#fwtw

The front door to the old shack opened with a low creak. Two blonde teens stepped inside shortly after, their arms weighed down with enough luggage to last them an entire summer in the small town of Gravity Falls. The twins’ footsteps dragged along worn, wooden floors as they made their way to the carpeted living room. Once their things were set down, the two heaved heavy sighs. Both were equally nervous and excited to be spending time without their parents’ constant, judgmental supervision. Pacifica was the first to speak, breaking the silence that had recently filled the space between them, “I call upstairs.”

“What? No way! You haven't even seen upstairs yet!” Bill squawked indignantly, scowling at his sister.

“Neither have you, but I've seen enough of downstairs to know that I don't want to stay down here.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled. He had to admit, however, that his twin had a point. Everything on this floor seemed a bit cruddy thanks to the mismatched decor. The living room itself was decorated with masterful landscape paintings, a clunky television, and a sleek, black leather couch against beige wallpaper and green carpet. He watched as Pacifica flopped down onto the couch and pulled out her cellphone to text.

“Ugh! There's no signal here,” her nose scrunched up in aggravation, “How am I supposed to keep in contact with the outside world while we're in this hellhole?”

“Maybe, you could write a letter,” her brother teased, waggling his eyebrows.

“Ew, no. I'm going to check out the kitchen. Make yourself useful, and bring my stuff upstairs, will you?” Pacifica stood and pocketed her phone, heading for the kitchen doorway.

Bill’s jaw dropped, “And why should I bring your shit up?”

His twin paused on her way out, turning her head to look over her shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her false smile was sickeningly sweet as she said, “If you don't, I'll tell Mother and Father about your little… oh, you know… dress-up games? Yellow bodice? A lovely corset to match?”

A weight dropped down his stomach. She wasn’t supposed to know about that. “You wouldn't…”

“Yes, William, I would. Now, chop chop. I don't have all day,” she flipped her ponytail over her shoulder before disappearing through the archway and out of sight.

The teen grit his teeth as he grabbed her bags and began hauling them up the rickety stairs. Each step creaked and moaned under his weight as he struggled with the heavy luggage. Bill was about halfway up the staircase when he heard his sister yell up at him to hurry up. He paused to yell back down, “I'm going as fast as I can! Don't get your panties in a twist! What did you even pack? Your entire wardrobe?!”

“Hey! I never know what kind of clothes I’ll need,” came Pacifica’s defensive reply, “or what kind of clothes you could need?”

“Remind me to kill you later!” Bill called back, groaning as he finally set foot on the second floor, laughter from his twin following suit. He dragged her bags a couple of feet more before dropping them with a heavy sigh. Flopping down to sit on the floor, he closed his eyes for a moment of rest. As he opened his eyes again, he paused to take in his surroundings, only to become instantly envious of his twin.

Unlike downstairs, the upstairs seemed to be color-coordinated and matching. Sunlight filtered through a large, circular stained glass window, illuminating the spacious hallway with a soft, blue glow. In the center of the window was a simplistic outline of a tree, surrounded by swirling designs of leaves and vines. If you asked Bill, he wouldn’t have been able to properly explain it, but the pane left him with a feeling of… unease. He conceded, however, that it is rather pretty, if a bit out of place in the ramshackle home.

Beneath the stained glass window and nestled into its sill was a bench seat, cushioned in cream with throw pillows that look as if they were spun gold. Bill could see himself during lazy afternoons sketching in his book as he relaxed into the cushions, one or two of the pillows propping him up. Coupled with the window, it’s truly a beautiful sight, Bill thought.

He ripped his eyes away from the booth as he stood, electing to ignore the odd emotion the window gave him, and walked around to check the rooms. Each room seemed impossibly large for the second floor. “Are you kidding me?” he mumbled under his breath, disgruntled.

He bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating about whether or not he should even try to switch with his sister. She was hard to bargain with, after all. Seconds passed, and he decided he might as well try. With a small shrug, he turned on his heel and hurried back downstairs. “Pacifica! Let's make a trade!”

