Journal 2 - A Gravity falls Au

Toxic traits of masculinity

Bill wants to talk. I did something wrong yesterday, but I can't remember what. How royaly did I mess up? Mabel and I, on the other hand, have been closer since Gideon. We tend to just hate talk about him. Yet despite the laughs, I still can't remember what I did wrong.
Upstairs. Now

Dust brushes off the handrail as I walk into the attic, I always spend so much time in one half of the attic that I forget it has two sections. You go up the stairs and are greeted by two walls, one with a door to mine and Mabels room, the other to a storage room. Stan doesn't store much there anyway, so it's mainly empty.

The doorknob is hot, hot as in boiling, hot as in when I shook Bill's hand, yet when I release the pain doesn't go away. I enter the room, only to find it empty.
I check under the covers, in the draws, on the window ledge, and even on the supporting beams, yet he still isn't there.

Could he be in the other room? I've only been in the other room once, and it was on accident, I didn't know which door to open, that's probably why I never thought about it before.

I leave mine and Mabels' room and take the opposing door. The room is pretty much empty unless you count dust. The beams are painted with dust, and so is the floor. It even slowly falls down from the support beams above. The attic has always just been a long trianglura piece of roofing, then the window in this room was triangular, in mine, and Mabels, it's circular. I guess the builders love triangles.

Suddenly, colour fades from the room. I look around, Bill's bringing me to a place called the mindscape. In here, Bill is able to interact fully with me, and he can slightly adjust the surroundings. "What we're you thinking?" He shouts, his voice creates a loud echoe across the empty attic, some dust falls off of the beams.
"I did something wrong?" I ask.
"Yes, you picked up the phone." He sighs, yet it still comes across as a loud annoyed shout.
" That's what I forgot." I remark. Bill nuges me in the arm and then slaps me on the back, saying, " Well done, what prize do you want?"
"Huh, what?"
"Any prize, come on, prove you're a man!"
"Make me a man!"

The attic falls quite. Not a peep heard. Was my wish that hard?
"Wasn't expecting that!" Bill remarks.
"What, I've always wanted to be a man." I respond.
"But you are, well mentally." Bill says.
"Exactly, I have no chest hairs, my voice creaks but never goes low, I want to think I'm a man, but I listen to ABBA, all the time! Then I haven't even had enough surgery to be classed a man, check my passport!" Words fall out of my mouth faster than I can comprehend.
"Pinetree, kid, listen, you don't need to change who you are to be a man. You say you're a man, then you are a man, you look it kid, even if you haven't had surgery, you're a late bloomer to full puberty."

Bill's words were comforting. They made me feel warmer inside, things like this prove he is a true friend. Bill pats my back, "I have something for you if it makes you feel any better." In Bill's hand is a black binder, I hold it to my chest. I feel tears fall from my eyes, "Thank you." I'm able to say through my tears. I run to my room to put it on.