"Kid, how do you feel about college parties?" Bill asked between sips of his drink. He leaned back on the chair he was sitting in and checked the time.

"No." Dipper hissed, not looking up from the off-white pages of the textbook at his lap.

"That doesn't answ-"

"Hell no." He spat out, his eyes sharply moved to meet Bill's.

"But Dipper," he whined, sounding more like a child than a college student. "Halloween is in a few weeks and because of you I haven't gotten to go to any parties. I swear to fucking god, kid, if I don't go to a halloween party this year you're dead."

"Go by yourself." Dipper simply returned to his studying, his disinterest outweighing his worry to be rude. It wasn't that he didn't want to hang out with Bill, or that he was angry at him for whatever reason, but parties were where he drew the line. He hated parties, or social constructs in general. "And don't make it seem like it's my fault that you haven't been partying."

"I'm not going by myself." The words seemed odd, especially coming from "Mr. Lone Wolf" Cipher. From Dipper, they would be different, they would be expected, but from Bill? It was enough to entirely crash Dipper's train of thought.

"And why is that?"

"Because, have you been to a party before? Everyone has some date under there arm or-"

"So you want me to be your date?"

"No! God fucking... let me finish my sentence." The blonde's eyes rolled and he seemed to spit every word with a certain anxious venom, like this party was the life-blood he survived on. "Everyone has a date or they bring their roommate. No one goes alone."

"So.." Dipper's lips tried not to twitch into a grin, laughing at his own joke he hasn't even said yet. "Which do you want me as, your roommate or your date? Because I'm getting some mixed signals."

"Oh my fucking god." Bill took another sip of his drink and glared over the rim of the glass. "You're going, smartass, as my roommate."

Dipper pretended to be offended, mocking the movements Bill made in the process of speaking. The impatience stemmed off of the blonde slowly, and the tension died down.

"Will you please go?" He mustered out a 'polite' request. In all honesty, it didn't sound polite, or feel it at all, and neither gave or took it as polite, it sounded more like a whiny child pleading their parent for candy. But the brunette let it slide, the the fact that a polite word in the request heavily outweighed the sincerity of the phrase. Both of them knew it.

He sighed, his exhaustion overpowered his common sense for a moment. And in that moment, his lips pursed, and he hissed. "Fine."

The relief and absolute look of success on the blonde was like salt on the wound. There was no 'thank you' to follow, nor did Dipper truly expect one.

"When is it?" He asked, shutting the textbook that had been weighing his legs down into the carpet floor and indirectly leaving the implements of feet.

"Well," there was a pause in Bill's words, ones that allowed the shit eating grin on his face to grow, knowing exactly what Dipper's response was to be. "Tonight."

Dipper was pissed, Oh if death glares could kill, he thought, and Bill seemed to know it.

"You're a fucking asshole." He spat.

"You know it, kid. Now hurry up, don't want to be late." The blonde threw some clothes from Dipper's wardrobe at him, balled up into a mess. The brunette scanned the old orange tee-shirt and navy cargo shorts that were thrown. Considering he was wearing pajamas at the moment, he had to change.

It took about ten minutes for the boys to get dressed, Bill had only now changed out of the same sweatshirt he's been wearing for about a week. Dipper threw on his signature hat, pressing it into the unbrushed mess that he called his hair, and followed Bill out of the dorm. The party was in the same dorm building, and the music was basically audible the second they left their own room. The muffled beat of pop-music being blasted over cheap speakers and the sounds of people talking and laughing, and probably drinking.

When they stepped inside the room, it was like they had entered an entirely separate existence, a technicolor hell that reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke, accompanied by the blared, deafeningly loud music. Bill said something, but Dipper couldn't hear it, the room seemed to all move at once, his senses all hurt, every single cell in his mind expressed it's distain with a blaring headache. He watched Bill introduce him to some guys that he had seen around campus, none that he recognized, and none that he caught the names of. He just smiled, said hi, and waved awkwardly. People pushed him on accident, too distracted by the music and conversations of others to take into account Dipper's existence.

He careened himself through the crowds of college students to a quieter section of the room. Three guys stood there laughing, talking, and one of them made eye contact with Dipper.

"Oh hey," he smiled, and despite the seeming politeness, Dipper felt unease. "You're Bill's roommate..right?" The attention of the other two boys was slowly gained, and they each seemed welcoming, yet the awkwardness of first meeting and talking to strangers prevailed.

"Uh..yeah." He didn't know how to answer, it was already apparent to anyone in earshot of the conversation that he had impaired social skilled.

One of the boys, a red-headed individual who seemed to be high, scanned him over. "Wait, you're Bill's roommate? As in Bill Cipher?"

"Yeah..um. You say that like it's a bad thing..?" The bug-eyed glances between the red-head and the boy next to him topped off the fear in the conversation.

"Dude, that guy's a beast." The other boy said, his yellow stained shirt stung Dipper's eyes with it's brightness. "Heard he's been to jail quiet a few times."

Dipper's heart skipped a few beats. "For what?"