Pacifica, who was seated on the couch once again with her legs crossed, rose an elegant brow in inquiry. “A trade?”

“Downstairs for upstairs.”

“Does this mean you aren't going to kill me?” Her lips curled into a small smile.

“No, I'm still going to have to do that, dearest sister mine,” Bill gave her a charming grin of his own as he sat beside her and slung an arm over her shoulder, “You aren't going to want the upstairs. The roof is patchy and could leak next time it rains. Besides, do you really want to walk up and down the stairs everyday?”

Used to her brother’s antics, Pacifica merely scoffed, “The second floor must be great if you're trying to trade me for it. Face it, William, I know you too well to fall for that.”

Her brother made a face, “I told you to call me Bill…”

“William’s your name,” she argued, and pushed his arm off of her to stand.

Bill rolled his eyes, “Well, yeah, but it makes me sound like some old man in a bow tie!”

“Regardless of which I refer to you as, I’m not going to change my mind about the upstairs. Good luck with all of,” she gestured a hand around before dropping it, “this.”

With that, the conversation was over. Bill glared a hole in his sister’s back as she headed upstairs, the stairs creaking under her weight as she went. He sighed for what must've been the tenth time that day before forcing himself to get up and figure out which room he wanted to sleep in. He explored the downstairs, noting the halls were narrower and, in some areas, had the wallpaper beginning to peel. The rooms were less grand than what he had seen upstairs and half of them could've been closets.

After a while, he finally settled on a room that contained only a cot of a bed and a dresser. He scrunched up his nose at the sight of the hideous, shaggy carpet on the floor and decided he’d get rid of it later. The teen made his way back to the living room to grab his stuff, carrying it to his new room. Once that was done, he didn't even bother to unpack, dumping his suitcases on the floor and crashing down onto the bed.

Shortly after, he heard a knock on the door. Bill sat up to see his sister standing there, leaning against the doorframe. “What do you want?”

“I'm going to take a walk around town. Would you like to join me?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’. “It's not like anything would've changed since we were last here.”

“It's been years since we moved. Some things could've changed,” his sister bargains.

“I doubt it,” Bill laid back once more.

“Whatever. I'm going with or without you. No switching around our things while I'm gone,” Pacifica turned away with a huff and left.

If it were up to Bill, they wouldn't even be anywhere near this godforsaken town. Their parents had packed them up and moved the entire family out when his sister and him were young. The only reason Pacifica and he were back was because their parents decided to take a trip halfway around the world. Instead of taking the twins with them, they decided to send them back to their home town, so they could learn “independence”.

“Independence, my ass,” Bill muttered bitterly, grimacing at the memory. While he wouldn’t voice it to Pacifica, he could tell that his parents were just spouting out whatever bullshit excuse they could think of in order to get them out of their hair. Honestly, he thought, what kind of parents would drop their kids off in Bumfuck, Nowhere--

A deafening roar resounded throughout the shack, causing Bill to yelp and practically launch into the air, falling ass-first off the bed and onto the floor. Ice-cold fear shot through his veins, his pupils contracting and heart pounding with the sudden onslaught of adrenaline in his system. “What the fuck,” he says to himself, voice a breathy whisper from all the hyperventilating. “What the fuck?”

He swiftly got himself onto his feet, racing out of the room and into the kitchen to peer out the window. “What the fuck?” Bill repeats for the third time, honestly and totally confused. Not seeing anything from the window, he made his way out of the back door instead. Maybe he was just imagining things. Maybe, just maybe, this town was driving him nuts.

The minute he stepped onto the porch, the howl rang out once more, causing a flock of birds to fly out of the trees lining the forest and the wooden planks to tremor beneath his feet and yup, no that was definitely not his imagination. Bill stared out at the trees, wondering if he should even dare to enter. He glanced between the back door and the woods a couple of times before making his decision. Shrugging, Bill Northwest walked down the porch steps and crossed the distance of the backyard, heading off into the forest and eager to find the source of such a remarkable sound.