This chapter is edited.
WARNING:
This story deals with some heavy topics i.e. mental health, depression, mentions of suicide, physical abuse, as well as eating disorders. Please read at your own risk.

Getting to the house (house was putting it rather lamely, with the expanse of it) was easy enough as soon as Gadget sent the directions all while carefully reminding them that they only had an hour.

'Breaking in' was even easier since the route was already set. Dipper wasn't about to ask Gadget why he had a route planned out already, although he was all too curious. He had a few theories down; one being that Gadget didn't want his adoptive family to figure out his bad habits, and another being that Gadget was working a job. Dipper wasn't the only lost boy who excelled at conning people.

"This place is nice." Pacifica whistled loud and low as they stepped through the sliding door. They were in what looked like a dining area, everything was set to be too perfect, it probably wasn't even used. Even though it was years ago, Dipper could still tell. "How come your 'acquaintance' comes to live here?"

"Adoption, most likely." Dipper mused. Being in such a high-society house recalled tragic memories of his own life before hell reigned down on him.

"Are all your friends from —how did you say it?— the 'system'?" Pacifica returned her lovely gaze to him.

"No." Dipper replied, half-lying and half being honest. "You're my friend, correct?"

Pacifica ducked her head down, and Dipper could see the same sunset-pink spread across her face. "Yeah, yeah I'm your friend."

Dipper was unused to the concept of 'having friends'. The 'friends' he allegedly had were not so much of 'friends' as they were 'family'. Not entirely different concepts, but different enough to throw him for a loop.

Besides, friends broke into other friends's houses to play a piano for said friend, right? It seemed like a well-off place to start.

"Did your 'acquaintance' tell you where it was?"

"No." Dipper admitted. "I didn't think to ask." He probably should have.

"Where do you think the piano is?" Pacifica over-exaggerated a miming motion of peering around like a sailor.

"In a place as pretentious as this," Dipper began, surveying the layout of the house, it was all too familiar, "either in the sitting room, the sun-room, or, if they're on that level, a music room."

"Speaking from experience?" Pacifica teased, and Dipper could tell that it was truly only meant to be poking fun.

Yet, her words rubbed him the wrong way. Reminding him, without even the knowledge of it, that he had come from a place like the one before them. Verbally tossing it in his face that he didn't have it anymore because of both the actions of himself, and the ones of his parents.

With a clenched fist, Dipper sucked in a breath and tried to steady himself. Flashes from the past popped in and out of his mind, the floor beneath him began to sway.

"I'll check for the sitting room." Pacifica continued, undeterred or unaware of what was really transpiring next to her. "Wanna look for the sun-room?"

Dipper managed to nod as she skipped off, humming to herself all the way. As soon as she was out of sight and he heard what was —presumably— her footfalls running up the staircase, he whirled around and punched a hole through the nearest wall.

Breathing erratically, Dipper panted softly, everything else around him just static and white noise, blurring the lines between reality and illusion until all he could feel was the blunt pain spasming through his hand.

Of course the walls were basically drywall; as breakable and fragile as status. The house was a fraud. Just like the family that lived there.

Fake. Hiding behind a layer of deceit and flaunting it to the rest of the world as to show how much better they were, when in actuality it was overcompensation. If he stayed with his family, would he had become just like that?

Someone was shaking him. When he finally came back from whatever trip his mind forced him to take, like an unpaid, involuntary vacation, Pacifica was staring at him, eyes wide with panic and despair.

"—what happened?!" She exclaimed, her eyes bouncing from his face to the hole in the wall, back to the former. "Are you hurt—eh! Stupid question! Obviously you're hurt!"

Dipper tried to focus on her, his mind still flashing and moving to violently, almost sending him reeling. Blinked once, blinked twice, and he was back.

In the ridiculous house for a completely ridiculous reason. What did he have to prove by being there?

And then his hand disconnected from the wall. And then he was sitting on the nearest chair, with Pacifica fussing over his hand.

When he finally managed to look down at the mess he had made, an audible wince escaped his mouth.

It wasn't terrible, just a light external injury. The skin on his knuckles had been ripped open, sporadically with no discernible pattern in sight. Blood gradually bubbling out of the wounds. There had always been something quite calming about blood seeping out of an open wound.

"You stay put, I'm looking for a First Aid kit." Pacifica promised, cupping his face in her warm hands, and now he was finally focused on her.

