Dipper Pines never did get over that break up.
Day by day since that fateful summer, he drifted aimlessly though life without purpose. His daily routine would be as follows: wake up (if applicable), skip breakfast, go to school, skip lunch, come home, have a snack force-fed to him by his parents, talk to Bill until dark, attempt to sleep. 'Talking to Bill' was really just Dipper talking to the drawings on the wall he'd done in his own blood the first night he'd come home from Gravity Falls after everything had went down. All down his arms were triangular scars etched in with a steak knife he lifted from the kitchen from that particular incident. But it didn't stop there either. Above his bed, all over his walls, in his drawers, on his nightstand, on his door, on his window - there was hardly an inch of his bedroom that wasn't grafitied with Bill's image. Whether it was a drawing or painting done on paper or it was directly embedded on the object itself, Bill had entirely apocalypsed Dipper's room. He would talk to the drawings at night when he couldn't sleep or when he woke up from a bad dream. Hours would pass and he wouldn't move an inch from one spot where he talked to the images. He never knew for sure, but he guessed - and guessed correctly - that Bill had severed all omniscient ties to him; Bill never ever watched him back. It never worked, but it made him feel a little better.
For nine long years he suffered silently in isolation, pushing everyone he cared about away. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. He'd become a hollow shell of his former self. Even Mabel hardly ever got more than a word with him anymore. They saw each other on the bus ride home and very rarely would she get a glimpse of the endangered creature at dinner time when he came downstairs, forced by their parents to at least sit with them. What he didn't know was that the pain he was going through was as clear as the cloudless summer sky; his eyes were permanently darkened from lack of sleep, he was thin and frail, unable to eat and hold food down very often, and his personal hygiene had fallen into despair.
There were times, though, when he did make a valiant effort to look presentable. These times were usually when he found someone to try to impress. For a while, Mabel kept trying to set him up on dates with girls from their school and Dipper would clean himself up to look as good as possible for dates, but not many called him back after the fact. The girls that did typically lasted all of two weeks, or perhaps two months if Dipper tried extra hard, before he broke off with them. It wasn't the same. It would never be the same. Nobody could ever take Bill's place.
Except for one person: Pacifica Northwest.
...
Today was the second most wonderful day in Dipper's life. Nothing had brought the light back to his eyes since the breakup like staring down at his newborn daughter in his wife's arms did. Pudgy little cheeks, ten twinkly toes, a thin layer of silky blonde hair - she was so perfect.
"She looks like you," Pacifica said, brushing her thumb across the baby's cheek.
"What? No way, she looks just like you!"
"Her hair will darken, but she's got your face. Just look at that little pink nose! She didn't get that from me."
Dipper reached out to touch the baby's toes, counting them quietly but audibly to himself, "one little Waddles, two little Waddles, three little Waddles..." Pacifica smiled wide at his gesture. She mirrored his action with the baby's fingers before reaching up to kiss her husband. Nothing could ruin this day, this moment, when the universe had graced them with this tiny bit of heaven.
But where there was heaven, hell was brooding nearby.
With thunder's powerful crack, the hospital room began draining of colour. As grey tones raced along the walls, Dipper immediately dropped to the floor and clamped his knees to his chest. His breath locked in his chest in a painful tightness but he couldn't release it. Every nerve in his body went numb, tingling like pins and needles at his skin.
"Dipper!" Pacifica shouted with worry. She reached out a hand to help him up in vein as he quickly scooted backwards until his back hit the corner of the room.
"This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening," he mumbled as he rocked himself back and forth. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched time freeze to a stop. Out of the wall clock to the side of Pacifica's bed came a hauntingly familiar laugh. The hands on the clock morphed into literal hands. Tiny black hands. And the pin in the middle became a bright white eclipse with a thin, narrow slit inching down into focus.
"Time to pay up, Llama!" it said, the circular shape of the frame molding into a triangle. A kaching noise echoed off the walls; a little black top hat popped out the top and a matching bow tie fabricated under the eye.
