Archive of Our Own

“Wow! That’s a killer bruise!”

Dipper feels the ache of injury on his cheek when he awakens, but it isn’t until Mabel grabs him by the shoulder and drags him to their bedroom mirror that he sees his face looks like he just lost a fight. His cheek is a dark purple color, and he hisses at the sight of it, even more so when he prods it with his finger.

“I wasn’t. . .” He struggles to find the words.

Everyone already thinks he’s a bit pathetic when it comes to their squad. The Pines family is the only real threat to Bill Cipher’s power, and Dipper isn’t going to let his weakness keep his family from defeating the monster ruining Gravity Falls.

Ford has worked too hard to take Cipher down, and his pitiful little nephew will not cause their downfall. Dipper would die before letting that happen.

Just thinking about the number of people hurt or tortured since Cipher took power makes Dipper shudder. Ford always tells them that Cipher isn’t to be trusted, every word from his mouth is a lie.

(He forces away the flush to his cheeks as he thinks of the face on the wanted posters, the smoldering eye and arrogant smirk.)

The bruise on his face stings.

He doesn’t exactly want to admit he spent more of the recent fight hiding behind Stan and Ford than actually fighting, so he doesn’t know where the bruises could have come from except for his fated other half.

Mabel, of course, knows exactly what he means without him having to say anything. She voices the enthusiasm he can’t dare to feel, not yet. “You met your soulmate!” She pauses, then perks up again. “Or at least, you saw your soulmate.”

He taps his fingers on his cheek, shivering at the sting. It’s pleasant. If it means what he thinks it means. What he wants it to mean. “I would have felt something, right? I don’t think I noticed anything different.”

“It’s supposed to be one of the biggest moments of your life! Of course you wouldn’t notice anything romantic like that!”

Dipper rolls his eyes. “Excuse me for being preoccupied with the mission!”

"The mission," she mocks, not unkindly. “Who did you make eye contact with last night?”

“Just one of Cipher’s guards, I think?” He tries to remember everything from the reconnaissance mission, but he’d been anxious, worried he’d mess up and get them all caught. Any mistakes will cost them the element of surprise on the day they plan to attack, and he’d been so, so nervous the night before, sweating profusely as he glanced around and tried to take in and memorize the building’s layout.

He'd seen a few guards, stared into the soft amber gaze of someone who watched as he stumbled about, who helped him stand when he’d tripped and nearly blown their cover. The guard had been kind, had done nothing to signal to Cipher that Dipper was there, letting Dipper scamper off at Ford’s signal.

His touch had been electric, his voice like a siren's call, but Dipper assumed those thoughts were because he’s been cooped inside the Mystery Shack and hasn’t seen anyone other than family in so long. Being attracted because someone is nice to him isn’t unusual for Dipper, unfortunately.

Had that guard been Dipper’s soulmate? Had his soulmate felt the immediate bond between them? Had they forged a connection Dipper hadn’t even realized?

“At least you’re the Receiver!” Mabel ruffles his hair, as though the centimeter of height difference (and five minutes of age difference, five) she has on him is enough to justify her babying. “You’re so clumsy it’s probably better you aren’t the Bearer.”

“Hey!” Dipper swats her hand away, sticking out his tongue.

Dipper, as the Receiver, will feel all of his soulmate's physical pain, along with his own. And his soulmate, though pain-free, will experience Dipper's negative emotions.

The idea of having a soulmate, someone who would love him despite his faults, who would always be there, who would always favor Dipper over anyone else. . .

Mabel has always romanticized the idea of soulmates, and Dipper has hidden the fact that he feels the same way. After his preteen crush on Wendy didn’t pan out like he’d hoped—though, to be fair, getting trapped in the apocalyptic-type world Cipher has forced them into definitely puts a damper on any budding relationship that could have formed if Dipper hadn’t already been a weird and socially awkward kid to begin with—he’s been guarded about his feelings.

Especially now, with Cipher in power and the threat of destruction imminent, he is secretive about his thoughts, pretends romance is not important to him—not like science, and research, and learning; because he’s supposed to be the studious nerd and Mabel is supposed to be the romantic—but he's longed for the promise of forever, of a person who would love him despite his anxieties and failures.

He appreciates being the Receiver, the one who takes pain from his soulmate. He doesn’t like the idea of causing someone else pain. Being able to take away someone else’s pain means he’s useful to his soulmate.

He means something.

