I placed my head low, shoulders squaring above the porcelain sink decked in curls of gold and jasmine. The water was frigid, filling the stopped bowl just before overflowing. A ripple dispelled from one last drop of the faucet when I finally snapped the stream off, ducking down to cup my hands with water. I dove nose-first into the chilled pond, splashing over my features with great care the icy burn of tap water, hoping to awaken some kind of understanding within me. My palms rode up, down, rubbing along my cheeks before sliding to my chin, simply to dangle. A small sigh, the harsh draw of breath as I bent up from my position, looked into the mirror, and cringed at the curious eyes staring back.

'Now, isn't this interesting?'

Perhaps I'd been stupid to deny it for so long. This long, definitely. I swallowed, catching the first ray of light from three consecutive sunroofs overhead. Pacifica's bathroom could have cradled my room, if not my whole apartment. Maybe I could live here. Maybe I could camp out a little longer.

But...

No. I understood now, as confusing as it was, what an idiot I'd been. For so long. So very, very long. I couldn't hide myself anymore; not with the truth right here, standing before me. Water dripping down his face, gaze high, hair curled brown, skin pale but rising red, in whatever Paz had forced him to slip on the night before. The man staring back at me was sure. So sure, he'd never forgive me if I let this moment die away. He had an agenda; chore list snapped cockily between light fingers, sneering at me with the most smug expression possible.

'Do you hear me now?'

Yes. Yes, I heard him. Loud and clear. And, that list; I'd gone over it almost a million times already, but the directions were far more extreme now. Not get-good-grades, or solve-the-case, or be-there-by-six. The list was short, and in being so, far more complex than anything I'd ever done.

Come clean.

Which felt impossible.

I sighed once more, riding a hand up the side of my face, stopping it to rest softly over my eye. The image staring back did exactly the same, if not with an odd annoyance behind him. It had become tiring- tedious- keeping it all locked up. Keeping him locked up. We had a lot of catching up to do, he and I.

But first, Mabel.

Plans had finally been established to meet up at Greasy's Diner for breakfast; get everything out and in the open. Confess. Convince.

And, it would've sounded almost relieving, if she even expected me to be there.

As far as she knew, Paz was her one and only guest.

I cursed, hissing sharply at the glide of golden shine along white bath tiles. Crickets had still been singing, last I woke over an hour ago. But, the earth kept spinning and spinning on its strict axis; Punctual, punctual. The sun would always rise. Night would always fall. And, I would always wake, ready or not, to the monotonous drone behind every file case, coffee cup, and empty bed the days threw at me. Well...

Until recently.

A smile crept over my lips, hearing the distance ding of his constant texting. Not to say 'good morning' or 'I love you.' If anything, to threaten my very life for ghosting him. Still, there was a warmth behind each message. He cared enough to think of me, if only to know I hadn't dropped off the face of the earth. He wanted to hear from me. Bill. And, if I had even an ounce less pride, maybe I could be persuaded into believing I wanted to hear from him. Even a little. But, who was I kidding?

I'd always regret giving him the time of day.

I took a breath, held it, let it free, and fixed my face to carry even a drop of whatever the mirror wore. Whoever stared back... Knew what they were doing. How it would end. How it would begin.

Why I even felt the need to do this; to 'come out.' Maybe I owed it to my sister to finally tell her. After all I'd done to her- all I'd lied about- she deserved to know, for sure. But... That would be false. It was too noble to say I was doing it for her sake. How could this ever benefit her, after all? What did the world gain from this? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was as worthless as any other confession, swallowed whole by ears and smothered by air-tight silence.

I was doing this for me.

I needed to hear this.

If only to verify it was all true.

One last look in the mirror. The figure gazing back still didn't reach me, nor would it for a long while. He was a stranger against the glass, pressing palm-to-portal on reflective matter, as though waking up Christmas morning to their first car parked, layer beyond layer, in freshly laid snow. Completely unexpected, but accepted. Desired. Because finally- finally- the day had come. A new start. The next step.

Pacifica and I stepped out of her limo; my car had been abandoned back at the apartment, if only to give Mabel this one thing: a hopeless call for forgiveness, no doubt ignored. I deserved it, though. I really had done her dirty. Jesus, I'd don't almost everyone dirty. Holy shit. I made sure to dust myself of any loose dirt or crumbs from the seats, before remembering I'd gone in Paz's vehicle. A strict 'no eating' policy; not due to her parents, but because it was the one thing she agreed on.

Microfiber suede and crunch wraps didn't mix.

A laugh would have passed my lips, and almost did, only for my eyes peer ahead and note the glass display of Greasy's interior. There, just left of a 1965 El Diablo, sat my sister in a worn out booth. Chin propped in hand, eyes dull, shoulders slack, and-...

Talking?

