A/N: Hi guys! I've been getting some questions on how often I typically update. The answer is: I do my very best to release a new chapter once a week, typically in the middle of the week. I am a therapist, so I do get busy with work sometimes, but I make an effort to be consistent. I also have the entire story mapped out but I only write one chapter at a time so I can dedicate my attention to each detail I want to include. BUT since I've received a great deal of feedback, I worked to get you a new chapter ASAP! I hope you enjoy chapter 9, and thank you for all the reviews and follows!
The previous week's summer storm had passed, leaving the outside soft and dewy, a chilling breeze fighting the sun for control of the temperature. Dipper walked around to the back of the Mystery Shack, searching for anything that would make a good addition to his book. Exhaustion pumped through his veins as he chewed vigorously on the end of his pen. He hadn't written anything new in a week and he desperately needed some inspiration, but he just couldn't focus. What had happened between him and Pacifica was at the forefront of his brain and there was nothing he could do to remove it. He remembered the pressure building in his body as she gently pushed him on the bed, her mouth collapsing onto his. She hovered over him, grinding her body into his with every kiss, every twirl of her tongue, every breath whispered into his. Her hand snuck up the front of his shirt before her fingers daintily trailed back down to his belt, tracing the very top of where his pants met his hips. He melted under her touch, his body a mix of stiff tension and gelatin, his senses high with each twist and turn of his stomach. He was lightheaded, his blood rushing to every square inch of flesh she touched, leaving nothing left to help pump his brain. He didn't even remember when his hands decided to roam her body on their own accord, as if they were not his own— or the shock when she sat back up to remove her shirt, commanding his hand to touch her newly revealed skin. She was soft and smooth as silk without a blemish to be found. Touching her delicate body was addictive as his hands bravely began seeking previously undiscovered territory. She let out a moan of approval, encouraging him to continue exploring her more sensitive areas. The smell of champagne and cherries lingered even after she left, the images haunting every corner of his mind.
But the memories were tainted and something deep within was scolding him for being so naive. He was disgusted with himself, feeling like he had betrayed his own values. He came to visit this summer to explore the unknown, but he didn't expect to be realizing the depths of his emotional turmoil. He decided he had to be alone. It was the only way he didn't feel miserable.
He found he was used to being by himself— at school, he typically lived in Mabel's shadow. She was friendly, caring, thoughtful, and energetic, constantly on the lookout for new friends. She wasn't popular in the sense that she dated a ton of guys or went to all the cool parties, but every social clique respected her and she had a close friend in nearly every circle. She never had the issues with bullies that Dipper seemed to struggle with.
Like Mabel thrived on attention, Dipper was consumed by his books, constantly lurking in libraries and book stores. He was competitive when it came to his studies and he didn't deal with second place very politely. His ambition since he entered high school was to be valedictorian, and he would spend every night of his high school career studying if it meant he would attain his goal. He had a few peers that he would consider his "friends", but he mostly kept them around so his parents didn't put him into therapy or something for having "anti-social tendencies", or whatever crap they could come up with. Truth was that Mabel was by far his best friend, followed closely only by the connections he had made with the townspeople of Gravity Falls. Sometimes he wondered if the town's weirdness factor is what made people actually like him. Because, lets face it: why be friends with Dipper when you can have Mabel?
He knew that's why he clung so desperately to Pacifica, finally feeling like there was someone out there who understood him. Her letters reflected his soul, finding in them a friend who understood his problems. He had fantasized about returning to Gravity Falls and falling in love with her not only as his friend, but as his partner in life. He couldn't imagine that there was someone else for him in the world, even if their relationship remained platonic forever. Not that he hadn't crushed on her— he would have to be an idiot to deny her beauty and sophistication. But he treasured her letters so much that he was prepared to love her only as his friend and confidante if need be.
He swallowed hard. He knew now he had no choice in the matter anymore. He and Pacifica were better off as friends.