His soulmate is probably on the receiving end of a lot of anxiety, though. It’s said that being the Receiver is the worse end of the soulmate deal, since receiving a soulmate’s physical pain is supposedly worse than the Bearer feeling a soulmate’s emotions. He isn’t sure what he believes.

Dipper has had a pretty sheltered life, though, so he isn’t worried for his soulmate. Whoever is experiencing Dipper’s nervousness might already feel the same worries. Bill Cipher’s reign of terror will be ending soon, if the Pines family has anything to say about it, and a lot of Dipper’s anxieties will be then alleviated. His soulmate is in for a ride.

“I wish I could meet my soulmate already,” Mabel says wistfully. “I bet he’d be the Receiver because he’d want to take all my pain away!”

All it takes is eye contact, and soulmates become bonded, and pain and emotions resonate.

“I hope so, too.” Dipper doesn’t want Mabel experiencing anyone else’s pain. She already gives so much of herself every time she thinks she’s found the someone who could be her soulmate. She’s too personable for her own good.

“Aw, thanks, bro!”

And then, because the thought took this long to come to him, “Wait, does this mean my soulmate supports Cipher?”

Mabel elbows him, but she looks sympathetic. “Maybe they’re a double agent!”

Dipper thinks of the man with the amber eye, towering over him, his gloved hands a bit rough in his actions but somehow so soft, as well, as he held onto Dipper for a little longer than necessary, his thumb tracing Dipper’s wrist. He blushes.

Mabel smirks at the expression on her brother’s face, and he blushes even harder. Why is he so obvious?

“We’ll probably just tase them,” she declares. “Nothing permanent.”

“Thanks.” Tasing his soulmate is still going to hurt. And Dipper’s always been easy to bruise—even when he and Mabel get into the same fights and Mabel is the one jumping headfirst into a situation, Dipper is the one who comes back looking mauled. Hopefully he won’t be in the middle of something important when Mabel decides to fight his soulmate.

“Anyway! You know how Cipher is looking for his soulmate, too?”

“How could I forget?” Ford has been torn about finding Cipher’s soulmate and killing her. It would help the cause if Cipher were to drop dead, but it would be an innocent life lost, supposedly for the greater good. “Did you hear something?”

Mabel lowers her voice like they might be overheard. “Grunkle Ford thinks Cipher might be the Receiver, since he’s so adamant on finding his soulmate. So our backup plan is going to involve making him think we found her already.”

“I don’t think either of us are good enough liars for that.”

“Speak for yourself, bro!” Dipper gives her a flat look, since she just teased him for blushing so easily while being the person who turns bright red as soon as a potential soulmate looks in her direction. She makes a face. “Fine. Grunkle Stan wants to give us a crash course on lying. Just to be sure!”

Stan and Ford became their guardians after the first wave of Cipher’s army decimated the town and killed Dipper’s parents. It makes the stakes that much higher, to defeat Cipher at last. Ending his reign would be more than helping society. On a personal level it is hurting the monster who destroyed their family, their home.

“Shouldn’t they be teaching us the opposite?”

“Pshh! They’re teaching us the important skills! But how crazy would that be, to find out you’re Cipher’s soulmate!”

“I’d rather die,” Dipper says, in complete honesty. Cipher could never love anyone, even his poor soulmate. “But there’s no way Cipher knows he’s the Receiver unless he’s met her already.”

“Well, there’s no way he’s looking for her because he’s a romantic, Mr. Was-I-Supposed-to-Feel-Something-When-I-Saw-My-Soulmate! Now hurry up and put some pants on!” He squawks, tugging his shirt lower as though Mabel cares about seeing his legs. “We have some lying to learn!”

He thinks of the amber eye of his soulmate again, his stomach churning in a mix of nerves and excitement. He could meet his soulmate. They’re going to capture Cipher, free Gravity Falls, and find Dipper’s soulmate.

He feels a burst of hope he hasn’t felt in a long time.

As if the universe has heard his thoughts, he feels a burning sensation on his right wrist, the sting of a rusted blade slicing through layers of soft skin, and he stares down at his previously unmarred flesh.

A perfect triangle bleeds red.

Oh. Dipper bites his lip, hard. His soulmate wants to talk to him. He pictures the golden eye, a soldier forced to fight for an abuser, a dictator, a tormenter. Dipper stares, and smaller symbols appear underneath. A cipher. He glances at Mabel through the mirror, sees her scurrying through the room to find clothes for him to wear for ‘lying lessons.’

