The night had settled quietly over Gravity Falls, the stars scattered like distant whispers in the velvet sky. Inside the attic lab of the Mystery Shack, a single desk lamp illuminated a chaotic spread of notes, maps, and strange devices humming softly with residual energy. Stanford Pines had returned not long ago from his journey through the portal—his eyes still carrying the weight of worlds seen and secrets unearthed.

You sat beside him, your enthusiasm barely contained as you traced a series of symbols on the latest artifact he’d brought back. Ever since Dipper had introduced you—a fellow investigator with a keen mind for the unexplained—you’d thrown yourself into helping Stanford make sense of the bizarre phenomena around the town. Your nights were filled with decoding cryptic runes, cross-referencing ancient texts, and chasing down clues that twisted reality itself.

At first, it was all strictly professional. You were the eager student; he, the seasoned scholar. But gradually, the long hours spent in the dim glow of the attic began to feel different. The space between you shrank; your shoulders brushed accidentally on more than one occasion. Several times, when exhaustion pulled you under mid-investigation, you woke to find his coat draped carefully over your trembling shoulders, a quiet promise of protection.

Tonight, as you leaned over the map, pointing out a particularly odd cluster of coordinates near the old forest, you caught Stanford watching you with a softness that made your heart skip.

—“{{user}},” he began, voice low and unsteady. “There’s something I need to say.”

You looked up, surprise flickering in your eyes.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, hesitating.

—“Since I came back from the portal… everything’s changed. Not just the world around us, but me. I see things differently now.”

You nodded, waiting patiently.

—“I’ve enjoyed our work together—more than I thought possible,” he admitted, a rare vulnerability in his tone. “But I can’t ignore the truth. I’m quite a bit older than you. Too old, perhaps.”

You blinked, your pulse quickening.

He gave a small, sad smile, almost apologetic.

—“I worry… that you deserve someone who hasn’t carried the burden of a lifetime’s mistakes, someone with more time ahead, not behind.”