The wild look in her eyes, the way her bottom lip quivered. It was hardly fair. Hadn't he just vowed to himself to never let her see the worst of him?

She disappeared from sight for a good ten minutes, before she came crashing through the hall, nearly sprinting toward him. She kneeled before him, practically ripping open the kit and frantically rummaging through its contents.

"Hold still, this might sting." Pacifica explained slowly, showing him the rag that had been wetted with what Dipper could only assume was rubbing alcohol.

She was right on the money; it did sting, however, Dipper didn't flinch. Pain was pain, no matter how you experienced it. And, after sometime of the world slapping tragedies across your face, you simply subdued and grew used to it.

As she finished tidying up the scrapes across his hand, she exhaled, "what happened?"

"I saw a bug." Dipper lied. His favorite weapon lied just behind his teeth and he utilized it often. It was such a pathetic lie, of course.

Her brows furrowed. "What? A bug?"

He nodded, keeping up with the charade he'd invented. "I don't like bugs. So, I saw it, and I suppose I was slightly overzealous with my attempt to eradicate it."

Pacifica eyed the wall, her eyes narrowing. "I'll say."

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence, just like they had at the beach not too long ago, and Dipper felt himself twitch. However, Dipper had plenty of tricks up his sleeve to solve situations like the one before them. He just hoped it worked.

"Did you by chance find the piano?" Dipper murmured, keeping his tone as light as he possibly could with her face only inches from his. The rapid beating of his heart had absolutely nothing to do with the close proximity. It only made selling a story a little more difficult. Yet, Dipper was an experienced liar.

"Hm? Oh," she looked away from him as she finished bandaging his hand, and she slowly put the items back in the kit. "No, I'm sorry. I just," her brow furrowed, and the angle of her head cast a shadow across her face, "I just heard a loud noise and I thought you were in trouble, so I got worried and—"

Dipper completely tuned out the rest of her rambling, remaining fixated solely on one part; she was worried? About him? That was ridiculous. Such a burden for her. It wasn't fair.

What if you make a mistake?

Dipper bit his lip and tried to keep his eyes off of her. He had made a mistake, he let a little more of himself out. Shown his true colors. She would run away now, certainly.

"—hey! Look at me!"

Dipper snapped back to see Pacifica's face only three inches from his face. Her breath warm on his face, her eyes less frantic than they had been only moments ago. He was trapped in the glow.

"Are you really okay?" She whispered, the lushness of her voice soft and velvety.

"I'm okay, Pacifica." He found himself saying, his voice significantly quieter than ever before. Confidence was key when telling lies, so his tone betrayed too much —wait— was he lying now?

Dipper wanted to think that he was, just to make her smile. But, with her eyes on him in such a caring manner, her hands holding his —when had they even touched?— he felt okay.

Pacifica smiled, eyes closing briefly. "I'm going to put this away now, okay? You just try to collect yourself, and," she opened her eyes, staring straight into his soul, "you don't have to play the piano for me, y'know?"

Dipper nodded numbly as he rose from the chair she had set him on, casting a wary glance at the wall he'd ruined.

Pacifica followed his gaze, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Hold on," she murmured, walking across the floor into a room that Dipper could guess was an office of sorts.

When she returned, she was balancing the First Aid kit precariously in one hand, while the other clutched what looked like a painting.

Swiftly crossing the floor until she stood right in front of the hole, she held the canvas up, making a light humming sound. "I think this would look nice here, wouldn't ya say?"

Dipper felt the edges of his mouth turn up into the beginnings of a smile. "I'd say so."

Pacifica glanced at him over her shoulder, grinning. "What luck, there's already a nail in place."

"You're joking." Dipper snorted, stepping closer to her, cradling his busted hand close to his chest, close to his heart.

"No! Totally serious here!" Pacifica pointed with a slender finger at the nail above the hole in the wall. "Good thing the bug was in such a convenient place, right? You must be lucky."

Dipper frowned. The way she phrased her previous sentence implied that she didn't believe him about the bug. So why was she joining in on his lie?

She hung the painting up and took a step back, backing right into Dipper. If it were a movie, they both would've tumbled to the floor together in a tangled mess of limbs and awkwardness. However, Dipper was a steady guy, perhaps not all the way mentally, but absolutely physically.

When Pacifica realized she bumped into him and was standing flush against him, her head tilted up, her eyes wide.

Dipper tilted his head down to peer closer at her.

"Hey," she whispered, "fancy seeing you here."