Tonight? he translates, quickly. It’s in Cipher’s language, and Dipper feels a bit ashamed for knowing it. The good Gravity Falls citizens, who don’t side with Cipher, refuse to learn it. He hides his wrist with his hand, thumb stroking the new injury, and Mabel thankfully doesn’t notice, busy tugging pants from his dresser drawers.

“Hurry up, Dipper!”

His wrist burns. His soulmate is under so much pressure, hiding from Cipher while trying to meet Dipper. If tonight is the best time to meet, then he needs to act. He and his family are going to save Gravity Falls, and Dipper is going to save his soulmate.

Tonight.

Tonight ends up coming very slowly, with how bad the lying lessons go.

But sneaking away from his family to meet his potential future lover is simultaneously very difficult and startlingly easy.

He waits until everyone is asleep, ignoring the fatigue overcoming his body—maybe he should’ve tried to take a nap instead of fantasizing about what it would mean to officially meet his soulmate, what it would mean to sweep him off his feet (Dipper was not taller and buffer in his imagination, of course not)—to sneak out using the roof near the attic window.

His legs are a bit wobbly when he lands on the grass, and he wonders if his soulmate can feel his anxiety. He’s nervous at baseline, but he likes to think it’s manageable. It’s never like this.

The fantasies of finding and saving his soulmate are probably making things worse.

He’s memorized the layout of Cipher’s Fearamid, since that was his assignment, but is he putting their plan at risk by heading there early?

His soulmate will protect him, right?

Dread begins to build in Dipper’s stomach, the closer he gets to the Fearamid, the more the center of town comes into view. Leaves crunch under his feet. Soldiers stomp on patrol around them, a rhythm Dipper has trained himself to hear and ignore unless necessary. He sees the destruction Cipher has left in his wake, the destroyed homes, the bodies. The air smells stale yet rancid, of decay and blood and abandonment.

Cipher has ruined Gravity Falls, and Dipper is so self-interested he can’t stop thinking about what he’s doing.

What if his soulmate is disappointed? What if his soulmate actually supports Cipher’s plots? What if his soulmate hadn’t realized Dipper is a Pines?

He swallows. There are so many things he didn’t think about, why didn’t he think about them, how did he think this was a good idea?

As the Fearamid begins to appear larger and larger, Dipper’s worrying thoughts become all-consuming. This was a terrible idea. He hadn’t even told Mabel he was leaving. What if he gets caught and Cipher kills his soulmate? What if he gets caught and it ruins the Pines plan to save humanity?

Dipper is a Pines, he needs to be more responsible. He shouldn’t—

His arm begins to sting, lower than the previous message. Holding his breath, Dipper tugs at his sleeve, heart pounding fast and loud in his chest.

Throne room.

Dipper swallows his nerves, steels himself for this meeting. He’s waited years to meet his soulmate. He’s already here. It would make sense to continue. That’s the logical step to take when he’s come this far.

What if his soulmate ends up in trouble? What if his soulmate could help them defeat Cipher? What if having this man’s support can give the Pines family the intel they need to win in their war?

He hopes the slight alleviation of his anxieties is answer enough for his soulmate.

He carries on.

And, unexpectedly, making it to the throne room is easier than sneaking out of the Mystery Shack had been.

His soulmate has kept most of the guards away, he assumes, since no one has stopped him since entering the Fearamid. No one is patrolling or stopping Dipper as he makes his way through dark hallways, as he turns corners on a path he shouldn’t know this well.

The door stands tall and menacing, a cipher locking it shut. Dipper’s hands tremble. This is it.

He takes out the small blade Stan gifted him to protect himself, one he’s never had to use until now. He’s not skilled at fighting, but just in case things don’t go smoothly and someone breaks in when he’s talking to his soulmate, he needs to be prepared.

He stares at the cipher, a wheel with symbols from the language the people of Gravity Falls refuse to learn. Dipper knows it, though, knows it enough to easily decode the writing on his body, the messages his soulmate is leaving for him.

His arm stings again—hopefully they can come up with a new method of communication that doesn’t involve self-mutilation transference through a soulmate bond—and this time, all it says is Pine Tree.

“Weird,” he mumbles under his breath, pinching himself to ensure he isn’t dreaming.

He’s really in Cipher’s Fearamid, breaking into the throne room, to meet a guard that may just be the love of his life.

He turns the wheel back and forth, slow to ensure it is correct as he spells out the phrase. With each symbol his heartrate picks up, and he can’t keep his palms dry from how sweaty and nervous he is becoming. As he settles on the last letter, he hears a soft click.

This is it.

“Now or never, Dipper,” he tells himself, swallowing. “That’s your soulmate in there.”