I hadn't made a move from my position by the limo, still lurking as Pacifica smoothed on a second layer of foundation, applied blush, perfected her cat eye, only to snort grossly and wiping it away. Lather, rinse, repeat. A different shade. A different hue. Not the right texture. Too much glitter.

My eyes strained, watching the girl I hadn't seen in over a week roll her hand loosely, readjust the backs of her earrings, and bear a lazy smile; far from her usual pace. Slower- much slower- and close to collapsing with insomnia, from the looks of it. Whoever she was talking to must have picked up on the subtle cues. A moment more, they were reaching across the table- over the salt shakers, ketchup, and napkins- to clasp her shaken hand.

I choked out a gasp.

Pale, white skin, freckled knuckle upon knuckle. Cuffed at the wrists with green flannel. Broad, but light shoulders. And, worst of all, flaming red hair, recently snipped up to her shoulders in a pretty cut.

Wendy.

Pacifica got out of the limo, giving me a side-glance with unimpressed eyes. She placed a finger under my chin, snapping my jaw shut with a 'clack' before snapping her fingers an inch from my face.

"Hey, dork. Earth to-?" My hand shot for hers, swiftly pulling her fingers against my chest, forcing her eyes to meet mine.

"What is she doing here?!" I grit through barred teeth, brows set rightfully. Another important piece of information behind this whole arrangement: Pacifica had handled all the details. From texting Mabel, to setting up times, to picking out a place to meet. And, maybe it was just me being a complete pussy, but I'd suspected these plans of being reserved for three people. News on a plus one had never, ever crossed her lips, even though it definitely should have.

I couldn't do this.

My body jerked, gears screeching pettily in an effort to decipher what the fuck I was still doing here, in this parking lot, at Greasy's diner, even entertaining the idea of facing either of those girls. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. I made quick work of tracing an easy escape route, heartbeat skyrocketing as all the possibilities came flooding in. I wasn't ready for this. Hell, I was hardly ready to address my own sister-!

I should've taken my Xanax.

I shouldn't have gotten out of bed.

I shouldn't have told anyone, ever.

This was so stupid.

My mind was racing, hands lifting to comb through matted hair- only to remember the fingers still interlaced with mine. I tried to shake them away- get a bit of grounding on this god awful situation- only to feel the digits squeeze tightly.

"Whoa- Yeah, okay loser. Calm down, will you? Jesus, not that this hasn't been, like, a long time coming." Pacifica scoffed, as if it was so simple. Like everything was just sugar and cream on planet earth, and there wasn't global warming, or world hunger, or spreading pandemics, or- oh, here's something- my entire universe crumbling to pieces in a matter of seconds. I stepped back from her, hailing a thing of fire just short of anything I'd given Bill in the last month.

"You did this? Wha-? Why?! Paz, what're you thinking-?!"

"I'm thinking you've played around enough." Pacifica snapped, my heat ricocheting off her expression like nothing. "Rip the bandage off, man. Come on! It's taken this long."

"Because I'm not fucking ready, Pacifica!" I could feel an odd dizziness overtake me, noting the subtle way my veins tightened, released, and almost imploded with the level of blood rushing to and from my brain. Too much tension. Too much iron. This was completely uncalled for. "I told you about this last night! I'm still having a hard time understanding all this! How am I supposed to explain to my sister and my- my- Wendy that I'm-?!" I paused, grinding my teeth. My lungs couldn't take in enough air, no matter how widely they stretched. My clothes felt too tight. The day, too hot. Oh God, bad idea. Horrible idea. The worst possible thing to ever cross my mind.

"Gay? Dipper, you're gay. Not a serial killer. Not a rapist. A guy-liker, and that's okay, right? Who the hell cares?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe my girlfriend."

"It's gonna end eventually, poindexter. I promise, if you aren't even attracted to what's underneath, it's not gonna last."

"You're fucking shallow." A low blow, and unrelated, but no way was I just letting her have this. This sense of moral superiority, like it was just that easy. Sure, it was simple on paper. But, holy fuck, was the real-deal a rollercoaster. Pacifica hardly flinched at my comment.

"Welcome to real life, nerd." She shrugged, patting my shoulder pleasantly. Hell if she was getting that kind of friendliness from me. I nudged her off with a hurt expression. "Take it from a grade-A cheater; when it comes to screwing different partners, they always find out. Always."

"I know. I know. Jesus, Paz. I'm not saying I won't tell her, but-. But, why now? Why today?"

"'Cause you're stalling." Pacifica shot effortlessly, taking a moment to herself so she could position her arms in the most condescending cross known to man.

"I am not-."

"There you go again: Denial. You know, pretending the problem doesn't exist doesn't make it imaginary, Dipper. Like credit card bills, or the little extra fat under people's arms, or that cashmere sweater I know doesn't look good with any of my outfits, but I wear anyway, because it's designer." She paused, mulling over her comment almost concerningly. Her hands went up, waving the thought away after a beat. "My point is, you've been holding this in forever, dude! I've known you for, like, ten years and never once heard anything about you sucking dick or doing any of the crazy shit you've been doing recently."