The red head twitched with the question. "I don't know, he's violent as hell, I'm not surprised he'd get arrested."

"He got into a fight once with this kid, punched out all their teeth and left them barely breathing, he woulda killed him if he wasn't literally torn off the guy. Beat him to a fucking pulp." The yellow-shirted boy spat out. "I'm pretty sure he has killed at least one person."

The first boy, the one not participating in the endless stories looked highly concerned. "Don't scare the kid, holy shit." His eyes moved back to Dipper, apologetically. "Sorry bout them man. I'd they they're wrong but.."

It was obvious he had no words, none of them did. The sweat beginning to collect on Dipper's forehead and the nervous look in his eye made it apparent that he was terrified. The conversation was over.

He stepped away, into a bathroom that smelt of vomit, and he locked the door. The silence in comparison shocked him. Taking his hat off, he bent down in front of the running sink, splashing water quickly onto his face, then drying it off. The words of the two boys swam in his brain, what if it was true? What if his roommate was a violent murderer?

He was snapped out of his thought by the doorknob jigging, the locked metal keeping whoever was on the outside, out. A knock rang, and he put his hat back on, reaching for the door, and swinging it open. He was face to face with a girl, a blonde one, who's hair seemed dyed, and eyes were overly coated with purple.

"Dipper?" She slanted her head, scanning, her eyes widening at the brunette. "Oh my god! I never thought I'd see you again after you moved back to California!"

"Pacifica..." His mouth slowly drew the words, in a whisper basically. There was a certain discomfort in his words, very cautious and nervous. Pacifica was his ex-girlfriend. He was uncomfortable in the relationship, and he didn't ever have the guts to tell her. He continued to date her though, out of fear of hurting the girl, even after Mabel confessed to Dipper that she may or may not have a crush on the blonde. He was able to end the relationship when he moved back to California a few months later. First I'm told my roommate is a violent sociopath, now this?

Her hands clasped his, the long tips of her nails digging into his sweating palms. "Come on, let's go back to the party, I want to introduce you to my friends!"

"I-I..okay." He smiled nervously, her dragging him like the purse around her wrist. He wanted Bill, he wanted his roommate to get him out of this.

"Hey girls!" Pacifica shouted over the music, grabbing the attention of a small posse of girls. She began to ramble on, introducing Dipper as her boyfriend that had to move away. Her hands clung to his arm. She made a comment on how he's grown since she last saw him. But Dipper was barely listening, nodding his head at every paused, his eyes scanning the room until, finally! His eyes caught sight of a blonde mop of hair, and he prayed that Bill would turn around and notice.

But he didn't.

Dipper tapped his foot impatiently, uncomfortably. Pacifica kept chatting with her friends, holding him tight in his spot. A path seemed to clear eventually, at least fifteen minutes later, for Bill to see. He was laughing, drinking heavily, and was seemingly the life of the party in his section. Everyone around him laughing and cheering, as Dipper watched nervously. It wasn't until he moved his eyes away that Bill noticed. His expression changing immediately at the sight of a girl clinging to Dipper's arm. His smile dropped, his bright eyes turning to protective aggression.he pushed his way through the crowd to Dipper.

When the brunette turned to see a furious Bill, his heart stopped, the music seemed to drown out behind the terrified gazes of people who knew Bill, who knew what his anger meant, and immediately Dipper's mind snapped back to the words of those boys.

"Um, who the fuck are you?" Pacifica spat. Ah, the same old conceded Pacifica.

The blonde seemed to pause, his expression blank before tilting, and a closed smile stretched across his face, an extremely fake one.

"I'm Dipper's roommate," his hand clamping onto Dipper's arm and yanking him away from Pacifica, not meaning any harm to Dipper, of course. "And I'd appreciate it if you backed the fuck off you stupid whore!"

"He's drunk" Dipper immediately thought.

"Excuse me, he was my boyfriend!" Bill's face, glanced between Dipper and Pacifica, was at first confused, then furious. He let go of Dipper, his hand clamping into a fist, the other, still holding and empty beer bottle.

A boy jumped in front of Bill, in between him and Pacifica. "Lay off the girl, asshole!"

But his sentence was barely finished before Bill's fist slammed into his cheek, sending him colliding into the floor. The people around them gasped, some screamed, and everyone cleared the way. Dipper was pushed backwards, losing his balance on spilt alcohol, and he fell, his hand landing on shards of broken bottles. His palms stung, he could feel blood begin to spill.

There was a sound, that of glass shattering, the room seemed to stop. The bottle in Bill's hand gone, the forehead of the boy he punched bleeding, loose pieces of beer bottle hung on and around him. Bill had thrown it at him.

Dipper was horrified, seeing Bill get that furious and violent was probably the scariest thing he'd ever seen. It took him away from the stinging in his palms, or the blaring music in the air. It was almost surreal. Bill's head spun, seeing Dipper on the ground, small puddles of blood pooling around Dipper's hands and fear in his eyes. Both stared into each other, before Dipper got up and ran out.