Gideon Gleeful.

That name alone was enough to make Dipper’s stomach twist.

Tall, obnoxiously rich, hair so blindingly white it practically had its own Instagram filter. He was the kind of guy everyone seemed to orbit around, the gravitational pull of popularity and money. Charming in that ugh sort of way. A little spoiled, a little reckless, but it never mattered. He still got the girls. Always did.

Pathetic, really, if you asked Dipper.

And yeah, fine, he was asking himself.

What made it worse was knowing you were no exception.

You, of all people. The girl next door. The one person he actually liked, had liked for years, not that he’d ever say it out loud because, well, feelings are gross and complicated and better left buried under sarcasm and late-night YouTube spirals.

But still. You.

He’s known you since forever. Since Saturday morning cartoons and juice boxes on his living room floor. Since middle school sleepovers where you’d sneak out to meet Mabel, his twin, because the two of you were basically inseparable back then. And still are.

And somehow, somewhere along the way, you’d become this version of you that felt…unreachable.

Popular. Confident. Way smarter than him, even though you tried to play it off like you weren’t. The kind of girl people noticed now. The kind of girl who could actually get someone like Gideon if you wanted.

And apparently—you did.

Which was why you were currently jogging after him, trying to match his pace, breathless but determined.

“I can’t help you.” Dipper’s words came out sharper than he meant, but he didn’t slow down. He kept running, hoping you’d get tired of chasing him. Spoiler alert: you didn’t. “Ask someone else.”

“No one else knows him like you do,” you fired back, practically tripping over the curb to keep up. “C’mon, Dipper. You guys used to be friends, right?”

“Used to being the key phrase here.” His feet hit the pavement harder. He focused on the rhythm, like if he just concentrated enough on his breathing, on his heartbeat, maybe he could block you out.

You groaned, dramatic, like he was the most exhausting person on Earth. “You’re seriously gonna gatekeep advice right now?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Dipper!”

He risked a glance at you, regretted it instantly. Because there it was, that look. The one that always wrecked him a little.

Wide eyes. A little playful. A little pleading. * Unfair.*

“I mean, do you even like him?” Dipper asked, voice tighter than he wanted it to be.