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The term “love of my life” was one Mabel had grown to be very familiar with.
For a long time, she wasn’t sure she knew of anyone to match that title — not in the standard, romantic sense that it usually referred to, at least. She’d met plenty of boys, dated several within the span of weeks, chased that desperation for a summer romance for far too long— for a twelve thirteen-year-old, Mabel liked to think she was pretty knowledgeable in the field of romance.
Yet, even with all that, she hadn’t found The One that everyone talked about.
Sure, she was young. But so was everyone in the movies! There were countless rom-coms and coming-of-age stories that involved teens on the younger side. And they all found their soulmate and stuck with them. It wasn’t too outlandish to wish for that, was it?
It sure felt like it was, sometimes. Like now — laying face-up in her bed, staring right up at the ceiling, finally home after a summer that felt simultaneously too long and far too short. Mabel had just spent three entire months chasing fantasies, only for every relationship to unravel like her old sweaters when she’d first started knitting.
She didn’t want to be alone forever. She wouldn’t be — she had Dipper, and her grunkles, and her parents, and her friends — but it wasn’t the same. She didn’t have The One. She didn’t have the love of her life.
Mabel pressed her palms into her eyes, groaning. From across the room, she could hear the rustling of papers and pens as Dipper perked up — concerned, probably.
“Mabel? You good over there?” Yep, concerned. She groaned again, but sat up, putting her hands back down by her sides.
“Not really,” she admitted, pulling her knees up to her chest. It was so tempting to pull herself into Sweater Town, but that wouldn’t— that’s not helpful. Not for this. “I really failed this summer, didn’t I?”
Dipper made an upset noise. “What? No, you didn’t— Mabel, we’ve been over this, it wasn’t your fault. The rift— Bill was—”
“Not that, dummy,” she cut in, “I dunno. ‘s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. Not if it upsets you,” he protested, moving his books aside so he could cross the room to her bed. “C’mon, you can tell me. I mean— you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’m here to listen, y’know?”
Mabel sighed, and nodded. “I guess you’re right, bro-bro. I’m just… The whole ‘summer romance’ thing didn’t really work out for me, did it?” She fiddled with the cuffs of her sleeves, making mental notes of the loose threads she’d have to snip or sew back in. “I didn’t find the ‘love of my life’ that everyone talks about. What if I never do?”
Dipper hummed. “I get it. My whole thing with Wendy didn’t work out, either,” he said, “But… for whatever it’s worth, I’d like to think you’re the love of my life. As I am yours. Not in a weird way, but— we’re best friends, right?” At Mabel’s muted nod, he continued, “So we’re… that. For each other. I don’t doubt you’ll find someone someday, but in the meantime— we have each other, don’t we?”
Mabel sniffed. “Aw, bro, you’re gonna make me cry,” she giggled, and Dipper laughed along with her, “Yeah. You are the love of my life, in a way. Thanks, Dip-Dop.”
He grinned at her. “Awkward sibling hug?”
She grinned back. “Sincere sibling hug.”