Are You Gonna Finish Bloodroots In The Suburbs ?

are you gonna finish Bloodroots in the suburbs ?

ahh so many asks about this series,, my one rule with fics is to never say never bc i love the liberty to come back to anything i write

i know it's been awhile, but it was a project i sort of hyper fixated on when You season 3 came out and then school got really busy, i got broken up with for the first time ever around the time i was writing this fic, and it just sort of fell on the back burner??

if i'm being honest i have another chapter that's just been sitting in my drafts that would only need a little work before being published and i've been thinking about it more and more (especially with the season 4 promo) so likely at least a chapter 3 soon and then maybe some more parts depending on how that goes?

First Impressions

First ever final girl fic universe seperate fic!! all that means is that even though this is canon in the final girl fic world, it is a separate fic that stands on its own!! you don't need to read any part of final girl first!!

also if you’d like to request a fic that’s set in the final girl world, feel free too, just know that as of now there won’t be anything directly couple-y between Y/n and the boys, just specify in the request!

this is not part 6 of final girl, it's a separate little sort of prequel??

Summary: How Billy and Stu's feelings for Y/n first developed

----

Billy doesn't know when the official switch first flipped. He isn't sure when you went from being a pretty face with a sense of humor that he found a little more objectively funny than most to someone that started taking over his thoughts.

Maybe it did start that first day, when Stu kept making jokes that forced him to keep bringing up the 'hot new girl that Tatum wouldn't shut up about.’ After about the third comment about you, Billy realized that it wasn't really a joke. It was a testing of waters, Stu's not-so-subtle attempt to gauge Billy's opinion of you.

It wasn't like Stu wanted permission to like you, the two of them understood how they felt about others, about girls. But you were different, a thought that made something unfamiliar flare up in them. Feelings too possessive to be categorized as simply want. And too protective to be considered just ownership.

Maybe it did start the day he met you. The first words he ever heard you say didn't quite fit you, but they intrigued him enough to look at you twice.

----

Today is dragging on. It's not even lunch yet and Billy's trying to calculate if he can get away with skipping the rest of his classes. Maybe he'd grab Stu at the start of their shared 5th period and just go. They could get high or drive around for awhile or just cut early to watch a movie. Billy doesn't really know what he wants, he just knows that he doesn't want to be here. Looking through his locker and waiting for Sid.

Being around her is all hot and cold. Some days playing the good boyfriend is barely painful, making it easy to even actually listen to some of her stories. But on days like today, he has to be aware of all of his thoughts and impulses in order to avoid blowing up their plan. The one year mark is coming up soon.

"You know that much planning can make you sound like a psychopath." That's Sid. Billy can't see her yet, but she's still rounding the corner and her voice sounds light. The irony of her saying something like that only steps away from Billy would almost be amusing on a normal day.

"Psychopaths get shit done." A voice that's completely unfamiliar. Normally, he'd brush it off. He doesn't bother keeping up with many people outside of their inner friend group. He could point out a few faces from over the years, but no one else ever really stands out to him.

Just as Sid and the stranger round the corner, the unknown voice speaks again. "Uh--that's not the kind of joke you can make in front of someone you just met. Swear I'm not planning a mass murder, I'm just extra about planning my class schedule."

Billy turns away from his open locker, deciding that since he's this bored and the comment was somewhat amusing before the stranger started backtracking, he's intrigued enough to really look at them. Plus, Sidney seems to like them, so it's probably a thing he should be putting effort into anyways.

You're not what he was expecting. A true new girl. The true new girl. The girl most people glanced at a little too long this morning because when does anyone ever move to Woodsboro? And when does anyone start school here about a month into the school year?

You're holding a stack of heavy textbooks that seem like over kill and blinking up at him with eyes he doesn't think he'll immediately forget about. It's different than noticing someone he finds attractive. This is more intrusive.

Billy doesn't like that he doesn't instinctually dismiss you as high school background static.

His eyes eventually snag on what you're wearing. A sweater that doesn't seem to fit you that he recognizes instantly. He nearly tore it off Stu this morning before school when they both had half a mind to skip.

Billy's jaw clenches and he isn't sure if the sweater has him feeling territorial over Stu or if it has him looking at you a little differently. Maybe the sweater was a little situation Stu created for Billy to notice. A tiny, well orchestrated way to rile Billy up to get back at him for this morning. Or maybe a way to tag you, to tell Billy that he should look at you twice. It doesn't matter, he now knows for a fact that you'll be coming up later, the second Stu and him get a second alone.

"I believe you," Sidney breathes easily, a half laugh in her voice as she breezes past him, likely walking you towards their group's usual lunch spot. He doesn't like that a part of him hopes that his assumption is right.

----

Mr. James has been ranting about who knows what for the last fifteen minutes, and Stu hasn’t heard a word of it. He hasn’t even had a fully clear thought since you stumbled in three minutes late, mumbling an apology as you beelined for the first available seat you could find. It happened to be right next to him. So close Stu can see the doodles in your notebook. They’re cute, scribbled stars and swirls, but disappointingly un-telling. He didn’t expect to see you so soon after Tatum befriended you in the parking lot, and he didn’t think you’d look like this.

“I like your shirt better like this.” You look up at him like a deer caught in front of a moving car. “The neon green brings out your eyes.”

You let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “Oh, thanks, that was the goal.” You glance down at your shirt, crossing your arms in front of your chest self consciously. “This is a result of my annoying habit of not looking both ways before crossing the hall. Some guy ran into me and spilled his energy drink all over me, and he didn’t even stop to say sorry.”

“Wow,” Stu humors you because there’s just something about the irritated pout of your lips, “Rude.”

“I know!” You whisper-yell before cringing slightly at your volume. 

“Exciting first day so far.”

Shifting in your seat again, you blink once, pen tapping against your notebook. “No kidding.”

“If I give you my sweater, does that count as me bailing you out twice today?” 

Your lips part as you glare at him in a way that’s almost shy. Before you can tell him that pointing out a classroom doesn’t count as bailing you out, the two of you are interrupted. 

“Mr. Macher, since you’re so interested in talking today, why don’t you tell us how many delegates attended the Constitutional Convention in 1787?” 

Stu remains unfazed, turning away from you and towards the teacher. You begin writing something else down, and then, in a move so subtle and quick Stu almost thinks he imagined it, you tap the side of your foot against his. His eyes flit down towards the notebook that you’ve pushed to the edge of your desk.

“55,” Stu says confidently, reading the circled number off of your notebook.

Frowning, Mr. James continues, “That’s correct.” Pacing towards the bored, he asks another question, “And which state wasn’t represented?”

You’re quick to write out the next answer in order for Stu to read it out loud, “Rhode Island.”

Getting frustrated, Mr. James begins to press, “Where did they meet?”

“Philadelphia.”

At that, Mr. James lets out a sigh that’s more frustrated than it should be. Deciding that he can’t push this interrogation any further, Mr. James lets it go and moves on. 

Stu smiles despite himself, finding it a little...cute that you outed yourself as a bit of a nerd. It’s something about who you are that you’ve finally revealed. He glances back at your notebook as you inch it even closer to him. He reads over the last thing you wrote: who’s bailing who out now?

You’re smug about it, too. It’s adorable, like being near a puppy. A puppy that Stu isn’t sure if he’d keep around or accidentally squeeze just a little too hard. He just met you, but something about your demeanor is just so innocent and you seem so soft. It’s distracting and oddly riling and he hasn’t quite made up his mind if he’s going to hold it against you or not. 

God, if Tatum decides to really befriend you, this could be interesting. And if Billy were to meet you? Stu’s convinced that he’ll pick up on the fact that you’re something else just as fast. That realization leads to a train of thought that has him struggling to focus on acting normal. 

----

Stu knows two things. The first is that something is definitely on Billy’s mind, and the second is that Billy can tell that Stu’s focus is elsewhere. Stu also knows that right now is a terrible time to get caught up in some girl just because he can’t stop thinking about your eyes and the cute little turn of your lips that was almost a smile.

And seeing you in his sweater for the rest of the day just did something to him. 

Okay, technically that’s more than two things. 

“You wanna order takeout?” The question comes out perfectly casual in a way that Stu knows Billy will interpret as suspicious. “We can save the movie you rented for when the food gets here.”

Billy nods once, absentmindedly, “Sure.” His fingers press into the cushion of the couch, but that doesn’t do anything to relieve his tension. Billy moves his hand, squeezing the back of his turned over arm and letting his nails dig into the soft skin of his inner wrist. The pinching pain is meant to snap him out of it. “What do you think of the girl Tatum was all over today?”

The question nearly sends Stu spiraling. It’s rare for Stu to be unsure on what kind of reaction someone’s looking for, but he’s out of practice with Billy. He can’t remember the last time he cared about monitoring his reactions in front of Billy. “What about her?”

“Do you think Tatum will keep her around enough for her to be a factor?”

Oh. It’s about the plan. Of course it is. Stu thinks of your face, your eyes, the almost smile. It makes his blood rush in a specific way, and he’s not sure if he’d rather see you tremble out of fear or arousal. Maybe there’d be time for both.

“Don’t know. Tatum thought she was nice, didn’t shut up about her, but she’s a little book-y, y’know?” Stu shifts slightly, just enough to seem like he’s slumping further into the couch. “She’s probably too naive to be a factor either way.”

Billy half shrugs. “Not sure, she’s reading Carrie.” 

Stu almost points out that Billy isn’t usually the type to note details like that about people he doesn’t know or care about. “Think she likes scary movies?”

“There’s an easy way to find out,” Billy mumbles, only somewhat serious. He then drops his gaze towards his lap, nails digging just a little harder into his skin than before. “She doesn’t seem like the victim type. You know what she reminded me of with her too-nice-for-her-own-good, girl next door thing?”

Already piecing together what Billy’s getting at, Stu decides to play along. “What?”

At that, Billy throws him a somewhat scolding look. It’s a gentle chiding for trying to get away with bullshitting him. “A final girl.” With a slight sigh, Billy decides that he’s ready to bring up his real point, “You definitely thought so.”

The nail in the coffin hits Stu harder than he thought it would. Billy’s called him out on a lot over the years, but Stu’s never come this close to feeling embarrassed. He doesn’t get this difference, he doesn’t get why he didn’t just say something at the beginning. The two of them talk about girls they find hot all the time. Why are you the exception that makes him feel kind of awkward?

“What?”

Billy rolls his eyes before pointedly glaring at Stu in a way that can only be described as bitchy. “You think I can’t tell when you like a girl?”

The word like settles uncomfortably in Stu’s chest. “Jealous?” It’s a sad attempt at deflecting. “Like you didn’t think she was cute with the way you jumped in to save her just as I was getting her a little worked up.”

“You were making fun of someone and trying to make her uncomfortable.” 

“Since when does that matter?”

Billy pauses, thinking through his potential responses. “I didn’t give her my sweater.” It’s a flat comment, barely more than an observation. “I wasn’t the one looking at her like I couldn’t decide if I wanted to pin her against the wall or hold her there with a knife.” Stu’s eyes darken slightly as his posture stiffens and Billy struggles to not look smug openly. “Surprised you didn’t come in here trying to get me to jerk you off to the thought of her all bloody and begging you to let her live. I bet you’ve been thinking about that since you saw he in the parking lot this morning.”

Stu finds it in himself to keep it together enough to say, “You’re there too. She’s crying and looks over at you with those wide eyes like she needs you.” 

The comment serves as a ceasefire of sorts. A reminder that neither of them has a true upper hand when it comes to this kind of thing.

----

Maybe the change came the first time Billy was completely alone with you. The hall was empty, school had ended long enough for most club meetings to have started. Most of the people that linger after school have moved to the parking lot or behind the bleachers. 

Billy recognizes the back of your head instantly. You’re starting to become more and more noticeable. It’s a new development, something he still isn’t sure how he feels about. It’s good to be aware, but it’s more than that. A small part of him seems to jump whenever he realizes you’re in the same room. It’s ridiculous. If Stu knew about the pinch of warmth that rises in him whenever he realizes that you’re around, he’d never hear the end of it.

He almost walks away, leaving you there as you groan in frustration at your locker. “You okay?” 

You look up, eyes rounder than usual. You’re always a little fidgety, but today, you’re jumpier than ever. Stu threw his arm around your shoulders during lunch after making a joke that made you both seem like an old, married couple. It’s not rare for Stu to find an excuse to touch you, and you react to it a lot more casually than you used to. But today, you almost flinched. Something’s going on, maybe it has something to do with your mom’s boyfriend. 

You called Sid up the other night late, asking her if you could sleep over because your mom was out and you didn’t want to be alone with him. Maybe your mom isn’t back yet and the thought of going back to that environment has you on edge. Billy gets that feeling. 

“I think this locker has a personal vendetta against me.” 

He nods, trying not to focus on anything particular about you. Still, though, there’s something a little endearing about your dramatics. “A vendetta? Intense.” 

You pull on the lock again, trying to balance a bunch of binders and books in one arm. “Extremely.” 

With the way you’re struggling, it’s only a matter of time before everything collapses. “Here.” Billy pushes the lock in, holding it in position for a second before pulling it down. “It wasn’t still locked, just jammed. The lockers here do that.” 

You let out a relieved sigh. “You’re my hero.” It’s casual praise, a comment you’ll likely never think about again, but it leaves that strange warmth flaring through him. 

“Do you need any help?”

“I’ve got it.” The shake of your head is polite, but the fact that you’re clearly struggling to keep your hold on everything is apparent. You don’t always accept help easily. Suppressing an eye roll, Billy takes the top two books from your stack. You give him a look before admitting defeat. “Thank you.” 