"I'm new at this!" I protested with inflamed skin. I could feel my ears burn at the tips, most likely switching to a shade of crimson; definitely visible. Paz snorted at me, noting the color change.

"And, that's fine! It's totally okay! It's no one's business what you get up to in your freetime-."

"Except yours, apparently-."

"As long as you're clear about it, Dipper. To everyone. Your friends, your family, yourself."

"And who's job is it to force me into this, exactly?" I retorted, willing a heavy glare. She did not get to do this. She did not choose when I could come out- when I should. It was completely my own. Mine, and no one else's. Friend or not, this didn't concern her. She was just sticking her nose in other people's business, like she always did. "Since when did I leave it up to you to make all my life choices?"

"God, Dipper. Don't say it like that." Pacifica sighed, sliding a hand along the tips of her hair as she grimaced at my accusing tone. "You know I'm not trying to force it onto you-."

"Then why are you?"

"I'm not."

"Tell that to the plus-one sharing a plate of hash browns with my sister." Pacifica shrank just a little from my comment. Good. I needed some space to get my thoughts in order. "Why didn't you tell me Wendy was gonna be here?"

"Because you would've chickened out! Dipper, honestly. I know it's scary now, but you need to do this! Today."

"Why today?" I groaned.

"Because, the second that brain of yours gets thinking, you'll figure out ways of avoiding it. You'll dodge her. Not return calls, or text back, forget movie night, and stop joining her for dates out, and don't even think about denying it, because I know you." She placed a hand on her chest, eyes sharp and pleading. Her brow was knit worriedly, as though saying she really did care. But, there was no way telling with her. "I get this is overwhelming as hell right now, and- if I'm being honest- it really freaks me out that you're waiting till now to tell people. And, it's none of my business knowing the reason-."

"Okay, great. So, we're on the same page?" I expected her to snap at me. The heavy drop of my gut when she only frowned, looked away and sighed was almost palpable. Pacifica continued.

"But, you should talk about it, Dipper. You should. You're always so secretive about things, and you probably think keeping people out of your head is helping them, but- like, you're hurting them. It's not fair to Mabel, pushing her away from this part of you. It's not fair to me, or your partner, and it sure as hell isn't fair to Wendy." A dollop of sweat, sliding down the underside of my hand. I rubbed it against my jeans, only to feel the pant leg stick to my knee. My throat made an effort of swallowing, only for the chafe rip of dryness to clog my windpipes.

"...I know." Was all I could tell her. And, I knew Paz knew she'd struck a chord with me. Her hand went out, acrylic nails flexed, to rest peacefully along the side of my arm. Only then did I notice how badly she'd wanted to comfort me; the fingers, squeezing mine. The hand shrugged from my shoulder. How her nails played with the edge of her bracelet, wanting to stretch, but not.

"You know I'm not trying to pressure you, right?" Pacifica's head ducked down to meet my lowered daze, but I couldn't indulge her now. It felt cruel having to view her in this state of embarrassment. She only sighed. "You're on the road to recovery, genius. You made the first step last night. Maybe that's fast for you, but for everyone else, well- you're at least eight years late." Paz tried a laugh. When only a plastic chortle fell from her lips, she abandoned the lighter option, and continued on a serious note. "I'm not trying to shame you. I'm not trying to push you. But, you can't hide anymore, Dipper. Not from this. Not from her. It's time; today. And that's not just my agenda, whether you wanna believe it or not. It's yours."

A snake coiled in my chest, tingling along the outer layers of bone enamel and arteries. She had me, Pacifica. Not to be caught with guards down, proving me wrong through the occasional sneak attack. She wasn't trying to snag me. Berate or belittle. I sensed a tightness against my heart, my wrists, and the back of my tailbone, all signals bouncing rhythmically through the intricate system of my nerve endings. Paz had my back in this, and-.

I never gave her enough credit for being the friend she was.

Her grip became firm, then soft against my arm, bringing me back to the present.

"I'm gonna be right there, loser. Okay? We're gonna go in there, strutt our stuff, order some pancakes-." Pacifica tried for a playful tone, and I couldn't help but indulge her with a small giggle. She brightened, just barely, giving my arm a slight jerk before releasing me. "-and tell everyone what a lesbian you are." Her words were lighthearted, with the rarest of grins stretching the glassy smudge of Christian Louboutin Lip Gloss, while her eyes shone with something entirely new.

No. I never gave her enough credit.

I snorted at her remark, unable to fight the sudden well of appreciation my heart sang on her behalf.

"No, you." I willed. Her beam of assurance was more than enough in that instance, when she laughed, hooked her arm around mine, and led us into the diner.

