~Pacifica's POV~

"-And then, he kicked me out! What am I supposed to do?!" Gideon nodded his head, only speaking when I paused for feedback. Other than that, he was completely silent. Gideon and I had set up a plan to keep Dipper safe from that Leak-thingy. The eraser I had presented to Dipper, rejected as it was, had been lased with plasma, the only known substance able to keep leaks at bay. If he didn't have it on him at all times, the leak could creep back on him. Or, maybe the deed had already been done? This had been a less-than-ideal thought, but if Dipper had already made contact with the Leak, what was the point? Did the leak just have to wait Dipper out, or did it already have what it wanted? Either way, it was better safe than sorry at this point. 

"I gave him my phone number just in case something happened, but he seemed really nerved. I don't even know if he'll bother calling me at all." I plopped my butt on the wooden floor of the shack, sulking as my words lingered. 'He may never call. He probably hates me by now, anyways.' My lower lip popped out, trembling as I made myself feel worse. Gideon, pausing for a moment, sighed in annoyance. "You really that worried about him?" I lifted my head to look at him, sitting atop a barrel labelled 'Fragile'. His head, resting in the palm of his sweaty pale hand, was overcast with a shadow of maturity. He seemed so much older than me all of a sudden. I nodded my head vigorously in response, hoping for some kind of advice. 

"Just talk to Mabel about it than." Never mind. He was still younger than me and incredibly naive. "Uh... No. That's literally a terrible idea. Mabel hates my guts and would never talk to me about Dipper." Maybe she'd talk to Gideon, though.... "Don't sell her short. She helped you last night with him." "That was a one-time deal. She'd never even open the mansion doors to me if she had an option." What was Gideon's damage? It shouldn't have been that hard to tell how much she hated me. "Well, how'd you get in the first time, than?" I paused for a moment, recalling the inside of their mansion. White marble. Chandelier. Beautiful people all around me. 'How did I slither my way into that beautiful house?' And then, the answer came to me in a shock of shame and annoyance.

"Candy." Candy's still Dipper's girlfriend, at least by her standards. I haven't talked to her since last night's party. Crap. If she knew about my feelings for Dipper, she'd probably ruin everything about my summer, and it's only just begun! However, the first time I entered that mansion, it was because she brought me. She brought me to that shimmering mansion. That shimmering palace. If I could just convince her to take me back to Dipper's house, I'd have a chance to talk to him and straighten things out. 'Just leave me the fuck alone' Those words still rang in my ears and I felt completely useless. How was I supposed to react to that? How do you react to someone saying something like that? I don't know. I wish I did. 

"Candy? What about candy?" Gideon was still trying to catch up to my train of thought, but I didn't feel like going into detail. I pinched the bridge of my nose, praying for some sort of detailed plan to conveniently see him. I couldn't climb through the window again. That was too risky. And, if I did, he'd try to bring up questions again about last night, and I couldn't answer those. Not yet. I still needed to rap it around my head as well. I just wanted to have a normal conversation with him and patch things up. He was unstable last I saw him, and with what's going on in his life right now, I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to do something drastic. 'Just a regular conversation. Nothing more. Nothing less' I needed to get in contact with Candy. Now.

"Yo, Gideon. I'm heading out. If you see Bud anywhere, tell him I'm going to a friend's house, 'kay?" Gideon hopped off of the barrel he was resting on and met me at the door before I could leave. "What about your chore? He might fire you if you don't do your work." Gideon wasn't so bad, now that I had gotten to know him, but he was wasting my time. I didn't know how long I had, let alone Dipper. I scooted him away from the Shack's entrance, turning around to face him. "You do it." I left before he could protest. If I knew anything about Gideon, which I really didn't, he'd clean up for my half in hopes that I'd pay him back. Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I don't know. I just need to get to Dipper somehow before something crazy happens to him. 

The shack, a short walk away from town, had a worn away path of dirt from the continual trotting of feet. A dirt road, leading into town. I followed the trail, stopping momentarily only to examine the occasional lizard or bug that wondered onto the road. Once in town, I took in the view. This place looked so different in the daytime, I realized. Almost welcoming. The chipped pavement. The close-to-condemned diner. The laundry mat, foggy windows blocking the view to the inside. The patches of children and teenagers, congregating together as nomadic tribes. A blue sky above me, only slightly polluted by the subtle strips of white clouds. It almost looked peaceful here.

