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Summary
Wendy hears footsteps and the creak of the stairs, and then finally a quiet thud as an additional weight settles on the old wood.
Tentatively, she peeks back around the corner.
Dipper’s silhouette has now joined Pacifica’s on the stairs, and she can practically feel the awkwardness radiating off of the stiff way he sits, arms straight at his sides and shoulders pulled up tight. The box of tissues sits between the two pre-teens, and Wendy wants to smack Dipper upside the head for not handing it to Pacifica directly. Doesn’t the boy know anything about interpersonal skills? About signaling to someone that you’re there for them?
Well, of course he doesn’t. He’s twelve.
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Wendy's observations of Pacifica and Dipper's developing relationship, one year at a time.
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Bookmark Notes:
It’s like, pretty obvious what’s going on. To everyone. Everyone except the two of them, apparently.
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