His soulmate.

Tightening his grip on the knife, he holds his breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and pushes open the door.

“Welcome!”

His eyes shoot open. His voice. . .

“Cipher?” He stumbles on the name, messing up the pronunciation of the end of it. As though everyone doesn’t know how to say the name of the dictator holding them all captive within their own town.

“Nervous, Pine Tree?” Bill Cipher sounds and looks positively delighted.

“Of course not,” he bluffs, refusing to drag his eyes away from Cipher, in case he’s planning something. The knife in his hand almost falls.

Cipher is even more intimidating in person, all height and angles, his black and yellow suit tight against him in all the right places. He commands respect even from a distance. The air feels tight, demands the submission of his subjects. Dipper’s knees buckle at the sight of him.

He's seen pictures of Cipher before, but pictures don’t do this man justice. Blonde hair and a long, pointed nose, his dark face chiseled in the most handsome of ways, tattoos of eyes down his neck and all over his body. He’s always watching, after all. Always watching.

Dipper swallows. Only one of his eyes is visible, bright gold like judgement fire and ever so beautiful, framed by long lashes.

Dipper is so insignificant in comparison. Cipher is intimidating, attractive. He's everything Dipper likes in a person, and Cipher knows it, probably uses it to draw in his victims, to lure in the silly, naïve little Dippers of the world, to hurt people.

The top of his head maybe reaches Cipher’s chin, and though Cipher is leaner, Dipper’s weight isn’t from muscle. Maybe he’s just full of idiocy. He’s full of stupid ideas, too, choosing to break into Cipher’s throne room instead of staying home and practicing his lying like he was supposed to do. Cipher heads a demon army that took over Gravity Falls in one cruel movement, and what has Dipper done in his whole lifetime?

His cheeks flush pink, and he looks away from Cipher, brandishing his knife in a way he hopes seems threatening. “We have you surrounded, Cipher. It’s over.”

“You don’t seem so sure.” Cipher laughs, mocks.

His laugh gives Dipper chills.

He's drawn to Cipher, whether he wants to admit it or not. No one has attracted him so quickly before, and it’s humiliating. Dipper tries to shake the attraction from his head—Now is not the time! And he has a soulmate he’s supposed to find!—and Cipher grins.

“Embarrassed?”

“No!” he insists, too quickly.

(He really should have practiced his lying more.)

He’s not confident, not in the slightest. His soulmate probably feels his unease, the unsteady beat of his heart as he tries to build up the necessary façade to trick Cipher. He needs to distract Cipher long enough for Ford and the others to realize he’s gone exploring the Fearamid alone and needs help. Dipper knows he shouldn’t have run off, but now Cipher isn’t going after his family, at least.

Perhaps they should have factored in Dipper’s stupidity when crafting their plan.

But they couldn’t have foreseen Dipper running off on his own because of his curiosity. His only hope is that Mabel will have recognized it, since she would do the same thing.

They are twins, after all. Mabel almost always knows what he’s thinking.

She couldn’t have predicted that this would be a trap set by Cipher, but she'll figure it out.

“Call me Bill, little Pine. Cipher is so formal.” His golden eye gleams, and Dipper feels his heart rate sputter and increase. He tells himself to calm down. His poor soulmate. “You can call me that another time.”

“I. . .”

Cipher’s gloved hand is so gentle on Dipper’s cheek, brushing back stray strands of hair, lingering in Dipper’s curls softly, carefully. Dipper sighs, unwittingly leaning into the touch. When he realizes what he’s doing, he pulls himself back. His soulmate must think he’s a wreck.

Hopefully it’ll seem more charming than it really is, that truthfully it’s only that Dipper is such a mess.

“Bill, then.” He scowls, hopes he looks threatening even has his heart races so fast in his chest he’s sure Bill can hear it. “It’s over.”

“Not yet!” Bill gestures at the doorway. “You had to solve my cipher to get in here. That’s interesting.”

Dipper’s been deciphering codes since he first visited Gravity Falls as a child. He’s found them fascinating, studying Ford’s journals late into the night, just so he could feel like he was part of the action. When Bill first overtook Gravity Falls, all Dipper wanted to do was help his grunkles take him down. His experience with Ford’s journals wasn’t enough, though.

Despite himself, despite the fact that he knows Bill is lying just to taunt him, Dipper feels a flush of pride. “Well, yes. It was based on your personal alphabet.”

Bill looks horribly pleased, and Dipper suddenly wishes he hadn’t said anything, though his heart is pound pound pounding. “You studied my language?”