I racked my brain, playing over and over again the streets which led to Candy's house. Yet, with each turn I made, I found myself getting more and more lost. The town wasn't too large, but the street names were confusingly labelled, with washed out and battered signs, misspelled or mispronounced, or just completely non-existent, ripped away by groups of rebellious teens. I kicked at the paved road, examining tiny cracks and the occasional dandelion which sprouted from it. I felt like dragging myself home and trying again tomorrow. However, something clung to me. I had asked several individuals for directions, and only a few of them were even able to give me an idea. But, on the empty street of some ripped-off sign, I saw the glint of blazing red hair, matched perfectly with pale white skin.

I knew her. I had seen her momentarily at Candy's party and once at the shack. She was a low-paid, apathetic cashier who almost never showed up for work, except for when she seriously needed the money. Wendy. I had only had one conversation with her, resulting in some seriously harsh feelings. What were the chances I could get directions from her of all people? Maybe it was the hair. Maybe the black clothes on this bright and sunny day. But, something about her just stuck out a huge arrow pointing directly at her. Wendy, on the opposite side of the road, was staring at the window display for guitars. 'Does she play?' I stopped abruptly, staring at her back as she trailed over the carefully crafted guitar. A rugged, black, and used one. She placed her hand on the glass and, a smile creeping up on her, waltzed into the shop. 'This is my chance.' 

I scurried over to the opposite side of the road, casually propping open the music shop's door. A slight 'ting' was heard as the bell over the door clang with chipper joy. I smiled up to it before taking a look at the atmosphere. Lines and rows of dusted records. Heavy metal. Jazz. Country (ew). A selection of every genre delicately positioned and strategically placed for the customers. I scanned the walls, a chipped white paint plastered over them. Tambourines, guitars, trumpets, all hanging from the walls as if they were gardening tools at Cracker Barrel. At the counter sat a middle aged man, bold everywhere but below his nose, where he showed off a grayed mustache, which twitched and shook like whiskers. His face was worn, yet he managed a smile as he spoke with Wendy.

I looked at her, not even a glance taken in my direction, as she began to argue with the man. "Give me sixty for it, man. Come on. Hook me up, dude!" Her hair seemed to stand on end as her temper rose. I looked to the guitar she had been admiring outside, through the window. A proud 'eighty' printed in red, followed by a sloppily drawn dollar sign. Wendy was trying to haggle. "Ma'am. This price isn't up for discussion. Eighty dollars means eighty dollars, and I'm afraid I can't lower it. Now, that's a fairly good price, and I know you know that, too. So, please. If you don't have the money to buy it, than the guitar isn't up for grabs to you." Wendy's face furrowed, a slight redness in her cheeks leaving her as a frightening sight. She paused, biting her lip nervously before speaking. She placed her palm to the glass counter, staring intensely into his eyes. "Seventy's all I got. Honest. Just give me the guitar and I'll pay you the rest back later." 

There was a pause. Than the harsh 'clang' of a cash register. Wendy dug into her pockets, slamming the wad of cash onto the counter with a smug smile. "Keep the change." I pinched the bridge of my nose in response. 'Oh my God. That was so stupid why would she say that what the heck?' The cashier-guy must have been thinking the same thing, because his chin began to prune up as his mustache drooped downward in a frown. "Just take the guitar and get outta here." He grumbled, watching Wendy race over to the display case and rip out the guitar in excitement. She looked as if she was holding back a squeal, examining the guitar's surface. Scraped. Scuffed. Black. Cool. A wide smile was expressed on her face as her freckled cheeks grew red with joy. "Goodbye, sir!" She called back to him before scampering out the door, almost on all fours.

With a jolt of surprise, I began to follow her outside as she raced through the streets. 'What's she doing?' I heard the continual laughter of excitement as she cooed in exhilaration, clutching the guitar to her chest. She ran and ran all over town, not even stopping to catch her breath once. I followed behind her, a scratchy feeling in my throat as the air began to sharpen while I jogged, just a few paces behind her. What was she so excited about? I don't know, but from the looks of the towns' people, they had never seen her like this before either. A sigh of murmurs through the crowd. A whisper. A coughed out sentence. A weirded-out look exchanged between people. Suddenly, I felt completely exposed, following Wendy. Being associated with her. I felt naked in the public eye like this. 