You finish putting away the items in your arms before taking the textbooks back from Billy and making them fit into what’s left of the space. You then move to look through your backpack, taking out different colored sets of sticky notes and highlighters. It’s not really noteworthy until you start taking different sticky notes and highlighters out of your locker and putting them into your backpack. 

“Didn’t you just put those--” 

“Those were the note color combos for history, science, and english. These are the note color combos for my journalism class and math, plus my additional sticky notes for english reading that’s a book and not a textbook. I also like to use different highlighters for different levels of--” Billy’s watching you carefully as you cut yourself off. “I’m way more normal than this makes me look, I swear.” 

It’s that half thought out defense that has Billy practically frozen in place. There’s just something so you about the way you cut yourself off, and Billy’s practically lost in it. You’re an open book when it comes to feelings, but he always finds himself trying to guess what you’re going to say before you actually say it.

Billy fights against a smile. “I don’t believe it.” Your mouth opens in a mock gasp. “Do you have a ride home?”

You zip your backpack shut. “I was gonna walk.” 

He’s yet to see you drive and he’s starting to think you don’t have a car. It’s an unseasonably chilly day and you’re wearing something short with no jacket. Billy also doesn’t love the idea of you walking alone while looking like that. Too pretty, too noticeable, and there are some fucked up people out there.

In an impulsive move, Billy says, “I can take you.” The offer surprises you, you clearly weren’t expecting that from him. Billy can’t blame you for your confusion. It’s not that he’s cold towards you, he just hasn’t let himself get too close to you.

You’re a breath of fresh air to not just him. With the way everyone’s always all over you, Billy has let himself step to the sidelines a little. At least, that’s what he tells himself, but if he’s being completely honest, his thoughts around you are flighty and unsure. Sometimes if he thinks about it too hard it makes him feel like he’s a kid desperate for his mom to beam at him to make everything go away.

It’s twisting and weird and he’s not sure if it makes him want you closer to him or if it makes him want to just give in and force a knife through you just so that voice in the back of his head will stop. You can’t exactly reject him if he buries a knife into you first. But he’s been trying a little more recently. 

It’s only been a short time and you’ve already gotten so comfortable with Stu and his brazenness. It’s starting to make Billy a little more relaxed. Enough to crack a smile every once in awhile and partner with you for a project in English class.

“Oh,” you hum after a second, “Thank you.” You take your time zipping your backpack up to avoid needing to look at him. “But you don’t have to do that. I’d hate to put you out.” 

Billy knows that it’s likely you trying not to be an inconvenience. You never do accept help the first time it’s offered. You don’t know what you need. Despite Billy’s awareness, the slight rejection stings. That warmth you make him feel twists in his stomach in a way that burns. 

“It wouldn’t be putting me out.” He pauses, trying to think through what he can say to get you to agree without making his offer sound too significant. “It’s cold, I can’t let you freeze.” 

You shut your locker, letting yourself consider his offer. It was the right thing to remind you of. Even though it’s not exactly freezing here, it’s hotter in Texas and you’re not used to September feeling all that different than July. “One condition?” 

“I’m doing you a favor.” 

Playfully, you roll your eyes dramatically. Billy smiles at the gesture despite himself. “Don’t go around telling people I’m like some kind of weird sticky note freak?” 

“Weird sticky note freak?” Billy repeats the words like he’s seriously weighing the pros and cons of your request. “Nope. Sorry. Have to tell everyone.” 

The tension of uncertainty behind your stance disappears and the way you’re looking at him changes entirely. His joke surprised you in a good way. It’s a flash of a side of an easier going side of him. “Everyone, huh?” You tilt your head slightly as you consider what to say. “Wish I knew something embarrassing about you to...ensure your silence.” 

He almost laughs. “Ensure my silence? You’d blackmail me?” 

Shrugging comfortably, you reply, “I’d do what needs to be done.”

Billy takes a step forward, angling himself so that there’s a subtle implication that you’re trapped between him and your locker. You seem to pick up on it subconsciously, because the pure humor leaves your eyes. “Didn’t think you could be so mean.” 

You blink, a tiny bit of shyness making itself apparent. Your proximity to each other is just as significant to you as it is to him. Billy can tell by the way you struggle to hold his gaze. The fact that the nerves are mutual makes Billy feel a little easier, a little warm in a good way. 

“I’m multifaceted.” It’s practically a squeak and it sends a thrill straight through Billy.

He’s never been this close to you and yet it still feels so far. The urge to do something with his hands, to touch you just to know what the warmth of your skin would feel like beneath his fingertips, hits him hard and fast. Billy straightens in an attempt to break the spell.

It’s not enough, so he starts walking forward. “Come on before I see you do something really embarrassing like color code tabs in your binder.” 

You turn quickly, trying to match his long, even strides. “That’s actually--” Silencing yourself with a slight huff, you glare at him. “And...that was a joke. You’re making fun of me.” 

Instead of answering the question, Billy decides to push just a little more. “You know this isn’t exactly a sticky note level secret, but sometimes I color coordinate my pens based on each class I’m in. The ink matches my folders.” 

“Haha,” you breathe sarcastically, heat rising to your face. “You have a really underrated sense of humor.”

----

Now that you’re here, so casually taking up space somewhere that’s just his, Billy doesn’t want you to go. Your uncertainty melted away after the first two minutes and you’ve been casually chatting away ever since.

You tried making fun of his music, but ultimately had to admit your disappointment that Billy’s taste isn’t worse. He apologized and promised that next time he drove you somewhere, he’d make sure to have nothing but the cheesiest pop top 20 available, that way you could bully him to your heart’s content. He also made sure to tell you that if you really want to make fun of someone for their choice of music, you should ask Stu to show you his CD collection. 

After saying that, Billy watched your reaction carefully through the rearview mirror. You seemed to like the promise of future car rides.

You’re tapping your fingers against your knee casually, eyes focused on the window. The two of you are getting close to your place now, and something about your energy is beginning to shift downwards. You don’t want to go home.

Screw it, you don’t want to be home and after Stu’s stuffy energy today, Billy realizes that both of you could use a bit of a pick me up. 

"Today’s Thursday, right?” 

Turning your attention back towards him, your hand stills on your lap. “Yeah, why?” 

“I forgot I told Stu I’d be at his place by 3:30 today. We were supposed to go get something to eat.” It’s a partial lie. It was an assumed thing that Billy would make his way over to Stu’s at some point, especially since it’s been a little while since they both had a free day. Between school and their girlfriends, it just hasn’t worked out. But they never indicated a time and Billy isn’t actually late. “We’re about to pass Stu’s house.” 

Billy pauses, pretending that this idea just came to him. “Want to come with us? I can drive you home after and that way Stu won’t get into his whole thing when I’m late.” 

You’re intrigued by the offer, he can tell by the way you’re cautiously studying him from the corner of your vision. “I don’t need to crash your thing.” 

“You’re not crashing.” You don’t look convinced. “You’re our friend.”

At that, your demeanor seems to soften. The word friend leaves you beaming and that feeling flickers in Billy’s chest again. 

“You’re sure Stu won’t mind?” You’re watching him freely now, eyes cautious. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“As long as you don’t bring out the sticky notes and try to color coordinate anything.” 

Fighting down a laugh, you roll your eyes. “Sounds tough, but I think I can manage.” 

----

Stu’s laying against his couch, Texas Chainsaw Massacre playing on the living room television. He’s only half paying attention, strangely apathetic. 

The call had come this morning, right before he left for school. His parents were rescheduling their return, claiming that business was just too good for them to fly home already. Apparently someone offered his dad an in on some deal, and now they’re in negotiations for that. Stu barely believed them, considering that the business trip was in Vegas, and his mom has a pension for shopping in large cities. 

He didn’t call them out for it. He never does. Lie or truth, it doesn’t make a difference why they’re not coming back. The point is they’re just not. 

When Stu was younger, he used to complain a little, but that was quickly nipped in the bud by his father reminding him that he’s a man. He shouldn’t really need anything from his parents except assurance that his needs would be taken care of, and that’s definitely a problem they’ve never had. A large and safe roof over his head and enough pocket money to keep himself fed and entertained. What else could a teenage boy want? 

Stu was half expecting some kind of call. It had been a little over a week with no communication and they always announce their return home a few days in advance. They never tell Stu about their delays until the day before they’re supposed to come back. 

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about this or why it’s getting to him a little more today than usual. Maybe it has to do with the fact that his parents are coming close to beating their record for longest time traveling without so much as a weekend pit stop at home to change out their luggage. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s barely gotten any time with Billy this week. It doesn’t matter. The fact that he’s phased at all is stupid.

A knocking at his door snaps him out of his train of thoughts. Weird. A spike of hope strikes him with no warning. It could be Billy, but Billy never knocks. He walks in and doesn’t even bother to greet Stu verbally before sitting down next to him. It could be Tay, but he can’t remember making any plans with her or the last time she spontaneously popped by his place without at least calling first. 

Stu opens the front door casually, because this is Woodsboro, and an unexpected knock is no reason for concern. His eyes immediately land on Billy, who’s standing there like there’s nothing weird about him knocking. 

“You kn--” He cuts himself off after noticing that Billy’s not alone. Excitement pulses through him at the realization that it’s you. Stu has no idea how Billy pulled this off, but it’s a good surprise. A good enough surprise to get him to shake off the weird way he’s feeling. “Look who wandered onto my doorstep.” 

Ignoring the consuming way he’s looking at you, you greet him normally. “Hi to you too.” 

“Picked her up,” Billy jumps in, catching Stu up on his innocent enough lie as casually as possible, “She’s a stray, so she’s coming with us to grab something to eat.” 

That paired with the subtle look Billy sends him is enough for Stu to piece together enough of the story to go along with it. “You’re late, but since you brought me a gift, I’ll let it go.” 

You practically laugh at that. “Dramatic.” 

Stu turns towards you, grinning at the excuse to grab you. He tugs on your arm, ignoring your protests as he pushes you against the doorframe. The sudden shift in mood isn’t something you’re expecting, but Stu can’t help it. Especially when he knows that he has your full attention. He can take seeming pushy if it means he’s the only thing you’re focusing on. 

“Stu.” It’s too surprised and amused to be scolding.

His smile widens at the way you’re looking at him. “Take it back.” 

You bite back a grin, watching him carefully. There’s an edge to his usual brand of chaos, but it’s not unnerving. If anything, a part of you feels the need to prove him wrong. “No.” 

It’s not so much the blatant defiance as it is that smug look behind your eyes that sets Stu off. His hold on you tightens, and the way he tilts his head leaves a feeling you don’t understand pulsing through you. It leaves your face warm. 

“No?” You blink at the question, chin sticking out just slightly in an attempt to hold your ground. “Brat.” 

Still not giving him the satisfaction of your panic, you keep your voice steady as you react, “Dra-ma-tic.” 

Billy straightens, watching the exchange cautiously. He understands that look behind Stu’s eyes better than Stu does. You’re teetering on the edge of either Stu forgetting that this is a delicate situation and crossing a line or something even more dangerous. But this is the most like himself Stu’s been all day and you’re smiling. It’s a moment that’s so domestic Billy’s not sure how he hadn’t managed to get you here sooner. 

Releasing one of your arms, Stu places a hand on your side. Billy studies the contact carefully before Stu starts to move. His fingers move quickly, up and down your side as you laugh and squirm. It’s cute and easy going, but considering Stu’s mood today, Billy isn’t sure how long it’ll stay that way. 

“What were you saying?” 

“That--” You cut yourself off with a loud laugh that’s almost a gasp as Stu’s hand brushes against your side. “That you’re the--the most even temper-tempered, understa--understated person I’ve ever met.”

Stu pauses, hands squeezing your hips once before releasing you, but he makes no move to put any distance between you. “I’d love to believe you, babe, but you don’t really seem sorry.” 

That does frazzle you enough to get your eyes to widen. You laugh or maybe even yelp as Stu’s hands move to grab you again. You turn quickly, nearly stumbling as you try to dodge him. 

Stu could probably grab you and force you back into place easily, but he lets you have your small victory. It’s more fun with a little bit of a chase, anyways.

Billy places a hand on your shoulder, keeping you steady as you fight against a nervous giggle. “Help.” 

He’s never had such a good excuse to pull you towards him. Maybe Billy should have been the voice of reason. After all, this is your first time all doing something after school and scaring you off really is a possibility. But he can’t help himself. In one smooth movement, Billy turns you and presses your back into his chest. “You know in the movies nothing gets you killed faster than begging for help.”

You’re barely given a second to register his words because Stu’s on you in a second, tickling you before you can read too much into the lowness of Billy’s voice. He rests his chin against your back, briefly hiding his face into your neck as you squirm.

Billy looks up, meeting Stu’s gaze as you fondly tell them that they’re, “Literally the worst,” in a voice that’s so sweet they’re surprised they hold it together.

It’s in that moment, that silent exchange, that they both come to a mutual decision. You’re theirs now, and even though you don’t know it yet, nothing’s going to change that. 

just watched werewolf by night,, if you catch me writing a fic for it, maybe the reader is besties with a witch who’s been taken by hunters or something and accidentally runs into jack and he’s like go away you’re going to get hurt but she’s determined to girl boss 

mind your business lol 

Final Girl (Part 5)

A/n she’s here and she’s big enough to probably have been two parts lol, so feel free to carve out some you time to absorb all of this, also there are scene breaks in this one like in chapter 4, but no smut warnings!!

also feedback is always super appreciated :))

Final Girl Series Masterlist  (updated parts 1 - 9 and extras)

Series Summary:  Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s. 

Chapter Summary: Billy and Stu are throwing a party that's basically couple's only. Good thing a guy in Y/n's english class is always trying to ask her out...and a good thing that Gloria isn't around to stop Y/n from raiding her closet.

----

What. The. Fuck.

