There she was, sprouting out another random non-sequitur, something else that didn't make sense now, but would probably lead to wackiness in a couple of hours, and Pacifica Northwest couldn't help but roll her eyes. She would never really understand why she chose to pay attention to what she said, or act like a total jerk in front of her.
The saying "The more you hit me the more you love me" came to mind, and she dismissed with yet another roll of the eyes, while true for her parents, who did love her, that saying would never apply between her and the dork, the weirdo, the strange, strange girl that was Mabel.
It wasn't just one, but were several things that made Pacifica notice Mabel Pines, and not all of them were as obvious as the others. It was the way her eyes lightened up when she stood for a friend, and who she chose to make friends with for that matter. It was how she stood up to anyone to defend those she deemed worth defending, and how everyone was seemingly on that list. It was her kindness, her inner beauty, her smile, and if Pacifica were honest, it was everything else too. Though Pacifica chided herself for having such thoughts, how could she have not noticed the other girls when she dressed like she was wearing a circus tent that just so happened to have had a run in with expensive art, so colorful her sweaters were, so….and Pacifica hated to use the word, but it applied...sweet.
To Pacifica….Pacifica who had been raised and created in a way to only follow and socialise with the very best, those who gave her the best chances in life, for her and her family, or that darned bell would ring. To that Pacifica that was, there was no other word for it, conditioned, raised to hate the sound of a bell ringing, and conformed to her parents' expectations, the genuine happiness and sweetness with which Mabel did everything - the open and honest way which incinerated any doubt in her heart, well, it spoke to her.
That wasn't to say that Mabel was perfect, by no means, nobody was. If she, Pacifica Northwest, as much as she was raised to be could not find perfection in herself, then surely the girl with the toothy and goofy smile was not.
It was a fact that Pacifica Northwest repeated to herself ad infinitum. Mabel Pines was not perfect, but then, why oh why did she think so much of the girl, from the way she smiled and the way her hair fell besides her, in a way that showed that she, unlike her, didn't spent hours upon hours in the washroom molding it and making it perfect, dying it in a fake blond, so she could be more attractive, and just let it be, to the way she didn't reserve her words and instead chose to say them at any time she deemed necessary - which, to Mabel, was almost always.
And why did it hurt when so many of her random sentences, goofiness without a point except perhaps to amuse someone in need, or just Mabel being Mabel, referred to boys? Sure they were entering the age where they were thirteen, technically teens, soon, and she would be expected to find a suitor who shared her riches and influence upon the world (even if the one who did show up went for Grenda, she did not understand boys, even more the foreign ones), but when Mabel was not being amazingly sweet and kind, she was being boy obsessed, and, Pacifica had to admit, it looked like she was rubbing it in her face. Even if she knew Mabel to be too good for that, even if she was sure that Mabel would do nothing to purposefully hurt another person, anyone else, and that, though they had differences, Mabel was too good to resort to that. If she even know what she was feeling, how could Mabel know it, when Pacifica did her very best to deny it every day? And thought it resurfaced every single time she thought she had it pushed to the very depths of her being, she, Pacifica Northwest thought she hid it.
If not well, at least enough, it wasn't as if anyone knew what she knew and tried to hide, there was absolutely no way that anyone knew. That was as certain to her as the ringing of that little bell, because she was never perfect enough, was she? Well she was perfect enough to know that feelings like those, those were unbecoming of a proper lady, and she had dues and things she would have to do, in the future.
And though long ago she had believed in fairy tales, and gnomes, and other weird things, because if there was something that Gravity Falls was, it was weird, now she knew better. She had to do what she had to do, which rang surprisingly similar to a show she had watched as a kid, well littler kid. She was now a teen.
But then when she was small, it had been before most of the trite that her life had turned in, in such a way that the only manner in which she could feel better about herself was to throw down others, to send shade their way. Something she did try to do more and more, but which always failed on Mabel, what with her positivity and…
Oh! How she loathed having to do that, to keep appearances, but at the same how it brought her such satisfaction that Mabel just stared at her like she was confused by the concept of a mean alpha girl, one who wanted to make others feel bad. And how she was sure that if an unicorn were to look at both their hearts (if such a thing existed, which she highly doubted, in fact she gave a scornful herm herm just to denote it), they'd see the goodness in her heart. Not Pacifica's of course, as she had impressions to maintain, something which started in Gravity Falls and spread all over the US. But Mabel's…
Pure, goofy, sweet, toothy Mabel. Was there anything else to say? Pacifica didn't think so, even as she stood to avoid the ringing bell as much as she could, even as she stared in admiration at Mabel. Mabel who was more than her beauty, that rivaled Pacifica's, or her kind and warm heart, the way she stood to the side, and the way she helped everyone, from her dweeb of a brother, to her grumpy old uncle. Mabel was just…
Well there was no other word that came to Pacifica's mind, Mabel was Mabel. And that described so much while at the same time saying so little, because there was nothing else to say, she was just...herself. Mabel. And the ways Pacifica thought of her would make her blush, and it would made her grind her teeth, if she allowed herself to ever think of those thoughts.
But she didn't go farther than that, because Mabel was Mabel, and really, what else was there to think?