But I kept chasing, hoping for a break in between strained breaths. Then, hallelujah, a halt. Wendy panted, her back towards me, her pits painted with cups of sweat under each. She had run out of energy and was now standing still. Perhaps she was just trying to tire herself out enough to calm down. A few more pants, than a cooled sigh. She lifted up the guitar, wet around the areas which she gripped it, and stared at it. As she did, I began to inch towards her. "Uh... Hey." I tried my best to remain calm, hoping that my exhaustion wasn't too obvious. A swift flash of red hair whipped in front of me, her head snapping around. "Um... Hi?" Then, silence. She stared at me, perhaps waiting for something more. But, in all honesty, I had nothing to say.

"So, uh... Yeah. You're that kid from the shack, right? The bleached one?" She let the guitar rest at her side, dangling lazily in her hand. 'She looks like she plays.' I looked down to my feet, seeing the dust-encrusted tips of my laces. The tips of my shoes played around in the dirt, while I avoided her gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." I could hear it. I was losing her. I needed to come out with something before I lost my chance. Something about her. Something about her reminded me of him. "Yeah. Cool. Anyways, see yeah-" I stuck out a hand as she turned to leave. "Wait! Hold up!" She paused. As did I, and once more, we were met with an uncomfortable silence. I found myself stumbling over my words, picking wisely before I spoke. "I- um- You know- Do you know- Is he?- How is-..... So, you play?" 

A glint in her eyes told me that was more than enough to get her fired up. "Heck yes, I do." She blew a strand of hair out of her face before putting her fingers to the guitar. Within seconds, the air was filled with heavy notes resembling something dark. Something angry. Something totally beyond my taste in music. But, outside of that, I could at least tell that there were groups of people who would find that type of music enjoyable. "Yeah. I've been playing since, like, eighth grade. So, I'm pretty much an expert at this jazz or whatever." She cocked a smile at me, and I found myself in a state of embarrassment. I clapped with all my might, showing gratitude and appreciation as best I could for music I didn't understand. "So, the guitar's for you?" I began to back away from her. I had no reason, I realized, to follow her. She was just another hormone-induced teenager with a dream. I'd just have to crawl on my hands and knees and beg Candy to take me to Dipper. "Nope. It's for my protege, Dipper. I've been teaching him since I became his nanny... And got fired."

~One hour later~

"So, you're going to Dipper's house after this, right?" I had been following her around for the past hour, and I could tell she was getting annoyed with me. "For the six billionth time, yeah. Now, stop following me. Seriously, kid. I get your problem, but Dipper's in a rough spot right now. I don't think you'd be good for his... social development." Well, okay. Rude. "Please! He said he didn't wanna see me anymore, and if he doesn't talk to me, he'll hate me! I just wanna clear things up between us!" I was losing hope in Wendy. If she couldn't take me to him, I really would have to ask Candy for help. I'd hate to have that conversation. "Look! What do you expect me to do? Even if I bring you to the front door of the mansion, he won't go to see you. Dipper's a solitary bro. When he doesn't wanna see someone, he makes every effort to avoid them, man. It'd be too hard to get to him, even if you met him face-to-face." I looked out the booth's window, seeing the molten sun slowly disappear. The sky, a blazing hot pink near the earth, seemed to open up to what was left of the blue sky, soon to be engulfed in the sun's last ray of orange light. The diner, broken down and chipped at the edges, was close to empty. I saw a single bus boy, rhythmically circling the table tops with a wet dish rag, look on drearily. The night would come soon. I was running out of time. 

"I don't care." I looked her straight in the eyes and found something odd in her. Surprise. She looked surprised by my actions. "Really? You really don't care if he turns you away?" She asked me, leaning forward against the booth's table. Her elbows, tucked in at her sides. Her head, leaning in to meet my gaze. Her eyes, blazing. She wanted to know if I was for real. "Or yells or curses or flips me off. I'm there for Dipper, whenever he needs me." I, too, began to lean in, nose-to-nose with her. Her eyes squinted. Reflexively, as did mine. A moment of silence. A second. The bus boy watched us intensely, begging for us to get out so he could go home. "Can you guys just get out?" No reply. We didn't need to. The bus boy leaned his head back in annoyance, going into the backroom. Nothing seemed to break this hypnotic stare down, until Wendy began to smirk. "You really are crazy about him." A shy chuckle erupted from her, as she backed up and settled into her seat. "Yes. Yes, I am." I puffed my chest out, though my cheeks burned with a sense of complete exposure. Once again, I felt naked. Embarrassed. Yet, at the same time, relieved to have it out in the open.