We entered Greasy's with the greeting of a bell; sharp, shrill, chilling. A simple glance in her direction- a force of habit at this point- to see how Pacifica handled it. Not even a flinch. Her arms hardly tightened around mine, and aside from her coincidental blink timed to drop just as the ring emulated, all features seemed indifferent to the noise. Another smile, this one weak and hidden, simply there to praise her in the moment. Not to be noticed, or felt, or seen; only to be given in secret. It was now that she could stand, headstrong, back straight, eyes up, and trail the interruption as a sort of triumph. Every encounter, a won battle.

Something I couldn't imagine experiencing.

"Hey! Yo, dude!"

Not for a long time.

Wendy smiled, eyes twinkling with something fresh, surprised, and completely unaware as to what was happening. Her chest became tone, hand raised and body elevated in an effort to get my attention. Because, as far as she knew, it was just supposed to be her, Pacifica, and Mabel. And for Mabel, who'd made a slow, treacherous turn to view whoever it was Wendy was beckoning over, it was just her, Wendy, and Paz. It seemed all three of us had been duped by the ever-sly movements of our thick-pocketed friend.

The dry, lost expression my sister shot me as I made an awkward B-line around the wattresses, ducking under trays and around frilling skirts, was almost enough for me to 'nope not happening nevermind sorry.' Pacifica's grip was firm though, and the instance my form suggested a slight struggle, she was quick to counteract it with a yank. Her smile broke for only an instance, just enough to shoot me a look. We were here. We were ready. We were doing this.

"Omg, hey! Like, guess who I bumped into this morning?" Paz pulled me ahead, her expensive grin replacing whatever human thing she'd been minutes before. She patted my chest, forcing what little attention wasn't already on me down my throat. "Hope you guys don't care I brought this nerd along for girl-time; He wouldn't leave me alone." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. And, perhaps if I hadn't been made of stone, the comment would've stung. But, it didn't. Bumped, but didn't scrape.

"Psh! Whatever." Wendy laughed, blowing me a soft grin. She scooted farther in her booth, patting down an empty spot for me. "Come on, man. You're one of the girls today." Her body language was expectant. Eyes, deprived of any and all knowledge, lacking spite, betrayal, or wrath. Yes; she was unaware. Which meant...

Mabel hadn't ratted me out.

I swallowed, once again met with an abnormally dry mouth. It was then that I realized my legs hadn't made a move towards the booth, Pacifica clearing her throat with a casual nudge in its direction. I stumbled just slightly, hands placed on the table and seat's broken leather in an effort of scooting in. It was awkward of course, as all other aspects were. My knee hitched up, justling the table from below, while my elbow nearly jabbed Wendy's eye out. She was quick though, sliding out of range of my disoriented figure.

When I'd finally gotten myself situated, hands placed palms down over splitting cedar, I noted a subtle tap under the table, against my ankle. A slick, hot pink heel nudging just below my fibula, touching twice before sliding away. I looked at Pacifica, already staring back, who gave me an assuring nod, as well as an uncertain smirk. I nodded back.

"So, what's on the menu today? Waffles or pancakes? Mabel?" Wendy turned casually, arms behind her head, tossing the younger a spirited smile. My sister started in place, having been tracing the wooden table's growth rings. Eyes up, lips tucked in, brows furrowed and tight the instance our gazes met. Only an instance before snapping away.

She tested a smile, but the corners grew wiggly and limp, deprived of their usual spark of adventure. Mabel's body was angled from me, towards the window. She held up her left hand to her cheek, creating a subtle barrier between the two of us. Everything about her was tucked in, secured. From me. From Pacifica. And, still deciding if it was too much to barricade against Wendy. Blinking once, as though unsure her name had been spoken, she shrugged.

"Huh? Oh. Pancakes are fine, I guess..." Mabel said finally, turning her view back to the table. Her finger went out, tracing the darkened shapes of swirling spirals and rings, something Wendy was quick about addressing. She reached her hand out, touching the other lightly on the knuckles.

"Hey. You 'kay, man? Feel sick?" My- Wendy asked, giving Mabel's hand a soft squeeze. She slid her hand back from the freckled digits, expression darkening poorly. Head lowered, my sister's eyes rose to meet the guilty pair staring her way, pitying her, regretting every instance of fornication, and hating how likely I was to do it again. I tried to understand her expression, but it was encrypted by a wisp of curly brown strands. This time, I was the one to look away.

"No, I'm-. I'm just tired, you know? Waddles got hungry and ate my new sweater-prints, so I had to wait for them to come out the other end."

"Ew." Paz commented simply, the ghost of a beam gracing her features. She tapped me again, this time at the toe of my shoe. I tried to smile along. "You ever considered, like, buying your clothes?"