He really shouldn’t have said anything.

Ford warned him learning Cipher’s alphabet would be a ridiculous foray, that it wasn’t worth understanding, and now he really wishes he hadn’t said anything. He’d been so quick to translate the cipher on his wrist, too. So eager. So desperate. “No. . .”

The smug look on Bill’s face is enough that Dipper wishes he could take back all his words. “And here I thought all you Gravity Falls plebians were too dumb to understand civilized language!” His laugh makes Dipper’s bones rattle. His cuts from his soulmate’s words ache. “You all insisted you couldn’t learn it even when my armies mandated it in your pathetic schools!”

“We’re not dumb!”

“Stupid, then!”

“Choosing not to learn something of yours means we’re smart enough to choose the winning side.”

Bill narrows his eye. “You’re staying ignorant to the inevitable.”

“You’re clinging to a dream we’re going to take from you.”

“You’re clinging to an impossible reality.”

“You’re trying to maintain control over innocent people. And my family and I? We’re going to defeat you.”

“You can try.” This all seems horribly amusing to him, but it’s something that keeps Dipper up at night and wakes him up every morning. “But something made you want to study me, Pine Tree.”

“Shut up!”

“Maybe I don’t want to do that.” His voice softens, his eye appraising Dipper in a way that makes him feel too exposed. He’s a weak little butterfly, a fragile little specimen pinned to a corkboard, Bill’s judging eye exposing his every secret, peeling back every layer of his failures until nothing is left. “You’re fascinated by me.” Dipper swallows, and Bill paces, glows with pride. It's true and untrue. Dipper's always been a little curious, and meeting Bill now and verbally sparring with him so easily. . . “You aren’t the first. I am captivating.”

He tracks Bill’s movements the best he can, trying not to rise to the baited words. He knows Ford was once a devout study of Bill Cipher, but it only serves to help the cause now. Dipper’s temporary insanity will do the same.

And then he says something that knocks Dipper from his own thoughts: “You might have heard that I’m searching for my soulmate.”

“Why?” Dipper keeps his knife raised, but he’s not gripping it as tightly, his arm isn’t extended as far. “Don’t want to start feeling someone else’s pain?”

“Oh, I’m not the Receiver.” His smile looks menacing, and something churns in Dipper’s stomach. He can’t look away, can’t ignore the small suspicious thought bubbling in the recesses of his mind. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

“How would you know?” This will make enacting Ford’s backup plan a little difficult. At least they won’t have to sacrifice an innocent person. “You can’t know if you’re the Bearer or Receiver until you meet.”

“You don’t think the supreme overlord of Gravity Falls would know a thing or two about his soulmate?”

“You can’t know everything,” Dipper scoffs.

“What a strange thing to say to your ruler, Pine Tree.”

“You are no one's ruler. Why are you still looking for her?”

Bill raises an eyebrow, and his smile stretches wide. Sharp. Entertained. He’s laughing at Dipper, and Dipper doesn’t like being the joke. “Maybe I’m a romantic.”

Dipper rolls his eyes. It feels like Bill is mocking him, though there’s no way that Bill knows how much Dipper has idealized the meeting of his soulmate. Does Bill know that Dipper’s soulmate is one of his guards? Will he have that guard killed to negate Dipper as a threat?

“You’re not a romantic. You’re worried your soulmate will kill themselves to get rid of you.”

“Now, Pine Tree, that just isn’t true! Who would kill themselves once they realize they’re the soulmate of Bill Cipher?”

“I can think of a few people.”

He didn’t realize Bill was getting so close to him, but they’re centimeters apart now, and Dipper has to look upward to stare at Bill’s eye. It’s an unusual feeling, being this close to the man destroying their world.

“Are you one of them?”

He’s drawn to Bill, his presence magnetic, and Dipper feels his body tremble as Bill gets closer.

“Y-yes,” he manages to say, but his emotions are wild. His heartbeat is uncontrollable. His soulmate is probably confused about what these feelings could mean. Dipper isn’t sure he knows, either.

“Pity.” Bill brings a gloved hand to Dipper’s cheek, the other grabbing Dipper’s wrist so his knife is rendered useless. “I’d like if you felt differently, Pine Tree.”

“Well I—”

And then Bill is kissing him.

Bill is kissing him.

He hates Bill, he hates him more intensely than he’s ever felt anything before, and yet he’s drawn to Bill, feels the urge to press harder against him, as their lips smash together, messily, beautifully. Perfectly. Bill’s hands are harsh, rough, the grip bruising on Dipper’s skin—at least he doesn’t have to worry about his soulmate receiving any of his own physical injuries—and his teeth tug at Dipper’s bottom lip.