"I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming. Wake up, wake up!" Dipper panicked, pinching his wrists and slapping himself across the face. His breathing resumed, fast and erratic; his head grew light and vision clouded with a staticy haze.
"Darlin', I'm no dream. I'm your worst night...mare..." Bill trailed off once he caught sight of the quivering pile of flesh and hair crouched up in the far corner. His cheerful demeanor languished, eye falling to glare and arms crossing . He hadn't payed mind to the voice, he heard too many of them each day to learn any different. Tears began streaming down Dipper's cheeks.
"Bill!" Pacifica chimed in, catching the demon off guard. Bill shifted his attention toward her, not moving his body at all. "Uh - I mean, what are you doing here?" She pretended to not know of him so that Dipper wouldn't find out about their deal. Bill did not respond and instead continued to stare down the man in the corner with a glint of pure hatred burning in his one eye.
"Go away, go away, go away!" Dipper sobbed and rocked harder, biting the skin of his lip nearly clean through.
"Wish I could, Pine Tree, but I'm here on business," Bill grumbled, rolling his eye.
"Wait, you two know each other?" Pacifica questioned, looking between her husband and the demon.
"Oh yeah, we do - don't we, Pine Tree?" Bill scoffed and turned away from him to face Pacifica. "He's just some fleshbag I used..." Bill shot a venomous glare at Dipper "...to know." Dipper slowly unclamped his hands from his head and glanced up at Bill, gasping deep breaths as he did. Tears flowed even harder down his face once he caught sight of him. His glowing golden light, his midnight black features, his long lashes... he hadn't aged a day. He was so dashing.
A small sob escaped Dipper's lips and his hands clenched tight in his hair. Why was he so handsome? Why did he have such a knotted rope around his neck, ready to hang him to death from it? He sobbed more, breathing becoming even more rapid.
"You keep that up, Pine Tree, and you'll faint. So I recommend you keep it up or I'll do it for you." Dipper didn't stop. He didn't hear him; every word in his ears sounded like a static burst. Without batting his eye, Bill snapped his fingers and Dipper dropped, passed out in the floor forced into a slumber.
"Leave him alone! Can't you see he's having a panic attack?"
"I see everything, tootz, but if there's one thing I wish I couldn't see it's him." Bill looked down to the infant sleeping soundly in Pacifica's arms, grimacing at the sight and making a barfing noise. "Don't tell me that's his abomination. Yeesh, humans are even more hideous in their larval stage." Pacifica glared up at him, an unsolicited blush coming to her cheeks. "Well, it's what you asked for, isn't it? An ugly human brat, alive and thriving like a weed." Bill brought back his more cheerful side and tapped a finger to his face just below his eye. "Hm, you should name it a human name... like Pants!"
"What? Absolutely not! Her name is-"
Bill had approached the child, hovering just over top of it and pressed both hands to either side of his face with a bright twinkle in his eye, cooing "Pants" at the small life. The woman pulled her baby away and pushed at Bill with one hand.
"Her name is Atlantica Tyreese Pines."
"That's a stupid name, I like Pants better."
"Believe it or not, I couldn't care less what you think. This is Dipper's and my baby." Pacifica looked fondly down at her daughter and caressed her head. When she looked back up, Bill had generated the Cipher wheel around himself and was making a space in it for the image of a pair of pants to fit in. "Hey!" she snapped at him, causing him to break his focus and shatter the manifested image around him. He looked offended, crossing his arms and grumping at her. "Fix Dipper. Whatever you did to him, undo it."
"Just sleeping, Llama, he'll wake up when I leave." He shrugged. There was a moment of silence where Pacifica looked down to her now stirred child and Bill's attention flicked to the K.O.'d young adult in the corner. He pondered for a moment his next move. And the next. And the next. And the next...
With the wave of his hand, time had frozen around Pacifica and her daughter as well so that only Bill was conscious in the moment. He moved over to Dipper and stood, grounded, in front of him with an investigative, wide-eyed stare. He held his arms out at his sides and strutted around the other, taking a full-body examine of his state. He was taller but still just as thin and scrawny. Bill took hold of Dipper's chin and turned his head sideways to face him. His eyes were as dark as coal like that of an insomniac - Bill shivered. Insomniacs skeeved him out for obvious reasons, but he tried to work with what he was given. Dipper's face was pale and lackluster, and a little more gaunt than he remembered it. Bill huffed and dropped his head roughly.