His phone vibrated in his back pocket. Speak of the devil.
He continued scouring the back yard for anything unusual, keeping his mind focused on the task at hand. He knew it was probably Pacifica on her go-phone again. He wasn't ready to talk to her because he wasn't ready for things to be over between them. He required space in order to shield himself from the pain he knew he was about to endure. And so he continued to ignore her. For weeks.
On the other end of the phone, Pacifica began losing her patience. She stared angrily at her temporary phone, wondering if there were any minutes left on it. Maybe that's why he wasn't responding to her texts. Every creak of her house, every white noise from the tv, every breeze on the window convinced her that the god forsaken cell phone was vibrating, momentarily giving her relief that perhaps Dipper didn't despise her after all. She'd obsessively check, deflating once she realized her phone had been silent the whole time. She played that mind game with herself for hours.
Her evening hadn't gone the way she had intended either. She was still trembling when she arrived at her house making it difficult to climb her favorite tree. Her footing slipped, knocking her to the ground and twisting her back. Her clumsy antics made her panic even further, knowing that her shaking hands were making her lose time. She was lucky she even made it home before Blake did, giving herself just enough time to change clothes and pretend to be practicing her French. She could feel her heart beat in her ears.
"Pacifica?" Her name sounded bitter coming from Blake.
She turned in her chair toward him, a million thoughts floating around in her brain. She had to focus— today was the perfect opportunity to break things off with him for good. She wasn't afraid of her parents, she wasn't afraid of the press, she wasn't afraid of him. Not anymore.
"Is there something I can help you with?" She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, her eyes piercing.
"What's with the attitude, babe? Can't I come visit my girlfriend whenever I feel like it?" He waltzed up to her chair and swooped down for a kiss.
She blocked his advances with her hand, "Girlfriend? I read that you broke up with me on Facebook last week. Now suddenly we're together? Fascinating how that changes so quickly."
"Oh, come on! That was just for my image, babe! You know I have to say stuff like that to avoid any negative impact on my social life, right? Besides," he scoffed, "I should be mad at you! Were you even thinking about me when you brought all those hillbillies to our country club? I'm feeling like I wasn't on your mind at all."
"That's the point, Blake. You weren't." She enunciated, turning around to her desk, "And those 'hillbillies' happen to mean a lot to me."
"The weirdo you were on top of in public means a lot to you? Really? Should I actually be jealous?" He said flatly.
She felt her anger spike, "If you knew half of what he did for this town, maybe you'd have some respect. And there's no reason to be jealous because you're nothing to me."
"Feisty tonight, huh? Ok, I'm into it. What can I do to make it better for you? You know how much I care about you. I know there's something." He got down on one knee, taking her hand in his and grazing it along his lips.
She felt her barrier start to crack, the internal war between what she wanted and what was easy exploding in conflict. She could stay with him. He was thoughtful sometimes, buying her expensive jewelry and trips around the world. She enjoyed spending time with his parents and they loved her family. It was nice to be around people who didn't judge her folks for all of the wrong things they have done in the past. Well, and the present. Her parents were awful, but she still loved them in some strange, possibly-psychologically-disturbed way. He was the most logical choice for her.
But what was she thinking? He didn't respect her thoughts or beliefs, he was selfish and mean, and he wasn't there for her when she needed him most. Everything to him was about image and he would be the first to toss her out the door if things went south. Choosing him was easy on her family, not on her.
Now or never.
"No. No, there is nothing you can do except get out," she jumped to her feet, poking a finger to him, "you might think you can tell me who I can hang around with because you've done it in the past, but guess what? It ends now. I'm so done with you thinking you own me. No one owns Pacifica Northwest! So get the hell out!"
"You're being serious," he chuckled, "you do realize that my family is investing in your dad's bizarre business start-up, right? After your dad shamefully pissed away half of your fortune three years ago, he is desperate for some backers. And now you want to make enemies with the son of the man who essentially holds control of your family's future? That's honestly hilarious, babe."