Dipper's throat went dry, every synapse was firing in his brain yet he couldn't hear what they were telling him.

"Whelp," Pacifica swiftly moved away from Dipper, "I'm gonna put this away, then. . ." She trailed off and looked at him.

"I will play the piano for you, you needn't worry." Dipper responded. "I can tell you are truly ecstatic for such an event."

Pacifica nodded slowly, as to appear calm yet she was bouncing on her heels. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited."

"Go on, I'll continue looking for the piano while you put that back where you found it." Dipper jerked his head to the side, sucking in a breath.

"Okay!" She exclaimed, running off to wherever she found the blasted thing.

Dipper continued to look at the painting instead of for the piano like he said he would. It wasn't as though he was stalling for time, but now he could actually admire the painting. It hadn't had his attention like Pacifica had.

An oil painting, most likely, Dipper deduced after finally looking at it. It was true, that he had seen it while Pacifica hung it, but it didn't quite catch his eye.

Of course the family who lived there had an oil painting done of their house. Dipper shook his head, amused. People like that were absolutely ridiculous.

Absentmindedly, Dipper pulled his phone out of his back pocket and checked the time. His eyes sprang open when he saw what laid on his home screen.

Gadget🔍: sorry to cut it short we're coming back

Gadget🔍: hey! dipper?!

Gadget🔍: get out of there!

Gadget🔍: we're nearly home!

Missed Call from Gadget🔍(12)

"Shit." Dipper muttered, glancing at the time-stamp for each message; ten minutes ago. The piano would have to wait, because he and Pacifica needed to get out of there as soon as physically possible.

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he made a beeline in the direction where Pacifica had run off, calling for her.

"Pacifica!" He shouted, "Pacifica?!"

The blonde-haired girl came running down the stairs, and a little breathlessly, she spoke, "hey? What's up? You find the piano?"

"We have a problem." Dipper cut right to the chase.

"Problem? What's wrong?" Pacifica demanded. "What happ—"

Her question was cut off by the sound of a garage door opening. Eyes wide, she froze in place and looked at Dipper. "What do we do?" She hissed.

Dipper glanced around the house for any means of escape. If they went through the sliding door like they had came in, Gadget's family would see them, without a doubt. There had to be a back door, somewhere.

Yet, they hadn't seen one already, and didn't have the time to be standing around, much less looking for one.

"We have to hide." Dipper muttered.

Pacifica frantically grabbed his wrist and he momentarily considered ripping himself free. But there was no time.

"This way!" She hissed, pulling him through the sitting room, that had no piano in sight, nearly tripping over a step.

Rushing up the stairs, Dipper tried to keep an ear out for any sound from other unwanted people. Though, the more he thought about it, technically speaking, they were the unwanted people.

Pacifica pulled him into a bedroom and slammed the door. "There's a walk-in closet!"

Dipper nodded and followed her into the closet before closing the door behind him. Then he paused, and actually thought about where they were. "Why did you take us upstairs?" He whispered.

"Because I saw this place earlier and thought it would be a could place to hide." Pacifica explained, pressing her ear against the closed door, eyes closed in turn.

Dipper sucked in a breath and paced the confines of the ginormous closet. "Yes, but now we're upstairs! Escape will be considerably harder now!"

Pacifica winced. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking straight."

"It's. . .fine. It's fine." Dipper muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I'll just have to—"

He was cut off by the sound of his phone buzzing like crazy. Dipper groaned and pulled it out of his pocket. Of course Gadget was calling him.

"Who?" Pacifica looked at his phone screen, peering closer and closer. "Gadget?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Long story." Dipper murmured, answering it on the fifth series of buzzing. "Hello."

"Dipper! Where the hell are ya?" Gadget's voice sounded frantic, and yet so very clear.

Putting two and two together, Dipper turned the volume on his phone as low as he could get it to, and spoke quietly. "Funny story, truly hilarious."

"Listen, Dipper," Gadget continued, "just tell me where you are, and I'll help."

Judging by how loud his voice was, Dipper painted a mental picture in his head. "Walk three steps ahead."

"What? What the hell are you—" he cut himself off and, presumably, it dawned on him. "Hold the hell on."

The call was ended and Dipper took in a sharp inhale as the closet door was wrenched open. Giving a disheveled and formally-dressed Gadget his best grin, as he spoke, "good evening, Gadge, how are you fairing this fine night?"