"Hey." Wendy laughed, placing a finger on the salt shaken. She made great work of rolling it on its round corners, keeping it upright like a top. "She's eccentric. No harm in that." Her elbow turned out, bopping the edge of my tricep. "Right, dude?"

My eyes turned up, meeting Pacifica, briefly viewing Mabel, before landing on her with a lax expression. Something I hadn't honestly seen in the last month. Casual. Bold, with a charming bluntness. Teeth, white, snuggled between pretty lips quirked up in a smile. The usual dust of pink along either cheek bone, as well as a tad around the ears. She'd gotten a haircut lord-knows when, leaving the tips exposed. But, oddly enough, it was her forehead that had me the most entranced. When was the last time I'd seen that skin not wrinkled? Not pressed between knit brows? Not upturned in worry or doubt? Not questioning things?

Holy shit, she was healing.

Which made this a million times worse.

"Uh... Y-yeah! Totally. Absolutely, it's-... Very unique, which is cool, and-." Pacifica's heel dug lightly into the webbing of my foot. I shut my mouth. "It's nice."

"See, Paz?" Wendy snickered, ruffling a hand through my hair. "Someone here appreciates the finer things." A pat of the head, a nudge of my shoulder, before her hand was slipping down. Over my hair, across my ear, down my neck to stop innocently on my shoulder. Wendy pulled me a little closer. Mabel gave me a look, once more obscured by the hair loose from her band. But, in them, I was positive I could pick out only the purest of dreads. For what, I wasn't entirely sure.

"Big words for a peasant." Pacifica retorted in that tone that just barely teetered between completely joking and dead serious. Wendy dismissed the latter, choosing to accept even the lowest of fruits for humor.

"Classic Paz." Wendy's arm around my neck grew tighter, forcing my body to lean into her. I looked up for advice from my wing woman, only to note the slight cringe of her nose. Her eyes darted away, fixing themselves with something like plastic confidence. Like Jesus beckoning Peter onto the Sea of Galilee; but this time, a plunge head-first into crashing waves was only possible. This was a bad idea once more, and the storm would certainly capsize my boat.

Still, I went in, keeping my back as straight and un-cuddleable as possible.

"Mornin', dolls!" Came an unorthodox, wayward tone just short of a Massachusetts accent. We all jumped collectively, startled to see Lazy Susan with her notepad in hand. "Can I start you cuties off with a salmon?"

"Uh... No." Pacifica's lip hitched in distaste, looking to the group as though to ask, 'is anyone else hearing this?' "I'll have a salad."

"Sure thing, pumpkin." She turned to me. "How 'bout you, Mr. Big shot?" I tried to respond, finger raised haphazardly in an act of compliance. But, I took a breath, and could feel my adams apple nudge Wendy's wrist, and the base of my chin grazed her hand, and I could feel her arm hairs tickling my neck, and her eyes on me, her exhales dusting over my skin, her nails curling against my bomber jacket-.

"He'll just have pancakes." Pacifica jumped in seamlessly, comment locked and loaded before I'd even taken a second breath. L. Suzan wrote it down.

"Steak?" Wendy asked her, tilting her head curiously. And, in the act, a bit of her hair landed across my collar bone. I grew rigid.

"Just for you, Corduroy!" The waitress pointed at her playfully with finger guns. Finally, she turned to Mabel.

"And you, hun?" My sister's head was now down, brow pressed deathly against the surface. Her voice was just barely heard against a heavy mumble.

"S...p." She groaned. Lazy Susan leaned in.

"I'm sorry, dear?" Mabel tilted her head up this time, eyes snapped shut and nose wrinkled.

"SYRUP!" Down she went again, hiding her face with a curtain of brown curls. The waitress wrote it down.

"Coming right up!" She wobbled away, leaving us to our own accord, not without giving the 'happy couple' a coy grin. "Don't get too friendly now, you hear?" She teased, making Wendy laugh out loud. She grabbed for a light pink sugar packet, snapping it back before letting the small thing fly through the air and land in Lazy Susan's high hair.

"As if." The expression was nice, baring no true hostility or offense. Simply the light joy of someone hanging with friends, catching breakfast, and alleviated from guilt. Her hand went to clasp mine under the table, and I thought I might throw up.

Once Susan was out of the way, Pacifica was quick to address me.

"So, Dipper. How's work going?" She asked casually, giving my foot yet another light tap. I weighed her expression heartily, hoping to grasp the exact meaning.

"Uh... Fine. Still looking for-. You know."

"Yeah. I know." Her tone was airy, uninterested. She leaned in with a low whisper. "Bill." I straightened at the comment, shuffling just slightly in my seat. Bad idea. Wendy's grip became a bit stronger.

"Speaking of 'Bill.'" I choked on nothing, body lurching forward as I caught my lips behind a tight fist. My gaze shot up to view her, only to find Paz wasn't watching for my reaction. She was watching Mabel.