"Ha! Good. I hate his girl friend. Seriously, that hack kicked me out, 'cause I insulted her. What a spazz. If you got him, I'd worship the ground you walked on, just to rub it in her face." I felt hope resurface. "So.... You'll take me?" She placed a finger on her chin, a hum erupting in low cords as she pondered my question. "Well...Yeah. Get in my van."

~Five minutes later~

The car's grumbles were cut off, the seat's vibrations evaporating into thin air. I looked out the murky window, admiring the steps which led to the door. White, pristine steps. I could only imagine how out of place Wendy's van looked. I turned to her, a worried smile enclosing her. "I hope Dipper's okay with me bringing you. If not, It'll look like I'm shaking hands with the devil." She lets out a sigh, full of strain and tension. I saw her left hand, still gripping the steering wheel, shaking with nerves. "You want me to wait outside for a bit? Talk to them for a while?" "Nah. That'd just look weird. You might as well just come inside with me." And with that, she reached into the back seat of the car, pulling out the guitar, covered lazily with a bath towel and wrapped up with some duck tape. It wasn't too hard to tell what was under the sheet, with the outline of the neck and its fat body at the base.

A jiggle of the car door, followed by a kick at the edge in order to prop it open. Trash, falling out in rows, crumbled in buckets to the Pine's paved driveway. I heard the doors slam shut, sealing my fate. 'No turning back now.' The sun was close to setting, which now invited for crickets and lightning bugs to emerge, free from predator harassment. The sky had transformed from a violent shade of hot pink into a more subdued state of violet. The Pine's driveway, covered pave-to-pave in small stones, glistened with the sun's final attempt of escape from the ever-present fear of night. I watched with sorrow, as the sun became nothing more than a small glint of light, slowly but surely engulfed by the Earth. And, as the sun sank, so too did my hopes.

'He hates me. Why am I even here? He'll never talk to me, even if I am making the first move.' My face soured, a shadow casting over my face as I worried myself. I considered just walking home, only for Wendy to bring me back to attention. "Hey." She snapped her fingers at me, a demeaning action which I forgave. "Coming?" She had already made her way up the mansion's steps and was inches from ringing the doorbell. My heart sank and my gut began to squeeze and churn. 'This is it.' I sloshed my way over to Wendy's side, a cool sweat developing over my brow. Wendy placed the gift under her arm, an awkward position that would poke anyone in the gut if they walked towards her. I fixed my skirt, patting away the few crumbs my butt had picked up on Wendy's dirty seats. The doorbell, a glossy button with crisp white paint surrounding it, looked as though it had never been touched. Until me. My index finger reflexively pressed the button, which, as I had predicted, felt dusty. It popped slightly at my touch, as if the edges still hadn't been broken in. A shrill 'ding dong' echoed throughout the house, and I soon heard quiet footsteps scurry over to answer the door.

A peep hole, placed thoughtlessly on the door, went black as a head was placed over it, someone peering though to see who had rung. A moment later, the simultaneous 'click' of a lock, followed by the swinging of the door. Warm light spilled out from within, and I soon realized how dark it had become outside. A teenager, no older than Wendy, opened up, a sweet smile upon her face. "Wendy!" She chirped, her white maid's outfit glistening against the house's light. Wendy smirked, walking into the house without so much as whipping her feet on the door mat, as if she had lived here her entire life. "'Sup, Tambry? How've things been holding up?" I followed her inside, although it felt embarrassing to barge in like this. I took a look around. Each time I came here, I felt amazed by the cleanliness of it all. But tonight, with the beautiful glow of the house contrasting with the night sky, it looked like a whole other world. Everything shined, especially the floors, which looked newly waxed and polished. The continual work of maids and butlers, vacuuming the rugs and setting the tables, made me feel uncomfortable however, as If I were making a mess everywhere.

"Things have been well since you were let go. The twins haven't been quite as chipper though, I'm afraid. I'm not as fair a nanny as you were." She pouted, folding her hands against her lap as she bowed her head, an air of shame present. "Nah dude. They're seventeen, and it's like- You're only a couple of years older than them, so it's kinda weird for you to be taking care of them. Nothing's wrong with you. They just- They like more teenager-y conversations, ya know?" Tambry shook her head, denying Wendy's reasoning. "I was never very good with teenagers, even when I was one." Silence fell over the three of us for a moment, making the room feel incredibly stiff. 'Dipper and Mabel still have a nanny? What's that all about? They never seemed to need one on the streets.' Quickly, Tambry lifted her head. "Oh, yes! How rude of me. what can I do for you two?" In an instance, her demeanor had changed, clasping her hands against her chest in optimism. 