Bill's teeth are sharp, pressing into the soft flesh of Dipper's lips, and their mouths clash, and it hurts, but it feels wonderful, their mouths forced against each other with such intensity. Dipper's heart pounds heavy in his chest, and heat builds and builds and builds in him, his hands clenching Bill's jacket to keep him grounded.

The taste of his own blood on his lips jolts him back to reality, but instead of pulling away, they press against each other more.

Their kiss intensifies, and Dipper feels light-headed.

His vision blurs a little as he pulls back from Bill, disgusted with himself and yet attracted, unable to ignore the pull of desire enticing him to the king he's meant to help assassinate. There’s a sting as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, the bitter taste of metal from his own blood. He shivers.

Bill pulls Dipper’s knife free from his hand in Dipper’s distraction, prying his fingers away and bruising him, and Dipper can’t bring his foggy mind to care.

He feels like he was made to be in Bill’s arms. The thought horrifies him, excites him. He tries to speak, but his mind is racing.

“B-Bill—”

“It’s funny how dumb you are!”

He stands there, dumbly, his lips burning from the feeling of having such a powerful force pressed against them. Bill is grinning at him, so proud of their kiss, and Dipper can’t even react.

And then. . .

“Maybe I love”—mocking, degrading, that word doesn’t belong in Bill Cipher’s mouth; what could Bill possibly love when he’s Bill Cipher—“your stupid.” Bill brandishes the knife. “Little.” He presses it to his left wrist. “Meatsack.” He drags the blade across his skin.

I love your stupid little meatsack. I love you. I am your soulmate. I am yours. You are mine.

There’s a glitch in time, where nothing seems to happen and Dipper’s breath remains caught in his throat. And then he feels the burning of his skin being sliced open.

Oh.

Oh.

He's sick, the burn of bile in his throat. His hopeful thoughts, his (stupid, pathetic, idiotic) dreams of having someone love him, everything drops to the pit of his stomach. All he can feel is the blood pounding in his head, his wrist and his lips throbbing with blood and heat and, oh, he wants Bill’s hands back on him.

It's insanity. What he’s feeling is insanity.

He chokes out the word: "No. . ."

“Yes!”

The universe is playing a trick on him, like he’s being punished for his naïveté, his hope to love someone so strongly, his hope to be loved in return. Bill Cipher could never love him. The twin triangles on his wrists are laughing at him. Their conversation was meant to tease Dipper's mind, taunt him with wit and throw him to the dirt. The ciphers were just breadcrumbs to drag a starving, lonely, idiot to Bill’s clutches.

And Dipper is already weak to his body’s attraction to Bill, he should have recognized it for what it was immediately, when their lips connected, when even the sting of Bill’s sharp teeth at his lips felt amazing.

“Guess I’m not on the lookout for my soulmate after all!” He waves Dipper’s knife around in the air. The blood on its tip glimmers to taunt him.

He wants to vomit.

“You brought him to me on a silver platter!” His look of mirth fades quickly into something more calculating. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

Dipper doesn’t know if it would have been better to hide in the Shack, to live in his false bubble of belief that maybe his soulmate was just a misunderstood guard. Mabel would have kept talking about the possibility of who his soulmate could have been, and they both could have romanticized a happy ending.

A lie.

The Pines family would save Gravity Falls from the horror of Bill Cipher, the guard would admit to being forced under Bill’s control, and he would have loved Dipper, unconditionally.

A lie.

“No,” Dipper whispers to himself. He shouldn’t have come.

But he had come. He—

“I can feel your disappointment, Pine Tree, and I don’t like it.”

Somehow that makes everything worse. How could he have forgotten? Bill has endured every conflicted emotion he’s felt since he recognized the triangle cut into his wrist for what it was—and chose to ignore it. His face feels uncontrollably warm, and Bill just keeps laughing about it.

“Who could be disappointed to be the soulmate of Bill Cipher!”

“Sorry your soulmate’s feelings are based on being tied to an abusive dictator.”

Bill laughs. There's something in his gaze. “Now, don’t be embarrassed! I like feeling your little life dilemmas, your anxieties, your twisted little thoughts. I knew something was off when I started feeling anxious looking at you stumbling around my pyramid.”

His eyes sting. He needs to get out of here, needs to breathe.

“If you knew, why didn’t you capture m—your soulmate then?”