Cold. Very quiet. Still, mumbling just barely when the name came about, but more than a little intrigued. My sister refused to look at me, tracing the table's patterns more intimately. I shot Pacifica one among many frustrated expressions, hoping she understood exactly why this wasn't the way to go about things. I couldn't just- draw it out. Like getting on topic was an easy route.

'Oh, speaking of Bill, I'm gay.'

"How's your partner doing? I haven't heard from him recently." She went on, hands going to cradle her chin. I wanted nothing more than to swipe those elbows out from under her.

"...Fine." I grit. She only smiled.

"Has he texted you recently? I'll bet he's, like, super bored without you."

I saw Mabel, out of the corner of my eye, rub a discrete hand over her cheek, as though wiping away tears. My features darkened; if only I could tell Paz to stop, and Mabel I wasn't trying to rub it in, and Wendy I didn't want her. Her head went to rest snuggly against my shoulder, like we'd done back when things had just started. When I made heart eyes at her, and she'd give me affectionate noogies and ironic air kisses, because romance was such a cliche in Wendy's life; doing otherwise was worse than heroin.

She'd snuggle up, and I'd throw an arm around her shoulders and feel how broad everything was. Her legs would be shaved up until the knees, where everything sprouted with unruly red curls, and I had still felt guilty for wondering if the curtains matched the carpet. She'd scratch her neck, yawn, and snort smuggly with every breath of life, all the while I was given this single lifetime to hold her, envelope myself in Irish Springs, and believe in an 'us.'

Here was a prime example of Dramatic Irony.

I took a breath, and Wendy was even closer now, pressing her smile to my shoulder. I gulped.

"He-... Hasn't. He's probably busy doing whatever, you know?" I tried to toss Mabel a bone, but her eyes were still dead-set on tracing the table.

"O-o-o-h. Are you guys talking about the new blond dude in town? With the eyepatch?" Wendy offered, lifting her head just barely from my shoulder, only to snap back down once the statement was out.

"'New?'" Pacifica guffawed. "He's been here for a month, Wendy."

"And? We've lived here our entire lives, dude. He's on our side of the playground now, wherever he's from. Fresh meat." The toyish grin Wendy offerened was almost gut-wrenching to see. I used to love when she made that face. It made her look so cool.

"Oh? Is that so?" A different kind of look in Pacifica's eyes. Three taps on the shin, a bit harder than the rest, like forcing me to brace myself. She had the usual mischievous quirk to her lips, as well as a threaded eyebrow pulled like an arrow. It would've seemed devious, if not for the slight hesitation; a moment's rest as she sucked in a breath, steadied her gaze, and tightened the glint of her stare. Preparing, not enjoying. Whatever Paz was doing, she knew perfectly well its effect, as well as its risk. I saw her hand, just slightly, dust along the edge of the table and rest the edges of her acrylic nails against Mabel. A caution. A warning.

"Better not say that in front of your boyfriend. He might get jealous of the competition." Pacifica cooed, maintaining that sly look about her. I couldn't help but feel she was pushing; pressing down on the situation in hopes of building up pressure, tension, before the truth popped out in a flurry of disaster. Which was...

Probably the worst way of going about things.

Wendy laughed heartily at the comment, rubbing her pale cheek against my shoulder like a feline. It was like old times, in that instance of contact. She felt happy next to me, and not tight, or restricted, or confused. Right. And, she felt she could touch me again. Wendy felt she could laugh at that, because things had eased up. Things were back to normal.

But, things weren't.

Things were drumming at a whole new pace.

"You think?" Wendy mused, taking her free hand to pat against my chest. I flinched, giving my wing woman a pleading look.

'Ease up, ease up, ease up.'

"Oh, hell yeah. I mean- have you seen that guy? Total hottie!" Total hottie. Absolute deity. Beyond attractive.

The reason I was in this fucking mess.

"Definitely. Definitely. Ten out of ten." She agreed, putting a bit of her weight against me. "Don't you agree, Dipper?" Wendy looked up with a gamesome expression; teasing. I cleared my throat, not daring to even look at Mabel now.

In a different world- a perfect world- we'd all be here, in this booth, at this time, talking about Bill on equal plains of attraction. We'd gossip, share trade secrets for the bedroom, and pick on each other and our 'infatuation' with Bill. Specifically me. And, the girls would get all squeely and personal, and tell me to just up and ask him if I liked him so much. I'd get flustered and tell them to shut up, even though, deep down, the encouragement was flattering. No one would get too close; no one would put their arm around me, cuddle, and try to feel intimate. Because, they would know without a doubt, the action was pointless.

They weren't my type.

"Oh- uh-. I... guess?" Wendy barked a cackle, leaning back.

"Calm down, dude. I'm just kidding."

"Oh, so Bill's not a ten out of ten?" Paz questioned. Wendy let out another snort.

