"Damn it," Dipper said as the lead of his pencil snapped for the fifth time. He usually didn't get so upset about something so minuscule, but it was after four in the morning, this advanced physics work was due in three hours, and .5 lead was really hard to find.

"Keep it down, PoinDexter," his roommate, Robie, said from the other side of the room. "I'm trying to sleep." Which was a gigantic fucking lie. His phone had been buzzing since he had gotten back from whatever party he was at. Probably some girl. He was texting back, too. Every few seconds, the chime of happy little iPhone clicks sounded off and almost drove Dipper to conspiracy for murder.

Dipper ceased his feverish writing to check the time. 4:46 AM. Two hours and 54 minutes left to complete another three pages of equations. He examine his completed work. Even without really looking at it, he could already tell that there were several mistakes. He thought about going back and fixing them, but there was no real point. Well, besides passing the junior class that he, a freshman, had somehow gotten into, and was three hours away from failing. But no matter how many pencil leds were broken or eraser shavings spewed, it wouldn't change the fact that sigma force equals mass times acceleration. And it definitely wouldn't change the fact that Dipper's sleep deprived mind kept reading it as EF=ma and couldn't process that it was even English. Well, it wasn't really English per say as a mixture of Latin and Greek symbols, but none the less, the college student looked at it as if it was a foreign language, one that he hadn't studied before.

His phone buzzed, illuminating the not bright enough lights of his shitty pay phone. Texts and photos scrolled across the screen, all from Pacifica. Photos of her and her friends at a party. Photos of her and several other guys with hooked arms and filthy smiles. Dipper rolled his eyes. She'd been doing this for the past month. Sending him photos of her at parties or with her friends or kissing cheeks of other guys. At first it upset him, but now it was just annoying. It was if Pacifica was trying to say 'See, Dipper. I told you that you should have come to Oregon Tech with me. If not for the school, then to stop me from doing this.' Another picture popped up. Pacifica had her arms around his waist. His hand ventures a little lower, down past her...

He blinked a few times and removed his hat to run his cramping fingers through his ratty hair. He had to take a break. Dipper got up, cracked his back, put on his coat (inside out), and made sure to slam his dorm room door on the way out.

...

Gravity Falls Coffee. He stared at the yellow luminescent sign for what seemed like hours before finally entering the building. Although it was new, the coffee shop already looked trampled and worn, like a herd of hipsters had taken up residency there. But apparently someone had Trojan horsed them, because the shop was empty, save for an indiscreetly preppy barista, who was blending something profusely, despite the shop being empty.

As if feeling the door hinges creak, his head shot up. A smile stretched all the way across his tanned cheeks, revealing two rows of pearly white denticles.

"Hey, kid! Triple shot espresso?"

"How did you know?"

"I can read minds." He smiled again, closing his eyes. Or at least closing the left one. His right eye was covered in a triangular black patch that's string was lost in a mess of tangled blond hair. That was probably the first thing Dipper had noticed, even before the eyepatch and the gigantic smile. The locks were unnaturally blond and the roots were brown, but he didn't bleach it like Pacifica did (and wouldn't admit to). It was like he walked into a barber shop and said, 'The color of the sun. I want that.'

Dipper gave him a spectacle look.

"I can. For instance, your name is Dipper and you're about six foot- no, scratch that." He squinted. "5' 11" and three quarters." His triumphant smile spread a little further, making his several golden earnings clang against each other.

"How did you-?" Dipper sputtered. Bill smirked and pointed down at Dippers chest. His necklace, the one that Pacifica had gotten him as a going away present, swung from side to side. Dipper, it spelled, swaying in its rhinestoned glory. He hadn't thought about it in so long that he had forgotten it was even there. He clenched it in his fist and looked back at the barista. He pointed behind him. Two measuring sticks were glued lopsidedly to the door frame. Dipper supposed it was to identify any potential robbers.

"Then how'd you know I wanted a triple espresso?"

"I shot for each bag under the college students tired blue eyes." He picked up the finished coffee and scribbled on it with a sharpie. "Dipper."

Dipper took the cup from him and inspected the label. D-i-a-p-e-r... Diaper...

"Okay, I knew you guys were notorious for spelling names wrong, but really? Diaper? You even looked at my necklace! You know how it's spelled!" The blond tried to remain composed, but failed. He burst into hysterics.

"I know. I did it on purpose. It's hilarious, isn't it?!" He was practically crying.

"No, it isn't. Change it." Dipper thrust the cup into the baristas hands. He stopped laughing immediately. With cup in one hand and sharpie in the other, the blond stuck his tongue between his teeth and began scribbling. With a triumphant smile, he re-presented the steaming coffee.

"Pine Tree?" Dipper read. "Okay, there's no way you just guessed that my last name was Pines. What the hell is going on here?"

"I just took a look at the dipping sauces lid." The blond pushed Dipper's duck bill hat down over his nose. Oh right, he thought, the pine tree. He laughed. "You know, you're pretty cute, Pine Tree."

"So, that's what this is." Dipper took off his hat and ruffled his hair. "You're hitting on me." Dipper sighed. "You don't even know if I'm gay or not, but you're still hitting on me!"

"Oh, I know you're gay," the barista said, nonchalantly swirling a wet rag inside of a glass.

"I'm not gay, I'm bi. There's a difference."

"Hardly."

"What? There is a large difference between gay and bisexual. When you're gay, you just like the same sex as you. When you're bi, you-"

"No, I'm saying you're hardly bi. Let me guess, got a girlfriend?"

"Well, yeah."

"You have sex yet?" He put down the glass and leaned with his hands on the table, anticipating.

"Not exactly, we-"

"Gay!"

"You're really annoying, you know that?" Dipper spat, but he still laughed.

"And yet, you're still standing here." The barista shot his signature blinding smile.

"What's your name?"

"William Cipher. But my friends call me Bill."

"Does that mean I can call you Bill?" Dipper leaned his elbows on the table, inching a little closer to Bill. The barista laughed and crossed his arms.

"Not a chance."