She looked at me, if for a moment, and I could almost see the buzz in her eyes. She was ready to serve others in an instance. With a slight cough to clear the air, Wendy responded. "We're here for the twins. Can you bring them down?" With a beaming smile, Tambry tapped her way up the steps, as elegant and beautifully as I'd seen before. We stood awkwardly at the door, watching as she made her way up, disappearing behind a wall which led on to the hallway.

~Dipper's P.O.V.

The tissue paper, which I had wrapped around my forearms, had gone stale and cardboard-like as the blood seeped through and dried. I prepared myself to remove the tissue, placing fist-fulls of band aids at my side, accompanied by some rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. I tore at the paper, feeling the stiff concrete my blood had made. A slight pain from pulling at it was felt, but nothing more. Once I pulled them off, the tissue paper stripped away the scabs my wounds had been forming, which resulted in the continuation of bleeding. I reached out my hand towards the band aids, praying that blood wouldn't begin to drop onto my bedspread as I did. Beads of blood began to rise from the cuts. Nothing seriously messy, but I still bothered to wipe both of my arms down with the chemicals I brought with me, before finally patting them down with several bandages. Once I was finished, I felt odd. 

I didn't feel comfortable looking at the cuts, even though a part of me was proud for making them, so I got up to put something long enough to cover them. My dresser, placed at the far corner of the room, seemed so far away as I stared at it. 'What if someone comes in while I'm getting up? What If I don't have time to cover them and someone enters?' I had no other choice, though. I scurried to the dresser, pulling open the shirt drawer to reveal perfectly folded, pressed, and creaseless clothes. I reached in, pulling out whatever my hand touched first, to pull out a grey sweatshirt with the letters "P!ATD" on it. In a nervous panic, I popped my head through it, making sure to slip both arms in before someone could see me. Once the sweatshirt was securely on, I got down to once again hiding the evident. A space behind my bed, which separated it from the wall, is where I slipped the crumbed up band aid wrappers. The rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide was placed in my dresser, cloaked by a few of my least-worn shirts, which I would never have to worry about the maids cleaning.

I turned to the window I had broken, lazily covered by a pair of maroon curtains. The glass, once a sharp threat on the bedroom floor, had been swept up. I placed the shards in a cardboard box, hidden under my bed, the curtain-like protection of my sheets long enough to keep them out of sight. I'd boil them for safety later, just in case I could get infected. The last bits of glass, too small to cut with or just barely large enough to see, were the bits I went without and vacuumed up. I'd have a new window up soon enough, and Mabel wouldn't even mention it, I was sure. If she did, I'd just have to tell her I threw something without thinking. Even if she didn't believe me, she'd have no way of properly probing my mind. She didn't have as much access to my brain as I did to hers. 

A knock at the door. 'Beyond perfect timing.' I thought to myself, feeling my nervousness melt away, leaving my shoulders relaxed and down. I checked the cuffs of my sleeves, making sure nothing was visible. A tiny slip of a peach-colored band aid was visible on the back of my wrist, but nothing beyond that. A clear "Come in" cut through the silence, and I was almost surprised by my own voice. There was a pause, followed by the entrance of Tambry, my nanny. At times, I'd complain that I was old enough to look after myself, and Tambry was more like a regular maid with extra pay, if anything. I'd enter the mansion, and she'd great me with a smile and the occasional questioning. A run-down of my day. How things went. And I'd always say 'fine'. She'd fix a meal or two, although I preferred to fix them myself. She attempted to step in on Mabel and my life as much as she could, perhaps out of duty. She babied us at times, and it became embarrassing at times. All the time, actually. She was too close to our age. Too young. She was too cowardly and shy to honestly take care of us or order us around, and she was weak on conversation.

