Chapter Text

The moon was full, wreathed in color and light. The sounds of music and laughter and festivities filled the crisp and cool summer night's air. It was the 4th of July, and in a rocky grotto nestled in a hilltop above the celebrations, Dipper Pines watched the explosions in the sky. But he was not alone. Sitting next to him, cross-legged and mystified, was Pacifica Northwest. Why she was mystified was anyone's guess. Hailing from essentially the richest family in Oregon, fireworks should be as commonplace and mundane to her as say, tableware, or books. Maybe it had something to do with the manner in which everyone was lighting and dancing and having a great time with their meager by comparison display. Or maybe it was her surroundings, that this new place made a new experience that was deeper or more meaningful. Or maybe it had something more to do with her current company. She didn't pay the passing thoughts much attention, and didn't thank about it much overall. That wasn't her strong suit. Yet. No one would earnestly call her dim or stupid, but she wasn't exactly practiced at the art of introspection or philosophy. Besides, there was hardly any room in her spinning head for any one idea to breathe, much less flourish.

Dipper and Pacifica were both 15 now. Only about a month apart, as it turned out. And this meeting, this little impromptu pow-wow of theirs now, was on the verge of becoming a tradition. After the arguably overly-eventful Summer of Weirdmageddon (as the locals had taken to calling it, and then never speaking about it again), The Grunkles Stan had sailed off into the horizon on their handmade boat, The Stan-o'-War 2. Dipper had declined to mention that according to maritime tradition, naming one boat after another was considered extremely bad luck. In their childhood, the two brothers had conjured grand dreams of repairing the abandoned boat they had found decrepit on the shore, and running away to see the world on their own accords. Obviously, that hadn't ever happened. Time and space had gotten in the way, particularly badly in fact. So now, after Stanley had regained most of his memories, they were making up for lost time. They had sent postcards to the twins from Brazil, Costa Rica, Panama City, and a good deal of the rest of South America. Or at least, the parts where using the name "Stan Pines" didn't consistently put you in a potentially bad situation. According to Dipper's geography research, this turned out to be a surprisingly small portion. Only about 20% of the total landmass.

As good as it was to see the two finally enjoying the company of the other and living out a childhood fantasy, the twins had longed for Gravity Falls again. And after a great deal of trouble had been went to to establish an honest-to-God two-way communication, Dipper and Mabel voraciously beset upon the Grunkles. The battle was long and arduous -lasting almost half an hour- but an agreement was struck. Every summer, Stanley and Stanford would return to Gravity Falls to enjoy some dry land, and would watch the twins so that they could return to their summer home every year.

Lost in reflection, Dipper remembered the first year they had come back, and the events that lead to this moment. Pacifica had approached him and Mabel the day before and asked them if she could celebrate the 4th with them and their friends and family that year.

"I just...I need to get away from them." she had told them. Her family, assumably. Dipper had been a bit bit wary, but Mabel in her infinitely good view of all people had immediately and very enthusiastically granted her wish. A good time had been had by all, and Pacifica had put up a very minimum fuss about the amenities. She had even giggled profusely at being able to light her own fireworks. That was the night they had gone on a walk together to the hilltop for a better vista of the display, and found this conveniently cozy little grotto. It had become their special place. They went there to talk or hang out, or just be away from the bustle of their growing network of shared friends. Sometimes, they just met there to vent at each other. Pacifica usually just griped about the latest treasonous act her family her committed. And that's usually all it was: topical griping. But there definitely seemed to be more there, something much deeper at the issues heart. Dipper didn't like to pry, and she didn't offer up much in the way of it, so they didn't really discuss it.

But when things got quiet or relaxed, Dipper would catch her with this far away look in her eyes. He could only describe it as a 1,000-yard stare, full of a very specific kind of sadness, one he wasn't familiar with and couldn't quite put his finger on. Almost like anxiety, but more subdued. He knew that since the debacle at the Northwest Manor, Pacifica had come to learn of and subsequently regret more and more of the Northwest family's less than admirable legacy. And he was certain that as these regrets piled up, more and more of her time was spent with them, her friends, trying to distance herself from that legacy.

Most surprisingly though, Dipper also found his thoughts drifting further from Wendy Corduroy each year, and perilously closer to Pacifica Northwest. The girl sitting quietly beside him. The girl would still had that far away look in her eyes.

"Hey Paz, you okay?' he asked. The nickname had been an invention of Mabel and her crew. She had resisted at first, but it was catchy and fitting, so it stuck. Dipper rather liked it, himself.

The girl who stole his breath, lighted by the neon sky...

"Dipper," she started, still looking in the direction of the moon, and notably not using the nickname she had taken to using in retaliation for her own, "Dipper, one day I'm going to leave this town, this name, everything behind."

The girl with cascading and iridescent blonde hair, who turned and looked at him pleadingly...

"Will you come with me, Dipper?"

The girl who, in an instant, made him realize he could not say no to her.

"Yeah. Of course." he replied, his voice barely audible above the din of the evening. "I'd go anywhere with you, Paz. To the ends of the Earth."

She smiled, her face flooded with relief. For a moment, as if he caught it in the space between seconds, Dipper thought he saw the thin glaze of watering eyes. But before he could look for it again, she leaned into him. And before Dipper could even fathom what was happening, she kissed him. It was a brief, fleeting, but electric moment. They were deaf to the thundering of the fireworks. It lasted an eternity, and it was over all too soon.

Afterwards, they wouldn't start dating. They never brought it up to the other or talked about it. They had formed an unspoken agreement. A silent covenant not to sully their only truly vulnerably minute by setting it on display. They would not betray it, by allowing it to come to pass. Inviting the trappings of a relationship, starting the tumultuous road to the end seemed to both to be sacrilege. Neither of them knew why, but silently and separately, they both encased the memory in amber, in hopes that it would live forever. Their secret place to retreat to, a perfect likeness of the small, rocky, hidden grotto of it's birthplace. Where all was violent, and all was bright.