"He is. He definitely is." Wendy countered vigorously, nodding with a new-found zeal. "Just... Not my type." She finished slyly, the hand on my chest making a small circle. Which was far more intimate than she'd ever been in public. We hardly held hands on the street, just a month before. Perhaps this was her way of making up for lost time.

"Is your type nerdy-McDorkFace over there?" Paz pointed at me. I couldn't even find the will to frown, though.

Wendy didn't laugh this time. Only sat, smiled a little, and held me close enough to stop the blood flow around my neck. It would've been cute, I realised, if I'd still been confused. When she turned to look at me, chin propped on my shoulder, gaze set high, forcing me to lean back just to stay in focus of her features. Her lips quirked with something tender; passionate. A kind of affection almost deprived. Starved to bits after weeks upon weeks of isolation. And, so casual- so natural- I might not have noticed if it weren't for the slight tap of my foot.

"Hmm... Yeah."

She leaned in for a kiss.

I jerked away.

Her grip faltered.

I wrestled out of the hold.

She gasped.

I slid from the booth, onto the floor with an awkward fumble, before getting to my feet and facing her with something like territorial defense.

Wendy's eyes went wide, body having been pulled forth in the sudden rush, arms out to catch her against the seat as she looked at me and gaped.

Mabel had finally looked up, finger still pressed along the lines of the table, that indecipherable expression of hers finally decipherable.

Worry.

Untainted, unaggressive, unhinged worry.

For me.

For what I'd gotten myself into.

For how I intended on getting myself out.

And, for the man I would become afterwards.

She wasn't sure I knew myself anymore, and it frightened her.

"I-." The words, I felt, were supposed to be mine. Looking at Wendy now, lips curling in, face flushing dramatically, and the slightest of breaks in her voice; they should've belonged to me. But, they didn't. They belonged to her. She shook her head, pulling herself back with a slow, calculated slide, like a zoo keeper refraining from sudden movement; to keep the animal calm, unafraid, lest it do something to hurt them both. "I'm-... Sorry. I didn't mean to." Wendy whispered, only to swallow.

"I shouldn't have-..." Wendy continued, only to sniff. She turned from me, sitting up to wage the meal Lazy Susan swiftly set in front of her. Steak. She pushed the plate away, angled herself out of the booth, and started to stand. "Sorry, I-. That was-... I should go." She pulled herself up, keeping head low as her thin, frail figure dodged my presence. And I, like every stupid guy on the planet, was quick about following her outside.

"Hey!" I called for her retreating figure. "Wendy, yo-!" I slipped on a damp twig before regaining my footing. I cupped a hand against my mouth, hoping to throw my voice far enough to reach her. She just kept up the quick pace, arms swinging heavily, thrusting her forward with each stride. It wasn't until I cut the light shit and went after her in a sprint that my gait matched hers.

I rushed in front of her, curling five fingers around her wrist. "Look, I'm sorry-!" Wendy snatched her arm away from me, head lower than before. "I didn't-... Well, I did, but-... Hey, so funny story, actually..." I tried to get her attention- tried to force those eyes to watch me flair painfully- but she wouldn't so much as glance up.

"Dipper..." She shook her head, bringing a hand to dry away whatever cracked along her gaze. I tried to put a hand on her shoulder as comfort, but the pressure was lacking- cold- unattracted. Wendy's breath hitched, backing away from my grip. "I-... I should've known we couldn't just- just be normal after that night. I should've known, and I-." Wendy paused, pulling her bottom lip in. She shivered. "I've been so fucking dumb, dude."

"Whoa! Hey, no! You- you've been smarter about this than I have, trust me-." I bent down to grab either shoulder now, trying to force a look from her. This time, she broke from my grip with spite.

"I feel like a fucking preditor, oh my god." A hand went up, sliding down her face with a bit of nail. "I mean-. You were a goddam kid, like, yesterday, right? And, I said I was too old for you. But, then you came back, and you were tall, and drank, and had weird stories about high school, and I just fucking-. I thought it was okay to-. But- But, you weren't ready and I should've known not to pressure you and I'm- I'm-!"

"You're not!" My tone came out in a desperate laugh, forcing either hand on her cheeks, bringing her gaze up. I tried to smile, but my lips only shriveled, paled, and shook at the tiny ounce of hope I'd given her by this simple contact. Like I would kiss her. Like the gesture would be returned. But, I didn't. I just stood, cradled her head, and made sure those eyes saw me before finally sliding away.

"You're- you're Wendy, man. The coolest girl I know. The most righteous girl I know. You weren't trying to take advantage of me, come on! That's- that's stupid, don't you think?" She shook her head, fighting against the urge to bow it again. All for me.

