom," he whispered, his voice barely steady. "I'll keep it safe."

A tear slipped free before he could stop it. And then, they were in a group hug—messy and raw. Arms wrapped tight. Hearts pressed close. Dipper closed his eyes, letting himself feel it all.

The warmth.

The sadness.

The fierce, aching love.

And for a fleeting second, it felt like the old days—like time hadn't slipped through their fingers. The moment would pass. But the photo... the photo would keep it with him. Always.

But... he knew.

This was probably the last time.

The last time they'd be a family like this—together. In this familiar room. In this home.

The air felt like a foreign blanket wrapped around Dipper—comforting in its familiarity, yet bitter with the reminder of what had happened, and what was still to come. He turned to Mabel, who was sitting on the bench at the bus stop, cradling Waddles on her lap. His gaze softened as he took in his sister, trying to read her expression, to catch a glimpse of what she was feeling.

~~Start song here~~

She wore her custom sweater, its sequins sparkling in the sunlight and amplifying her presence, as if her brightness needed any help. Her hair had grown curlier at the ends, tumbling down her back. She cradled Waddles, brushing his fur with those gentle strokes that always seemed to calm her. This was Mabel's happy place, her quiet space—the one she leaned on, comforted and protected by the pet who had been with her through so much. The smile she wore while gazing at Waddles was pure, filled with contentment and care.

The absence of her braces only highlighted her features, making her shine even brighter, like a comet streaking across the sky. But beneath that glow, her face was set—calm yet troubled. The family meeting weighed heavily on her, he could see it in her eyes, like faint shadows under a clear surface. Their parents' words had left them both unsettled, feeling as if they were drifting towards an unknown future, unsure and barren.

It scared her.

And it scared him.

They sat in a comfortable, yet unsure silence. What could they think after all, their lives were steering in directions they both had never really thought about. They seemed like such a happy family only a couple years ago, but now reality was starting to show its bitterness. That gentle flow of time, back when they were young and didn't know any better, didn't know that things were already changing without them realizing it. An old problem from a majestic machine, slowly making its way to the surface, altering everything it touched. They could laugh and enjoy each other's company, but it was different now. The presence of that company, it was distorted, heavy. It wasn't the same—it never would be the same.

Dipper looked at the sky. He could feel it already, the stuff he left behind. It was so empty, but he knew that soon this emptiness would be filled, filled with something new. He didn't know if it would be good or bad, but it would be different, something entirely foreign, or

something familiar.

That was something he thought about, familiarity. His life used to be full of it. A familiar family, familiar feelings and experiences. But that flew out the window when it became more obvious, when he became more aware of what was happening with his parents. It wasn't the same anymore, but there was one place left where he had a hazy sense of familiarity.

Gravity Falls.

The bus slowly rolled to a stop in front of him and Mabel, prompting both to stand up. They looked at each other with a gleam of excitement in their eyes. But there was something hiding there, like a shadow in the corner of the room.

Will it be the same?

They boarded the bus without any trouble—Waddles included. The driver's eyes widened when he saw them, visibly stiffening as Mabel flashed their tickets. He must have remembered the brass knuckles and laser guns from last time. Seriously, he's still driving the same route?

As Dipper and Mabel walked down the aisle of the bus, it was an outer worldly experience. Like a walkway in the middle of a show, but as they walked, familiar scenes and memories played in the background on the other seats. Reminders of what happened, that it was real.

This was something Dipper had struggled with back in Piedmont. His sense of self had started to blur, and the memories of Gravity Falls felt like the only threads that kept him grounded, making him feel like…him. Home filled his days with routines, with monotonous tasks and empty promises. It didn't feel the same. Sometimes, that summer felt like a distant dream. He remembered the sky splitting open, the frantic race from freezing beams, all that suffering and pain, that gut-wrenching feeling of being helplessly alone. Those moments, intense and relentless, had defined him. He'd pushed through them, faced impossible odds, just like a hero. Pausing in the aisle, he rested his hands on the backs of the seats.

Isn't that what he wanted?

These days he couldn't really tell anymore. What did he want? What would he become? What would happen? Maybe this is what dad meant?

"Uhm earth to Dipper?" Mabel touched his shoulder multiple times. He turned and looked at her with a distant expression, causing her to worry.

He noticed that he was holding up the line, even though it was just him and Mabel, and sat down in the seat nearest to him.

"Sorry. It's just a lot to take in, now that were going back..."

Mabel sat next to him, worry etched on her face. She wanted him to believe, to feel safe in his own skin, assured that they were driving into the right direction.

"I know, but we have to stay positive Dipper! We're finally going back, and we can see Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford. Haven't you missed the shack?"

Whatever blind enthusiasm that Mabel was projecting seemed to invoke vivid memories in Dippers mind. It got the ball rolling, causing him to think about that summer from two years ago. Those precious feelings that came from being in the mystery shack, doing whatever he could to keep himself busy when we wasn't uncovering the mysteries of Gravity Falls. Her words became infectious. He found himself moving in his seat a little bit, trying to contain whatever amount of anticipation he had left in his thoughts.

"Yeah…I did. And when I get back, I'm immediately going down into the lab! Me and Ford have so much to talk about!"

Mabel smiled at his excitement. "Woah woah woah bro-bro, we have to say hi to everyone first and then go have a celebratory dinner!" She wrapped her left arm around Dippers shoulder and waved her hand in the air, like some grand gesture.

"That….doesn't sound too bad." Dipper chuckled to himself and then smiled.

"I'd like that."

In that moment, Mabel's infectious words as she rambled on about their return wrapped around him like graceful promises. Full of reassurance, backed up with memories of simpler times, things to do, things to relive. He thought to himself as he smiled at his sisters' antics, thinking about Gravity Falls…

I missed it.

With one final glance, he turned around to glance out the back window of the bus as it arched forward with purpose. He saw his house far in the distance, as if it was a fleeting memory, a final goodbye of whatever threads that were a part of him. It was a departure from a place he used to know, like a familiar stranger, one who he would see every day, but couldn't recognize. His house, the place he called home, full of things that shaped him, that built him up and broke him down, was now shrinking into a memory. As he gazed at it, he turned forward with a sense of purpose.

The road ahead of him was laced with uncertain experiences, forgotten emotions, bottled up regrets. Full of potholes, holes that were filled with ambiguity, blurred with water that looked so deep, it was like a sunken void, a black abyss that could sap your strength. And despite all of this, it was full of something else, something lighter. The promise of a new adventure, whatever that would entail. He remembered his father's words, so careful and firm.

Even if it feels scary, don't stop searching. That's the only way to know what's out there.

He smiled as his head was void of almost all thought except one echoing sentence.

I have to keep searching, even if I don't know what I'll find