Like actually.

The first thing I registered when I woke up was the sunlight that slipped in past my curtains. The second thing I registered was how comfortable I was. I don't think I've been this comfortable sleeping since what happened to Casey. The third thing I registered was the hand on my back and arm.

I'm half curled into Billy, and Stu's asleep on his back, my arm pulled to his chest. Okay--this isn't the most shocking thing ever. There was alcohol yesterday, and drunk me is touchy. The fact that we all passed out in bed isn't shocking. What’s shocking is the fact that it’s...weirdly nice. 

This is the first time since Casey’s that I slept through the night without a nightmare. Was that because of the presence of other people or alcohol, I’m not sure, but either way the feeling of a full night of rest is refreshing.

I start to sit up slowly, doing my best not to shift enough to disturb either of them. Before my spine can straighten, a firm touch on my back has me moving back down. I slump against Billy, throwing a more confused than truly annoyed glare in his direction. “Billy.” 

“What?” The question is mumbled, Billy doesn’t even bother looking at me. “I’m comfortable.”

Rolling my eyes, I briefly consider pushing away from him, but he does have a point. It is comfortable, and he’s warm. “That makes one of us.” 

At that, he opens his eyes just enough to squint. I take a deep breath, a little too aware of the way he’s looking at me. Even jokingly lying to Billy feels exposing. I always feel like he can instantly tell.

He doesn’t call me out on it. At least, not directly, “You seemed comfortable last night.” The comment is just a tiny bit more suggestive than it needs to be. I sit up just enough to softly smack his chest. “You’re the one that fell asleep on me,” he defends, “So asleep that you snored.” 

My jaw drops in offense. “I do not snore.” 

The indignation in my whisper makes him grin. “Why are you whispering?” I tilt my head in Stu’s direction. As far as I can tell, he’s dead asleep and not loosening his hold on my arm any time soon.  Billy’s gaze briefly flits over to Stu’s sleeping form. “He sleeps through everything.” When I don’t ease, Billy continues, “He slept through all that snoring.” 

If looks could kill, I’d be a murderer. “You’re getting kicked out.” 

“You’re mean in the mornings.”

“It’s not the morning, it’s...” I sit up a little more, looking at the digital alarm clock on my nightstand. “It’s 12:09. Wow, I really passed out.” 

My mind begins to work in overdrive as I try to remember as many details about last night as possible. The gist of it is pretty clear, but what if I’m missing something? 

“Don’t worry,” Billy says, reading my face easily, “You were fine. A little touchy, but you fell asleep right after The Shining.” 

If I’m remembering correctly, I wasn’t the only one being a little too touchy. “Right.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

Eyes focusing on nothing in particular, I mull over my options. It’s not like there’s anything particular for me to complain about. I don’t remember being beyond uncomfortable or anything, just a little bit unsure. And I really don’t want to ruin everything by overreacting when I’m not even sure what my problem is. 

“Nothing.” My fingers move, nervously tracing the floral pattern of my sheets. “The morning after drinking feels weird.” 

“I thought it wasn’t the morning.” He barely pays any attention to the way I roll my eyes. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing, really.” I sit up, tugging my arm away from Stu as gently as I can. The space makes it easier to organize my thoughts. “Just thinking about yesterday feels a little weird. I don’t think I was the touchiest person last night.” My eyes awkwardly flit towards the one person that’s still asleep.

Billy shifts, watching me carefully. “He had been drinking since before I got to his place. He was moody, something about his sister and his parents.”

At that, I freeze, my breath catching itself in my throat. Mentions of their families, of what their dynamics are like beneath public perception, are rare...and always a little heartbreaking. “Oh.” 

“I wouldn’t bring it up.” His warning isn’t needed. Early on, I learned that this is the one topic I can’t get away with talking about. Still, I nod. “And you know how he is, a ‘knock it off’ is a joke until he’s beyond sure you’re serious. Especially with you.” 

My eyes snap away from the even rise and fall of Stu’s chest. “Especially with me?” 

Billy’s hesitant, thinking over his words. “Your attention means a lot to him.” 

I can’t bring myself to look at Billy. I can’t bring myself to do anything but stare at Stu. “Still,” I mumble after a second, “Boundaries.” 

“I’ll bring it up to him when he’s more receptive.” Probably a good idea. The last thing I want is to push Stu when he’s going through something that he’s sensitive about. Maybe my silence comes off as hesitance because Billy continues, “You know he’d never do anything to hurt you on purpose.” 

“Yeah.” I do know that, but I’m starting to feel like that doesn’t excuse everything. There are things that matter more than intentions. It’s hard to be mad at Stu when he’s asleep. When he’s this relaxed, he looks smaller, almost more vulnerable. 

From what I’ve pieced together through bits and pieces, Stu’s parents are rarely around physically, and when they do come home, they don’t exactly express a lot of interest in their son. I’ve heard even less about Stu’s sister. I only know she exists because of the one time I went to Stu’s house. There was a framed photo of a girl, and when Stu mumbled something about a sister, my surprise was clear. 

Growing up, I had always wanted a sibling, so I got a little excited. Stu’s reaction let me know that my enthusiasm wasn’t taken the right way. I didn’t get it until Billy mentioned that Leslie isn’t Stu’s favorite topic. He told me enough to let me know that it has to do with parental approval and attention.

Even though the way Stu acted yesterday was confusing and out of bounds, knowing where his head was at makes it harder to be upset at him.

Deciding that I don’t want to think about this anymore, I fold my hands on my lap.“How long do you think it’ll take him to wake up?”

“There’s no telling with Stu.” Billy moves so that he’s sitting up fully.

Frowning, I let out a too dramatic sigh. “I wanted pancakes.” 

The corner of Billy’s lips turn upwards. “You wanted pancakes the last time you were hung over.”

I lean back, my arm supporting my weight. “Not hungover,” I defend, “Just want pancakes. They’re the perfect after-drinking food.” 

“We can wake him up.” 

“Don’t.” Billy’s arm is already half extended, I grab his wrist, my words a whispered hiss, “He said he hasn’t been sleeping great. Let him get some rest.” 

Billy’s regarding me in a way that leaves me still. I think he might have found something about that amusing. “Protective.” 

I roll my eyes. “He needs his sleep.” Stu isn’t the best at taking care of himself. What teenage boy is? And it’s not like his parents are checking in on him.

Okay, staring at Stu while he sleeps is weird of me. I turn my head to look at Billy. The bags under his eyes are made more prominent by the light coming in through my window. And is it just me looking for an excuse to worry or does he seem thin? Now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t think of anyone that’d be really looking out for Billy either. 

The few things he’s mentioned about his dad don’t make him seem like a caretaker, especially considering that up until kinda recently, Billy’s mom was around. “Are you getting enough sleep?” 

Oh my god, did I just ask that out loud? Billy turns his head, eyes softening just a little. “Worried about me?” Ugh, this is what I get for being nice. I cross my legs, eyeing him cautiously. “I sleep okay.” Before I can respond, Billy tacts on, “You?” 

“Fine,” I reply too quickly, “Better before the whole thing with Casey.” Scratching the inside of my wrist, I try to force away the images that come to mind. It’s strange, how quiet the killer and the case as a whole have been. “But I guess that’s normal.”

Billy reaches forward, long fingers wrapping around my wrist before I can pick at the skin too much. “If you can’t sleep and you need something to do, you can call me.” 

The offer is comforting. “Thanks, you’re a good friend.” His touch is warm, anchoring. “You both are. Not to make things weird, but you guys have been really helpful through all of this.”

“That doesn’t make things weird.” His response is delayed. 

I look up, hoping to get a little more out of his expression, but his head is angled downwards. He’s staring at my sheets. “Let’s go make pancakes.” 

Billy sits up even more before standing. I follow him, careful to not bother Stu as I move off of the bed. “You’re going to leave him here unsupervised?” 

It’s clearly a joke, but I still shrug as I consider my response. “If he wakes up and decides to be nosy and look through my drawers, all he’ll find is proof of my sticky note addiction.” 

----

This is nothing like what happened that night. I repeat that in my head again and again as I watch the stove. This isn’t like Casey’s and there are too many differences for me to feel like this. 

It’s daytime. What happened at Casey’s was late at night. And I-I wasn’t really using a pan, it was just Jiffy Pop. There have been no weird phone calls. There’s been nothing. I’m fine. 

I repeat the differences between now and then in my head like a mantra as I pour the pancake batter. It sizzles as it expands into the form of a lopsided circle. Forcing my focus to remain on what’s in front of me, I grab the spatula, lifting the pancake’s side to check how cooked the bottom side is. 

“Almost done?” 

“Patience is a virtue.”

Billy lets out a breath, supporting his weight with his arms as he leans against the kitchen counter. “You okay?”

I nod, tilting the pan slightly. “When it happened,” my knuckles lighten as I tighten my grip on the pan’s handle, “When Casey got that first call, I was standing in front of her stove.” Shaking my head to dismiss the potential downward spiral, I lift the edge of the pancake. “I can’t freak out every time I’m behind a stove for the rest of my life.” 

“It hasn’t been that long,” Billy says patiently.

I flip the pancake. The loud hiss that follows leads me down a different road of memories. “I have good stove memories, too.” A weird thing to say, but it’s better than what I was thinking of. “When I was little, my mom didn’t have anyone to watch me and I was a terror unless I had something to do. So she used to sit me down on the counter next to the hot stove and had me mix the batter. It became such a thing she’d even put me on the counter when she was just baking. My mom went through a real baking phase from the time she was pregnant until around the time I started school.” 

Lifting the pancake from the pan and onto the plate, I look up at Billy before pouring some more batter onto the pan. There’s a pensive quality to his expression that’s vaguely familiar. It reminds me of that brief second in the hospital after my mom came in. What had I called that look then? Wistful. “I used to trail my mom around the kitchen. She’d pretend to let me help her.” Focusing on the spatula in my hand, I try to keep my expression casual. “That was awhile ago.” 

I abandon the utensil on the counter. Not being able to help myself, I turn and let myself look at him. What happened to his mother? She always comes up fleetingly, in ways that make it clear it’s a sensitive topic. I don’t think she’s passed away, the energy he reserves for her is too touchy. Maybe a messy divorce? I still remember that one summer my dad petitioned the court for custody and how much that sucked.

He’s closer than I realized. My hand reaches for his. He lets me intertwine our fingers. “Billy...” Thee’s something I should say. Something comforting and not pushy. Nothing good comes to mind. My thoughts are clouded by Billy’s eyes. My lips part, because he’s waiting for me to say something. 

The smell of burning snaps me out of it. Snapping my head towards the stove, I release Billy’s hand. I yank the pan off of the stove and quickly drop it into the sink. Turning on the water, I begin fanning out the smoke. “Great, the one thing my mom told me not to do was trigger the fire alarm again.” 

“Again?” 

Turning away from the sink, I halfheartedly glare at Billy. “Long story and I’m not as responsible for it as that made me sound.” 

He eyes me skeptically, taking a step forward. “Really?” 

Before I can think of a response or get too lost in thought, an unexpected, tired voice interrupts us. “What are you guys up to?” 

“Stu!” I grin, leaning against the counter. “We’re making pancakes.” 

At that, Stu blinks, glancing at Billy, then at the still smoking pan, and finally, at me. “Really?” 

“Trying to, at least,” I correct, “I’m way better at making them than it looks right now.”

Stu walks towards us with lazy steps. “I’m sure.” He ignores my pointed look, walking further into the room until he’s practically within reach. Stu extends an arm, vaguely reaching for me. I give in, closing the distance between us. He’s quick to wrap his arms around me gently. “Morning, angel.” 

“Morning? It’s like 12:30.” 

He runs his hand up and down my back for a second before I slip out of his grasp gently. “You’re the one making pancakes.” 

I return to the sink, scraping the burnt pancake batter off of the pan. “Fair.” I turn off the sink after everything’s clean enough for me to start working again.

----

Reaching forward, I grab a few pieces of popcorn from the bowl that Stu stole from me. He turns his head, jokingly narrowing his eyes. “Hey, I made that.”

I pop a piece into my mouth. “Because I asked you to.”

“First, you make us watch this movie and now you’re stealing my popcorn.”

“First off, I didn’t make you watch this. You made a hospital bed promise to watch Clueless with me. You can’t back out of hospital bed promises, that’s like, karmic bad luck.” I pull my legs beneath me, sitting up a little more. “Second, it’s my popcorn, all you did was pop it. And I made you pancakes earlier!” 

He shifts, pulling the plastic bowl towards him a little more. “Popping is the popcorn, without that it’s just kernels.” He ignores my glare. “Sorry, babe, but it’s mine.”

My last two pieces of popcorn go into my mouth. “Fine--if I say its yours, will you share?”

Stu sinks further into my couch, weighing his options. After a second, he shifts the bowl, leaning it in my direction. “Only for you.”

“We’re watching a movie.” Billy’s whisper is a little bit sharper than usual, irritated.

Billy being the kind of person to shush people for the smallest things during a movie makes sense. Even last night when I was basically wasted, he gave me a dirty look for mumbling something a little too loudly during The Shining. But that was the kind of movie he cares about.

I watch him as he stares at the TV. “Did you just shush me during Clueless?” He doesn’t react, just continues watching. I dramatically gasp, eyes widening. “Oh my god,” I don’t bother hiding the grin in my voice, “Are you, Billy Loomis, liking Clueless?”

“If you’re going to make me watch something, you should at least let me pay attention.” I press my hand against my mouth in an attempt to suppress a laugh. He is so busted. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m leaving.”

Holding my hands up in defense, I force myself to turn. “There’s nothing wrong with--”

“I’m leaving.”