But, beyond that, she was a kind person, so I went along with her. I'd 'yes ma'am' her out of sympathy, to give off a sense of authority, even though I felt none towards her. She was feeble, I knew, and too awkward to order us around, unless it was absolutely necessary. So, in addition to being kind, she was also easy to manipulate. If she were to be replaced, Mabel and I'd be under harsher observance. So, we bared with her fragile personality. Out of both sympathy and selfishness. "Dipper. Someone's here to see you." Her eyes lit up, and something felt different about her face. She seemed genuinely happy, and not just happy out of manors. She widened the door for me, ducking her head slightly as she made room for me to pass by. As I exited, she followed, her polished dress shoes 'clipping' against the wooded floors. Although she appeared rebellious, a full head of purple hair spouting atop her temple, she was the farthest from being ill-mannered in any way. Outside of being a nanny, she was head maid. She swept, washed, and vacuumed whatever she touched. At times, she became passionate and would tidy up our rooms, even though we were the soul cleaners of that part of the house. I'd have to remember that, in case she found something negative under my bed or in my dresser. 

I approached the stair case, a smooth, wooden banister leading downward to what I saw to be Wendy. "Holy shit... Wendy!!!!" I burst down the steps and into her arms, lifting her up with such enthusiasm that I hardly believed myself. She barked a whole-hearted laugh, wrapping her arms around my head with a squeeze, her chin buried in the top of my head. "Yo! Dude! Dude! You'll never guess what I found!" I dropped her, a stumble present as she found balance again on her own two feet. I hadn't realized until now, but her left hand held what looked like a lumpy towel, hiding something underneath. Rows and rows of duck tape wrapped around the object, up and down, revealing the exact shape of the present. It was a guitar. "No. Way." Wendy, when she had first been my nanny at twelve, taught me the guitar. Less out of duty and more out of desire. 'Okay. Put your fingers here and here. Good, man. You're doing good, fella.' I played up until sixteen, which is when Grunkle Stan fired her for stealing and smashed my guitar for good measure. That's when I stopped playing. My bedroom had never seemed so silent.

She shoved it into my hands, buzzing with absolute excitement. "Yes way! Open it, klutz! Open it!" She shone with a smile I hadn't seen so vividly on anyone before, and I almost felt like crying out of gratitude. I almost did, until I saw who was standing behind her. I leaned slightly ahead of Wendy, getting a better view. Pink jacket, a sun with sunglasses sloppily stitched to it. Soft blond hair, pulled back by a red scrunchy. Her teeth, white and rich with silver braces. And, above all, the most uncomfortable and awkward look I had ever seen on her face, cast down and avoiding my gaze. "Hey Paz." I lifted a hand with a half-hearted 'hello', which she mumbled back with a 'hi'. Well okay then. I continued to look at her, watching her face burn in embarrassment. She must have felt awkward intruding on us. Or, maybe it was being in someone else's home. Maybe it was what happened this afternoon. Maybe it was everything. 

I didn't care. I knew what she was here for. All she wanted to do was chew me out for my attitude. She wanted an apology, I was sure of it. Not a chance. I could feel my face sour, watching her continually avoid my eyes. 'Is this some kind of silent treatment? Is that all you're here for? Are you trying to play the victim so I'll feel bad? Paz. you're better than that.' "Um... Present? Remember?" Wendy pointed to the rag in my hands, covering the guitar bummishly. I smiled weakly, but the feeling had begun to seep away the second Pacifica came. She made me feel gross and uncomfortable, like expressing excitement would be shameful. But, I still wanted to see Wendy as excited as I was, so I tried to pull it together. The tape wouldn't budge very easily, and Wendy had wrapped it several times mindlessly. I picked at the tape awkwardly 'til it gave and I was able to slice through it and unwrap it. Before me, in my hands, was the most kick-ass guitar I had ever seen. Scuffed. Rugged. Pitch black. Covered in band stickers, which I knew she had added herself.

"Holy fuck. Wendy, this is-" I was breathless. Completely taken away by the simple sensation of holding it. I hadn't held one for almost a year, yet it still felt as familiar as holding a pencil. In that year without the guitar, I had picked up the ukulele, which helped a little, but I could never get over the power that a guitar evoked. It felt like I was holding four physical years of hard work in my hands. "I don't-" I felt cold. "...I really don't deserve this." I slumped my shoulders, letting the gift dangle in my hands emptily. 'You don't deserve it. You're not worth it. How much did that even cost? What a complete waste of money. You haven't played in almost an entire year. You probably don't even know how to play anymore. And, even if you do, Grunkle Stan'll just smash this one, too.' I could feel it. A chill going up my spine. 'I don't need this guitar. I won't have it for long if I take it.' Why would she buy this for me? she was too nice to me, and I was never even worth it.