For a while he stood there silently, staring him down with disapproval.
But then...
He smiled.
Bill locked his hands together at his front, holding one leg up behind him like a crushing school girl, and a twinkle came to his eye. He snapped his fingers again and the young man came to.
"Pine Tree," Bill said with a now-neutral expression. Dipper groaned and rubbed his head, slowly moving his gaze up to the demon in front of him and waiting for his double-vision to subside. He frowned, once it did, and cast his eyes away.
"Bill," he replied plainly, as if waiting for his life to be stripped from him.
"Hey, hey, don't give me that. I thought you'd be happy to see me!"
Dipper didn't respond. How could he be happy to see him when he was the cause for nine years of suffering? How could he be happy to see him when he just suffered a panic attack inflicted by his surprise visit after all that time? How could he be happy to see him when all he could think about was 'what if'? How could he be happy to see him when he was so... happy to see him? It hurt.
"Kid, listen, I know it's been a while-"
"Nine years," Dipper interjected, knitting his brows at Bill's insolence.
"-but the past is in the past. I needed some time to get over it, you dig?" Bill continued, reclining back into the air and crossing his legs, examining his pretend fingernails.
Dipper didn't respond. He sat up, cross-legged, and listened begrudgingly yet attentively to the demon hovering in front of him. Bill looked back at him, a somewhat sullen expression crossing his face, and his light dimmed.
"I've missed you."
"Have you even once checked in on me?"
"I'm always watching you, Dipper." Bill lit up brighter and extended his arms out, "I'm your guardian angle!"
"Stop," Dipper said coldly. Enough of his games - acting like this was a light subject. "It's not funny."
"I disagree, I think it's hilarious."
"Yeah, well, you think everything is a game."
"Are you forgetting which one of us pretended to give a damn about the other to gain knowledge to their dumb little mysteries?"
"Bill, I never pretended to care about you!" Dipper cut, raising his voice higher than he should. He took a breath and sat back on his feet. "You were my everything," he mumbled quieter.
"Back at ya, kid," Bill admitted as well. He spawned his cane and leaned an elbow on it. "It's been a long time since I've had anyone to confide in, as you can imagine." Dipper was silent, but his face spoke volumes. Bill could see the regret in his eyes, his brows came unknit and his mouth dropped open. "And I've gotta be honest with you, Dipper, I miss that. A lot."
"Bill, I-"
"I'm not saying I want you back," Bill quickly continued, pointing the end of his cane at him. Dipper bit his tongue. "But how does it sound to you that we try to put all this behind us? I could drop by when I have some free time or you could give me a call when you're feeling..." he paused, stopping his parading around and glancing back with a devious face, "lonely!"
"I don't know, Bill. Now that my daughter is here, I don't think I'm going to have a lot of free time."
"Hey, if you're over me, you're over me. I'm only offering a little company from time to time."
"I'm not going to fall for that, Bill, I'm married."
"Geez, your mind is always in the gutter! I'm not interested in you like that anymore, Pine Tree. Are we in the same dimension where two exes can interact without having intercourse?"
"Please just- don't call it that. And yes we are, but..."
"But?"
Dipper sighed, "Just as friends?"
"Friends to the bitter end!" Bill extended his hand, blooming with cerulean flames. He hastily retracted it and shook the fires out. "Whoops sorry. Force of habit," he laughed before holding his normal hand out again. Dipper took a breath, looking over to Pacifica and his daughter and then back to Bill. He felt a heavy weight settle on his chest. As much as his logic was fighting it, his heart won the war. It could not shut Bill Cipher out.
He took Bill's hand with a weak smile and blush. Bill returned the expression with a delighted one of his own. Dipper used his other hand to rub the back of his head. He couldn't deny that he was happy to finally make up with the demon. They were just going to be friends - someone to confide to for each other.
What could go wrong?
