What a stupid door.
How many times had Dipper come here yet had never bothered to pause and notice such a simple detail. Then again, in all his years he’d been here he’d always followed Bridgette inside without thought or he’d simply walk in unannounced. That was how close he’d become with her. He didn’t do it to irritate her or even out of arrogance. She had become the one instance of a friend he could actually pinpoint he’d ever made. In fact, without Mabel, he’d even admit Miss Cheng was his best friend, not that she had a lot of people fighting her for that spot. However, it was this unexpected bond he’d forged all that time ago while he was alone in an even stranger place than Gravity Falls-- powerless and in an unfamiliar school with unfamiliar people. He’d always needed someone, he was part of a pair. It was only natural as much as he’d never admit it that he was looking for some kind of attention, some kind of belonging and Bri gave that unconditionally.
That was why he hated this door, because for the first time he hesitated over anything that had to do with visiting the young woman. He wasn’t here because he was her friend-- this was his job. His blue eyes glanced over the dull numbers near the door, sighing as he gripped the binder tucked under his arm a little tighter.
If he walked through this door, he gave up the last thin piece of armor that kept him from being a contributor to Bridgette’s grief. It was uncomfortable and strangely suffocating sensation, the desire to not want to bring someone else pain. Then again, he’d had this weight baring down on him since he’d had to accept the reality of Tom’s death after claiming his remains and finalizing the death certificate. Bri didn’t deserve this. Tom didn’t even deserve this, though perhaps Dipper only thought that because the man had been a rare warm adult presence in his life, more importantly an important one to Bri, compared to the cold and painful things he and his sister had seen. He knew that Tom wasn’t there, but he swore he could hear his laugh behind that door much like he’d observed on the many occasions in high school when he’d visit her before his late shifts digging at the graveyard.
Fuck.
This wasn’t what he’d signed up for. Death was something he’d been more than familiar with and even a contributor to-- but it was never suppose to mix with him or anyone he even had a scrap of affection tolerance for. What was worse was that he was powerless to have done anything to prevent this or even do the unspeakable to believe he could bring Tom back if he wanted. Nope, he was just some pitiful normie and he was also the only friggin’ funeral director in this small town.
Closing his eyes, Dipper sharply inhaled and exhaled to attempt to relieve some of the rage building up in him at who or whatever had led to this. The best he could do was try to make this easier on Bridgette, which he would. There was little he wouldn’t do to protect or cheer up the only person he deemed worth a damn in this place. It would just be a change of pace to do this with someone he wasn’t planning to lie to make as much money as possible off of.
With a final glare at the door that guarded Bridgette from his visit, Dipper finally did what he’d done a thousand times since he first met the girl who didn’t just mock him over his eccentric claims. He reached out and let himself in, cursing Tom, cursing Bridgette-- he would have never come to Woodleaf if he knew this is what it felt like to give a shit about anyone other than himself and Mabel. Yet, even he knew deep down he wouldn’t have traded being rid of these feelings that quite frankly disturbed him. She was worth that much.
“Bri?” Dipper called out, letting the door fall closed gently behind him as he tried to discern where she was. It made him even more uncomfortable that he was in such a familiar place because of an appointment, but he could just hope he’d square away the details as quickly as she’d allow. He’d rather just be here as her friend as opposed to the guy burying the man she considered her dad. Having hesitated for just a moment, he continued as he glanced toward the binder in his possession once more, “Where did you want to... talk?”
