Day 3: "Of course itĀ“s you"
Cupid. (Reverse Falls)
She carried herself with such high regard, in the eyes of so many who watched her pass by. She was not unnoticed; he could distinguish all the curious eyes that were fixed on her silhouette. Beyond the tourist trap, it was a kind of rare obsession that made him sick.
He didnāt have many options if he wanted everything to go according to his plan, to get more and more voices that would give him the information he needed. But the cost was feeling so much rage toward anyone who wanted to get closer to where they would never be welcome. Mabel adored bringing out the worst in him and watching him furious all over the house while he tried, in absolute failure, to keep up appearances.
Her admirers and suitors sometimes accumulated, holding her for hours with chats and words of appreciation, which sincerely gave him a mix of disgust and pity. He could only see them as dragged rats in search of the slightest attention, in search of the same kind gesture that they could compare to a romantic tone coming from her.
In turn, gifts accumulated: flowers, teddy bears, and chocolate boxes that she simply shoved into a corner of the living room. They were things that lasted a few days, and then almost all of them ended up in the trash, but the scene cluttered with gifts would fill up again the following week, and so on. So much adorationā¦ it made him sick.
He would simply pass her by, watching from afar how she played with everyone with that fake charm. She would look at him from a distance and fix that common malicious smile. She knew how to get under his skin so easily.
But something had caught his attention one day, among so many boxes and flowers: one that stood out from meters away, with that pink wrapping and a gold bow that made it pop. A heart-shaped tag with her name on it.
"I didnāt see when they brought all the mailā¦" he whispered while touching the card. "No," she replied, appearing behind him. "It was someone who invited me to dinner tonightā¦" "Someone?"
He could accept the number of idiots every day, that circle of sick people surrounding her and all that trash, but "someone" was like a step further than NO ONE should ever get.
"Yeah, a pretty nice guy, though I havenāt seen the box yet." "It could be a trap," Dipper countered, completely serious. "Or it could just be niceā¦"
He threw the card, tearing the arrangement apart and wrinkling it as he crushed it in his hand. "Look on the bright side, youāll have the house to yourself tonightā¦." She didnāt say anything else, turned around, and disappeared.
Dipper approached the box, opening it gently. Wrapped in more paper inside, he let the lid fall to the floor. He discovered more flowers, āhow original,ā he thought, while taking out a book. He knew it perfectly well, as it was one she had been looking for for so long, but he had not been able to find it anywhere. And this guy had achieved the impossible. He threw it on the floor, āto hell with it.ā
Among other things, he continued taking out a framed photo, taken at one of her many performances, where everything about her could be highlighted. Dipper continued to clench his teeth and throw everything on the floor. Finally, a velvety box revealed a silver necklace with a ruby-like stone, so fine and elegant. In the same box, a small note. He just watched his eyes wander over the words of the jerk who thought he was such a winner. From the moment she had accepted it, and nowā¦ all that. "Everything for tonight, all organizedā¦."
The box fell next to everything in that corner. The flowers were destroyed with kicks and blows. He destroyed everything, stomping and throwing it on the floor with hatred.
He was tired of seeing those idiots, and it would be the last time this would happen. He would look for that āniceā guy and show him how friendly he could be too. He would introduce himself, and they would never see him again. He thought this as he finished destroying that annoying corner full of colored junk. Full of things that will never, ever be welcome. His patience had run out.
"What are you doing? Those are my things, you sick freak!" "Well, this house is also mine, and this is not welcomeā¦ Burn them! Burn them now!" "Since you made the mess, you should take care of itā¦ as for me, Iām leaving."
At that moment he turned his gaze to her, who was wearing a short black dress, pearls that decorated her neck exposed by her half-up hairdo, her red lips full of gloss. And the idiot must have been waiting for her.
"You said theyāre your thingsā¦ Burn themā¦ Iām not going to repeat itā¦." His attempt not to lose more control hung by a thread. He was not going to let her cross the door, and he would do whatever it took to prevent it.
Mabel turned, went to the kitchen, and quickly returned, throwing a match in there, watching the first boxes start to burst into flames. "Be careful not to set the house on fire, since itās your ideaā¦."
Dipper stomped on the small fire while holding her by the arm. He had to maintain control, but as always, she knew how to do the exact opposite.
"You are not leavingā¦" "Why do you say that?" Mabel said, laughing in his face. "You look quite funny in your scene of jealousy and great destruction for me to interrupt you. Youād better stick with whatās in your head." "I donāt see the damn jokeā¦" "You are the joke, idiot. And outside, unlike here, someone better and saner is waiting for meā¦." "Enough."
Dipper pulled her toward him from her first failed attempt to approach the door. He pulled her so close that her body was almost stuck to his. "You wonāt leave because I say so. Because I couldnāt stand to see you with idiots who only say they're your fans and look more like moronsā¦. I would take them out one by one without thinking. No one would ever be able to get close to you again. Never againā¦."
She could, she could pressure him more, that taste of desperation and jealousy. That sick obsession he had with her, she simply loved it. But she was on a border that could be quite dangerous, seeing all the mess they had at their feet. "You can have control over everyone, if thatās what you want, but you will never have it over me. And if I have to contradict you to make you realize it, I will."
She pushed him to the side, breaking free of his grip, and walked away down the hall where the only thing he heard was the door that opened and closed with a loud bang.
He took a few minutes to breathe while covering his face with his hand, thinking about everything he had been saying. It wasnāt a joke. It wasnāt at that moment. He would just have to go out and see his face; it would only take an instant, and she would truly understand.
But when he advanced into the hall, right at the door, he didnāt expect to see her leaning there, smiling as only she did. She was playing with him as always. She was driving him crazy in her own game, but he didnāt care.
The moment he pulled on her wrists, turning her toward him, taking her by the arms simply to have her close, to be able to feel even the slightest bit of her, his lips touched her forehead in the small space between them. His fingers went to her chin, raising her gaze, staying fixed on each other, and he simply kissed her.
Soon she followed that game, deepening it, holding his face with both hands.
It was not the first or the last time, he knew it. It was just their moment when everything else didnāt matter. "You are only mine."
"I am," she whispered, returning to that game.