“No!” My hand stretches forward, grabbing Billy’s arm. “It was a joke. I’ll stop. Promise.”

Billy looks at me skeptically for a long second. Cher says something to Dionne, and his eyes flit towards the screen, betraying him. “Fine,” he mumbles dismissively, attention already leaving me. 

The second this movie is over, he’s never hearing the end of it. Oh, maybe if I play my cards right I’ll be able to get him to watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Unlikely, but I can dream. 

I don’t know how the late morning turned into us watching a movie, but the company’s nice. I’m not used to an empty house and Billy and Stu are the kind of people that are hard to get tired of. Stu’s sense of humor becomes a little much after awhile, but telling him off is half the fun. 

Billy relaxes against the couch, his arm eases as he turns over his palm. He intertwines our fingers before I can pull my arm back. 

With the exception of a few comments Stu mumbled under his breath, the rest of the movie is watched with no interruptions. By the end of it, Stu’s head is on my shoulder and Billy’s still loosely holding my hand. 

“I really promised you I’d watch that.” Rolling my eyes, I softly elbow Stu’s side. “Mean.” Before I can scold him for starting it, he moves on, “When is your mom getting back?” 

Weird question, but I guess not too weird for Stu. “Um, Tuesday after school, right after the long weekend.” A part of me wishes we had school on Monday, at least it’d be something to do while I wait for my mom to come home. The more time I spend with people, the safer I feel. “Why? Do you have plans that’d get me in trouble or something?” 

He moves away enough to look at me before throwing an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll get you in trouble whenever, angel.” Stu squeezes my arm, looking me over with a suggestive glint behind his eyes. “Except for tonight. Billy boy and I have places we need to be. Big, empty house plans.” 

Oh. It’s not like I expected them to spend all weekend with me, but the vagueness of the statement makes me feel a little awkward. “‘Big empty house plans’ sounds like a code for an orgy.” 

“Someone’s jealous.” 

I half-scoff-half-laugh, “Of your orgy?” 

Stu’s fingers press into the skin of my arm again. This time, the touch is a little firmer and less easy going. He raises his eyebrows up and down teasingly.

“Not an orgy,” Billy corrects, throwing a look at Stu that comes and goes so quickly, I can’t even start to interpret it, “Just a hangout with some guys and their girlfriends.” 

I might not have the most experience with having friends that are (semi-)popular, and being left out of secret plans is a sore spot for me, but that sounds a little too much like: ‘Stu’s throwing a party that we don’t want to tell you about.’ But that’s a lot to assume from one sentence. “Still sounds like an orgy.” 

“I’d invite you to my orgy,” Stu hums almost sweetly, his hand moving up and down my arm. 

I shrug out of his grasp. “Really?” 

“Eh.” Stu tries holding onto me as I continue to scoot away from him. “But only because an orgy’s a rough way to lose your virginity.” 

Wow. Heat rushes to my face and the only thing that I’m thinking about is that I can’t just sit here silently. “What makes you think I’m a virgin?” Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. I shouldn’t humor him because now I’m going to have to have a conversation about virginity. “I was hot shit in Texas.” 

There’s some odd quality to Stu’s grin. If I didn’t know better, I’d feel like he was baring his teeth. “You’re still hot shit, babe, that has nothing to do with it.” He answers my unspoken question before I can think to change the subject, “With the way your mom is about guys and how you listen to h--” 

“I don’t always listen to my mom.” God, I’ve never felt like more of a little kid. “I-I drink and I don’t tell her about it.” 

“But you’re mom’s okay with drinking.” My head turns towards Billy. “The first time I came over she was trying to convince you to get wine drunk with her so that you could watch some movies together.” 

Do my mom and I enjoy the occasional tipsy movie night? Yes. Did Billy come over to work on a project with me while my mom was in the middle of trying to convince me to do just that? Yes. Did I need that thrown into my face right now? 

Absolutely not. “What’s your point?” 

“You always listen to your mom, it’s just not a problem because she basically lets you do whatever.”

Damn. Billy’s completely right, and so is Stu. I’ve never had sex or a boyfriend. I’ve never even had a first kiss because the one time I almost did at Chloe Woods’s 13th birthday party I freaked out and didn’t. They can never know that. 

“Okay, I’m done talking to you guys about whether I have or haven’t had sex.” Scratching the back of my wrist, I try to keep my face just slightly annoyed. “And it’s weird that you’re connecting it so much to my mom.” I need a change of topic, and I need one fast. I think through all of the potential topics and how to throw this back at them. “Is that thing you’re doing at your house tonight the couples only thing a bunch of football players are going to?” 

Stu’s smug grin turns, taking on an undertone that feels mean. “Pieced that together. You gonna put amateur detective on your journalism school application?”

I shrug, not loving this energy. “A few guys in my English class were talking about it on Tuesday.” The more time I spend with Stu and Billy, the more I notice their pension for staring when they want you to say more. “I forgot about it until Noel Thompson brought it up.” 

“When did you talk to Noel Thompson?” Billy’s question comes out in a way that almost seems like an accusation. 

“Uh, Friday, I’m pretty sure.” I scratch softly at my knee. “He came by to give me the homework I missed, which was nice because Mrs. Tegan assigned us another essay.” After a second, I meet Billy’s gaze, “He asked me if I wanted to go, I said I wasn’t really up for anything big, but he left his number in case I changed my mind.” 

Oh! I have his number, maybe I could still go. Noel’s nice, and it’s not like I’ve ever been asked out before. Plus, he’s like the only guy in my English class that doesn’t have super sexist takes on our readings. “Oh, now that I know it’s at your place, maybe I should call him. That could be fun since you guys and Sid and Tate are gonna be there.”

“Noel Thompson yells a lot,” Billy says, voice weirdly low, “You’re too sensitive to go out with him.” 

He doesn’t seem like the yelling type, but Billy’s demeanor keeps me from correcting him. “I wouldn’t be dating him, it’s just one party.” 

“We never said it was a party.”

“Noel did.” I bite my tongue a second too late. The reaction came out too quickly. It makes me look defensive. 

Stu’s touch on my forearm nearly makes me jump. “So you want to believe Noel because he came over to your house to flirt with you?” Not what happened, and before I can even open my mouth to defend myself, Stu continues, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you’re being naive, I feel like I have to tell you. Noel broke up with his last three girlfriends like a week after fucking them for the first time.”

Nails digging into the skin of my palm, I find it nearly impossible to meet Stu’s stare. “If you don’t want me there or don’t want me going with you, that’s fine, but don’t lie to me like I’m stupid.” What’s with them? One minute, they’re the sweetest, and then the next, they’re trying to parent me. “I get that it’s probably not fun to know that your friend’s a disaster when she drinks because then you feel like you need to babysit her, but I won’t be your problem tonight.”

“You’re always our problem.” 

I try pulling my arm away from Stu, but he’s holding on too tight. “Excuse me?” 

“Like you’re not going to come crying to us the second he tries something you don’t like.” 

Didn’t realize my friendship was so annoying considering that they literally snuck into my house last night. “If you don’t want me telling you about things anymore, congratulations, because I won’t.” I try yanking my arm away again, this time being more firm about it. Stu’s grip is too much, and for the first time ever, that sends a pinprick of nerves through me. “Stu, let go.” 

Billy places a hand over Stu’s. At that, Stu loosens his hold on me. “Stu’s just saying we don’t like seeing you upset.” There’s something about Billy’s calmness that bugs me. It’s feels as forced as the voice I used when I worked at the mall and a woman I couldn’t yell at kept snapping at me. “Noel’s an asshole, ask Sid if you want. He creeps her out.” 

That’s likely true. Sid gave me a bit of a ‘be careful’ look when she saw me talking to him after class once. “I appreciate the concern, but it’s not a big deal. It’s not even an actual date.” 

“It’s not a good idea,” Billy continues, “He’s going to hurt you.”

“I get that you’re worried, and that’s nice of you, but I can handle myself.” 

Stu releases my arm completely, sinking into himself, “We just want a night where it’s just us and our girlfriends. You’re around all the time.”

My lips part, but no words come out. Nothing angry or considerate, just silence. I’m 14 again and finding out that while I called all my friend’s houses asking if they wanted to hang out, they were out together. I’m 12 again and fighting with my mom, defending my dad for standing me up on my birthday just to find out that she lied for him. He wasn’t working. He was at my stepsister’s cello recital. 

Every moment in which I’ve been too much. Too attached, too needy, too dependent on others hits me at full force. And it hurts. And it’s unfair...it’s not like I ask them to be around all the time. I didn’t ask them to come over last night. 

But I do involve myself in a lot of the things they do with Sid and Tatum. Mall trips, coffee runs, movie nights. Sometimes Randy’s there as well, but there have been times where I just kinda involved myself. 

I thought we were all friends and that no one minded. This wouldn’t be the first time I made that mistake. Is this just a Stu and Billy thing or do Tatum and Sidney feel the same way? 

“We can do something tomorrow.” Billy’s voice is still patient, but it doesn’t feel fake anymore. I can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse. “I’ll drive you to the big bookstore on the other side of town.” 

That’s something I’d normally jump at. It’s one of the worst parts of having no license. No one ever wants to take me to the big bookstore because it’s far and I take forever. There’s nothing more time consuming than me in a bookstore with a cafe inside of it. 

I nod. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” Billy’s eyes are heavy on me. I don’t like it. “Maybe--I um, I have a lot of homework I want to get done before my mom gets back. She takes up a lot of time after trips, no matter how small. She has a thing about taking pictures.” 

“Don’t be mad at me, Stu’s the one that said it.” 

“Like you’ve never said it.” 

Great, now I have to think of them talking about how annoying and clingy I am. “I’m not mad.” 

“Stu’s an idiot, he only said that so that you’d be mad at both of us.” Billy’s words are too carefully picked. He didn’t deny thinking that. “You can do your school stuff tonight, that way we can go tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” I need to act more okay about all of this before they accuse me of making a big deal about this. It’s bad enough that they already think I’m clingy. “You know I should probably start soon and I’m feeling kinda tired.” 

Billy turns to face forward. “You’re kicking us out.” 

His voice sounds so small I’d backtrack if it wasn’t for my thoughts. “I’m feeling weird, I’m not sure you’re supposed to drink with a concussion, which could explain why I got drunk so fast yesterday. I think I need a nap before I start working on anything.” I stare at my lap. “That way I’ll have time to finish it all before tomorrow. Besides, you guys have that thing to get ready for.”

At that, Billy seems to unfreeze. He nods. “Yeah, you’re right.” He moves to stand. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Stu gets up without looking at me. Whatever his problem is. Who is he to call me clingy when he literally got drunk and demanded to stay at my house last night? I say one last goodbye and the two of them leave. 

Never have I wanted to talk to my mom and dissect an interaction more, but I can’t without getting into the whole thing. I could edit out the details so that she doesn’t kill me, but I don’t want to get into all of that. Lying and keeping things from her isn’t my strong suit, and I don’t have the energy. 

Maybe I should just do homework. 

----

“Oh my god, you know what you have to do, right?” Hallie’s voice rings so loudly throughout the phone’s receiver that I have to push it away. “And if you say homework, I’m hanging up and never talking to you again. Please tell me you’re not doing homework.” 

I frown at the essay in front of me. “You’ve been friends with me long enough to know that that’s my go to panic move.” 

Hallie and I have been each other’s go to’s since we met in the first grade. I had been having a terrible day, and then when Samantha Colts made fun of me for reading during recess, Hallie pushed her off the swings. The teacher asked me if I saw what happened and I said I didn’t see anything. It was my first lie to an authority figure and Hallie’s first time hurting someone for me. 

“Okay, but this is different. You can’t let guys walk all over you like that. if you let them get away with it once, they will do it a thousand times.” Not only did I call Hallie because of how close we are, I also called her because she’s always so opinionated when it comes to guys. Not that this is really a ‘guy’ situation, because it’s not like I’m dating them. But still, they’re boys, and I’ve never cared about a guy’s opinion so much before. “You need to hang up on me, call that football player, and show up, looking super hot. Don’t acknowledge Billy or Stu unless they walk up to you and then be like ‘oh, haven’t noticed you, I’ve been busy.’” 

Do I want to do that? I mean, it’d be fun to get in a jab about that whole clingy thing, but it’s conflictive, and arguing with them is exhausting. “I don’t know.” 

“Well, I do,” she continues, “Go to that party in the outfit Gloria wore to chaperon our middle school dance. The one that almost got her called into the principal’s office.” 

Ugh...my mom was about to turn 30 when I was in middle school, and the crisis of leaving her 20s showed. “It’s late, Noel probably already has a date.” 

“So? Tell him that your schedule just cleared up and that you’re a better time than whoever he’s replaced you with.” I love Hallie, but she’s not like me. When she wants someone, she has them wrapped around her finger in an instant. “You’re just using that as an excuse. Go out, have fun, make them eat their hearts out.” 

I roll my eyes. “They’re not going to care that much. They have girlfriends, remember? It’s not like that.” 

“Guys are weird about seeing you with other guys, even if you’re just friends. It’s like a psychological thing, like they want you around as an option or think that you’re gonna get stollen or something. I don’t know. People have studied it.” 

While I doubt that, she’s never given me bad boy advice before. “I just don’t want this one thing to ruin our friendship. Maybe I should give them the space they want.” I groan, going from sad to angry. “You know what, screw them. If they don’t want to be friends with me anymore than who needs them?”

“No, those are your daddy issues talking. Just because you’re mad at a guy doesn’t mean you’re never going to talk again.” After a second of silence, Hallie asks, “Are Billy and Stu hot? I’m imagining them really hot.” 

This is the exact kind of question Hallie would ask, but I can’t help feeling embarrassed. “Hallie, they have girlfriends, remember?” 

