Norman had never been a big fan of large spaces. Large spaces typically meant lots of ghosts. Lots of ghosts meant lots of voices, and Norman hated voices. As a kid, he'd been able to handle the specific set of ghosts that were everywhere in his town, and dealing with Aggie had really helped him and his family connect better, so that also adding to his ability to handle the constant barrage of death. But now, having moved out and begun living in Oregon so he can go to Portland University, had severely cut that ability to cope down. In bigger cities, there were always older ghosts, ones with stronger and more draining presences, and ghosts that were much more agitated; since he was the only medium in a radius of 50 miles in all directions, those more violent ghosts seemed to choose him as their new pass time rather then scare stupid teens and guests out of hotels and parking lots. Norman had lost so much sleep, his natural shade under his eyes had almost darkened to look like he was punched every other hour, and with how stressful life had become, it really felt like he was.

"Um, excuse me..."

And now, it was effecting his school life even more than before. Inconvenient hauntings every once and a while were one thing, but having constant tapping and knocking and whispers in his dorm and classes is a completely different story. He'd been wondering if he should just move back to Massachusetts.

"Hello?"

Mom and Dad assured him that if he really needed to, he could always come back home and take a break. Maybe he should call Courtney and ask if she wanted to spend spring break together, after all, she did say she would be free and it's coming up.

"Excuse me!" A swift rap on the table Norman had been resting his head for the last hour, shocked him enough to make him snap up, gasp a bit and look around wildly. He hadn't even noticed he'd begun to drift off. His eyes finally fell upon two girls, maybe two or three years younger standing beside his table, both looking rather amused and excited. Norman had a moment of amnesia, completely forgetting where he was and what he was doing, but a quick glance around reminded him of his favorite small coffee shop, Park Ave. Cafe.

"A-are you Norman Babcock?" One of the girls managed to stutter out without squealing.

"Uh... Yeah."

"Oh. My. God. Can we like, have your autograph? We've been to all of your shows since you played at Wonder!" The other rambled out excitedly, almost shivering from excitement. For a moment, all Norman could think was 'what are they talking about' before he regained the valuable input from his brain, reminding him of his current status around town.

"Oh, yeah, sure, why not." He shrugged, giving them a tired smile. They girls squealed and handed him a small notebook and a fuzzy pen that felt itchy like goose feathers in his grip- or maybe it was pins-and-needles from staying in the same position for so long. He scribbled his lazy signature onto the paper, and added a small picture of a ghost next to it. The girls chattered excitedly, snatching back the book, waving a bye and rushing out the door, probably to Instagram the signature or Tweet about it.

Even though it was torture to be in a city like this, surrounded by the dead and living, there was one thing that Norman found silence in. Ironically it was music. Now, he knew it sounded cheesy, he'd repeated the same, cookie cutter background story on every talk-show and radio station interview he'd ever had, but it was a true one. The love had bloomed a while after the incident with Aggie, when he was 13. On his birthday, his sister had given him her old iPod since she'd gotten a new one, and gave him a few iTunes gift cards to buy whatever. Norman had never really been into music, except for the creepy tunes of imminent doom in horror movies, so he was a bit oblivious at first. Over about a year, he'd developed this sudden need for it, though. Small, sound emitting buds in his ears drowned out almost, if not all, the white noise that seemed to fill the empty hours of his life- and the voices. Popping in the earbuds in class cancelled out a lot of his excessive thought procesess and actually helped him work better. Hours of homework began to feel like twenty because now he wasn't being constantly distracted by the dead asking him for favors. He could work when drowned in music.

When Norman had moved to Portland, he'd just spend a while strumming in his room on his old, acoustic guitar and hum songs to try and ward off bothersome noises. After a week, a couple of other guys down the hall of his dormitory, had confronted him about it, asking him if he was the one playing in the middle of the night. At first, Norman had thought they were going to complain, but they were pleased to hear it was him and asked if he wanted to play sometime with them. It had just been a hobby, a pastime so he didn't have to be alone on weekends, but when they played in garage of the frat house the members would let them use, they would always have people asking to come and listen. The frat boys eventually asked if they wanted to put on a show at some point to raise money for activities. That's where it started, the small side-career that had now become the center of Norman's social life.

Norman expected to hate it, because now he had more living people bothering him than dead, but once he made it clear he didn't like to be flooded by social invites, or be hassled by fans constantly, he was granted his wish. It wasn't that people ignored him, it was just that his new band buddies had taken extra care to make sure they're guitarist didn't feel pressured and quit. And Norman was fine with that. He became the quieter member and had a smaller fanbase than the others.

Now, admittedly, there was another reason Norman agreed. He realized, that first show, when he was under burning, blinding lights, surrounded in sound and vibration, there was no paranormal activity to bother him. Before, he could see when the ghosts would float into his room or garage, and could hear them just barely over the sound of music, but up on stage, when the lights from above and below him over-stimulated his eyes, he couldn't see. And on stage, the sound was so overwhelming, that nothing could break the barrier. And on stage, the amps emanated a beat that shook him just enough to not feel when ghosts would phase through him or touch him. Up on stage, he was numb to everything except the sound of music.

'Yeah,' he thought, taking a moment to turn and look out the window of the cafe,' music is the only relief'. And it really was. No other time was he able to concentrate on just one thing. He eagerly waited for concerts, shows, practice, and he was the one that urged his bandmates to play as hard and as loud as they can, while still sounding like organized music, of course. Music was his escape.

And nothing else gave him that.

NOTE:

Yes! This is Parapines. This is just the prologue and I wanted to explain Normans background a bit before jumping into the story. Basically, Norman's a band kid who just so happens to be constantly seeing dead people haha. Dipper and Mabel will be in the next chapter, but I just need to build up background a bit. Yeah and uh there might be dumb romance in the future so don't be disappointed right now.

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