Bill grins then, and Dipper backs away, glancing around for his best means of escape. There’s only one door, and he knows by now it’s guarded. His heart is racing and he knows Bill can feel it, but maybe—

“I knew you’d come back.”

His legs are frozen. “Did you?”

“My soulmate would come back for me, naturally.” Bill looks at the knife in his hands like it’s nothing but a toy. “The soul resonating with mine would be too curious to stay away. The possibility of an answer would get the better of you.”

“Once someone meets you, you know they’d do anything to stay away.”

There’s a pause, and then Bill laughs, loud and resonating.

He just needs to make a run for it. He’ll confess everything to Mabel and they’ll talk to their grunkles together. They’ll have the weapon they needed against Bill, they’ll put an end to Bill’s madness and power.

“Do you want to stay away?”

Dipper bites his lip, flinching at the sting when he remembers his lip is bleeding. Because of Bill’s teeth. Their kiss. Their kiss. He wants, he craves—

"I don't want you to stay away."

“Is that a confession?”

Bill doesn't seem sure, himself. That makes Dipper pause as well. "Whatever you want it to—"

“Get out of the way!”

Dipper spins around quickly, barely able to exhale as he sees Ford raising his gun and aiming at Bill. His heart nearly stops.

“Wait!”

“Dipper, get behind your sister!”

“Grunkle Ford!” No no no! “Don’t!”

“Move!”

“No!” His heart doesn’t even feel like it’s beating, it’s going so fast and Dipper can’t breathe. “Wai—”

Bang!

Dipper hears the gun fire, and at first, everything is still. It’s quiet. Maybe? His heart beats beats beats. Maybe nothing happened? The shot missed?

Then he feels blinding, encompassing pain.

He thinks he screams, but he doesn’t hear it.

His hands burn, and he doesn’t think he can command them to cover the side of his abdomen, the aching, fiery pain clawing its way through him.

His legs are numb, and he falls to his knees, clutching the wound, the blood gushing between his fingers. There’s a ringing in his ears that won’t go away, the only sound he can hear other than the white noise of Bill Cipher’s horrible, horrible laugh.

“Too stunned to speak, Pines family?” Bill laughs even louder. “I know, I couldn’t bear the news either. But I’m quite the catch of a soulmate. The commander of Gravity Falls and the family of the rebellion? A love story for the mindless Gravity Falls drones to read as a bedtime story for generations to come.”

“Dipper isn’t. . .” The hurt in Ford’s eyes, the betrayal, makes Dipper wish he hadn’t looked to see his family’s reactions.

He didn’t choose his soulmate, but he should have figured it out sooner, should have told them once he knew, so they could have avoided a situation like this.

“Sixer, your stupidity is showing!” Bill plays with the knife in his hands, using it to scratch lightly at his fingers. “I can feel all the anxieties you’ve given the kid. He lucked out in the soulmate department with the best Bearer he could dream of having, and you’re making him wish he could change his true love?”

His voice is mocking, and Dipper feels even worse. How could he have ever believed the universe would give him a soulmate who would love him?

“He came here since he was pining for me,” Bill says, like this whole thing is some kind of joke. Dipper thinks he might pass out. “Give me my Receiver, and I’ll let you all go.”

“Cipher!” Ford’s gun remains ready. His shaking hands betray him.

“You’re nuts if you think you’re keeping the kid!” Stan exclaims, poising a weapon he will never fire. His hands are clearly shaking, too. Stan loves Dipper and Mabel too much to ever do anything to hurt them. Shooting Bill means hurting Dipper. They’re stuck.

Bill is invincible, and he knows it.

If Dipper had been worried about disappointing his soulmate, he was wrong. Bill lucked out in getting the one soulmate his enemies won’t kill.

“Pine Tree is my other half.” The way he sneers the words makes Dipper nauseous, and he wants to block Bill’s voice from his head, wants to pretend he’d never laid eyes on Bill Cipher. “You know what that means, don’t you, Pines family?”

They know. They know they know they know, and stupid Bill won’t shut up for one second, and—

Dipper screams. He feels his skin tearing from his wrist up his arm, blood pouring from the wound and dropping to the floor.

His vision is hazy as he drags his eyes up to look at Bill.

“All my injuries are his.”

Stop it, he wants to say, but his words are caught in his throat.

Bill waves Dipper’s stolen knife in the air, the blood on the blade taunting them all. There is no injury on Bill’s skin, no symbol of the hurt he’s caused. “I’m his Bearer, and he is my Receiver.”