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

Sighing dramatically, I cautiously eye my room as I pull the receiver even closer to my face. “Yes, they’re hot.” 

She squeals. “I knew it. I cannot wait until I visit.”

The thought of Hallie meeting either Billy or Stu makes my stomach feel unsettled. She earned the nickname Hurricane Hallie when we were kids for a reason. She likes to flit in, let others get wrapped up in the storm when they should be bunkering down, and then she disappears, leaving you alone with the aftermath. I love her, but I don’t want her interfering with my life here just yet. 

“Yeah, hot guys with girlfriends, your speciality.” 

I can practically feel her eye roll. “Yep, that’s me,” she plays along sarcastically, “Now quit stalling and call him. I’m hanging up before you can change your mind. And wear something hot for me, okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll dress up all pretty just for you.” 

She giggles, “Alright, love ya. Call me tomorrow with the details.” 

“Okay, wi--” Before I can finish my good byes, Hallie hangs up. She’s smart, she knew I was like two seconds away from talking myself out of this. 

With a sigh, I flip over the English packet Noel dropped off on Friday. He scribbled his number on the back. I dial it before I can panic. After two rings, he answers. “Hello?” 

“Uh, hi, Noel, it’s me, Y/n, from English.” Ugh--I can feel Hallie facepalming from states away. “I know it’s kinda last minute, but I was wondering if you still wanted to go to that thing?” 

----

Those freaking liars. 

This is a damn party, and honestly, I’m offended that they thought they could get away with lying to me about this. It’s not like I’m social classes below them. At least, not all the time. At the very least, they should have considered that Sidney and Tatum could have brought it up to me. 

Honestly, this whole thing is starting to feel weird. Who throws a party that’s couples only? It feels like the kind of thing old married couples would say to get a group of swingers over to their house. Now I’m starting to feel weird. 

“You look really pretty, by the way.” Noel’s voice snaps me out of my train of thought. “I don’t think I told you that earlier.” 

I smile warmly, feeling the slightest bit easier. I went full in with Hallie’s advice and dug through my mom’s closet until I found her go to chaperoning outfit. Pink, low cut halter top paired with a pink mini skirt. Nothing flashy, just mildly suggestive. “Thank you.” 

He gestures towards Stu’s house with a nod of his head. “You wanna go in?” 

Bracing myself for what I hope won’t be a too drastically eventful night, I nod and let him lead me into the house. The second we step inside, the fact that this is most definitely, undeniably a party hits me at full force. From Noel’s truck, I could hear music coming from the house, but this is something else all together. The energy is absolutely magnetic. So magnetic that when Noel comes back from the kitchen and hands me a beer, I don’t think twice before drinking some.

I’m about halfway done with my third (maybe?) drink when a high pitched, “Y/n!” steals my attention.

I turn, searching for the source of the sound. Oh, it’s Tatum. Am I mad at her? What Stu said kind of made it seem like everyone was getting tired of me. I guess the only thing I can do is act normal until I figure it out. “Tate!” 

She runs up to me in a tipsy-enthusiastic way. I let her pull me into a hug. “I was starting to miss you. I even wanted to call you to come over but Stu hasn’t given me a minute.”  

The mention of Stu’s name leaves me feeling awkward. I almost didn’t notice him lingering around Tatum until she mentioned it. He places an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her even tighter as she giggles and pretends to push him away. “I’ve missed you, Tay.”

She rolls her eyes, pulling on Stu’s shirt slightly. “Boys are overrated. We should have a girls day soon.” 

That sounds nice, especially since I don’t think I’ll be spending as much time around Billy and Stu. “Yeah, we should go get our nails done or something soon.” 

“Yes,” she grins, “Oh my god, are you here with Noel Thompson? We saw you walk in with him earlier, I wanted to say ‘hi’ then, but I lost you.” 

Okay, maybe Tatum’s a little more than just tipsy. “That’s okay,” I giggle, “And yeah, I’m here with Noel, he’s just grabbing another drink. He came to my place to bring me some homework from English and then asked me if I wanted to come with him.” 

“Oh, that’s cute,” she hums, “Just be careful, though. I’ve heard enough girls crying over him in the school bathroom.” 

Stu’s lack of attention is starting to feel pointed as he continues to be all over Tate. I guess that’s what he wants tonight, but he could come up for air long enough to say hi. Whatever, if he doesn’t want to talk to me, I don’t want to talk to him. 

“I know, I know. It’s casual.” 

“Good,” she agrees, “I’m gonna go get another drink, but you should find Sidney when you get the chance, she missed you, too.” 

Oh. Both Sid and Tate wanted me here. So Stu and Billy are the ones that have problems with me. Tate circles her way out of Stu’s grasp, laughing and throwing a look over her shoulder once she finally escapes. After she disappears into the crowd, I’m left alone with Stu. 

Just when I’m about to break and say something to him, Noel returns, swinging an arm over my shoulder and pulling me towards him. “Hey, you wandered off.” 

“Hi,” I grin, “Sorry, I saw someone I knew.”

“Oh, you’re friends with Macher?” Noel turns to look at Stu, who seems to snap out of a level of aloofness. “How you doing, man? I meant to check in after the whole Casey thing. I know you guys broke up awhile ago, but still, it’s gotta hurt.” 

Wait--did Noel just say Stu used to date Casey? 

How has that not come up? He was literally in the hospital with me after--? I guess that explains why he wasn’t thrilled when he saw me talking to her after homeroom. No one likes it when their friends talk to their exes, but not mentioning it at all? That’s weird.

“Hey, you okay?” Noel squeezes my arm. “You look a little uneasy.” 

“She’s the girl that was at Casey’s the night it happened.” Stu explains, his tone a lot softer than anything he’s used around me since our argument. “She’s still sensitive about it. Aren’t you, angel?” 

I blink twice, taking a long sip of room temperature beer. “I um--” 

“Shit, that was you?” Noel takes an awkward semi-step away from me. “I must’ve forgot it was you. I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.”

“It’s fine.” I internally cringe at how fast the answer comes out. “I’m gonna, I need to use the bathroom.” 

Waiting for nothing else, I turn on my heels. The sound of my name is faint in my ears as I rush away from the crowds. I just need a second away from this noise so that I can think. 

“Hey, Y/n.” I nearly jump out of my skin as a hand grabs my arm. I turn too quickly, nearly stumbling into the wall behind me. Noel’s watching me with eyes that ooze sympathy. “I am so sorry about bringing up Casey. I didn’t know you knew her, let alone--” 

“It’s fine,” I breathe through gritted teeth, “I just-I need a second.” Why am I melting down? Because he mentioned her name so casually? Because of the fact that Stu dated her? 

“I didn’t um-I didn’t expect to hear her name. The things that have been making me spaz lately have been so random.” 

Noel nods once, “That makes sense, I can’t even imagine it.” When I don’t ease, Noel drops his arm. “Wanna go into the kitchen? It’s quiet there and I can get you some water. You just-you kinda look like you want to throw up.” 

I nod gently, letting Noel lead me out of the hallway and towards the kitchen. My stomach is in literal tangles, Noel nailed the ‘wanting to throw up’ thing. 

He’s right. Stu’s kitchen is empty and well lit, making it a lot easier to breathe as Noel pulls a water bottle out of a cooler. “Are you feeling okay? You look really freaked out.”  

I twist the lid off of the water bottle before bringing it to my mouth. I take small sips until nearly half the water’s gone. “Do you think it’s weird that Stu never mentioned they used to date?” The second the question is out, I regret it. Noel doesn’t know the situation. I don’t even really know the situation. I can’t start rumors like that based on a bad feeling after an emotional day. Especially not when talking to a guy I barely know. Maybe I could get away with bringing this up to Randy, but not Noel. “Oh my god, I’m a terrible person for asking that.” 

“I don’t think you’re terrible,” Noel starts gently, “It’s natural to question everything after something like this happens.” I nod, fingers twisting the plastic cap between my fingers. “And I honestly don’t think it’s that weird that he didn’t bring it up.” 

My eyebrows draw together at that. I press the cap into the counter with my thumb. “What?” 

“It makes him look super suspicious. I don’t think I’d want to take that kind of heat over a girl I dated sophomore year of high school.” That’s a decent point, I guess. If most people have forgotten you dated someone, why bring it up when it could potentially ruin your life? “Plus, if we’re going to make everyone Casey Becker dated a murder suspect, the police will have their fair share of guys to look through.” 

My thumb digs so deeply into the plastic that I can feel the ridges of the cap dig into my skin. “Are you seriously slut shaming her right now?” God, what is it with men? “My friend’s--she’s gone and you feel the need to make a joke about her dating life?” 

“No!” He blurts out, moving like the implication scalded him. “No, I’m not saying that at all, I’m just saying that I know Stu. He’s a lot and he makes jokes, but he’s not a killer.” Noel shifts when he realizes that I’m not easing, “He’s not like his friend.” 

What? “His friend?” 

Noel leans against the counter. “Him and Billy are pretty close, and Billy seems impulsive and too attached to how people see him. I’ve known them since we were kids, but Billy’s the only one that gives me that vibe, y’know?” When I don’t say anything, he continues, “I’m not saying Billy did it, there’s no proof as far as I know. I’m just saying that’d surprise me less.” Noel’s gaze moves towards the cap I’m still fiddling with. “He’s just a little too...I don’t know--protective?”

The choice of wording cuts through me. While Stu’s up front about everything, Billy’s the one that’s quiet, hard to read, and cares so much about the people he’s close with in an invisible way. The way he reacted to me saying I might come here with Noel tonight demonstrates the distinction between them clearly. Stu was openly bothered, but Billy...he was nice. Maybe too nice? 

Okay, that’s ridiculous. I can’t suspect Billy, the same Billy that was making pancakes with me this morning and grabbed the syrup off of the top shelf when I couldn’t, of murder. Especially not because he seems like less of a wild card than Stu. 

But then again, most killers aren’t the larger than life personalities. The charismatic white guy is the bad guy so often I’m surprised they’re still never the first suspect. 

Ugh. I hate thinking about this. I’ve had too much too drink and my head’s starting to hurt. 

“I don’t think it’s Billy, for the record,” Noel says after I refuse to end our long stretch of silence, “I was just using him as a reference point.” 

It can’t be Billy. It can’t be. I’m drunk and creating conspiracy theories out of panic. I’ve done it before. Two seconds ago I thought it could be Stu just because he didn’t feel like advertising the fact that he used to go out with a murder victim. I can’t just switch up based on whoever’s name I hear while I’m freaking out. 

“Yeah.” My voice sounds hollow, unsure. “Sorry, this is a party, and that was bleak.” 

“You’re fine,” Noel seems genuine, “You’ve been through so much I don’t even know how you’re out of the house. I’d be too scared to ever do anything again.”

I smile at his effort. “Guess I’m tougher than I look.” Letting go of my water bottle, I reach for the beer I abandoned. “No more talk about all of that, let’s just have fun.” 

Noel picks up his own beer bottle, tapping the neck of it against mine. “I’ll drink to that.” 

----

The alcohol, small talk, and forcing myself back into the party was supposed to help my anxiety. It hasn’t. No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking through every interaction I’ve ever had with Billy. Even the nice things feel weird now. I couldn’t even bring myself to meet his gaze when he nodded in acknowledgement towards me earlier. And when Sid called me over, I pretended not to notice. 

Ugh, I hate myself for letting these ideas get into my head. 

There’s no proof. There’s nothing. And because of that, even if I could form an opinion, no one would believe me. Whenever I mention anything about that night, people look at me like a child that needs to be coddled. Their eyes get all sympathetic as they dismiss me with kind phrases like, anything’s possible and yeah, I think the police should look into that. 

if I put this in the perspective of something I know well, all mysteries have evidence. They all go back to the crime scene. If Randy gets to pretend that this is a scary movie, I can pretend it’s a mystery novel. 

And following that logic, I need to go back to Casey’s house. 

After I pee. God, I don’t feel drunk, but it’s possible considering how many times I’ve abandoned Noel in the last hour to use the bathroom. I don’t hate the excuse to leave, everyone’s getting couple-y and making out and maybe Stu did have a tiny bit of a good reason for telling me not to come tonight. 

Whoever’s in there is taking way too long. I lift my hand to knock again, but before I do, the door opens. The lack of physical object in the way throws me off. My fist flatly lands against a chest. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” I immediately take my hand back, looking up at the person who I accidentally hit. “I am--” The rest of my apology is lost as I realize that it’s Billy. I take two steps back as my heart thrums in my chest. 

“Oh, Billy, it’s you.” Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. A nervous giggle leaves me. “I um-I didn’t see you there.” Shaking my head dramatically, I start over, “I saw you, I just-I didn’t see--before, you know?” 

He regards me cautiously. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not much,” I mumble, digging my nails into my palms to avoid bouncing on the balls of my feel, “I um--I’m not your problem, anyways, remember?” It’s supposed to be a joke, or maybe an excuse for my aloofness, but it comes out too bitter. “Sorry, um, we can talk more tomorrow. Bookstore, right?” When Billy doesn’t move or say anything, I tilt my chin up, “Bathroom. I need to use the bathroom.” 

Billy tilts his head, his expression unreadable as he takes a step forward. “You jumped when you saw me.” 

My eyes widen. “No.” The denial is too quick, too offended. “I jumped because I didn’t expect to see you, or anyone.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, tying to seem steady. “I’ve been drinking.” I whisper the last word like it’s some kind of secret. 

“I noticed,” Billy says flatly. His hands almost leave his sides like he’s considering trying to help stabilize me. Or do something more cynical. “Maybe you should get your boyfriend to take you home.” 