"No. Dipper-. What we did- what happened-... It fucked things up. I fucked things up, and I know it's because of me that we're so- so fucking weird!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "We haven't talked in weeks! You hardly call, and when I call you, all I can think about is- is how you looked, and sounded, and- and fucking felt and it's so fucked up I can't- I fucking can't, okay?" She cried out, wiping a hand under her nose, eyes screwed shut. "I fucking can't..."

"Wendy..." I breathed out, my hand once more going to touch her. She was one step ahead of me though, scooting away from even the slightest of contacts. Wendy felt... guilty. More guilty than I'd known. The kind of guilt I understood. For doing someone so dirty, it made your skin crawl- made you an unclean bastard. The only clear difference between them and convicted murderers being that one was behind bars and the other wasn't. I pressed ahead, hoping to grab her. She stepped away.

"You're not the one who should feel sorry." I countered woefully. She didn't address me, or, more likely, didn't want to hear it. Because I was trying to make her feel better. I was trying to levy her crime with some kind of one-up. A cheap excuse for repentance. A cry for normality. To get the simplest of smiles from her. Because, despite all she'd done to me, everything I'd been put through for her lack of discretion, an inability to provide for me in my time of need, I'd been the perfect boyfriend.

Which was a complete and utter lie.

"I screwed you over, Wendy. I screwed you over big time, and you don't even know. I never even planned on telling you. I would've died with this secret if things hadn't gotten so damn complicated, and you would've been none the wiser."

"If you're trying to shift the blame, it's not gonna-."

"Wendy, I'm cheating on you."

And, everything stilled.

All became pale and crusted and blank, like every bit of life on earth was sucked dry. She looked at me in disbelief- humor- dread- despair- only to shake her head and laugh.

"Jesus, and Mabel says you're not funny." Wendy sniffed, rubbing her nose on her sleeve. Perhaps now was the time to laugh, and save myself this shame. I could still win. I could still get the best out of this situation, and live a double life; get married, move to the suburbs, have kids, and die empty but exact. Absolute. Knowing in my heart what I was, but able still to hold my head high. Smile, wave, and say without a shadow of a doubt that my background (as far as anyone was concerned) was squeaky clean.

I didn't, though. I just stood, frowned, and shoved away the fantasy as Wendy's eyes became severely unsure. She tried for a second laugh, hoping I'd add one this time. I didn't breath. I didn't blink. Her face faltered.

"You wouldn't-... do that to me. You're a- a good guy, I know." I shook my head slowly, making Wendy flush then pale. She almost hissed in pain, taking another step back, as though cradling a burn. "It's not funny, Dipper. You're making this- not funny."

"It's not supposed to be." I put my hands away finally, sure I couldn't get so much as a wisp of her hair between my fingers now. Her expression was gut wrenching. "I'm-... I just wanna be honest with you, Wendy. It's all... new to me. I'm not sure how to convince you it's true."

She looked at me. Down at my feet, up to my hair, and finally into my eyes, hoping- praying- to find the childish mirth of a twelve year old. But, all landscapes were barren. I was a man. No child could play a trick so cruel. Like that, Wendy's eyes began to glow with a kind of wrath unseen by casual gazes. A slight snarl, a hiss, and she was coming that much closer, as though to advance on me. Her sight went up, boring into me like lasers.

"Who?" She growled through tears, wiping them away once before continuing. "With who?"

A ball in my gut, throbbing and turning and spiking and burning with the thriving shake of regret. A vague memory came to mind; a day in my youth, climbing atop the swivel chair of dad's office, reaching for a leather backed novel that caught my eye: Dante's Inferno. And, within the crusted yellow of torn pages and slices of fabric, was the mournful punishment of lust.

'Love, which in gentlest hearts will soonest bloom

seized my lover with passion for that sweet body

from which I was torn unshriven to my doom.'

I huffed, shivering at the memory, before being snapped back to reality. Wendy looked at me like something far more interesting now; something ruined, tainted, ravaged. Perhaps a whore. Perhaps the glances befallen young women of Doe Town. Or, perhaps something crafted of my own accord. I couldn't be sure. I never would be.

All I knew was his name.

"Bill." I gave out to the open wind, feeling as a sudden gust lifted the name, carried it up, and held it somewhere far from me. And, for all the pain riding through my spine, burning my core, rekindling the broken wrong I'd slit my childhood friend with, I couldn't help but feel... lighter. When she pulled back, glanced me up and down, and determined how honest I was; lighter. I definitely didn't deserve the sensation. Coming clean after a dirty trick like that shouldn't have felt so rewarding. No. It should've lasted longer. The shame shouldn't have softened even a little; it was too kind a thing, feeling this.

But, clarity was temporary. Karma, certain. I had to prepare myself for whatever tax was dished out for this. I'd have to brace the future, and understand the worst was yet to come. Later. Now, I only had this. This sense of levity.

And the stinging burn of Wendy's five-fingered slap across my face.