Pacifica froze, suddenly realizing she was being blackmailed. She was breathless, feeling as if she just got the wind knocked out of her. All she could do was stare at his vile grin, feeling sick. She closed her mouth and looked to the floor, defeated.
"That's what I thought," he aggressively cupped her chin in his hand, twisting her face to look at him, "so listen closely. I don't care if you're madly in love with that loser. We will break up on my terms, got it? Until I decide I'm finished with you, you're going to be faithful, obedient, and quiet— everything a perfect girlfriend should be. You're mine until I say otherwise. Or I will take your whole family down. Blake Green will not be humiliated."
She stared back at him helplessly, squirming as he planted a wet kiss on her lips, forcing himself into her mouth. He thankfully released her quickly, tossing her to the ground and walking toward the exit.
He stopped midway, spitting on her carpet, "You taste like someone else. Better not happen again."
She paused as he slammed the door behind him, trying to slow her racing heart. For the first time ever, she was terrified of him. He had been a jerk, sure, but he had never threatened her in their whole relationship. Her entire body reacted, nausea flooding to her stomach as she thought of his forced lips on hers. Normally the type of girl to ignore her emotions, Pacifica actually broke, folding into her lap and sobbing. She eventually tried to stand up, steadying herself on her desk and searching for her jeans from earlier. Through a cascade of tears, she managed to find the go-phone buried in the back pocket. She quivered as she removed it and sent a single text.
"I'm so sorry, Dipper."
Weeks went by and eventually Pacifica's texts became more infrequent. Soon, they stopped altogether. Dipper longed to to reach out to her, but an itch at the back of his mind told him to go on his way and ignore his desires. He fought with his teenage hormones after getting a taste of intimacy, his body physically betraying him with its insistent reminders of what she was able to do to him that night. But he had gone nearly 16 years without all that nonsense and was strong enough to resist it again!
He desperately needed a distraction.
Mabel had finally started talking to him again a few days prior, the awkward tension in their household temporarily dismantled. She was still sometimes crass and a little less understanding of his eccentricities, but they could hold a decent conversation when she was around. However, for the most part, she made herself scarce, spending her free time with their friends. He didn't see as much of her, but he knew she was at least enjoying herself. He'd have to find his distraction somewhere else.
He had been searching all over for some new material to write about in his book, but the woods were thicker than he remembered and he'd get turned around before he could find anything of interest. He'd wind up back at the shack, frustrated and tired. After a failed attempt at braving the forest, he angrily stormed into the kitchen, plopping in one of the chairs and holding his head in his heads, praying some inspiration would hit him soon.
"Dipper!" Ford's voice jolted him from his seat, "How's the manuscript coming along?"
"Great Uncle Ford, you scared me!" He clutched his chest, his eyes wide with panic.
"Oh, sorry, kid! Just thought I'd check and see how're you're doing. I feel like I've been in my lab for weeks." He grunted, stretching his arm behind his head.
"That's because you have been in your lab for weeks," Dipper deadpanned.
"Huh. Is it July already?"
"Yep."
"Great goodness! The summer is nearly half way over," he gasped.
His nephew's face was expressionless as he studied him, hunched in his chair, his open journal full of scribbles.
"Are you interested in taking a walk through the forest? I feel like I need a little fresh air," Ford added.
"Really?" Dipper's eyes lit up, "I'd love to! I've been making a makeshift map of the area, but it's so dang dense I can't seem to make heads or tails of anything. I definitely need your help."
"Perfect timing. You write, and I'll lead the way. Let me grab my compass and we should be set."
Dipper was suddenly struck with energy, knowing Ford would be able to guide him through the forest and hopefully into some areas with anomalies worth writing about. He hopped to his feet, grabbing his ball cap off the table and jogging outside.