Swallowing back my dread, I watch him for a long second, “Boyfriend? Oh, Noel, he’s not--I mean he’s nice.” He thinks you could be a murderer. “I don’t think he’s in the going home mood, and I need some air. I’m walking home after this.” 

Billy presses his lips into a thin line. “Let me take you home, make sure you get to bed okay.” 

“No.” The word is basically a pout, and the way I sway slightly doesn’t make things any better. “Not your problem anymore, remember?” 

He pushes himself away from the doorway of the bathroom. Billy stalks towards me slowly. I hold my ground until Billy’s basically leaning over me. At that, I step back, but Billy keeps going until I’m backed into the wall. 

The hallway is empty, but the party is still alive and well around the corner. It feels like a world away with Billy standing this close. “I never said you were a problem and I never said you weren’t mine.” 

His words only half make sense, but the intensity of his tone edges me towards panic. “Billy,” I begin slowly, “I just want to go to the bathroom, splash some water on my face, and then go home.” 

He places a hand next to my head and I feel air claw its way back down my throat at the implication. He’s trapping me. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. Didn’t even say anything to Sid when she tried waving you over.” 

I shake my head the little bit I can in this position, silently praying that I don’t look like a deer caught in headlights. “No...I was just giving you guys the space you asked for.”

Billy leans impossibly closer, his hand sliding off the wall. I hold my breath until his thumb brushes against my cheek. Despite the tension in the air that I’d need a knife to cut through and my own nerves, my body relaxes instantly at the contact. “Do you remember when we first met?” 

It was during lunch. Tatum was the one that first pulled me towards their group and Stu was the one that kept calling me over. It was my first day and I was super nervous about lunch. Stu called me over before I could freak out and then a few seconds later began a joke that turned some kid into a punchline. I remember not being super comfortable, but not wanting to say anything because I couldn’t risk it. Billy had jumped in and saved me from needing to make a comment about it. 

“Yeah,” my voice is too soft, too flighty, “During lunch on my first day.” 

He nods once, eyes taking on a kinder hue. “You know what the first thing I noticed about you was?” Billy doesn’t wait for me to respond, “That you can’t keep a single thought or opinion off of your face.”

Every drop of blood rushes down my body. The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards at my expression. “That’s how I know that you’re lying. You don’t want to go home. Where were you going?” 

Staring at him is becoming too difficult. “The bathroom,” I mumble, “And then...Casey’s.” 

And just like that, any cracks in Billy’s demeanor disappear. “Stu’s right when he says you’re one impulse away from playing Nancy Drew.” I don’t say anything, but Billy doesn’t seem to mind my silence. “You’re drunk, you should go home.” 

“I’ll get there.” I try to sound serious as I say, “Go spend some time with your girlfriend, I’m fine.”

Billy looks at me for a long second, the fingers cupping my face pressing slightly into the skin of my neck. Something I don’t recognize flashes across his expression. All at once, it disappears and Billy steps away from me. “Sid would kill me if I let you wander the streets this drunk.” 

“Don’t do me any favors, I’m not trying to be anyone’s responsibility.” 

With a sigh, Billy looks me over again, “I’d worry too.” He studies my reaction, “Friends worry about their friends.” When I don’t protest, Billy continues, “Go to the bathroom, I’ll walk you home after.” 

---- 

I’m being ridiculous. If I don’t start acting normal, Billy’s going to realize that I’m freaking out. If he hasn’t already. 

Shaking the thought out of my system, I keep my eyes on the ground. People saw us leave together. Sid gave me a quick hug and told Billy to take his time keeping an eye on me, considering the fact that no one’s waiting for me at home and I’ve been kinda jumpy. Two girls from two of my different classes waved goodbye to me. I wanted to say goodbye to Noel, but I couldn’t find him. 

The October air bites against my skin. My mom could get away with wearing this in Texas no matter the time of year because it’s actually hot there. I keep my arms tucked into myself for warmth. 

“Here.” Billy’s stopped walking, and now he’s holding his arm out to me. 

I blink, realizing after a second too long that he’s offering me his jacket. He’s looking just past me like he can’t bring himself to meet my eyes. It’s weirdly cute in an awkward way. The endearment that I feel quickly melts into guilt.

I take the jacket, shrugging it on. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” Billy takes a step towards me, nearly making me trip off the sidewalk. “Be honest.” When I still can’t bring myself to say anything, Billy’s expression seems to cloud, “We’re not at a party, we’re not at school. It’s just you and me.” 

It’s ironic that the only anchor I feel is the warmth of Billy’s jacket. The patience that he’s looking at me makes the dam break. “I--I feel like I’m going crazy, all the time.” My answer is so honest, my throat feels raw. “And I feel like that because I lived I’m like indebted to the universe or something. Like--like I’m supposed to do something for Casey, but I can’t do anything because I don’t even feel like I can trust my own thoughts.” A small scoff leaves me. I’ve never been this pathetic. “What if I’m never normal again? I-I tried watching the movie that we were gonna watch before it happened the other day and I couldn’t even get through the first five minutes. And I--I loved that movie.” 

By the time I’m done with my rant, Billy is close enough to me to pull me into a hug. I let him, slowly moving my arms back around him. “It’s been a week,” he whispers, “You just need time.” I nod into his chest. “And in the mean time, we can find a better movie than A Nightmare on Elm Street.” 

I move away far enough to wipe at my face with the back of my hands. “Yeah,” I smile stiffly through a sniffle, “I just want to go home and not drink again for a really long time.”

Billy lets go of me. I turn slowly, already starting to walk again. Billy stays behind me. Shit, he picked up on it. I break out into a run, ignoring the confusion in my body. Billy’s footsteps are deceptively quiet behind me. 

We’re only blocks away from my house. I can--I can get there. 

He grabs my forearm, forcing me to face him. “Wh-what’s gotte--” 

“How’d you know what movie was playing?!” Billy pauses, his grip on my arm tightening. “I didn’t tell you. I only told one person, and it-it was the guy on the phone.” His lips part, but before he can speak I stomp on his foot with all of my strength. It doesn’t affect him until I throw all of my weight back, forcing him to loosen his hold just enough for me to squirm away from him. 

I start running again, taking off my wedged heels and throwing them blindly behind me, hoping that they somehow slow him down. Those shoes are more of a hazard than running barefoot. 

Now it’s just me and a race against Billy as I try to think of every horror movie mistake I could possibly make. My instinct is to run through the woods in order to potentially lose him, but that’s literally the opening scene mistake. So I just run fast and straight, staying on the illuminated sidewalk path and never looking behind me to see if he’s still following.

The house is only steps away from me. “Y/n!” Shit. I pick up the pace, ignoring the ache in my side and chest. “Let me explain!” I scramble to unlock the door. Billy’s close. 

Just as I throw open the door, Billy’s fingers brush against my shoulder. A scream that I can’t even recognize as my own bleeds from me as I slam the door behind me. Billy pushes against the wood, but I was expecting him to do that. I use all of my force to shove against the door. After slamming it hard a few times, the door shuts just enough for me to be able to twist the lock into place. 

This isn’t my first time trying to keep an angry man locked out of the house so I know better than to move away from the door while he’s still pounding on it. “You can’t believe that I’d do that.” 

My eyes squeeze shut, tears blurring my vision. “Just go away! Please.” 

“Not if you think I killed them.” He continues to knock and try the door handle. “You think I’d hurt you?”

I’m still struggling to breathe and the adrenaline is starting to wear off. My head is starting to pound. 

A familiar ringing cuts through my emotional haze. The phone. The living room extension is only a few steps away from me. It could be my mom calling because she can’t sleep, or my dad, or maybe even Hallie. All I know is that it’s a lifeline, and Billy’s no longer shaking the front door. 

I keep one hand on the door for as long as I can before picking up the receiver. “Mom?” 

A dark laugh that’s played almost every night in my head since I first heard it absorbs all the hope from my body. “I’ll give you one more guess, doll face, just cause I like you so much.” 

My bones are glass, the phone slips from my grasp. It clatters onto the ground, not loud enough to be heard over my heartbeat. The last time I ignored him, he didn’t take it well. That’s the only reason I find the strength to sit down and pick up the phone. I push myself back so that my back is pressed into the front door.

“You back yet? You’re cute, but I don’t like being ignored.” My breath comes out just shaky enough for it to be audible. “Oh, I hear you. What’s wrong, doll face? Not happy to hear from me?” My lips part, but my voice has completely left me. “Aw, keep the silent treatment up and you’ll hurt my feelings. And I play a lot less nice when my feelings are hurt. Might even have to take it on your buddy Billy Loomis, since you left him locked out like that.” 

Billy? “I-I’m still not sure that this isn’t Billy, but if it’s not leave him alone.” 

“Maybe you’ll believe it’s not him when he turns up gutted like your little friend.” 

The reference to Casey forces my stomach to lurch. I swallow back bile. “Why’d you do that?” I force my hand over my mouth as I almost let out a cry. Did I just kill Billy? “Why-why do that to Casey and just let me live?” Wiping my face with my palm harshly, I try to keep my voice steady, “Why call me now?” 

There’s the slightest bit of motion audible over the receiver. “What can I say, baby doll? I missed your voice.” If I felt any strength left in my body, I would have rolled my eyes at that. “You should already know why I let you live. You said it yourself the first time I called you.” 

“What?” 

He lets out a cruel laugh at such blatant confusion. “I’m not doing all of this to make a bad scary movie. And all the greats have a final girl, you said it yourself.” As his words sink in, a sob threatens to escape the confines of my chest. If he means what he’s saying, then a lot more people are going to die. “And, sweet cheeks, you’re mine.”

The possessive sort of growl that makes up the last word sends a chill straight through me. This game of cat and mouse is starting to make me sick. A floorboard from upstairs creeks and instinct takes over. “But you have to earn it, doll face, no fun if it’s guaranteed.” 

I force myself to stand on shaky legs. He could be in the house. Billy and Stu had no trouble getting in last night, but Billy already knew about my window. My breaths are too shallow as I reach the kitchen, stealing a knife from the block on the counter. 

“You know,” I start, trying to sound braver than I feel, “A lot of times final girls kill the slasher.” 

Another sharp chuckle. “I’m glad I picked you.” 

Footsteps are coming from the stairwell. I grip the knife’s handle, trying to force myself to walk towards the stairs. “You won’t feel that way forever.” 

“Feisty,” the voice either growls or groans, I can’t tell. 

My skin crawls as the steps from the stairs sound closer than ever. I hold the knife out in front of me with shaking hands.

“Y/n, I--” Billy stops in front of me, holding his hands out in front of him. “I just wanted to tell you that I knew the movie because they printed it in the newspaper. It was in the VCR when the police found you and they listed it in that article where they listed everything that was in Casey’s living room.” 

There was that one article that over analyzed everything about what was in Casey’s house. They even listed the lipglosses Casey was showing me and a bottle of opened nail polish we left out. The explanation paired with the fact that the person on the other line is still there leave my head spiraling. 

“Billy?” He’s probably so mad at me and I-I just--how did we end up here? I drop the knife, letting it hit the ground.

“I leave your friend alone and you thank me by ignoring me?” The voice on the other end of the line snaps me out of it. 

After stuttering for a moment, I finally blurt out, “Leave him alone.” 

“Protective,” the voice muses, “Careful, baby doll, I might get jealous.” Before I can get myself to speak again, the line goes dead. 

Billy’s the one that knocks me out if my panicked trance. He delicately places a hand on my shoulder. I can’t breathe. I don’t think I’m crying until my vision turns blurry. He tugs me towards him, placing a hand on my back. He rubs my back soothingly. “You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, “I’m so sorry, I--” 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, letting me hug him tightly, “It’s okay.” Billy pulls me away just enough so that I can look him in the eye. “We’ll call the police and figure it out, okay?” I nod, but make no move to let go of him. 

----

Taglist: @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things

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A/n things were getting a little too nice and i had to remind y’all hehe

i cannot wait for y/n to have a little ghostface confrontation moment in the final girl fic

Pov: Billy and Stu went to go kill Y/n

Honestly I’ve been laughing at this for a while. I was thinking about Billy Stu and Y/n got together after Billy and Stu went to go and try Y/n just to get beat up……They really tried

Final Girl (Part 6)

A/n your comments, reblogs, and likes have helped me through this rough patch immensely :)) not to be pushy but,, comments really make my day :)

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s. 

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of Ghostface’s phone call leaves Y/n a little reliant on some good friends. 

Final Girl Series Masterlist  (updated parts 1 - 9 and extras)

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Billy’s breathing doesn’t reveal enough about what he’s feeling, but considering how silent the two of us have been, I have absolutely nothing else to go off of. 

I should leave him alone, I stomped on his foot, locked him outside while a murderer was watching us, threatened him with a knife, and accused him of being a murderer. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t hate me, I really shouldn’t push. 

If it wasn’t for Billy, I don’t think I would have gotten through the aftermath of the phone call. He convinced me that the police wouldn’t care that I had been drinking and when I couldn’t form the words, he gave them the information over the phone. He also helped me call my mom. 

When Dewey finally got to the house, he seemed a little more like an older brother asking me what happened with genuine care and compassion instead of some kind of officer desperate for answers. It was nice, the kind of energy and patience I needed. He even offered to take me to his house so I could sleep over with Tatum, but remembering how drunk she was at the party, I had a feeling she might not be coming home. I don’t know what she told her parents and I really don’t want to get her in trouble or interrupt her time with Stu (since he threw such a hissy fit this morning), so I insisted I could tough it out. Dewey didn’t seem convinced until Billy offered to stay the night, just so I wouldn’t be alone. 

The offer comforted me as much as it annoyed me. All I wanted was to prove that I didn’t need anyone, and now Billy’s weird group date night party thing has been cut short because of me. Technically, it’s not my fault. It’s not like I asked some murderer to call me, and he’s trying to be nice. Or at least, I think he is. And it’s not like he was the one complaining about me today, he even tried making me feel better by saying he’d take me to the bookstore tomorrow. 