"Uh, ha! Yeah you do, bro! Come on, play something! Like- like, uh- Teenagers! Dog! You always killed it when you sang that song! And, this time, you've got an audience, too!" With that, she turned around and slid Pacifica right in front of me. I could see Paz's brows furrow in sadness and shame, and it made things in this room so weird. I looked away from her, as did she, instead fiddling with the individual strings, checking to see which were in tune and which were not. Wendy let out a scoff. "Come on bro! We haven't seen each other in a year, and you're, like- like my grasshopper-type student thingy for this kinda crap, ya know? Just do something, right? What about 'The house of wolves', by that one British band you like? Or- or, uh, 'The light behind your eyes'? Or- OH! 'Dead'! Those were your favorites!" 'I know. I know. I just- I don't wanna do it. I don't wanna do it in front of her.' I don't know how to play any songs outside of double-meaning songs, and playing that for Paz? I'd be completely naked in front of her. Besides, she wouldn't like my playing.

I noticed the battered black strap attached to either ends of the guitar. I placed one end over my shoulder, placing the other end under my arm, letting the guitar hang from my body. "I'll do it later." I said emptily, giving her a distant look. If I could just communicate that to her, that I wasn't feeling it in front of Pacifica, than she'd take Paz away. No such luck. "Oh. You tired or something? Yeah. It's, like, nine-ish, right? Too late for a growing boy, am I right? But, at this point, I wouldn't suspect you can get much bigger than that." She elbowed me in the side, giving me a wink. 'Yo. What the fuck, Richard?' She used to tease me like that as a child, which was most-likely why my sense of humor reached farther towards the extreme end of jokes. On any other day, I would have 'wink wink nudge nudged' her right back, following up with something even more crass. But, everything just felt off with Paz in the middle of it all. In the end, I got sweaty and red in the face, laughing it off in the most uncomfortable way possible. Followed by my hands grabbing either of her shoulders, spinning her around, and pushing her towards the door. 

"Yep. I'm a full-grown boy with a full day ahead of him so I think I need my rest goodnight I'll see you in the morning God speed love ya Wendy bye." I slammed the door shut, pressing my back up against the entrance, letting out a huff of air. I rubbed either of my hands against my face, pulling at the edges in recognition. 'That was so weird. Wendy was being so awkward and I was being all stupid and Paz was too quiet to even-' I looked up, and Paz still stood in front of me. 'Oh. Yeah.' "Uh, Hey again." All I had to do was move out of the way, open the door, and she'd be gone. 'For how long? Will she come back?' I moved, opening the door enough for her to slip through. Yet, she didn't move. She just stood there, head down, hands clasped together in her lap, like she were showing her respects. "The door's open, Paz. You can leave now." If she wanted an apology from me, she'd have to try a lot harder than that. She stood there. Nothing. Not even a flinch.

"Paz. Seriously. Get out, okay?" I let go of the door, walking up to her. Mabel'd have a fit if she saw Paz here, and Grunkle Stan'd beat me if he thought we were doing something unseemly. Something that could taint the family name. Ironic. I grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. "Dude. Come on." I began to pull at her, only to hear her blubbering. "Y-you real-l-ly don't li-like me any m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-ore...." With that, she looked up at me, her lower lip pressing out as far as it would go as her face grew wrinkled and red. She looked like a new-born baby's first cries, and it was absolutely pathetic. It was even more pathetic how hurt I was by her face. Within seconds, I caught myself stammering, searching for words to reassure her. "What? N-no! I don't... not like you. I mean- yeah, I think you're cool and all but-... Why would you think I didn't like you?" She... wasn't looking for an apology? Or maybe she still was. I don't know. Everything was taking kind of a tilted approach, so I wasn't really on top of what was even going on.

"Y-you t-t-t-t-old me to st-ay aw-w-w-way from y-" I got the idea. "Hey. Hey, now. I didn't mean it like that. I was- I was mad and everything was just- I'm sorry." 'There. I said it. Are you happy now?' Suddenly, I was enveloped in her arms, which felt warm and motherly. Protective. 'God, Dipper. Don't cry. Don't cry. If you cry you might as well move to China.' I started crying. Now, we were just two incredibly awkward teenagers crying for no apparent reason. And I suddenly felt less lonely.