"Jesus Christ, Dipper." Gadget groaned and rubbed his eyes with his palms. When he pulled his hands away from his eyes, they widened. "And who might this be?"

Dipper had momentarily forgotten that Pacifica was staring at the two of them, and that she was even there. "Oh, forgive me, this is Pacifica."

Pacifica got over her shock fast and extended a hand, "call me Paz."

Gadget shook her hand, "you two better not have been doin' anything nasty in here."

"Gadget." Dipper warned, his voice low. "How vulgar."

"Anyways, we need to get out of here." Pacifica shook her head and looked at Gadget. "Does the screen on your window pop off?"

"Hell yeah it does." Gadget wrenched the tie from off his neck, tossing it on the king-sized bed in the corner of the room. "We're a little high up, but, lucky for you that my room is near the roof of the garage."

"Chose it yourself?" Dipper commented as he stepped out of the closet, Pacifica close on his heels.

"Of course." Gadget rolled his eyes and glared in the direction of the door. "This place may be nice n' all, but Clara and Fred are not. Too proper for my taste."

"How unfortunate." Dipper rolled his eyes in turn, grinning. "Nothing quite like benefit dinners, is that it?"

"Tell me your opinion after you've gone to one." Gadget scoffed and began to viciously unbutton his collared shirt. "Now, I think I've been a generous host, so, in the nicest way possible, get the hell out."

Dipper obliged, lightly grasping Pacifica's hand, pulling her behind him as they trotted out of the closet.

Glancing his way, Pacifica bit her lip. "Um, I've never snuck out a window before."

Gadget groaned aloud, staring holes in Dipper's head. "You really know how to pick 'em, don'tcha?"

Frowning, Dipper shook his head, "I don't believe you are in any position to talk."

Gadget blinked as realization hit him. "Oh, speaking of which—"

"Later." Dipper promised, glancing back at the window. "Come on, Pacifica."

"Nice meeting ya, Gadget," she smiled pleasantly at the other boy in the room. "Wish it was longer and under better circumstances, but we take what we can get!"

Gadget nodded once, as he eyed Dipper's hand. "What the hell did you do to your hand?!"

"I'll let you figure that out for yourself." Dipper winked over his shoulder.

With a roll of his eyes, Gadget turned away from them and began scrolling through his phone.

Once the pair got the window open, popping the screen out was a pinch, just like Gadget had promised it would be.

It was darker now, the sun had almost completely set, a breeze fresh in the air, Dipper took a moment to breathe in the scent of it all, before turning back to the rather discomforted Pacifica behind him.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, feeling the air leave his lungs with every syllable.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she shook herself. "Just don't wanna spend the rest of my summer in the hospital, y'know?"

"It isn't difficult." Dipper replied, "and, it isn't summer yet."

"Well, with a broken leg, that's six weeks and it technically cuts into my summer vacation." Pacifica snapped back. "Sorry, geez, sorry. I'm just a little scared."

"There's no reason to be." Dipper promised and he didn't exactly know why. Falling out of a window wasn't pleasant, he knew that from experience, and she had every reason to be frightened. The chaos of despair came out of nowhere at random intervals. She wasn't immune to them.

"Really?" She looked slightly hopeful, but distrusting.

"I'll even go first," Dipper offered like it wasn't a big deal —which it shouldn't have been—. "If you fall, I'll catch you."

Pacifica nodded very slowly, as if she still doubted him, and he couldn't blame her. They had just met not that long ago. A little over a week prior, if Dipper was specific with it.

Dipper lifted himself onto the windowsill, a feat in itself, and glanced down at the garage roof below him. Regardless of his landing, the impact would still sting. He could go straight through, roll off onto the cement, or he could be lucky and stand his ground.

Getting your feet planted was the trickiest part, at least in Dipper's eyes. But once your stance was firm, it was all downhill from there; literally.

"Are you ready?" Dipper asked, peering up at Pacifica from where he stood. It was the only time she had ever been taller than him.

The hesitation in her eyes was even clearer when he looked up at her than it had ever been before. "Yeah." She lied, and it was such an obvious lie.

"Take my hands, Pacifica." Dipper pressed, reaching his hands out for her to grasp. "I will catch you. I promise, Paz."

His words must've awoken something in her, because the next thing Dipper knew, she was halfway out the window.

He watched as her grip loosened, eyes bugging out of his head as she lost her grasp and tumbled down.

