The bottle exploded as it the white granite of the two-foot high slab, but the noise seemed tinny and far away, not doing justice to the feelings that inspired Dipper to throw the nearly empty bottle of cheap whiskey at Stanley Pines' grave.

'F-FUCK YOU!' He screamed through tears, snot running down over his lip to fall heedlessly on his wrinkled suit. 'Why d-didn't you TELL ME!' He screamed again, kicking a bouquet of flowers neatly propped against the stone.

Dipper knew why he hadn't been told. Finals, AP tests, book reports- he'd worked hard for his grades, and was proud of them. Proud of what they represented in the years of hard work, and potential for a bright future. They meant a lot to him, and to the Grunkles as well. They hid Stanley's declining health and death from him so it wouldn't be a distraction.

'HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY GOODBYE?!' Dipper kicked the short wooden fence that surrounded the grave yard, managing to put his foot through one of the slats. For a moment he cursed at the fence as he tried to extricate his foot, but his struggles only caused him to fall, just out of arms reach of Stanley's grave. Dipper sobbed as he lay on the ground.

'Hey.' A soft voice said from over the fence.

'WHAT?!' Dipper screamed, trying to determine the source of the voice.

'Whoa, dude, chillax. You need some help?' It was Wendy. Definitely in the top five of people Dipper least wanted to see while he was drunk, covered in tears and snot, and stuck in a fence.

'No. I'm f-fine. Just go.'

'Nah, dude, you're wasted. I'm not goin' anywhere.' She turned to lean up against the fence, and lit a cigarette. 'You look like you got a lot on your mind though, want to talk about it?'

Dipper fiercely wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, watching Wendy suspiciously and wondering how long her back would be turned.

'No.'

'You sure? I mean, you're drunk, and screaming at rocks in the middle of the night, loud enough to wake up anyone for miles.' She looked at him over her shoulder. 'Sounds like you got something to say.'

Dipper sighed, and rolled on to his back, giving up on retrieving his foot or fending off Wendy.

'Nobody told me. They think that's okay.' He covered his eyes, hoping to stop the stars from spinning. 'I'm not a little kid. I should have had the chance to say goodbye.'

Wendy took another drag off her cigarette and stared in to the night sky.

'Yeah. It sucks, right? People trying to do what's best for you without ever telling you about their struggle to do it. Sounds like something you'd do.'

Dipper was silent.

'Let me have one of those.'

'You sure? You'll feel way more drunk.'

'Don't care.'

The pack of Lucky Strikes bounced off his chest to land near his hand, followed quickly by a lighter. Shakily, Dipper pulled a cigarette out and put it in his mouth. It took him a few tries to get the lighter to work, and his position on the ground didn't make lighting up any easier. Finally, though, he was able to suck in a lung full of smoke. It itched and burned, but he was able to suppress the coughing long enough to let the smoke back out.

'I'll hang out here 'til you're ready to go home, okay?'

'Yeah... Thanks.'