Despite knowing all of this, my awkward and uncomfortable emotions that have been amplified by both panic and alcohol would have had me sending Billy home if I had the chance. But Billy’s offer was the only thing that seemed to get Dewey to relax and before he left he made both of us promise that we’d stay put and keep a phone on us in case of emergency. I couldn’t kick Billy out after that, not with the way Dewey physically eased. 

I guess it’s fair. Two is always better than one in these kinds of things, that’s why splitting up in a scary movie is always a bad idea. And if I had to make a cursory assumption about Billy’s physical appearance, he seems kind of strong, I guess. Not that I’ve ever paid attention to his physique or anything. And it’s not like he’s going fight off a killer, or whatever. But Dewey seemed to be comforted by the idea, and after tonight, if I have to choose between potentially bothering Billy and potentially bothering Stu by stealing Tate from him... 

And, if I’m being completely honest, the thought of being alone is absolutely nauseating. Before leaving, my mom always drills me on self defense. The whole ‘gun’s in the safe’ talk. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the fact that my mom’s been taking me to the shooting range since I was legally old enough to in Texas is the only reason she felt comfortable leaving me alone. But I’ve been drinking, and shooting at a target is nothing compared to shooting at a person. 

Also, unfortunately, I’ve come to realization that Billy’s presence is comforting. He lingers, sometimes at a distance, sometimes close. Like a cat.

“What are you thinking about?” It’s a fair question, I guess. We’ve both been through some stuff tonight, and we’re both tense, but it’s not like we can both sit at an awkward distance from each other and stare off into space until morning. 

Not trusting myself to not stare at him, I drop my gaze from the wall and onto my lap. My mind is racing a mile a minute, and a weird combination of dread, panic, and guilt have been drowning out all rational thoughts since Dewey left, but none of that feels like the right thing to say, so I go with the literal answer. “Nothing much, just that you’re kind of like the cat my mom never let me get.” 

He lets out a breath that could be annoyed or amused. I’m too much of a coward to look up at him and check. “You’re not that predictable.” 

His tone is so specific it takes a second to sink in. The words came out low and cautious, like he was admitting some kind of weakness he didn’t expect himself to express. But they also felt a little like shy praise.

 “Thanks, I guess, weirdo.” Finally looking up at him, I realize that he’s already looking at me. “Thought I was easy to read.” 

Billy tilts his head downwards, a strand of hair falling across his face. “You can’t hide what you’re feeling, but that doesn’t make me a mind reader.” 

Did Billy move closer to me at some point and I just didn’t notice? Or did...I somehow move? “That was a very polite way of telling me that I say weird things.” 

“No,” if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was smiling, “I meant it in a good way. It’s...refreshing.” Billy pauses, eyebrows just barely drawing together like he’s debating something, “You’re refreshing.” 

The admission comes out almost soft. I grin at his awkward wording. “Keeping you on your toes, just how I like it.” 

My bad joke lands even though Billy tries to hide his slight smile behind a controlled smirk. “One minute you’re accusing me of murder and the next you’re making jokes. I’m definitely on my toes.” 

I can’t tell if the switch is meant to be lighthearted, but I react regardless. Turning my head away, I clasp a hand over my mouth a little too dramatically. “I am so so sorry about that. Did I apologize for--” 

“Yes,” he cuts me off easily, “Relax, I was joking, and I get that you were scared and Stu told me that Noel said Casey’s name in front of you.” Billy hesitates, voice dropping slightly, “And I know that I said the wrong thing, but it was a lot to know that you thought I could do something like that to you.” 

Guilt feels like a spear cutting through me. All of my other feelings are small in comparison. One conversation with someone that only knows surface level Billy and that’s all it took for me to get that freaked out? And right after I started wondering if Stu could have done it just because he happened to date Casey at one point? 

Maybe it was the alcohol or the desperation to have some sense of closure. There’s a chance that I was just mad at them and my subconscious ran with that.

I let myself watch Billy openly. There’s a strange flicker of vulnerability adding a quality to his features that makes him feel less sharp. If I squint, it’s similar to the way he looked when he mentioned his mom earlier.

That strand of hair is still out of place, just barely brushing against the tip of his nose. I don’t know what gets my hand to move, but while I’m imagining how satisfying it’d be to have that strand pushed back into place, my arm extends. My movements are slow as I tuck his hair behind his ear. 

Billy lets me, only reacting to wrap long fingers around my wrist once I’ve accomplished my goal. There’s a lot I could say about my down spiral. I could tell him that he was my second suspect during a 10 minute trail down a dark rabbit hole. I could tell him that I was so out of it that I wanted to go to Casey’s house alone at night while drunk. 

Instead I say, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” It’s the truth, and somehow it feels like the only thing worth saying. 

He holds my gaze for a little too long. With no warning, Billy moves my arm, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of my wrist. 

Ignoring the strange warmth that follows the gesture, I turn my head. “I was so out of it and desperate for answers I wanted to go to Casey’s house. You were right to make me go home.” With a self deprecating laugh, I pull my hand back. “I just wish I could’ve proven that I could go one night without having some sort of crisis.”

“I like your crises,” Billy says after a beat, “They end up making me look like a good guy and it’s nice to be needed every once in awhile.” 

I look over at him, glaring as he grins. His sudden lightheartedness is shocking, and a tiny bit infuriating, but not unwelcome. I like the way he gets when it’s just us or us and Stu. 

The thought of Stu hits me a little too hard. It’d be nice to know that things with Stu are okay. Plus I...begrudgingly kind of, maybe miss him a tiny bit.

Billy being around is great, but after tonight, it’d feel settling to have our trio all together and safe. 

Rolling my eyes, I adjust my position on the couch. “One, I don’t think you need me to make you look like a good guy, and two, I’d keep you around even if I was completely stable.” 

“Really?” There’s a bit of smugness behind the humor in his voice. “Keep me around?” 

I halfheartedly glare at him, shoving his arm. “Maybe I like you.”

“Maybe?” 

“Don’t make it weird.” 

He grabs my hand, squeezing it slightly. “You okay?” 

Ugh. Of course he’d notice that tiny shift. Billy’s so perceptive it’d unnerve me if he was anyone else. “If I admit something you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone.”

“I can keep a secret.” 

It’s not exactly the assurance I wanted, because him being able to and willing to keep a secret are separate things. Something tells me not much goes unshared between him and Stu. “Is it weird I kinda miss Stu?” The admission is embarrassing, but it’s probably the least awkward thing I’ve said all night. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad at him and he was a total asshole, but he’s like my asshole, y’know?” 

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. There’s something about his expression that I don’t understand, but it’s not a bad thing. “I get it.” He shifts slightly without letting go of my hand. “You should call him tomorrow, he’d like it more than he’d admit. Not a lot of people go out of their way to reach out to him first.”  

I’m not wasted or naive enough to not notice how intentional Billy’s final comment feels. I can see why he’d want Stu and I to make up sooner rather than later. No one likes it when their friends are fighting. I have half a mind to call him out on it, but decide against it. Sure, it might have been a point he kept to himself under different circumstances, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

It’s hard to picture Stu, who’s always so outgoing and himself as lonely or unwanted. He’s always throwing parties and included in things. But parties don’t necessarily mean a lot of friends. Anyone would be willing to spend a Saturday night drinking free alcohol in a parentless house. And it’s possible to feel like you’re not important while surrounded by a large friend group. Plus his parents are always gone. Two nights without my mom and I’m losing it, I can’t imagine what coming home to an empty house every day must feel like.

But it’s no excuse. It’s not like I’ll be mad at him forever, but it’s deserved for now. “I will when I feel a little better.” 

Billy pauses, thinking through what I just said. “He’ll cool off. It’s more about this week than you.” Right. His sister, his parents.

I must be more tipsy than I realized because I blurt out a question that I’ve managed to keep to myself for awhile, “What is the whole thing with his sister?”

A switch immediately flips. He doesn’t really move or do anything, but there’s a shift behind his eyes. A change so slight and certain I wouldn’t have noticed if it had felt any less harsh. I don’t know why, but I know that that was the wrong thing to say. I’m pushing us towards what’s considered unsteady territory.

“I-I just mean that I know they don’t get along because of that time at his house with the picture, remember? I’m not saying it’s anything, just that I--I don’t have any siblings, so for all I know all siblings are like that.” I scratch the back of my wrist, vaguely reflecting on that cliche expression about cats. “I-I have a step-sister, technically, and I can barely stand her and I only see her on holidays, so actual siblings must be...”  

He turns his head enough to watch my expression. There’s something about the draw of Billy’s eyebrows that eases me. Something in my jumble of words has intrigued him. “You have a step-sister?” 

Ugh. I think I’d rather him be mad at me. Shrugging, I answer honestly, “My dad got married when I was nine. His wife had a daughter that was ten.” 

“You don’t like them.” 

It’s not a question, but I can feel that he’s expecting some kind of elaboration from me. “Not particularly.” It’s not what he wants, but I’m not exactly chatty when it comes to my step family. Maybe that’s how Stu and Billy feel about the parents they live with. The thought leaves me more sympathetic than before. “It killed my mom.” 

“I didn’t ask about your mom, I asked about you.” 

Wiping my palms on the couch, I stare off at nothing in particular. There’s no nice way to summarize the whole step family thing. The competition, the terrorizing while adults weren’t looking, the feeling of being replaced. The feeling of knowing the kind of dad my dad would have been to me if he had just had me a little later.  There’s an anger there that’s hard for me to acknowledge.

“The whole thing with my dad’s fucked up, and I can’t talk about it without sounding fucked up, too.” My voice is both too harsh and too honest and I regret it instantly. “Sorry, that was a lot.” 

Billy’s quiet for a long moment, expression unreadable. “Fucked up doesn’t bother me.” 

He sounds so genuine and patient that I believe him wholeheartedly. I don’t think that’s a good thing, but I tell him everything regardless. My dad, the on and off addiction, locking myself in the bathroom while he dealt with withdrawals, the way he completely changed for Charlotte and her mother, and watching my mom fall apart for someone that never loved her as much as she loved him. And, for the first time ever, I don’t keep it just factual. I tell him how it all made me feel, even though it’s not pretty.

Drinking and emotional conversations never go well together. By the time I’m done with the story, my eyes are watery. Maybe I could have blinked the tears away and played them off in front of someone else, but Billy notices everything. I take a settling breath before gently wiping my thumb across the corner of my eyes.

 “...Sorry, this is stupid. I’m too old to get this upset over my dad and his family.” I’m too self conscious to look at him, so I stare at my lap instead. “It’s extra stupid, because my mom’s so great, she’s more than enough, but it’s always been just us, and sometimes that gets lonely. Especially now that she has someone else and I--” 

It’s ridiculous. I’m not jealous of my mom having a boyfriend, but I do miss the way things were before Wells. She’s never had a super serious boyfriend before, and it’s starting to feel like she’s getting more family and I’m not.

Billy’s arm moves around my shoulder. I don’t think twice about the gesture until he pulls me into his side. His strength is surprising, but his touch isn’t harsh or overwhelming. It’s actually kind of nice. After a second, I relax into the contact.

“You don’t need him.” His body is as rigid and tense as his voice. The change in mood is fleeting. Billy recovers so quickly I nearly get whiplash as he teasingly taps his knee against mine, “You do have someone else.” 

He watches me for a long second, dark eyes taking in every detail of my expression. Up close like this, there’s something nearly soft about his features. I can make out the individual hairs of his lashes and a faint touch of barely-there freckles beneath his left eye. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed the slope of his lips before. 

I don’t know if he finds what he’s looking for in my expression because all at once, his intensity retreats with the drop of his head. “Two someones,” it’s practically shy, “Stu might be an asshole that doesn’t think before speaking, but the good thing about him is that he’s always there.” 

The sincerity and obvious fondness  that’s just so thinly veiled I know better than to call him out on it leaves me warm in a different way. It clutches at my chest. 

“Maybe for you,” I hum, hoping that my tone lightens the mood, “But I don’t think Stu’s in the mood to be there for me.” 

Letting out a slight sigh that I can’t interpret, Billy rests his head against the back of the couch. He keeps his head turned in my direction. We’re close enough that this new angle doesn’t create any distance, it just changes things a little. His breaths just barely reach my lower cheek. 

“He’s just moody because of his parents and sister. They’re both in town at the same time maybe twice a year.” Sympathy’s fangs graze against me, ready to sink in. “He cares about you, you know that.” When I don’t react immediately, Billy continues, “You’d have to considering the way he babies you.” 

Did he just? Shock and embarrassment twist oddly in my chest, making it impossible to take a full breath. My scoff comes out too small as a result. “He. Does. Not.” 

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. Great. I’ve given away that he’s struck a nerve. “You let him.” 

It’s a second bullet wound. “What? I--he doesn’t try--I wouldn’t if--you’re just making stuff up.” 

Billy takes my stuttering and inability to decide where to look like he has all the time in the world. “He peels your oranges, angel.” 

“I don’t ask him to.” My answer escapes me too quickly, too defensively. Stu does peel my oranges, but he only dos that so he can make a joke about not minding getting his hands dirty. He also does it so he can steal as many orange slices as he wants. “I--I don’t, he does it because he has a whole bit about getting his hands dirty. That’s it.”

“He waits with you by your locker at the end of the day.” 

That is not the big deal Billy is making it out to me. Stu stands next to me while I sort through my books before going home and sometimes he’ll hold things for me for a second to make things easier...but that’s not babying me. 