The two met in front of the dense backwood. Ford trudged in first, moving nimbly through the thicket as Dipper tried his best to keep up, dodging stray branches while stealing glances at his feet to ensure he wouldn't trip over the shrubbery. Ford sped up, following what Dipper could only assume was an innate sense of direction paired with familiarity with the area.
"Grunkle Ford, uh, are you sure we're not gonna get lost?" He gasped, ducking quickly under a low hanging branch.
He suddenly lost his footing, stumbling forward until he fell face-first on the ground, still slightly muddy from the rain storm. Dipper grumbled, frowning deeply at his dirty clothes while second guessing his decision to follow Ford out here. His Grunkle had run around in another dimension for thirty years— how did he possibly expect to keep up with him?
That's when Dipper noticed something unusually shiny glittering in the mud. He reached into the puddle, pulling on the foreign object until the resistance of the mud gave through.
"Dipper, I'm so sorry, are you ok?" Ford, who had continued moving until he realized his nephew had toppled over, turned back to help him.
"Grunkle Ford! Is this..." Dipper handed him the rock.
Ford pulled out a small magnifying glass, peering at the stone and gasping, "This...this is a diamond! What is an unrefined diamond doing out here?"
Dipper, still on his knees, inspected the area, but all he could see was an abnormally large toad staring him down.
"What, don't tell me this is yours?" He joked with the toad, who belched out a loud 'ribbbit' in response, another smaller diamond tumbling out of his mouth.
Dipper stared blankly, "You've got to be kidding me."
"Boy, follow him! Don't let that toad out of your sight!" Ford cried as Dipper hurried to his feet to chase the thing down. Almost as if understanding, the toad buried itself deep in the mud.
Ford collapsed to the puddle and began digging. He went on only momentarily before cursing under his breath, "Damn thing used some underground tunneling system to escape. The mud has already covered the tunnel, I can't find where he went."
Dipper pulled his journal out, sketching out the area and the surrounding types of trees, trying to pinpoint any reason for them to have found the toad right there. The two began slowly exploring the area to see if any evidence was left behind.
"You might just have to come back another time. We really need the ground to be firm, it's impossible to find the tunnel with all of this mud. But," he smiled, "now you know the location, at least. You can come here with your sister or one of your friends! See, Dipper? You don't even need your old Grunkle."
Dipper's face fell, "What friends? The only friend I have is by default cause she's related to me. And she's barely even talking to me."
Ford got up from one knee and stared at his nephew hard.
"Listen, maybe I'm the last person you want advice from, but take it from someone who shut everyone important out of his life: don't let your paranoia eat you alive. Just because you feel you're better off alone, doesn't mean that you are."
"You've obviously never had your heart broken," Dipped huffed.
"You honestly believe that? I've been in love." He paused as his nephew reacted, shocked to hear the news, "I'm a scientist, Dipper, not a robot. I still grew to love and cherish someone who my obsessions drove away. I never let myself be open to the possibility, too busy with myself and my fears. Anomalies, experiments, aliens...none of those things frightened me. But I'll always regret letting love be the one part of life that scared me. If you listen to anything I ever say to you, let it be this: don't make the same mistakes I've made. Don't let the suffocating loneliness consume you."
"So, guessing Mabel filled you in on my dumb drama." He finally said.
Ford chuckled, "Honestly, my brother told me most of the details. He seems to have gotten gossipy in his old age. But mainly, we just worry about you. I worry about you. You're too much like me and that's not always a good thing. Maybe it's time to face your fears."
Dipper processed the thought for a moment, secretly cursing Stan for telling his secrets.
"Thanks Grunkle Ford." He finally said, smiling coyly at his uncle. He knew it was time to text her back.
Now or never.
"Good! Glad we got to talk."
"Also," Dipper smirked, "if you ever want some really good gossip, you should see what Grunkle Stan is up to at 1 am every night. Just a suggestion."
A secret for a secret, Grunkle Stan.