Stop.

“Mine.”

Stop saying these things.

Somehow, knowing that these injuries are purposeful makes Dipper feel even worse than the blood loss. The bond between a Bearer and Receiver is sacred—they share each other’s pain out of love and respect, a bond deeper than anything they could forge on their own. To purposely cause injury to a soulmate is something Dipper never considered.

His soulmate thinks so little of him. He is worth so little to his soulmate.

He’s submissive to every whim of Bill Cipher, in a way he has never been before.

He can’t breathe, he can’t think, it’s, it’s terrifying.

It’s wrong.

"We are inevitable."

“Stop hurting him!” Mabel cries, holding Dipper steady as the heat of his tears blur his vision.

He’s never been at someone’s mercy like this before. He’s always avoided the violent altercations, the fights between the Pines and Bill’s demon army. One careful flick of his weapon, and Dipper could die. His own soulmate could kill him. These wounds are meant to hurt Dipper. They’re intentional.

“I want Pine Tree to stay with me,” Bill repeats. “I’m not asking.”

No one moves. Dipper trembles in Mabel’s grasp. If he goes with Bill, he’ll be keeping his family safe. But he could serve as a weapon to protect his family and keep Cipher in check. His emotions are a mess, and he hates that Bill can feel them, can infer what Dipper may be thinking.

He takes a breath.

If Bill feels what he’s feeling, then he just won’t feel.

He takes Mabel’s hand, her weapon tight in her grip, and he presses it to his neck. Bill can’t feel his pride at this defense, but he can feel Dipper’s fear that it won’t work. He exhales. Tries to stay calm.

“Dip—”

“Mabel,” he says, as strong as he can make his voice sound. “Like we talked about.”

He feels her knife sharp against his pulse.

Their eyes meet, and she nods, slow. Her eyes are watering. Dipper exhales.

“If you don’t want to die, Cipher,” Mabel declares, confidence in her voice that she definitely isn’t feeling, “we’ll be taking Dipper with us.”

Mabel understands. She always does.

He almost laughs in relief. Does Bill recognize the alleviation of Dipper’s nervousness, now that Mabel has read his mind yet again?

“You wouldn’t kill your precious brother,” Bill decides, unflinching. He doesn’t move, though, curiosity in his gaze.

“To end you, we’ll do anything.”

Dipper’s anxiety continues to rise. Will Bill believe their bluff? Does Bill recognize his feelings? Does Bill think Dipper is worried about death?

Is this even a bluff? Finding Bill’s Receiver has been one of their goals for a long time. Dipper could bring the end of Bill’s reign, his terror. He could finally be useful to Ford and the others.

It’s not like he and Bill could ever care for one another.

He pushes that train of thought aside.

For once, he is not going to be at Bill’s mercy. The Pines are taking back control. Dipper is taking back control.

There is a long moment of silence, Bill clearly considering his options. Dipper’s heart pounds heavy in his chest.

“Well played, Shooting Star.” His gaze is on Dipper, though, since it had been Dipper’s idea, his own willingness to sacrifice himself. He must have felt Dipper’s fear, sure, but also the negativity that came with his pride. His death could make him a hero, like he’s wanted to be for his family. He’ll contribute to their cause in the only way he physically can. “You’ll have to keep a close eye on him.”

“You can’t have him!” Mabel glares, and Dipper feels proud. His twin is the best. “Ever.”

Bill’s golden eye traces Dipper’s frame, and Dipper struggles to stand, leaning his weight on Mabel. How much blood has he lost?

There’s something soft yet unreadable in Bill’s gaze, and Dipper doesn’t know if he wants to understand.

("Get out of here," the guard whispers, and there's something soft in his touch as he caresses Dipper's wrist when he pulls him to stand.)

He shudders, his heart skipping a beat.

Ford and Stan hover protectively over them as Mabel starts to drag him away from Bill, and Dipper feels how tense Mabel is, waiting for Bill to try hurting them as they make their leave. And though Bill has already proven that he doesn’t care about how much he hurts Dipper—that he’s willing to hurt his own soulmate to further his goals—Dipper seems to know Bill won’t hurt him right now.

“Pine Tree,” Bill says, and Mabel casts one glance back, Dipper clinging tightly to her, forcing himself to look back at his soulmate. His soulmate. “I didn’t want to meet my soulmate for this.”

Then what do you want? he wants to ask. Mabel doesn’t let him ask, though, leading him back out of the throne room, allowing Stan and Ford to guard them, protect them.

The triangles on his wrists throb.