I open my mouth to tell Billy all of that. Before I can get the words out, a realization that I could have gone my entire life without strikes me in the chest. Hard and fast enough to nearly knock the breath out of my chest. 

Because, yes, Stu peeling oranges for me and hanging out by my locker while I go through my backpack doesn’t add up to him babying me. But that paired with Stu walking me to our shared first period after homeroom because one time a super rude football player ran into me; Stu always offering to wait up with me on the phone after a bad dream; Stu caring about my class schedule more than he cares about his.

“That’s just being a friend.” Maybe that defense could have worked if I had managed to say it normally, but I can feel my own awkwardness. There’s no way that Billy didn’t pick up on it.

He’s enjoying this too much. “I’ve been friends with him for years and he’s never peeled an orange for me. Maybe it’s because I’m not as pretty as you.” 

Stu’s reputation for flirting often outshines Billy’s. I think that’s something Billy relies on, it lets him get away with a little more. Rolling my eyes instinctually, I move to shove Billy’s shoulder. 

My fingers have just barely grazed against the fabric of his shirt before Billy’s hand wraps around my wrist. He holds me there for a second, staring at where our skin meets. In a move so quick I barely notice it, Billy pulls me closer by my arm. 

His grip tightens in a way that feels instinctual. It doesn’t hurt, but there’s something almost panicked about it. Billy’s jaw seems to lock but I can’t convince myself that it’s not just the lighting. “You should go to bed.” 

The words feel strained by something I don’t get. I’m too lost to his proximity to care. He’s so warm and there’s a sense of safety radiating off of him that I can’t think to question his intensity. It’s too relieving, too comforting. I want closer. 

That realization is worse than what we were joking about earlier. That thought scares the shit out of me. It’s a sign that I should jump back. Get away. But I--

“Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

He blinks. My reaction seems to ease him enough to let his hand relax. His fingers ghost down my forearm. “Should still go to bed. You need rest.”

I nod, thinking that that’s my cue to scoot back, but Billy’s still holding onto my arm. This close, the bags under his eyes seem so much more prominent. A tiny pinch of guilt flares through me. He’s the one that could have been murdered because I’m slowly going insane. “So do you.”

“Then go to bed so I can.” The correlation only somewhat makes sense.

Right. He’s staying over. “You can stay in my room and I’ll sleep in my mom and Wells’s.”

It feels awkward, but there’s not much else I can do. Despite the decent size of the house, the only guest room on the property was turned into my room. The other rooms are mainly storage that Wells hasn’t gotten around to cleaning out. I guess his grandparents and great grandparents were hoarders. Maybe that’s just what happens in family homes, the stuff that’s saved to be passed down just gets shoved into back closets and unused rooms.

“You don’t want to have another sleepover?” His slight smile reveals that he does want to fluster me. That should make it less effective, but I still struggle to hold his gaze.

I try to glare, but I really doubt it comes off right. “Not sure us falling asleep in the same bed because we were too drunk to think ahead counts.”

Billy gilts his head forward. The shift is small but still oddly noticeable. I guess that’s how it is when you’re this close. Any movement closer or farther is noticeable because it feels more significant. “You’re saying you need to be drunk to get into bed with me?”

It’s just cheesy enough to get me to laugh. “You know what I mean.”

At the somewhat serious answer, Billy straightens slightly. “I want to know that you’re there.” His words are so hushed, so unlike him in their closeness to nervousness that my heart stills. “That you’re okay.”

He’s regarding me with a sharpness that doesn’t fit the low way he’s speaking. I’m struck with the feeling that there’s another layer to what he’s asking me. I almost feel like I’m being tested. If he seemed any less vulnerable I’d question it.

“You don’t think Sid would...” I don’t even know what I’m asking. Am I asking if she’d mind? If she’d think that there was something weird about it?

“No.” Billy’s answer is quick and hard, leaving no room for argument. His fingers tighten around my forearm. The change is so quick it almost feels needy. It’s different than when Stu holds on a little too authoritatively. It’s more desperate and that makes it feel more volatile.

All at once, he softens again. His hold returns to bearable. Not quite as casual as before but no longer unsettling. “She wouldn’t. She’d understand.” He says it so simply, like he has absolutely no doubts. 

He’d know better than me, I guess. They’re the ones dating, which means Billy knows Sid’s boundaries about this stuff better than I do. Which means it is really up to me.

I don’t know what I want, but I know what I don’t. I can’t take anymore grief tonight, anymore worries or arguments. I also know that I don’t want to be alone and that latching onto Billy like this is the most peace I’ve felt all night. “O-okay.”

He exhales, something in him relaxing at my answer. “Okay.” Billy’s voice is more sure than mine. It’s comforting enough to cut through my uncertainty. “Let’s go to bed.” 

---- 

Rationally, I know that technically this is my second time having Billy stay in my room, but it feels a lot different without excessive alcohol. I’m not completely sober yet, I don’t think it’s physically possible to sober up that fast.

The call and panic definitely cut through my buzz, leaving me only with sluggishness that follows drinking. A tired that I can’t give into because of anxiety. 

Billy’s laying next to me, and from what I can tell, he’s breathing easily but I’m not convinced he’s asleep. Despite that, I can’t bring myself to even glance at him from the corner of my eyes. Billy has a way of noticing things like that no matter how subtle I try to be.

He moves, the hand that’s closest to mine brushes against the back of my palm. It’s likely an accident but the small rush of warmth that runs up my fingertips until it reaches my chest is so soothing it nearly gets me to ease. Or jump. Those two feelings are often hard to tell apart around him. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

He hasn’t moved any more so I remain just as still, eyes trained on the ceiling. “I’ll pass out eventually.”

“Might help if you close your eyes.” 

The way Billy just knows things would be scary if it wasn’t so annoying. “Wow, a crystal ball and a deck of cards and you could have your own booth at the fair.” 

Billy lets out a quiet laugh that’s meant to be a scoff. “The fair?” 

I roll my eyes before dutifully returning my gaze to the ceiling. “Come on, don’t tell me that there’s no fair here. It’s not like Woodsboro is some metropolitan, crowded--” 

“Sometimes I forget you’re from Texas and then you start talking about--” 

“Shut up.” 

He sighs in good humor again, his fingers stretching and brushing against my knuckles. “Then go to sleep.” 

If only it was that easy. Ever since what happened at Casey’s, sleep is more of enemy than an escape. When I don’t have dreams that make my stomach turn with guilt, my mind goes over everything that I did wrong. And when I’m spared from that, my thoughts panic over what I’m not sure I remember. 

Sometimes I think that doubting my mind is the worst of it and then the guilt doubles. At least I’m alive. I bet Casey would give anything to feel like she’s going crazy if it meant she could be alive. 

With no warning, Billy turns his hand, pressing fingers in between mine so naturally that I instinctually adjust so that we’re loosely holding hands. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.” 

Promises like that, promises that no one can guarantee, are the most gentle. They come from such good intentions. “Can I ask you something?” Before I can back out, I blurt out the important part, “And you’ll be honest? Promise you’ll be honest?” 

A small moment of silence followed by the squeezing of my palm. “I promise.” 

Slowly, I turn, pulling my hand away. Billy’s hold briefly tightens, but when I persist he lets go. He moves to face me after a second and when he sees that I’m now holding out my pinky, something about his expression softens. He covers his reaction with a pointed look meant to make fun of what I’m asking.

He links his pinky to mine. “You think this actually makes people not lie?” 

It’s a light comment, probably meant to help me shake my mood, so I ignore it. “Do you think I’m crazy?” He’s watching me in a way I can’t interpret. “Or going it?” 

“You’re hurting and you need time.” Billy’s answer isn’t careful or fragile or overly sweet like the sympathetic answers I’m used to. It’s straight forward and blunt enough to pass as honest. “You’re not crazy. You’re smart and that’s the problem.” I draw my eyebrows together. “Smart people always want answers but this isn’t about that. Answers won’t fix anything or bring anyone back.” 

I nod somberly, surprisingly relieved. When my mood doesn’t get better, Billy pulls my hand towards him by my pinky. He presses his lips to my knuckle quickly. It’s enough to make me crack a tired smile, which I guess was his goal. “Thank you.” 

“For telling you you’re not crazy after you accused me of murder?” 

Partially glaring at him, I answer, “Just thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” he mumbles, “Now go to sleep.” 

“You sound like a mother.” 

His lips press together briefly. “Like your mom has ever had to ask you to do anything twice.” 

That joke’s getting old. “I’m tired of the jokes. So I listen to my mom, she deserves the lack of stress.”

Billy hesitates, “She’s a good mom.” 

“It’s weird without her around.” My mom is the life of the house. She’s always on the phone with friends or playing music or yelling at the TV when characters on a TV show she likes do stupid things. “Quiet.” 

He drops his gaze towards our hands. Our pinkies are still together. “There are worse things than quiet.” His tone reminds me of the way he was when he mentioned his mom. It’s a flash of something wounded. “Quiet’s easier.” 

Another tally in a column about his home life. “What are you thinking about?” The question is a surprise for us both.

“My mom knew how to keep things quiet.” 

I must be in total shock because after a second I ask, “What happened?” His eyes snap up and I regret not swallowing my words. “Not that--I just--I know it’s just your dad and it wasn’t always just your dad.” It’s my turn to stare at our hands. “You don’t need to tell me. Honestly, I--I didn’t mean to ask.” 

He turns over my hand, something about the motion feels strained. Billy’s pointer finger traces patterns against my palm. “It’s fucked up.” 

“Fucked up doesn’t bother me.” My repetition of his earlier words is awkward and much less sure than the original.

Billy’s quiet for a second, an odd tension floating through the room. “Not much to tell. Some whore fucked my dad and my mom did what she had to. My dad didn’t take it too well.”  

Oh. His words hit me a little too hard. I don’t know if the story or the unexpected harshness is what gets to me. Before I can react, Billy places a hand on my shoulder. With no warning, he pushes me so that I’m laying flat against my bed. A tiny yelp escapes me, but Billy doesn’t move. “Now that we’ve done the whole deep dark secrets thing, go to sleep.”

His voice leaves no room for argument but his touch is harder to ignore. “You know the deep dark secrets thing is a major part of girl’s sleepovers. One minute everyone’s painting their nails and the next we’re all crying over our dads or moms or the messed up things we did in middle school.” 

“Go to sleep,” he sighs, hand that’s not pinning me down sliding downwards, just barely touching my hip.

I nod slowly, not trusting myself to speak again. Satisfied, Billy takes his time moving back to the position he was in. This time, he stays closer than he was before.

Hating myself for it a little, I break the comfortable silence, “Billy?” He huffs slightly, like I’ve woken him up after a deep sleep that only took him minutes to find. “If you ever want quiet and can’t get it anywhere you can come over.” I already regret this. “Not--not in a pity way, just a--just so you know, I guess.” 

He shifts closer, pulling my arm towards him. “Might end up moving in then.” 

His muffled words make me let out a partial laugh. “Should let you know it’s like a metaphorical quiet because half the time you can hear my mom talking on the phone to her friends or talking to the TV.” 

“Might have to rethink it then.” The edge in his voice is ruined by the slight smile that I can feel through his tone. 

Billy’s hold on my arm is an anchor I’ve gone too long without. Thoughtlessly, I move my free hand towards his back. My fingers brush against his skin gently. “Did you offer the same thing to your boyfriend?” 

It takes me longer than it should for me to realize what he’s talking about. “Noel?” His silence is enough of an answer. “No, I guess that means I like you more.” He stays quiet. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I just--” 

“Weren’t getting enough attention?” 

With a sigh, I let my hand rest on his back. “I can still kick you out.” He doesn’t move. “And for the record, I just...I thought it’d make me feel normal.” 

“Did he?” 

The question sits with me for longer than it should because I know the answer immediately. It sinks into my chest like a weight threatening to suffocate my lungs. “Not as much as you.” I shut my eyes as if that will save me from his reaction. “I’m going to sleep.” 

---- a few days later ----

“You fucking love it.” Stu makes no attempts to hide petty bitterness as he pulls a joint back to his lips. The whole point of smoking was to stop thinking about you, but weed doesn’t always work the way you want it. “At least admit it.” 

Billy lifts his head enough to reach over for the joint, taking it from Stu. “What’s there to love?” 

Stu sighs. “Fuck off.” Billy breathes in slowly, letting smoke fill his lungs. “You love that Y/n can’t do anything without you. That she lets you sleep in her room more than you sleep in yours.” 

“Just say you’re sorry, give her one of your looks, and say something about your parents.”

Dropping his head back, Stu frowns. “You remember how quick she was to go after some other guy. Like she didn’t give a shit.” Billy patiently watches Stu, noting the way tension continues to expand across Stu’s demeanor. “Even Casey used to--” 

“She gives a shit.” When Stu scoffs, Billy sits up a little more. “She does. Asks about you all the time and then makes me promise to not tell you.” 

There’s only the tiniest shift in Stu’s demeanor, but it’s a start. Your little spat has lasted longer than Stu thought it would, and with each day that you go without initiating conversation, the more the sting of silent rejection bubbles. Billy’s had to keep up with his moods, making sure that Stu’s feelings remain contained. 

“It’s cute,” Billy continues, “Like she has a crush she doesn’t know what to do with.” When Stu stays silent, Billy decides to keep going, “She likes you and she misses you. Use that.” 

“With the way Tatum’s always breathing down my neck now?” 

Maybe if Stu was in a better mood he’d make a joke about how even he can’t really blame Tatum. Stu’s been in a shitty mood for almost two weeks now, which means he hasn’t exactly been devoted. “I’ve got an idea that’ll get you alone with Y/n. No friends, no class, just you and her somewhere she can’t avoid you.” 

At that, Stu manages to crack a grin. “Sounds like my type of situation.” 

----

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