However, Dipper caught her, just like he promised he would. Firming up his stance on the slanted rooftop, and adjusting his grip on the girl that was now clutching helplessly at his neck.

Once she opened her eyes, Dipper stared right back at her, trying desperately to keep the smile off his face and calm his heart rate.

She laughed then, loud and pretty, looking back up at the window. "Well, that wasn't so bad!"

Dipper nodded with a wince. Carefully, he set Pacifica back down on the rooftop, keeping on hand tightly wound around hers until she had her footing.

"Just this last bit." Dipper looked off the edge of the rooftop, searching for anything that wasn't pure cement. "Think you can do it?"

It wasn't difficult, especially now that Pacifica knew what she was doing. Was there some tiny fraction of Dipper that hoped she would cling to him once more?

No. Who would even know how to call his bluff?

When they were safely on the grass, away from any window that would give them away, Dipper gave Pacifica a moment to catch her breath.

"Wow." Pacifica grinned, reaching up to her hair to tighten her ponytail that had somehow gotten loose during the entire escapade.

"Hm?" Dipper murmured, looking back over at the girl.

"Looks like we managed to do a little victimless crime after all!" Pacifica exclaimed, pumping one fist up in the air.

"Someone like you shouldn't be so excited at the very notion of committing a crime." Dipper shook his head, not entirely sure on whether he should've been disappointed or amused.

Realizing that someone could come outside and see them at any moment, Dipper made the move to grab Pacifica's hand and pull them both away from Gadget's house.

As they walked down the street, the sun had nearly vanished from the entire sky, the golden glow gone and leaving an expanse of heavy purple hues.

"I," Dipper started before he even knew what he was saying. He had done that quite a bit since he met Pacifica. "I am sorry."

"For what?" She asked innocently, tilting her head to the side as she balanced on the edge of the sidewalk —Dipper had half a mind to pull her away and scold her about not being careful.

"That I didn't play the piano for you." Dipper muttered slowly. Every word was the equivalent of pulling teeth.

"Eh, doesn't matter." Pacifica shrugged, leaning closer to him, close enough that they bumped shoulders. "The secret-mission-sneak-out was amazing! And besides, it's not like that was the only time we're gonna hang out."

She was right. But still. "I'm still sorry, Pacifica."

"Stop that." She whirled on him, leveling him with a single look.

Dipper felt his throat run dry, every single word shriveling up in his throat. "I," he gulped, "I'm not sure exactly what you mean."

"Earlier," she stated, "you called me Paz."

Had he? Dipper didn't quite remember.

"There's no reason to be so formal, dummy." Pacifica replied, "so, please, call me Paz. Don't call me 'Pacifica'."

"It's an honor I dream not of." Dipper's brain supplied when all else failed him. Ah, because that was a splendid idea! When all else fails, quote Shakespeare.

"Were not I thine only nurse." Pacifica replied wickedly. "Romeo and Juliet, just finished reading it last week."

Dipper let a small smile drift onto his lips. Of course Pacif—Paz— was smart. Wickedly clever, just as himself. "Clever girl."

"Jurassic Park, watched it a few nights ago." Paz grinned again.

Dipper snorted, "in no way was I quoting Jurassic Park, Paz."

The pair burst into spurts of laughter, ambling down the sidewalk, leaning against one another for support.

"Aw shootbuggers," Paz groaned. "It's getting late. I oughta get back before my parents notice I'm missing."

"What? Did you not tell them you were going out?" Dipper rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Well, um, yeah." Paz rubbed the side of her arm sheepishly. "They fight a lot, so it's pretty easy to slip right out the front door."

Dipper felt a weird twinge of dread for her. Just as strange as the feeling to wrap her in a tight hug.

"Just promise me you will get home safely." Dipper went with instead, it was by far the safest route.

"Promise, Dipstick!" Paz grinned and stuck her tongue out at him. "Let's hang out again sometime! I do believe you owe me a character assessment as well as a break-in at the music hall!"

Just as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she was racing down the sidewalk, disappearing into the dimming streets.

Dipper watched as she raced away. The sunlight fading just as fast as his smile. It was about time for him to get home as well.

In his back pocket, Dipper felt his phone vibrate. Hoping that it was Paz texting him their next not-actually-a-date date, Dipper was sorely disappointed, albeit amused, when he read the message.

Gadget🔍: Thanks for the hole in the wall. The picture covers it splendidly!🖕🏻